> Reanimated creatures arise from the spite, piety, and prowess of Charnel Wizards who practice the dread Grave Magicks, incantations that draw power from the interpenetrating symbolic power of charnel grounds, cemeteries, mausoleums, and the like. A large contingent of them also worship the Unconquerable Maiden, who keeps them safe from agitated and vengeful spirits that might arise from these places of death. Those reanimated are not those people kept alive, they are new beings entirely. And they are not Sentient. True Resurrection is one of the Five Impossibilities of this world. Any resurrection is nothing but a homonculus of a true being, and while they might move and act like a real being, when their consciousness is severed, it does not go into the Interstitial, but rather, dissipates into nothingness.
>
> You might be wondering, then: what is the difference between a Conscious, Rational Sentient Being and a Conscious, Rational, Non-Sentient Being? The answer will take you closer to Revolution.
>
> From Treatise On This World's Beasts And Monsters written by Cobalt Mace Sage
Raxri inhaled. Their Winds burst through them. Their Will flurried to every point in their body. When they exhaled they leapt out, running towards the throng of people that had gathered at the front of their erstwhile home.
Their smell overpowered Raxri. The pungent smell of fresh corpses, blade-like, cutting through the air. Raxri felt as though they waded through a charnel ground. They uttered their mantras and performed their hand signs as they struck and wefted through the corpses with their blade, cutting and slicing and slashing and destroying.
"Forgive me," muttered Raxri. "May my violence bring you into better reincarnation." They pressed their lips together in slight remorse.
The reanimated fought back, of course. Their rusted longknives and polearms and tridents and harpoons slashing out, striking, slicing. Raxri's flashing blade and flickering live hand parried the majority of them. Countered one, even, breathing as they vaulted over a walking corpse and decapitated them, blade-burning.
Landing on the other side, Raxri hurricaned through the corpses. A whirlwind of iron peonies, slashes blossoming and parries and defenses deflecting and turning away attacks from the reanimated warriors.
Every time Raxri killed one through stabbing or decapitation or bisection they dissolved into bone dust that fell onto the floor, too heavy to be carried by the winds. In the end, silence. The courtyard now quiet. Raxri breathed heavily, ignoring minor wounds they had sustained.
Then more Renimated shambled in. Their lower jaws hung laxly off of their heads, their teeth falling and rotting, their eyes popped out of their sockets. Their bones jutting out of unnatural angles. Their flesh almost melting away.
Raxri cursed. They turned and ran towards the pavilion where Sungai was. Sungai was busy goring and kicking away a few stragglers that managed to avoid Raxri's cutting, flashing blade. "Sungai, let's get out of here!"
Sungai neighed in acquiescence.
Raxri untied Sungai, promptly mounted him, turned, and ran down the path leading to south of the village. Sungai leaped over the throngs of reanimated corpses. Raxri unsheathed Puksa and cut down the few reanimated corpses that stood in their way, cutting on either side of Sungai.
The village's exit neared. How close they be! Only for their escape to be staunched by a larger, corpulent reanimated corpse. No, it was four different corpses fused and stitched onto a large, fat one. In one hand they wielded a giant butcher's knife--a knife not for butchering livestock, but for butchering giants.
Sungai faltered.
Raxri shook their head and exhaled, patting Sungai. They visualized their Will coursing through their proud stallion. "Set your heart ablaze, Sungai," said Raxri. "Do you trust me?"
I don't even know if I trust myself right now, they thought to themself. But they reached for that thought with their mind-hand and threw it away.
Sungai neighed, as if to say: "I don't have a choice." He burst forward, renewed vigor, gallop turning into lightning strides.
Raxri breathed, concentrating on their Light Body Technique. They kicked themselves up to stand vertically atop Sungai. The wind threatened to blow them over, but proper control of breathing flow allowed them to stand without faltering. They held Puksa up to their side, pointing, as if a wing.
