Ah, it’s unfortunate that the most efficient path skirts around the city. I’d have loved to take just a brief tour of the capital, but alas… Lu had been hearing tales of Green Jade’s splendour from passing merchants since he was a small child, and as the largest city on the continent, and the home of the Jade Fire Sect besides, he was sure those tales hadn’t been exaggerated beyond the normal amount.
But it wasn’t to be; swinging far enough south to hit even its furthest outskirts would add an entire day to the journey, and since they only had until the eighth of next month, they would need every hour they could spare.
Tonight and tomorrow should be enough to reach a good hunting ground. Take two days off the end to make the return trip, and that leaves only sixteen days. It sounded like a long time to Lu’s imagination, but he knew that as much as he would find the act of hunting unpleasant, he would probably grow more reluctant to leave the closer the deadline approached.
Sixteen days. Is that enough to get me past fourth realm? Maybe even speed through the fifth? His last extermination mission had been years ago, and the details were hazy in his mind’s eye. Bull could take down a forest’s worth of wolves in a few days, but those aren’t normal conditions, and I’m not him. The thought of bloodshed still made him just a touch queasy. But a group of eight, split five ways… Assuming hundreds of quality cores is unrealistic. A few dozen good, high realm ones, maybe, and then a score of lessers. A thousand large spirit stone’s worth should be… optimistic but reasonable, I think.
The carriage trundled along, leaving a trail of white vapour behind them – and as day passed into night, Lu’s anxiety ebbed in and out like the tides. He devoured scrolls, cultivated, and chatted with his fellows – but most of all he sat, watching as the sky darkened, and thought about his future.
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The inhabitants of the vehicle changed, then changed again as people cycled in to rest, their replacements exiting as they entered without the carriage ceasing movement for even a moment. Enchantments and formations lessened the need for fuel, decreased friction, lightened weights while strengthening the body… the machine could have run for days without issue.
But as the sun crested the treetops – which had been growing further and further from the ground as they went, subtly and undeniably – the road ended. The driver saw only a wall of greenery ahead of them, and so the carriage slowed, slowed, and stopped with a high-pitched whistle.
The people inside disembarked, and then the steel machine disappeared front-first into a small bag, the mouth yawning open to swallow it like some deep sea monstrosity. The rest jogged out from the trees to either side, and as one the group of eight turned to the sole building to stand out from the forest, a circular wooden construct adorned with two signs.
One read: ‘Black Hell Inn,’ each letter carved deep into the wood and glossy with paint.
And below that: ‘Don’t mind the dog.’ The smaller sign was weathered, obviously older, the paint flaking away from disintegrating wood.
With a collective look, three men elected to enter.
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“You’re sure this is the place?”
“I’m quite sure, Lu. It’s exactly where it should be – and the sign matched.”
Lan’s words did little to slow the increasingly skeptical look growing on Lu’s face as he scanned the room. It isn’t as though I want to doubt you, senior brother, but… Look, there isn’t even any furniture, besides a ratty old couch and the counter! Isn’t this meant to be an inn? Where do people sleep, or get served food? This is an uncommonly spacious one-and-a-half room shack, at best!
Unable to hear his thoughts, Lan began walking forward. Lu followed him, and he felt the foul presence behind his back keeping pace. The scholar reached the front counter, which was simply a slab of untreated wood, and looked uncertainly between the unmanned station and the darkened doorway beyond.
After a moment, he called out. “Hello? We’re the disciples from Steadfast Heart, I believe we should be expected?”
An awkward silence – but then, just as Lu was ready to give up and leave, movement. A man, elderly of face but with a straight back and keen eyes, stuck his head out from the darkness. He wore a lumpy, obviously hand-made hat with a wide brim, along with a vest of the same leather over his otherwise bare chest. He was muscled, enough for Lu to tell he still worked the land even at his advanced age, and his height and broad shoulders – along with the beads of what was probably magnetite worked into his greying beard – marked him as having Blackiron ancestry. Even shrunk with age, he had to look down at the group.
