The bullet exploded through Raxri's chest. They slammed onto the ground. Dismay and shock.

Akazha ran in then, with her floating kalis still at the ready. With an incantation, her magicked kalis set to work. Surgically, it moved like a dragonfly, cutting and tearing apart hands and limbs and legs and even an eye. All of which Akazha immediately sewed shut with that same mantra to the Medicine Awoken.

The gun-bandit was left without hands, falling to the floor. Akazha's floating kalis struck the earth where the gun-bandit's gun had fallen, annihilating it.

Like a bolt, an arrow soared across the air straight for Akazha. Without a hitch, without a bump, completely in rhythm, Akazha twisted, crossing her legs, and deflected the arrow immediately, her hands burning malachite blue. Then, she took a step—uncoiling her legs—which then turned into a gigantic sidekick that sent soil billowing into the air as a blast of wind lanced from her outstretched foot, ripping through the bow-bandit.

Slamming to the floor sent the bandit unconscious.

Raxri's blood-drenched the earth.

They could feel their breath shorten. Is this it? Is this the end of the line? Given a second chance just to die immediately after? Who was I? What was I? Does that matter now? Giving up... feels like the better option. Why should I strive even more when everything is trying to kill me right now?

Raxri's breaths quickened. The last few gasps of life.

Perhaps it is my destiny, thought Raxri. Their meditation vanished. Their cloud of delusion suffused them even more now. They'd forgotten all their vows. Their thoughts were not the thoughts of a great enlightenment warrior but of a weak, ailing tyrant-king. I was supposed to die. I was not supposed to survive in the Vault of Souls. I was supposed to die there. I was a fool to fight against my destiny. A fool to shirk my fate. A fool to cheat death when death is not meant to be cheated. A fool, a fool, a fool.

Akazha ran up to our cloud-headed hero. Her kalis danced about, following her as well, like a hummingbird.

Leave me be, witch Akazha, and forgive me. I am no hero; I am no great warrior. I am a forgotten and washed-up child. I have been beaten once before, thrown to the ends of the world. There is no way I will return now. To die is my eminent hand. If I was killed before, then I must have been no great warrior. I was no great king, no great sage, no great mystic, no great wizard. If greatness truly resided in me, I would have reclaimed it the second I revived, but I did not. I am nothing. I am nothing. I am not worthy to be revived. Leave me be; leave me to my death. I tire of it all. Despair, take me now! Forlornness, seize my heart! My body screams with the same fatigue, the same exhaustion. The sweet release of death, oh how sensual, how arousing it is to finally have rest... I wished for none of this!

"Oh dear, student. Are you well?"

Raxri couldn't talk, though their thoughts burned brightly with regret and remorse. In truth, Raxri was entirely swallowed by despair.

The pain that was like flame numbed now. Everything darkened now. Even Raxri's thoughts faded, dissolving, a shell of what they once were or once could have been.

Then, looking at Akazha, Raxri's eyes fell upon the boy behind her—the one sitting by the carabao.

And there, Raxri remembered their duty, their responsibility, their conviction.

For a brief moment, all despair was cleaved, split in half by the shadow of that responsibility. As long as my duty is not done... I cannot die. Not yet.

With renewed vigor, their eyes fell upon Akazha, who pouted.

I cannot die without the regret that I have not seen my duty's end. Witch Akazha... grant me your healing magicks!! Their eyes darted to the healing unguents.

Pouting still, she knelt before him and said. "I was hoping I was able to train you enough," she said, sighing. "Here. My only Healing Pill." Akazha's slender fingers helped insert the bright crimson healing pill into Raxri's mouth. Raxri still had an ounce of energy left to swallow.

A beat.

Then--

A font of energy exploded out from where Raxri could at first feel the pain, like a lotus bursting from mud or like water bursting from stone. Impossibly, they found the strength returning to their arms, legs, feet, and hands.

Raxri pushed themselves off the ground and patted the wounded area. There was a dull pain, but a low green glow now danced about the torn open wound, quickly suturing it. It was uncanny. As if watching a wound heal in quickened motion.

Akazha immediately sighed, though quietly. As if not to show too much care.

The relief overpowered Raxri's doubts. Grinning, Raxri immediately thought of the boy.

Raxri rushed over to the boy, who sat still, as if paralyzed by the sudden events. "Are you well?"

The boy blinked. "I... I think so, save for the cuts on my arm." But they were watching the fast-acting effect of the healing pill.

"Healed quickly those, no doubt. Here." Raxri pulled out some vials of medicinal drink. "Imbibe these, and you'll be as good as new. Though you'll have to get your wounds cleaned up yet."