Concentrating, they pooled their Will into blade's handle, and then to Puksa's blade. They chanted the mantra as they performed the hand seals with their other hand. There were seven mudras to this one in all, Raxri was taught. Dragon, Thunderbolt, Lotus, Demoness, Angel, Blade, and then Omen. The Omen Mudra was one of a threatening pointing gesture with one, two, or three fingers. Raxri had gotten used to using two fingers. With their hand in that mudra, they ran it down the flat of Puksa's blade, imbuing it with the coruscating heaven-to-earth white lightnings.
As Sungai galloped closer, the reanimated beast roared and charged. Raxri somersaulted up into the sky, arcing over the reanimated chimera, and unleashed five slashes of light, screaming: "Adamantine Sword: Heavenly Lightning Saber!"
The five slashes hit home, slicing straight through the giant as if he were butter. At the end of it, smoking and cut into ten pieces, the reanimated giant fell into bone dust, chopped and carved by heaven-to-earth lightning.
Raxri finished the arc of their somersault. They landed lightly, feather-like, upon Sungai's saddle. They quickly sat down, releasing all the concentrated Will, and they galloped away from the village.
Looking behind their shoulder, Raxri saw that the reanimated corpses and puppet skeletons still moved, still gave chase. "We can't rest, Sungai. Forgive me. We must run the night!" Sungai did not protest any longer.
He simply kept galloping, running down the narrow and tight riverside path--
--a lance of purelight streaked through the air, a shooting star. It cut into the earth in front of them. Sungai dove to the side, throwing Raxri straight into the dirt. They slammed into the soil, engaged their Light Body Technique, flipped over to land on their feet.
Puksa at the ready, live hand up in a protective hand sign.
It was here that Raxri realized their solid physical protective means lacked. I need armor, thought Raxri. I keep getting nicked and struck. Myu Fan will not like this.
Raxri's minor wounds and abrasions reminded them that they were alive.
Raxri looked up and saw Kamiro, walking towards them, alone. In one hand he held a shining pink arrow, and on the other a yew bow as long as he was tall. His eyes burned a bright magenta. A starburst exploded from his bow.
"Forgive me, Kamiro!" yelled Raxri, Puksa still at the ready. "I cannot be an offering! I must return to my master, my teacher!"
In response, Kamiro unleashed another shooting star arrow. It streaked across the night darkness. Raxri took a half step forward--
--and then deflected the shooting star arrow with their defensive mudra: Heavenly Lightning Deflection.
The straight pink line that was the arrow immediately curved, arcing in a steep trajectory, and then fell into the rushing river.
"Peace!" yelled Raxri. "I wish no harm unto you!"
"Then perish!" Another arrow burst from his bow. Cursing, Raxri took a half step forward again and performed another Heavenly Lightning Deflection, turning the arrow's trajectory and causing it to strike deep into a nearby tree.
I can't keep this up. He will skewer me if I allow this to happen.
Of course, Raxri would be overwhelemed as they did not have their own ranged attacks that could match the aboslute distance of a shooting star arrow. They had to get closer, they had to close the gap.
Concentrating, they exhaled, engaging their Light Body Technique, and then they bound forward. Huge steps across the space between Kamiro and they.
Kamiro fired off another shooting star arrow.
Raxri struck another Heavenly Lightning Deflection mid-leap, sending the arrow straight into the ground.
They spun mid-bound and then struck both feet into the soil. They exhaled, and then leaped, somersaulting through the air. Arcing towards Kamiro.
Another arrow exploded from Kamiro. That one had a breath of burning will, differently colored. Bright yellow, almost gold.
Kamiro uttered a silent spell; the arrow that burst from the bow split evenly into a thousand arrows, tiny javelin missiles, a burgeoning chrysanthemum. The lightsglare illuminated the night, turning black into orange.
The harsh rays reflected on the black eyes of the thousand gods that watched from the shadows.
