> Ahom! May all things be guided by the light of the Law. Face every problem with the fervor of the many Saviors. A thousand thousand Awoken surround you at all times, remember this. Your Awoken-Nature is already within you, you must simply needs recover it. But twist it not: Awoken-Mind is not an inherent nature, nor is it a place. It is rather a state of being, for all things are emptiness. Even enlightenment.

>

> Lotus Scripture

"How did the master know?" was the first thing that Raxri blurt out after a bout of silence.

The master Wairojashra tapped their chin with their finger, thinking. "I remembered just recently why. You told me, back then, 10 years ago. Raxri Uttara was not your birth name. You never told me your birth name, so I do not know where you are from, and I do not know who your parents are."

A pang of sorrow rang through the thread of Raxri's being.

"But worry not overmuch," said the Abbot. "Clinging to the past will only bring regret, remorse, and inaction. To learn from the past, you must use it as a platform to push yourself into the future."

Raxri nodded, though they were bombarded with thoughts about their family. Did they even have parents, still? Did they have siblings? Perhaps they lived with their grandmother and helped her make meals every day, or rice cakes for a village? If they had siblings, did they already have families of their own? Where did they come from? Not a lot of people from Pema seems to know them, and those that do remember them sing of Raxri coming from far off lands.

They felt lost, ripped apart from their greater context. Without all the strings that kept the usual person up, what were they?

The doctor squeezed Raxri's bicep. "Ouch!" they moved away, wincing. The pain of the tattoo shone bright.

"Good. You did not lose feeling in the biceps."

Ampun Sagara laughed. "Raxri Uttara has never felt more okay, I am sure," he said. "They are fully recovered now, despite the scars."

Raxri Uttara nodded. "And some of the scars are not even from dog demons!"

"Scars never truly go away, is why," said Doctor Myu Fan. She took one more look at Raxri and said, "It seems to be they are hale and healthy. Good. Please take care not to suffer any more bullet wounds--or any wounds, truly."

Raxri managed a close-lipped smile. "I cannot promise for sure, Doctor Myu Fan."

"Try your best."

"I will."

The Abbot turned to the doctor, and the doctor nodded. "They are safe for travel and combat."

The Abbot nodded. "Very well." Despite this, their face looked slightly grim. As if they just determined something at that moment that they never wanted to determine.

Yiwaritala spoke, then: "It would be best if we keep going now. The day nears its end." He turned to Raxri and said, "I hope your training has gone well?"

Raxri nodded and smiled. "Really well."

"I would like to see it for myself, firsthand, if you would allow."

"Of course. I would be honored!"

The Doctor puffed from Raxri's pipe, which they had somehow stolen while they were examining Raxri's scars. "Remember, remember, not to scar each other too badly."

Yiwaritala laughed. "Do not worry, Doctor Myu Fan. It will not be in the immediate future. We have more pressing concerns to attend to."

Raxri tilted their head and turned to the Abbot. "What are we supposed to do, Abbot?"

"An offering," replied Abbot Wairojashra. "To the gods of the mountain and the bidaree."

Raxri was brought back to their guest room, where most of their things were kept in, immaculately clean. Apparently, they had been maintaining Raxri's inventory, no matter how scant. "It was a way of practicing the Law," noted Pilinitala, smiling. "And cultivating merit. Let us not tarry any further. We undertake a grave mission."

"Right." Nervousness lingered now. Raxri had to lean on their meditation to shear away their thoughts, to focus on the act of walking as they trekked to the middle house. This middle house was not the meditation room, but rather, the gathering house. The Gathering House had a third level, where only those that the Abbot had called could enter into.

It was that level they ascended to, through hardwood ladders that led to corners of each level. Here too, the windows stretched from the floor to the roof, and led to railed balconies where people could rest and sit. The entire room was lit by a singular lotus light, which hung from the roof.

They needed it, as the moon rose and night enveloped the land.

Pilinitala and Raxri both performed the triple reverences three times to the giant statue of the Scarlet God Awoken that dominated the front of the room, surrounded by an assembly of saints, saviors, and conquerors, along with deities and other celestial beings.

The third level had floors of interestingly lacquered bamboo, and then multiple circular textiles whereupon intricate lotuses were embroidered.

Sitting there was a small group of warrior monks. They were a diverse lot: some were sun-haired, some had azure eyes, others deathly pale skin, others were humanoid boars, others were humanoid eagles, others had heads of cats. Looking back, Raxri noticed all these kinds of body types when they first fought in the first assault of the dog demons. It was just that they were too focused on the dog demons' forces.

The warrior monks sat upon the lotus mats.

The doctor Myu Fan sat up front, beside Yiwaritala and Ampun Sagara. Pilinitala pulled Raxri over to the front. There they sat, crossing their feet into the lotus position, and watched as the Abbot finished the preliminary mantras and spread holy oil across the shrine to the Awoken.

It wasn't long after when Raxri sat did the Abbot slowly open his eyes. He scanned the entire room to see who was there, and then nodded. "Let us begin."

