Chapter 11
The Great Escape
"IT'S REALLY YOU!" Jon's voice pierced through the commotion of the storm as he locked eyes with the dog. The creature, upon recognizing him, growled, a sound drowned out by the thunderous rage brewing in the sky. The storm’s fury seemed to echo the tumult in Jon's heart, yet he focused solely on the canine before him, the sole shard of his old life in this fantastical chaos.
The wind howled like a banshee, whipping up dust and debris into a frenzied dance. Twigs and leaves flew past in a wild, aerial parade. The world around Jon had become a blur of motion, a tempest of cultivator's raw power and fury. Yet, amidst this maelstrom, a singular moment of connection unfolded between man and beast.
Jon stepped closer to the dog, his senses keenly aware of the dog's fear-mirroring his own.
The dog, eyes wide and body tense, seemed to debate between growling and whimpering, caught in its instinctual response to the familiar yet unpredictable figure of Jon.
“This chaos, buddy, it’s all a bit much, huh?” Jon's words were snatched away by the wind, yet he felt the need to express them, an attempt to bridge the emotional gap between them.
The storm raged on, indifferent to the human and animal caught in its wild grasp. Dust swirled around, forming a gritty veil that stung Jon’s eyes, but he blinked it away, maintaining his focus on the scared creature before him.
He extended a hand, not in command but as an offer of solidarity. "We’re both out of place here," he muttered, almost lost in the storm's roar, "and yeah, it’s kind of my fault you’re here... but then again, you did pee on me."
The dog, probably sensing the sincerity in Jon's voice, ceased growling but still hesitated, its ears pinned back against the sounds of thunder, howling winds and cracking branches. The storm now seemed to challenge the very earth to hold its ground, the air thick with the scent of upturned soil and shattered trees.
Jon, acknowledging the chaos around them, knelt to appear less threatening, his gaze never leaving the dog's. "We need to stick together, you and I," he shouted, "because, frankly, I haven’t got a clue what’s going on either."
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The dog, after what felt like an eternity, edged closer, its survival instincts momentarily overshadowed by the need for companionship in this foreign, hostile world.
"Good boy." Jon said as the dog finally nudged his hand with its wet nose. Just then, they were interrupted by a jarring crash that cut through the storm's cacophony.
Both of them flinched as an object smashed into the ground nearby, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris. As the wind cleared the air, Jon’s gaze fell upon a horrifying sight—a body so brutally mangled that its identity was lost in its mutilation. The remnants of dark, ornate robes clung to the corpse, marking it as one of the Demonic cult's disciples. The head, or rather the space where it should have been, was a hollow, gore-filled crater, the body contorted in a gruesome manner that defied Jon's understanding of human anatomy.
Jon and the dog exchanged a glance. "Time to get the fuck outta here, buddy," he asserted, his voice firm against the howling winds. The dog barked in response, a semblance of understanding flickering in its eyes as if it grasped the gravity of Jon's words.
Rising to his feet, Jon unsheathed his sword, the dog observing intently, its focus unbroken by the gleam of the silvery blade. With a swift motion, he sliced through the rope tethering the dog to the pole. The ease with which the blade cut through surprised him; it was as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, perhaps even more so. Admiring the weapon's keen edge for a moment, he sheathed it again, his attention snapping back to the urgent need to flee.
The dog, now free, wasted no time and bolted, its survival instincts in full throttle. Jon watched it dash away."Tsk, that treacherous bastard," he muttered under his breath. But survival waited for no one, and Jon launched into a sprint, his legs pumping furiously, the adrenaline coursing through his veins sharpening his focus.
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He caught up with the dog swiftly, their pace synchronized in their flight from chaos. The dog didn’t glance back, its entire being concentrated on escaping the madness that enveloped them. The battleground’s tumult grew more intense, the earth trembling beneath their feet with such ferocity that it resonated with Jon's racing heart.
As he ran, Jon's thoughts circled back to Huo Zheng. The ground's vibrations spoke of a power that contradicted the monk's claim of having his dantian destroyed, leaving Jon to ponder the disparity between what he had been told and the reality unfolding around him. "If he was that powerful, why did he not escape before I came?" Jon mused.
The tempest raged with relentless ferocity, yet above the howling winds, screams pierced the air, heralding something colossal.