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Raxri bit their lip as they arced downwards toward the earth in front of Kamiro. The chrysanthemum arrow attack spread across the sky... and then converged onto them. They could do nothing else but employ evasive maneuvers, concentrating their breathing entirely on their Light Body Technique. They leapt and dove and vaulted and hid behind tree trunks, zipping and flickering and moving in a zig-zagging pattern. The chrysanthemum missiles struck the ground and dissipated. Others struck each other and dissipated. However, the others were too fast for Raxri to completely dodge, and the ray-arrows tore and ripped skin. They immediately cauterized the wounds they created in their destruction.
I have to do something. I will not hold! Even in the flurry of their dodges, Raxri saw Kamiro readying another straight shooting star shot while the chrysanthemum flurry continued on.
I have to get closer. Raxri, still dodging about, employed their evasive maneuvers in such a way that they came closer and closer to Kamiro instead. Kamiro noticed this; they immediately fired off another shooting star arrow.
Raxri, in midair, performed Heavenly Lightning Deflection as they spun around in a corkscrew, deflecting all incoming arrows from every direction. As long as their blade could hit it. A shower of gold and pink emanated from them, a blossoming flower pattern.
"What--" Kamiro fumbled for their next arrow, but Raxri was there, right before him. As their feet slammed into the soil, Raxri lunged, their shoulder slamming into Kamiro's gut.
The last few chrysanthemum missiles flew towards Kamiro...
...and then dissipated right before it hit him.
Damn. No friendly fire.
Raxri tumbled behind Kamiro, twisted into the air, and then dove in with their blade. Kamiro turned and tried to leap into the sky, but Raxri's Adamant Lightning Strikes flashed faster and brighter than the thunderbolt. Raxri's blade cut deep, slashing, lacerating, and they managed to cut off Kamiro's bow arm.
Kamiro screamed in pain and tumbled in the air before slamming into the earth.
Raxri landed on the ground before him, dashed forward, and then stabbed down. Puksa's blade impaled Kamiro's hair, pinning him in place.
Raxri, breathing heavily, rose to their feet. Sweat beaded from their brow. "Why...?"--They caught their breath--"Why would you strike me!"
"I am my chief's subject!" said Kamiro, who at this point was also breathing heavily, their ragged gasps chasing air. They winced as they spoke, their hand grasping at their torn arm. "This is what I must do to repay him."
"You can leave, you know. Do you mean to tell me your chief is some sort of warlock?"
"He has kept his loved ones alive for centuries," said Kamiro, with a tone that seemed to say: you wouldn't understand.
"And so they are reanimated? That seems more disrespectful if anything." Raxri removed any weight they had on Kamiro, seeing that Kamiro could no longer move, and was focused on mending their broken arm.
"They are kept from reincarnating into a worse body," said Kamiro. "Prithee, tell me, is that not a better circumstance than being born in hell?"
"So these are sentient beings trapped in the bodies of the reanimated?!" Raxri mopped their face in disbelief. "And they attacked at me?"
"Their loyalty to the chief is not something that you would be able to understand!" Kamiro tried to bounce up, but Raxri quickly dropped their heel down Kamiro's sternum, knocking the wind out of them.
Raxri fell onto their ass as Kamiro squirmed on the ground, grasping for help. "Does the League know of this?" Raxri knew almost nothing of the League, other than them being mentioned by Myu Fan, but they figured that they had some sort of regulating committee to help with situations such as these. Would a spiritual society would condone such practices such as willful stopping of the turning of the wheel?
"Damn the League, damn the Vale! They've done nothing for us. Look at them! They are safe within their vale walls. Within their forest groves! We have long been lost. The Chief only wished to keep us safe! And now look at us." Raxri was surprised when they saw tears glistening on Kamiro's cheek. "Now look at us."
Raxri inhaled, breathing deeply. They turned and looked at the accursed, haunted village. "Where is your chief? Perhaps I will be able to speak with him, and strike a bargain."