Akazha had gotten up to administer little bits of healing poultice to the beat-up bandits and then also placed a single strip of palm leaf paper upon their heads, no doubt in hopes of granting them some soteriological solace.

Akazha had removed her wide-brimmed hat, and now her long black hair had been tied taut into a messy bun on top of her head. This revealed much of their pale neck pocked with angular tattoos and, more interestingly, her ears, which Raxri did not see at first due to the way she plaited her hair. Akazha's ears were long, triangular, and pointed, like those of a devil's or as if they were a knife.

The boy bit his lip when Akazha came near.

"Fear not, young one," said Raxri, holding the little boy's hand. "The healer bears great compassion. She will tend to your convalescence. See? She healed even me."

Akazha knelt and scooped out a good chunk of healing poultice with three fingers. She applied this as one applied oils to all the young one's wounds. The boy winced at some of them, but for the most part, he felt great relief as the burning fires of his wounds were soothed by the cooling touch of the poultice.

"There. Better?"

The boy smiled weakly. Nodded just as weak.

"Poor carabao," said Akazha, patting the water buffalo's corpse. She closed her eyes as she caressed the hide of the carabao and then said: "He died protecting you."

Raxri's eyes narrowed for the briefest moment at Akazha.

"Y-Yes," replied the boy. "Bubo... I'll miss him."

"The gods will take him. He will have a much better next life since he was loved so much." Akazha uttered a mantra before the carabao.

"Really?"

Akazha smiled. "Aye. Now, come. Where were you headed? You can ride Sungai. He's a strong stallion."

"I... I was coming home from the lands of Uncle Lasáng Potra. Home to Tannum."

"Ah, that old devil," Akazha rose to her feet, helping the boy up as well. She turned to Raxri and pointed with her lips: "Up the forest, a bit is a place of abundant groves. There, the little forest god Dang Hwan Lasáng Potra lives and has lived for centuries, weathering the ever war of the Invincible Blade Princess."

Raxri turned to watch where Akazha had indicated. A flurry of leaves. Something was there. Then, a stinging pain. Raxri flinched, turned: saw that Akazha was also applying poultices to Raxri's other wounds.

"Drink the medicine," Akazha said. "You will need it."

Raxri nodded and obeyed. The same cooling sensation surged through Raxri from within now. They'd been told that the medicine mystically supercharges the natural healing processes of the mortal body. Combined with the inherent rejuvenation of the citrusy drink, Raxri felt like they could walk for miles again despite having gash wounds.

Akazha helped the boy mount Sungai, asking: "What's your name, young one?"

"Tinô," replied the boy. He was skinny, though not malnourished by any means. His light brown hair reflected the sungleam. His eyes the color of young amber.

"All right, Tinô. Be careful next time, all right? Your parents must have a great amount of trust in you to let you travel alone."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Tinô took the small space in front of Akazha, right behind Sungai's neck. "The path to Tannum is close yet. Be Sungai's guide, Raxri."

Raxri nodded, taking this as yet more training. They took Sungai's reins and led them, walking down the path.

"Only now the bandits have reached here," explained Tinô. "Safe were we, in times past. Now... everything is ravaged."

"That is aught to happen when there be ravagers," said Akazha, with a slight sigh. "The Utter Islands truly have fallen. Now the grand empires are buried beneath the soil, and the mountains have forsaken us. Though perhaps, in the singing of the zephyrs, as they dance about the monuments to mankind's achievements, one can find certain enlightenment."

Raxri, walking in front of them, said: "But, master, said you not that Extinction is found in shedding one's attachment to this world of suffering?"

"Aye, student." Akazha shrugged. "But the deeper truth is that Extinction and Suffering are not separate. They are, in truth, one and the same."

Raxri's brow furrowed. They turned, head tilted, intensely questioning. "I understand not?"

"That is a lesson yet for you to realize. For now, keep in meditation: what is beautiful in this world are glimpses of the underlying Awoken-Reality."

Raxri turned and nodded, and they walked on a few more tails in the path. They did so in relative silence. When Raxri turned behind them, they saw that Tinô had fallen asleep.

"The boy is tired," said Akazha, looking off into the distant seas. The waves crashed softly. The sky was lightly clouded. Their broad-rimmed hats provided a much-needed respite from the sun's scorching rays.

***

The path itself was canopied by mangroves and palm trees on the edge. As expected, no sane human would deign to walk under the scorching sun while in this humid heat.

Raxri was deep in thought as they walked. Akazha noticed. She leaned down and plucked a loose strand of hair from Raxri's cloud hair.

"Ow!"

"It seems you are not yet ready."

Raxri thought for a long while. Then, they said: "Perhaps... but with my duty ahead of me... I cannot fall into death's despair just yet. I will be ready the next time. Forgive me, master."