Jon, propelled by fear and adrenaline, caught a glimpse of an anomalous golden glow piercing the night sky. His curiosity overcame his urge to flee, and he cast a hurried glance backward. What he saw stretched the bounds of belief: a colossal buddha, wrought from golden light, descended from the heavens like a meteorite. It was a spectacle both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
"Holy shit!" Jon's thoughts screamed in tandem with his pounding heart. Instinct took over, and he whirled around, accelerating to a pace he never knew he possessed. He swooped down on the dog, which now seemed to crawl in its panic-stricken escape. "Come here, boy!" he shouted, scooping up the bewildered animal with ease.
Jon’s legs moved with unprecedented speed, a blur against the chaotic backdrop of the battleground. He couldn’t help but marvel at his own velocity, a surreal sense of detachment overtaking him as he sprinted through the night. It was as though he was flying, each stride propelling him forward with the force of a gale. This newfound speed was nothing short of miraculous, and the reality of it hit him as he overtook a horse galloping at full tilt. He passed it with such ease that the animal might as well have been standing still, a "turtle" in comparison to his sprinting form.
"Hang in there!" Concern flickered in his mind for the dog's well-being, half-expecting it to pass out from the sheer velocity and the whirlwind they created. But this was no time for pit stops or gentle care; a fist-shaped meteorite of golden light was plummeting towards the earth, for God's sake! jon thought.
As Jon sprinted, the landscape around him became a streaking blur, but his enhanced perception allowed him to spot a caravan of people some 7 kilometers ahead. They appeared as clear as day to his heightened senses, despite the chaos. These figures, frantically moving specks in the distance, were evidently not warriors or cultivators. Their pace and the lack of martial readiness in their demeanor suggested they were common folk, possibly traders or pilgrims, caught unawares by the sudden eruption of violence.
Their path of escape paralleled his own, a shared trajectory of survival as they all sought refuge from the celestial onslaught. Sensing a potential haven or at least a temporary respite among them, Jon veered towards the caravan’s direction, his decision made in the heartbeat between the thunderclaps of the storm.
Jon felt more than heard the colossal impact as the buddha's fist met the earth, a cataclysmic union that echoed the fury of a meteorite's kiss upon the planet's cheek. The ground trembled with the force of a thousand thunders, and the air howled as if the sky itself were being torn asunder. Even without looking back, Jon knew the spectacle behind him was apocalyptic, a brilliant and terrifying display of power unleashed, as if the heavens had hurled a star to chastise the earth.
As the shockwave surged towards him, Jon's childhood instincts kicked in. With a primal scream, "Aaaargh!" he somehow willed his legs to push harder, faster.
As Jon sprinted with the dog clutched against his chest, the shockwave unleashed by the fist roared towards him with inevitable ferocity. Despite his impressive speed, the shockwave was faster. Jon felt it approach, a mounting terror at his back, a beast of air and energy baying for destruction.
He braced himself as best he could, pressing the dog tightly to his chest and hunching over to shield it with his body. The world around him seemed to scream in anticipation, trees bending and snapping, the earth itself crying out as the shockwave neared.
Then, it struck.
Jon was catapulted forward as if he were nothing more than a leaf caught in a hurricane. His ears rang with a piercing intensity, the world around him a blur of motion and noise, his senses overwhelmed by the shockwave's brutal embrace. He felt detached, a passenger in his own body as he was flung mercilessly by the storm's wrath.
In the chaos, Jon's mind whirled. Silence enveloped him, a stark, sudden absence of sound that felt as profound as the noise preceding it. He lay there, disoriented, vision smeared with blurriness, the ground beneath him both hard and strangely comforting. "Dad..." he murmured, his thoughts adrift, touching on life, death, and the spectral shadows of regret that linger in the mind's corners.
As the ringing in his ears ebbed, replaced by the growing clarity of external sounds, Jon detected a familiar noise amidst the stillness. Barks? He struggled to bring his surroundings into focus, his eyes rebelling against a brightness that seemed too harsh, too sudden. Squinting against the light, the world slowly materialized from the haze of his battered senses. It was daylight. How long had he been out?
As clarity seeped back into his consciousness, he noticed the source of the barking. The dog, his accidental companion in this tumultuous world, was fixated on a figure approaching them. A man's voice cut through the fog in his mind, his words simple yet jarring in their normalcy amidst the chaos, "Are you hurt?"