Oh my, a real northern barbarian. I suppose we’re out far enough to see them, but I assumed the local guide would be, well, a local… Bah, what am I saying? He’s old, he’s probably spent longer on Greengrass than I have, assuming he wasn’t born here.
“Visitors.” The man’s voice was showing signs of wear despite his stature, that certain softness that came when one could no longer draw breath all the way. He stepped further into the light, exposing a lower body that was thankfully more covered than his upper half. “Welcome to Greengrass’s own little slice of Hell. You’re here to hunt?”
Lan nodded. “We are. I understand there are rules to observe?”
The man returned the nod, and bent to lift a thick tome from under the counter. It was a crude thing, and Lu was wavering between respect for the traditional construction of the outpost, and worry that those same traditions would turn out to be some backwards nonsense that did nothing but impede his goals.
The cover opened along with about half the pages, exposing scratchy letters that Lu didn’t put much effort into deciphering. “Don’t worry, there aren’t many. First off, don’t knock down the trees. Second, no poison. Third, no fires larger than the size of your head.” He closed the book. He didn’t even look at it. I have to admit, he at least has the character down. “And lastly, a word of advice; don’t go after the badgers. That one’s for your sake, not the forest’s; they look defenceless, but they’re actually much tougher than they’re worth.” The book went back under the counter. “That’s it. Will you be buying supplies?”
“I believe we have enough, honoured elder,” Lu answered. “I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry. Will that be all?”
The man threw his chin, his ill-fitting hat bobbing with the motion. “That’s it. Just pop back in on your way out; have to make sure the same people leave as go in.”
Lu blinked. “To… check for fox fairies?”
The man snorted, and Lu felt the tips of his ears burn. “More like poachers, son. Spirit foxes aren’t much like the stories; they just eat you.” He placed his hands on the smooth wood, resting his weight on them, and Lu noticed the scars on his limbs. Going all the way from his fingers, up to each elbow – bumpy lines and divots, the marks of teeth and claws. Not a single one reached his chest or face. “Go on, then. I won’t keep you.”
Lu bowed and turned, Lan doing the same after a brief word of farewell. Ah, was that too rude of me?
Sorry, old forest hunter, but I’ve not the time for conversation! The door opened easily – the only piece of metal he had seen in the entire dwelling, unless one counted the polished pebbles of ore decorating the owner’s person. Sixteen days. I have to make the most of it.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Bull and the others were gathered in a loose crowd. “Alright, that didn’t take too long,” he muttered, before raising his voice and addressing the group. “We’re all set! Bull, I think it would be best if you take point. Jiendao, Cobo, and myself with stay in the centre, unless anyone has objections?” A moment. “Nothing? Then we should head off. Remember, we’re looking for a spot with-”
Cobo raised his hand. “Where’s the other guy?”
Lu, blinked, before turning. The aura of misfortune and ill intent had disappeared from his senses at some point. “Tai Sho! He was just here a minute ago – he must be loitering inside.”
“Ah, he likely wanted a word with the innkeeper.” Lan adjusted his spectacles. “I’ll go fetch him, one moment.”
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It took, by Lu’s estimation, nearly a full twelfth of an hour for the core disciple to return, Lan trailing after him at a sedate pace.
His mouth opened, a scathing remark on his tongue, but something about the way the man’s vacantly beautiful face combined with the wreckage of his soul killed the words before they could make it past his teeth. It isn’t pity. Absolutely not. He floundered for a fraction of a second, before rallying. “Tai Sho. What kept you?”
The man held up a roll of parchment, the dark tone of the poorly-treated hide contrasting against his almost-too-pale skin. “I felt it best to get a more recently updated map; according to Ranger Gara’mel, he touched this one up on the first day of winter.”