Akazha didn't reply. She didn't want to admit any fault—not yet. She said, "A healthy way of looking at it, that be sure. You are a good student." A beat, and then she said, "What is your duty?"

Raxri shrugged, then stared at the sky. "This is why I don't like thinking. I have to answer you now because I have an answer!" They turned and looked at Akazha. "To protect those that can't protect themselves. My memories be damned. If this world is a world of suffering... then what kind of person am I not to chip in and help and try to make it easier for everyone?"

Akazha was silenced by their straightforwardness. She nodded, turned, and stared at the boy who sat in front of her, who had fallen asleep now. A wind sent their clothes bristling. Hark, a wind of invigoration, to be true. Heaven's blessing upon Raxri's newfound duty.

***

"Tis a good thing the master had that healing pill when she did," said Raxri, walking still.

"It was my only one. If I were going to make more, or purchase any more, I'd have to either wish that a Nilatpan or a Heavenshardian esotery merchant drops by, or I'll have to make the trip there. Terribly inconvenient."

Raxri smiled. "I must seek forgiveness. I was not up to the master's expectation."

"Wallow not in self-pity, student," replied Akazha, ruffling their hair again. "That is a mire from which none can escape. Use this as fuel instead, upon the furnace of your soul. Upon the burning of your Heart. You will now endeavor to better yourself, I'm sure. Now, with more than one brush with death... I'm sure a fire has been set in your heart."

Raxri nodded deeply. "My heart is ablaze, master. I must get better yet. I cannot have another brush with death such as that!"

"Good," said Akazha, smiling. "Then that is all of the proof you will need. No one is good immediately, even if they were good at something in the past. Take your time. You will learn to protect me yet."

"Master, may I ask? This tattoo upon my forearm... what does it mean? It protected me from that stray slash."

"Ah," and Akazha pulled down a bit of her robe and tunic to reveal the snaking, angular tattoos that snaked through her. "Those are talismanic tattoos. Judging from the writing, it seems to have the same design and tradition of the Selorong Mountain Mystics, who tattooed themselves the very mantras and sacred geometries that blast away the imperfections of Wandering."

"I see. But... I woke up with them. I do not remember what they do."

"I should have taught you earlier. I am bound with the same talismanic tattoos borne from the Infinite Law. These tattoos grant fortune, blessing, protection, power, charisma, and yet more to etched one. These are the writings of the secret teachings of the Awoken Mystics, who attained Awakening through esotery. I gained these from Mountain Mystics; they do not simply give it to anyone. One must have earned them. No one else would have given it to you otherwise."

"I see." Raxri nodded in slight understanding. Then, they asked: "Are you capable of creating these same tattoos?"

Akazha smiled and nodded. "However, I cannot do so without the express permission of another group of tattooing mystics or monks. So that will have to be a dream for you until you have both earned it and found permission, my dear student."

Raxri nodded again.

They continued on, wandering down the path.

Before long, the road wound to the side, turning around a small hill. Past it, a village sprawled just before the shore, set upon a rocky outcropping. The dirt road wound past the village, down the rocky outcropping, and presumably into the sandy seaside.

Tannum Village

"Tannum Village," said Akazha. "We're here, Tinô. Wake, now, child."

And Tinô did. Yawning as he opened his eyes. The three of them slowly made their way to the village proper. Raxri took note: the first village they did see in this world. Each house was built upon stilts, no doubt in anticipation of certain flooding. Yet underneath each house was a fence, and within each fence were either tables or livestock, such as little chickens or young pigs. Each house looked more or less like Akazha's cottage, though with fewer annexes. Many also had their kitchens outside, in their own roofed enclosure.

The houses were set well apart: no house was squished beside another, allowing for plenty of room. Perhaps, more importantly to Raxri, this allowed the cold breezes to fill each house, cooling and chilling them as needed.

Almost every house was shaded or accompanied by a tree, whether a palm leaf, a many-leaved acacia, a mango tree, a tree of rambutans, a banana grove, or a copse of thick bamboo.

As they walked, Raxri saw groups of people walking on by, carrying chopped bamboo, jars of water on their heads, earthenware filled with stews or steamed foods, and more. Almost everyone was carrying some form of fish, shell, or other seafood wrapped in cloths or reed baskets. It was a fishing village, no doubt.

Some of them stopped by and waved to Akazha, greeting her as "Friend Witch!" Akazha greeted them back with a smile.

"O, Tinô!" A plump old man, hair and beard greying, ran up to them. The man was corpulent and wore a fabulous sarong tied into a knot in the front, along with reed sandals and his hair tied up into a chignon on top of their head. Tattoos wrapped around their torso, with geometric designs different from Raxri's or Akazha's.