"Our chief? Our chief?!" Kamiro looked like they were grasping for words. Raxri stepped back; perhaps they needed space. Unfortunately, instead, Kamiro burst into a full-on sob. Like a child, they wiped away fruitlessly at their tears that flowed and flowed. They wanted to say something but it was replaced by a child-like wailing.
Raxri pouted, moved to tears themselves, though they kept it in. Despite this, they held Puksa at the ready, and kept looking around to see if there would be any reanimated that would ambush them during this time of conversation.
It took some time for Kamiro to settle down.
Sungai had returned, mostly unharmed, and Raxri had hauled Kamiro to the riverside, where they lit a small torch as their bonfire for the moment. When Kamiro's wailing fit subsided, he shook his head. "Forgive me."
"It is all right," said Raxri, though they were not sure if they should continue to console Kamiro or not. They worked on wrapping their torn arm with white cloth that they had found in Kamiro's own pack, though Raxri made sure to apply that healing salve beforehand.
"Our chief, Chief Dulumnan... he has been long dead. His mummified corpse, kept in such a way to allow his sorcerous powers to keep the reanimated in the village going. All at once our chief and guardian deity. By day, they look like normal villagers, my old loved ones. By night they become the shambling corpses that they truly are."
"I see," Raxri said, crossing their arms across their chest. "If that is the case, then you are...?"
"Also Reanimated? No. In the final ritual, the Chief gave me a small modicum of immortality through his powers. He transferred his Will to me, and strengthened me. But I have not been cultivating my Furnace. In truth, it has been full difficult to cultivate anything when surrounded by the shadows of your loved ones."
"Then why did you wish to sacrifice me?"
Kamiro sighed. "I thought... I believed that if someone of powerful enough Will would be sacrificed... if someone whose flesh could grant immortality was given to the Chief, he would awaken again. Revive. And maybe complete his infernal ritual and bring everyone back from the dead."
"The Chief does this because...?"
"Because we are constantly haunted by demons and monsters, being at the border of the Nunuk Vale. But no matter what help we asked, it was never enough. Eventually they stopped sending us help, and we had to take matters into our own hands." Kamiro winced as Raxri finished wrapping their arm. "This land of everwar is hell to live in." Raxri gave Kamiro a sip of Myu Fan's healing gourd.
"Why don't you leave?" asked Raxri, tilting their head to the side. "Why don't you live your own life, and let this one become a memory? Iri Village... countless communities have risen and fallen. There is no need to stick to one."
"I cannot leave," said Kamiro, shaking their head. He raised his remaining hand and Raxri could see, as the light of the moon shone down, that the lunar gleam cut through Kamiro's flesh. "Even now I am at the borderlands of my reach. I physically cannot leave this place until the sorcery is ended."
"I see." Raxri sighed, looking up at the star-speckled night, beside the Gash of the Invincible Blade Princess. "Then I will free you. In the morning."
"What?"
"I will free you. I will put an end to you all. In so doing, you will be free to move into the cycle again, and perhaps find better circumstance."
Kamiro was quiet.
"However..." Raxri began. "You are not sure if this is what you want." Raxri sat down, Puksa unsheathed laid atop their knees. In the pale moonlight, Puksa's silver blade gleamed, as if a small torch itself. Never to go without light in darkness.
"I do not know if what you wish to do... freeing or ending this nightmare... I do not know if this will be enough." Kamiro thought for a moment again, before saying: "And... I'm not sure if this will be the end of it all. What if they all return to the Whorl, and I stay here, alone, without anyone? To wander until my final days?"
To this Raxri thought for a moment as well. What was there do to when everything you've ever known disappears before your very eyes? No doubt there will be huge bouts of loneliness, no doubt there will be huge bouts of anxiety. Without community, without those that we depend on... what are we? What are humans but beings defined by everyone else? What is anything but something defined by something else?
Raxri realiezd then just how close the situation would be to where they were right now. Without their memories, without even a memory of who their mother was, of who their father was.... If they had family or if they didn't... Who were they? What were they supposed to do...?