Raxri stayed quiet. Their eyebrows were furrowed, as they why they have gathered at such a time, when people would be falling now asleep.

"As you all know, normally at this season, around the middle-end of monsoon season, we would be traveling to the summit of Mount Jura to make our offerings and pefrorm our rituals to the gods of the mountain, thanking them for letting us stay in this monastery." Raxri looked around to see everyone more or less nodding. The Abbot continued, "Unfortunately, we cannot do such a thing as of the present moment. We have gathered and confirmed that the cave near the summit of Mount Jura has been infiltrated and turned into an erstwhile base and fortress by a demon horde."

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Everyone was quiet, waiting for more knowledge.

The Abbot continued again: "We all know the world to be in its final throes. The end of this kalpa, the Latter Day of the Law. The mystics call it the Age of Furor. Everyone scrambles for purchase and safety, or some capitalize upon it for power, at the end of the world. This no doubt stretches even--nay, especially, to demonkind and other such destructive beings. You all know, for the longest time, we have suffered no attacks from such demons in Mount Jura. Mount Jura has been blessed and protected by us and by the saints and saviors as a holy mountain, never to be touched, never to be destroyed. However, as we enter the Final Days, demonkind increasingly ignores the holy sanctions of such beings and fragrantly violates them. As every being becomes increasingly aggressive, this does not become something that surprises us."

The Abbot turned and bowed to the Scarlet Awoken. "I have been given a vision by the Scarlet God Awoken. If we are to keep Mount Jura a point of holiness, we must take the blade and bring it to the demons, and extinguish them there."

There was a voice that rang from the crowd. "If this truly be the end of times, why should we resist? We should let the natural cycle of things flourish!"

"As practitioners of the Law," said the Abbot, still looking at the Scarlet God Awoken's giant statue. Raxri noticed that this particular staue wielded a double-edged straight sword, which had multiple sigils of an unknown elder language inscribed along the flat of its blade. "We must recognize that it is inherent in It that we must break all cycles. As we work to break the cycle of suffering and roaming, we recognize that the Law teaches that a hundred more destructive cycles happen within the Gulong Hingsa. If we are to break the Wheel, we must weaken it first. In so doing, Followers of the Law must endeavor to protest negative and oppressive statuses. The End of this Kalpa need not be destructive. Indeed! We can make it more bearable, we can save those that we can save. This is the Vow of the Saviors."

No other voice emanated from the crowd then.

"This is the Law of the Scarlet God Awoken," said Abbot Wairojashra. "Only transgressive force can stop cyclical force. And so we must move, we must not be unmoving. We must not be passive. Passivity turns the wheel. Activity breaks it. Let our violence be the deft blade that cuts hammers rather than smashing hammer that destroys indiscriminately. We seek meditation and peace and non-self to weather the storms of the world, and to bring all beings into enlightenment.

"The vision showed me too," said the Abbot, turning now to the assembly. "Dear monks. With the destruction of holy Mount Jura, the destruction of Giant Stone Monastery will quickly follow. And after that, the demons shall spread, destroying Pemi's island ecology. They will destroy the Nunuk League, and finally, destroy the Godtree. Our duty is to make sure this never happens. And hence, I have gathered you all. Yiwaritala? Please."

Yiwaritala nodded and rose. "It is imperative for you all to sleep immediately, for we will arise before dawn to march up to the summit and strike as the demons return to the cave. As you all know, demonkind is most active during the night, and they are weakest during the times the Moon is at its greatest power: the Womb Moon. Is anyone against this plan?"

A boar-headed warrior monk yelled: "Nay, this is a tactically sound plan. Are we to be provided with weapons?"

Yiwaritala nodded. "The armory has been unlocked for all of you to wield. You are a force 100 strong. Just around the exact limit of our equipment stores. Let us use them all so that we will not suffer any unwanted casualties. Though partaking in this ritual violence is no doubt an act that will generate great merit, we do not want any soul being tossed into the wheel to be reborn. Understood?"

Everyone nodded. Raxri looked at Pilinitala, and her face was firm.

Raxri looked then at the Abbot, who caught their eye. They nodded as well, as if to tell them that they had been trained for this moment exactly.

"Good. Doctor Myu Fan."

Doctor Myu Fan rose and walked over to the front. She looked down at her palm leaf manuscript (it was many pages thick now) and said, "I've stayed up a few days making sure that there is enough healing gourds for a hundred soldiers," said the doctor. "I've also worked with the chef Pilinitala to create an Iron Carabao Stew that will boost your Will Furnaces so that your wounds do not linger and your skin is toughened to iron. However, as with everything, these dishes will not protect you from direct attacks and stronger attacks. You must fight with your full force nevertheless. Additionally, each person will only have access to a single healing gourd. This healing gourd will staunch bleeding, relieve pain and quicken wound healing, but it will not magically heal wounds instantly. Medicines that do that are rare and prohibitively expensive."