Raxri stopped Sungai, and Akazha helped Tinô get down from the horse. "O, Tinô, my child. You are safe!"

"Yes, yes, baba! I am safe! The witch has helped me!" Tinô ran into his father's arms, who carried him high and then hugged him.

"O, Akazha, friend witch. I thank you most highly. Most most highly. How can I ever repay you!"

Akazha waved their hand. "None is needed. To see a child safe is repayment enough. However, I must warn you to be careful of going out even at zenith, nowadays. Bandits, pirates, and marauders now swarm and infest the Utter Islands. A symptom of this broken world."

"Of course, of course. The chief will no doubt be awaiting you. Thank you again, friend witch."

"You're very welcome, Kagon. Stay safe now, Tinô."

Tinô grinned widely and then walked back with their father, presumably to their house, which seemed to be by the seashore as they walked down the road.

"Come. Meat and fish await us, student."

They walked with Sungai until they reached what seemed to be the small village's marketplace: it was right by the road that led to the seashore. Stalls and blankets with too-fresh fish. Akazha walked up to some of them and exchanged smiles and familiar words. They were varied: one was a corpulent night-skinned woman with kinky hair and a beautiful smile, and another was a young boy who seemed to only be filling in for their father or mother who should be selling. Yet another was a thin woman with a wide-brimmed hat on their back kept to them by a string that hung from their neck. A large carabao behind them dozed, from which various leaf sheaves hung. A stall with multiple sizes of shrimp and crabs, bound by rope, half-alive. Preserving freshness.

Akazha paid for everything they were buying with these incense sticks, which had a peculiar, purplish paste on them. "What are those, master?" asked Raxri.

"Ah, student. These be joss," she said as she lifted a few up. "These are incense sticks specifically coated with a paste made from Vaizzanblood, crafted from Dang Hwan Vaizzan himself. The God of Wealth, Merchants, and Mercenaries."

"I see. And joss is the currency, here? How interesting that it is incense sticks that one trades, and not coin?"

"Primarily when trading with settlements that participate in the Monsoon Market, they prefer joss sticks to coin, as joss can also be used to pay gods. Even the gods participate in the market! But cash and coin are plenty common, especially in the grand societies of Shen and the kingdoms of Selorong and Wo, where within the islands they have a coin minted by ancient kings."

As Akazha set about to taking care of the purchases, Raxri watched the shoreline. Tannum Village had no dedicated dock area besides a few simple wooden platforms. And yet the shore was lined with caulked-wood outrigger canoes, wide and capable of carrying large amounts of produce and materiel up and down the rivers. Many of them parked their ships on the beach, and many more placed them underneath their stilt houses, which served as a garage or holding bay. The fishermen's stilt houses stretched up the shoreline and into the river. At this time of day, they were resting within their homes, away from the zenith sun. Not just the stilt houses but also the outrigger canoes. Raxri could see that up the river, there were larger barges, some of which had a secondary deck. The largest one had three decks, one no doubt for fighting from when raiding and marauding, and they had double outriggers instead of just one.

It is customary, due to the relatively equal length of days and nights in the Utter Islands as well their hot and humid climate, that work be done during the early mornings and late afternoons, when the sun would not be so high up, beaming its blasted rays upon the populace. Therefore, all pains were taken to work when the sun would not be intense or even during the nights when the Whole Moon shone upon the darkened earth. However, light sources such as torches and whatnot were not enough to ward off Night's Dark Creatures. Such was the tradeoff for the safeguarding violence of the Sun.

Here in the village of Tannum, the people walked to and fro without much care. They could sustain themselves with their fishing and farming and worried not about the greater troubles of the world abroad. This made Raxri all the more anxious for them now that the consequences of the Invincible Blade Princess reached even them. Such a placid place of idyll, undeserving of the wars of the outside, of those who sat on thrones and spoke safely within the confines of war rooms.

The men and women mingled and laughed at each other. Groups of young children, no doubt the various progenies of the various neighbors, running about, playing with wooden tops and with pick-up sticks, jumping over rubber garters, or tossing rocks at stone jars. The palm tree swayed in the breeze. The rhapsody of ticks from the leaves swaying and clapping in the gale. The lullaby of the sea's waves crashing upon the sandy shore, striking then receding, striking then receding.

It didn't take long before Akazha had filled a rattan bag with fish, a few bags of rice, safflowers, vials of soy sauce and vinegar, salt rocks, and some fresh chicken meat. Raxri carried it all and hitched it onto Sungai's saddle.

Akazha sighed. "We must needs eat the chicken meat posthaste, lest it spoil. Perhaps I should get a few of my own chickens. Come, student. Let me introduce you to Tannum Village's chief."