But then there they were, taking a step every day. One by one, focusing on what was right in front of them. All things will be revealed eventually, their steadfast mantra. And so far it worked, or at least Raxri liked to think so. Thinking too much about the future, thinking too much about the past... it was like thinking about nothingness. Neither of those existed. The only moment Raxri ever had was the one they were going through at that moment.
But Raxri did not know if that was something Kamiro needed to hear right now. Nobody ever wants to hear those words, but those are the things they realize eventually...
Breathing, Raxri said: "Would you not think that to be a freedom?"
"What?"
"No duty to chain you down... No obligation required. You are not bound neither by responsibility nor by sorcery to stay here, in this place suffused with undeath. You will be free to roam, to escape, to find out what you wish to do, who you want to be."
"I am not much for soul-seeking. I am not like those nobles that travel to find out themselves."
Raxri made a compassionate hand gesture and said: "Those nobles are deluded. Anyone attempting to find themselves is only on the first step of Enlightenment's Ladder! Those on the true Royal Road are those that understand that there is no self to seek, only the cultivation of one's mind."
"What precept do you speak, swordstress," asked Kamiro, their eyes gleaming with genuine curiosity.
Raxri smiled. "I am no cleric, no monk, no priest. I cannot speak to you of the Law. Just that I am one such example of it, and I am a cultivator of the Holy Doctrines."
"I know of Giant Stone Monastery, upon Mount Jura."
"Right! I was just there. I was traveling home from there before having to come through here."
"I see," said Kamiro. "Then you are truly someone who has cultivated real Virtue, seeing as I glimpse the Law gleaming through you, a candleflame under a cloth."
"I am no paragon of the Law," said Raxri. "I am but a lay practitioner, one who dives into the estoeric mystique of the Law. If you wish to learn the Law in truth, then you will have to travel to Giant Stone Monastery itself. There the Monks will be all too happy to receive you. Tell them that I, Raxri Uttara, sent you."
Kamiro was deep in thought again. Raxri sighed and said: "Here. It seems as though we are in a relatively safe place for the night."
Kamiro nodded and said: "Yes. That we are. The giant lurks just down this road, and none of the reanimated wish to come close to this section of the riverbanks due to it being too damp. They cannot walk across running water, you see. They can wash dishes and clothes in it, for that was what they did when they were truly alive, but they cannot swim within it, cannot walk across it. A fatal essence when living in the Utter Islands, surrounded and penetrated by water as we are."
"Okay," Raxri said, making a mental note about the riverbanks. "Then, why don't we make camp here? I can rest until the morning. And then, perhaps after a night's sleep, you can tell me if you have decided. If you wish to be free, then I will fulfill my repsonsibility of seeing your chief, and perhaps I can even provide him aid. Else, if you do not wish a thing, then I will be on my way, and you can return to your life."
Kamiro thought for a moment, and then said: "That sounds like a good plan. However, you seem awfully trusting of me not to slit your throat while you slept."
Raxri shrugged. They said: "I am not afraid of death. And besides, you would not be able to."
The next morning, Raxri awoke to Kamiro sitting by the river, meditating on a flat rock. When they stirred, Kamiro broke his meditation and looked over his shoulder. Silently, Raxri was full glad that Kamiro didn't decide to cut their throat while they slept. Sure they would've woken up anyway for it--that was one of the benefits of having good meditation--but it was better safe than sorry.
Kamiro's arm had healed quickly, but it was just that, a stump. It did not seem to faze him, however, Raxri noticed. What manner of thaumaturgy did Kamiro hide then, at that moment, that they were not too worried of missing an arm? In such a violent world at the end of calamity?
Kamiro's face was resolute. The same kind of face one would take when allowing a deathly procedure for a loved one's wellbeing. It scared and inspired Raxri all at once.
"Do it," said Kamiro. "Free the people of Iri Village."