It was the little things. The man’s teeth were immaculate, but they were framed by the vivid unnatural redness of his gums. His hair was as smooth as ever, but as a master of the aesthetic arts Lu could see that the style had been carefully chosen to hide balding spots. His eyes were bright and sparkling, but occasionally darted to follow something only he could see, thick veins pulsing in their furthest corners.
And of course, one final detail: it was all completely pointless. No amount of beauty arts could conceal the state of his soul, which was so damaged it was in multiple separate pieces. They floated away from each other as they warred, tethered only loosely to his body, impossible to ignore without completely closing off one’s spiritual sense.
Tai Sho might have been the person Lu held the greatest enmity towards – the greatest on a purely emotional level, surely – but looking at him full-on only made him feel ill, like looking at the bloated corpse of a fish floating on a fishing pond’s surface.
The dying man extended his hand, and Lu stared at his eyebrows as he moved to accept the parchment.
“…Thank you, senior brother. This is…” There was no further words in the sentence, his head simply running out of language. Behind Tai Sho’s shoulder, Lan winced and made a beckoning gesture.
Then a heavy hand descending on his shoulder. Bull leaned around him, snatching the map from Tai Sho’s slender fingers. “Very useful, Tai! Very useful! Good job.” Lu looked to the side to see his friend’s grin threatening to split his face in half. And it wasn’t feigned; Bull’s entire demeanour had changed over the course of the past day, bloodlust withdrawing in favour of something like… Manic joy. The pure enthusiasm of a child with a new toy. It was equally disturbing- no, that was a lie. It was maybe a tenth as disturbing as Tai Sho’s state, but that was still not a small amount.
“…Yes. Thank you.”
The man’s eyes danced with amusement. “No trouble, junior brother. You shouldn’t be in such a hurry that you miss small opportunities; Gara’mel was quite the character. Knowledgeable, driven.” The emotion died for a moment, before reigniting. “Lonely. If you had spoken to him for a few minutes, you could have gotten supplies for basically nothing. He lost his grandson two years ago, and you’re about the right build to tug at his heart.”
…What in Hell’s name can I even say to that? “Very insightful. As I was saying-”
“And his dog! What a beast! Just magnificent.”
Lu waited a moment. “…As I was saying, you can take…” His eyes went to Lan, who responded with a pained look. Bull, with a raised brow. Bo shook his head, his expression tight. “…The back, with Stingy. Is that acceptable?”
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There was someone else asking him questions, now.
Ded wasn’t sure how he knew. It wasn’t the voice, which was the same, or their scent, which he couldn’t understand. They didn’t speak with different words or look any more comprehensible, either.
But somehow, he could tell. The person asking him questions was older, more self-assured. Better at using their psychic techniques, though they were hiding it to maintain consistency.
He opened his mouth, and spoke in answer to something he couldn’t remember. “[The consumption of self, the purest form. Moving inward to move outward.]”
His interrogator hummed. “[Interesting. And what does that do?]”
“[Everything. The self is the self.]”
Time passed. More questions. More answers. His head was sharper than it had been, but more dirty. Stained with alien magic, a layer of protective grime that didn’t do much more than help him remember where he was and what had happened the day before. It certainly didn’t let him lie, or keep silent, or keep his thoughts from melting into themselves like eggs left under a lamp.
Keep it together, Ded, said Sulphur. Don’t break. Or if you do, break somewhere you can afford to replace later. Hah! He was there, behind the human. Ded could see him, his face, his stupid glasses. The singed bits on the tips of his ears, mostly hidden by his hair. That’s it. We’re tough old bastards, aren’t we?
Cobo answered before he could. Tough? Like stiff leather, maybe. He didn’t look like how Ded remembered him, but it was unmistakably Cobo. His eyes shone with many colours, his skin tanned, his teeth sharper than they had been. He wore no helmet, no armour, only black cloth in the human style. Come on, try a little harder. You wanted to get me back, right? How you gonna do that from inside a cell? Think, you old fool.
