72. Pilgrims

I followed the threads, wherever they would lead.

Wherever they split, I either pulled them back together, or I split with them, sending one avatar down one path and the another to follow the divergence.

I forgot which one of myselves was real as I watched through thousands of eyes.

In one corner of my mind, I waited out a sudden storm on the western continent, chatting idly with a young woman who was to be married in the spring. She asked for my blessing, and I gave it wholeheartedly.

In another corner, I sat in the barn while children leaped from the rafters into the hay. I was negotiating with their father for the rent of their pasture, for it was the confluence of several ley-lines and I needed it for my plan to work. But the old man was stubborn, and this avatar was broke.

Far away, on the eastern continent, I led the charge against a wave of undead forces. The locals had been caught out by the sudden resurrection of their dead, and they had fallen into despair before my arrival.

But I stirred defiance into their hearts and they rose their banners behind me as we charged the horde and screamed that “No! We will not go meekly!”

And on the northern continent, I slipped in behind the marching horde. There was much to do there, in the empty streets where the only survivors were those who had fled early.

I said a thousand and one paths I must walk.

I walked far more than that.

In three months I lived a lifetime.

In three months, I died a thousand deaths.

I worked while I rested and rested while I worked.

I had the strange feeling that I had done this before and struggled to remember where.

Ah yes. In the time between lives, in the plains of suffering, when I had labored to turn the tide of suffering of the dread god’s victims.

I wondered, idly, if this would work. I was committed, and the eventual success or failure of my path would not change my conviction to walk it to its eventual end.

I would either die.

Or…

~~~~~

Di Phon walked through the grand palace. It was a hundred miles in diameter, and he was expected to make the pilgrimage from the gate of arrival to the throne room on foot. While maintaining his dignity and poise.

He sighed as he rubbed the blisters on his foot, having decided to further show his humility by deliberately sending his true body and lowering his cultivation. If he displeased the lord and the lord snuffed him out, he would not only be exiled.

He would be dead.

He knew that despite reaching the diamond realm, he was still a pawn on the Lord’s chest board. The diamond realm had six distinct echelons of its own, each twice as powerful as the last, and beyond that was the platinum, and then the mythril realm. Beyond that, supposedly, lay the divine realm.

The lord was at the beginning of the mythril realm, having spent the last few millennia pushing up against the borders of what was possible with only one dimension to rule. He had so far refused to pursue power into other dimensions, and his reasons for doing so were genuinely seen as being benevolent.

Di Phon speculated, but would not speak his thoughts on the matter to anyone outside his own mind.

Limited to the strength of the mortal, he made his journey with one companion from the palace of new arrivals. Mai Mai was allowed to ride a palanquin, a conveyance that changed hands numerous times through the journey as the burden was passed from bearer to bearer.

She sat atop the rocking platform and watched as the man she had come to love, to pine for, made the journey by foot. They stopped three times a day, and she would prepare tea for the two of them, and then the journey would begin again.

Through the endless halls and corridors they traveled, through the courtyards and unexpected twists of architecture. Endlessly had the grand palace been constructed, and endlessly did they wander, guided by the countless servants who lived there, until finally their journey came to an end.

The audience room itself was titanic. The ceiling stretched into the sky, and the largest ruined buildings that Di Phon had visited in his youth could fit comfortably inside one corner. It took one hour for the supplicants to pass to the foot of the dais where the throne stood.

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When he passed a line, he felt that it was time to bow, and so Di Phon bowed to the lord of the realm, deeply.

“This humble cultivator greets the Lord of the Realm and humbly thanks the lord for the protection and benevolence for which he is known to extend to all under his rule. This one thanks his lord for the reception that he has received upon ascending past his mortal limits. This one brings news. You have spoken of corruption.

“I know something of corruption, my lord, having faced it before. With your permission, I would tell you the tale of my ascension.”

The room was silent, the hidden watchers watching and listening with held breath. What could this newly ascended fool, a child compared to the Lord of the Realm, teach the Lord that he did not already know. How presumptuous to presume to educate a being thousands of years older than--

“Proceed,” the lord said.

Di Phon began to speak.

“It began when I sent an avatar with some of my juniors to investigate the claims of a merchant about a promising young boy,” he said.

~~~~~

“Rising Star,” Hien Ro said, and he unleashed the fury of a star across the battlefield. The line of fire so hot that it was more than fire, that it was more than the concept of fire, painted a line of glass through the distance. Each ghoul that was caught up in this fire, empowered by the full backing of Hien Ro’s allies through the North Star Guiding formation, was immediately burnt. Not to ashes, not to dust. To vapor. To atoms.

To things that the people of Atla didn’t have the words for because they were so small.

Six of the undead leaders banded together to protect their force, revealing their location. Hien Ro adjusted the direction of the Rising Star and painted over them as though they were not there, their pathetic protections evaporating in the face of the overwhelming power of stars.

When finally he had spent the technique, he stepped backward, evaluating the changed battlefield with the others.

“You got the last of their golds,” Thaseus pointed out.

“Most of their silvers too,” Lukal Lukal agreed.

“We should leave the rest to the soldiers,” Lahri said, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice. She was suggesting a battle that would cost the lives of their allies.

But like a crucible, a cultivator was formed in conflict. A warrior did not grow in potted soil. Their master had taught them this. The war that they had prosecuted over the last few months – had it truly only been months? The war that they prosecuted taught them that it was sometimes necessary to allow some of their subordinates to die so that they might have veterans in the next battle.

“Let me even the numbers a little more,” Thaseus said, and the others consented, lending him their power.

Through the North Star Guiding Formation, Thaseus felt an overwhelming sense of power, as he channeled this pure energy through himself, he didn’t even flinch. It was not his power, not truly, but lent and freely given power by his friends and equals.

Alone, he was just another silver ranked combatant.

Together, they were--

“Fields of ash,” he said, and he unleashed his technique.

A wind swept over the battlefield, it burnt the non-living. They did not catch flame, the fire was more insidious than that. They simply burst directly into ash, scoured down to the bone by the flame that was not a flame. Over two thirds of the battlefield this wind blew, and when it finished, the living army finally outnumbered the dead.

He sat back and looked at the others. “There. We’ll win this battle easily, but with fewer casualties than before.”

The others nodded. Then they watched as men died in the crucible of combat, knowing that they could interfere.

And choosing not to.

“We cannot walk their paths for them,” Arjun said, placing a hand on Lahri’s shoulder.

“We can only make certain that the dangers that they face are ones which they can handle,” Farun agreed, giving the woman his hand to hold.

Lahri nodded, but there were tears in her eyes.

“We could have saved them all,” she said. While it had been her to point out that the soldiers needed experience, she was conflicted in the necessity of allowing them to die.

Yara too watched the army battle with a heavy heart. For she had found out where her father had gone to.

He had enrolled as a common soldier and vanished into the war machine. Though she had searched for him, he was a single cog in a vast undertaking, and not worth the effort of establishing a paper trail.

She had put out the word that she was looking for him, expecting him to immediately come forward.

He had not.

For all she knew, he could be out in that field right now.

She swallowed, and tensed slightly when one of the disciples enveloped her in a hug. It was Hien Ro.

They had decided to hold off on the wedding until they knew Adan’s fate for certain. If he lived, then he would be at the ceremony. If not, then they would honor his memory first. Either way, they had decided to wait.

For happier times, which were surely ahead.

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