Mortal medicine? Suddenly, Raxri's thoughts were brought to the Healing Pill they've received from Akazha.

"Is this understood?" asked Doctor Myu Fan, adjusting her spectacles. Everyone answered with a firm "Yes."

With that out of the way, the doctor sat again.

"We will assemble by the front gate before the sun's orange rays strike. Please, rest well for tonight. You will need it tomorrow." Yiwaritala then sat down, gesturing to the Abbot.

The Abbot walked up to the front, and in the candlelight their eyes seemed to burn with passion and determination. They were silent for a beat, before they nodded and said: "Until all beings are free.

"Let thy will be done."

Raxri made their way back into their guestroom. This time, it was Yiwaritala that accompanied them. When they arrived in the guestroom, Yiwaritala walked in with them.

"How fare you?" asked Yiwaritala, hands behind his back. He stood as if a bodyguard.

"Well enough," said Raxri, sighing. They removed their robes and sat on their mattress. They lit an incense stick. The moon climbed night's ladder. "Nervous. Slightly."

"Nervous? For what reason?"

"The demons. The assault... I know I must have confidence in the teachings of the master, but the demons are not humans. They are not the kind to hesitate when killing."

"You've already said it yourself," said Yiwaritala. "You must have confidence in the teachings of the master. Steep yourself into the concentration. It is in fire that a blade is made. In the same way, it is in battle a warrior is made."

Raxri could do nothing but nod. "I am fine, now. Why did you follow me here?"

Yiwaritala nodded. "The Abbot had asked me to give this to you." He revealed what he was hiding behind his back. It was a sword in a lacquered blackwood scabbard. It was inscribed with spiralling sigils of that same elder tongue. Its hilt was was interesting: it undulated, creating a firm grip with a stopper for the base of the hand. The stopper itself was in the shape of a great dragon, eyes bulging, teeth flat like a human's. Its nose curved up into a long horn, so long that it no doubt could be used for violent means. Unlike the scabbard, the handle (which was still black) was made of carabao horn, carved into that means.

Raxri's mouth fell open in awe. Not because they knew what such a gesture meant, but it was a beautiful blade. They moved forward on their knees and received the blade in both hands. Then, sitting on their feet, legs folded, they unsheathed the blade. After a firm tug, the blade came free of the sealing of the scabbard.

The blade was beautiful, with a wavy, water tempered pattern that made it look like ocean waves rolled within its silver metal. Upon its base, vertically engraved, were more of those circular elder script. It was still a non-wavy kalis: it had a slight wave by the base, but then the rest of the blade was a straight sword, coming to a pointed end, making it useful yet for both cutting and thrusting. The bladeguard was that same triangular style, but it had writing inscribed around its filigrees. "This is beautiful."

"Its name is engraved on its scabbard. Puksa. Extermination. The writing is Elder Karitan, if you did not know. Its blade is crafted with moonmetal--that mercurial silver that falls to the earth every Womb Moon."

"Wow." The blade took Raxri's breath away. "The Thunderbolt Master wants me to have this?"

Yiwaritala nodded. "He wanted you to wield it, see if you are worthy of it."

"Is it important?"

"Let's just say the Abbot does not have the habit of giving away weapons. Fruits, blessings, prayer-strips, yes. But not weapons. That is a great blessing. Be sure to give your reverences to him in the Before-Dawn."

"Of course. Of course!"

"That is all. Do not unsheathe it until you will draw blood with it," said Yiwaritala. "That is what the Abbot has told me." Their face was still stern. Raxri could feel an emanation of confusion from the monk.

"Do you still not like me, Yiwaritala?"

Yiwaritala blinked. "Why would you say that?" He did not look at Raxri.

"Because I study under Akazha, you've never been fully trusting of me."

"That be true," said the monk, avowed to never tell a false word. "Yet, the Abbot has taken a liking to you." He thought for a bit more, closing his eyes, as if in meditation. Raxri moved back to their mattress, placing the blade on the floor beside them. Yiwaritala shook his head and moved over to the blade, and placed it on top of the bedside table. "Never place named weapons on the floor. It is disrespectful." He sighed. "The Abbot knows you more than I do, and so I defer to his teachings. I am dubious of your deservedness in learning arts such as the Adamantine Sword without induction into the Monastic Order. However, the Abbot's wisdom far surpasses mine, and so I can only really defer to his mind. I pray that you do not belie the Abbot's trust."

Raxri shook their head. "I won't. I swear. I'll prove to you Yiwaritala. I'll prove it to you that you can trust me with your teachings."

Yiwaritala managed a smile. "But becalm yourself. I have no enmity toward you, just askance. The Abbot has said that you have been able to learn an entire harvest's worth of the Adamantine Sword in just three moons. That is something to be commended, to be sure. And I can only trust the Abbot."

Raxri kept silent.

"That is all. Forgive me for intruding for longer than I was supposed to. Please, seize all the repose you can. We must leave early in the morning. The Armory will be open. Clad yourself in not just faith and reason, but in lamellar and hardwood."