Another voice spoke out, and then another. His father. His old drinking buddies. The Raidbosses of the new Junk Dog, young and full of pride. His cavalrymen, and the spark of One-Man drifting somewhere inside his heart.
And Kara, his brother. Is this where you end, Dog Eats Dog? Are you finished? Are you sated? A face like bleached bone loomed above, its smile lighting the room. Does this life beneath notice fill your heart and soul?
“[No…]”
“[Pardon? I asked, where would you go after that? Take your time, give me the whole answer.]”
His lips began to move almost before the human had stopped speaking. “[Up. Forward. More and more. Faster. Faster, forever, into the sky.]”
The faceless thing said something, but he let it go. Some other part of him would reply; right now there was only the many hands lifting him up, his blood whispering in his ear. Is this the whole of you, son of stone and darkness? Son of Junk Dog?
No.
Is this your limit?
No.
Prove it.
“[I…]” His throat was sore, bloated. His skin still hurt where the Sun had touched it, all those days ago. But that was only flesh. “[I am Dog Eats Dog. Mine is the consumption of stone, and fire, and a thing I can’t name.]“
The thing paused. “[Have you forgotten the question? I think it’s time for a break.]” Something in his head shifted, moving down his spine, realigning each vertebrae as it went. It passed through his guts, and went somewhere else. Far away, but still touching. “[Do you remember what to say? Say ‘goodbye Miss Gu, see you tomorrow.’]”
“[I am not here. Not all of me. I am me, and not me. I am a melding, a moving target. One Thing.]”
It reached for him. “[Okay, okay. Sleep. Let’s pick this back up later.]”
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Inside the research wing was a smaller section, a wing within a wing, sometimes known informally as the Exploding Division. It was a joke, mostly – they were a lot better about only exploding things on purpose, now.
The division had three rooms, one large and two small. In the small rooms they carefully studied things, while in the larger they would actually take them apart. There were a lot of things one could determine with spiritual sense alone, but it wasn’t perfect; sometimes you just had to bust something open and see which way its guts fell.
Of the two smaller rooms, one had gradually become filled with objects yet to be disassembled, while the other held the post-disassembly bits. And the former room was Bou Jaah’s room.
Again, this was mostly a joke. Bou Jaah was the most junior researcher of the four who made up the Exploding Division, and to say that anything they owned or accomplished belonged to him would be a lie. But it was true that he spent more time in the room that even senior Hung Fot – it was simply the safest place for him.
Both in the sense that I'm less likely to get hurt here, and in the sense that the more fragile artifacts need to be protected from me. Ha.
Sometimes he felt just slightly bitter about not getting to disassemble things, but for the most part he was happy to take part. The machines were interesting, new and exciting – and working here would be a mark in his favour, when he tried for the position of alchemy apprentice again.
So as much as it wasn’t his room, it was his room. He locked it up at the end of the day, and opened it in the mornings. He catalogued the artifacts, sorted them into different sections, and wrote the reports.
If the Exploding Division was a kingdom, he was its pettiest lord – but still, a lord. So when he passed through the halls, key in hand, to find the door to his room lying twisted and half-open?
His blood did not run cold, but rather hot with fury. He rushed in, taking in the lay of things in an instant: some small objects melted. The radio, that’s the biggest loss. Missing is… His eyes panned back and forth, twice then twice again in the span of a second. “The bi-cycle.” His teeth bared, and he turned. The door to the testing chamber is still locked. They got in, and grabbed what they could. Bolted with the largest, most valuable looking piece.
He would go to Hung Fot, later today. But what kind of lord allowed his property to be defaced without retribution? No, first he would punish the criminal himself; the sect could have what was left.
There was the faintest of marks on the wall, invisible to the eye but not his keen sense, trained for months to discern alien materials. A scrape of rubber on the floor around the corner, only atoms thick. He smiled. Think you can steal from me? You should have thought harder!
His steps made no sound as he bounded through the halls, following the trail.