The flames are out of control, and the smell more rancid than anything Ash has smelled before. It's not supposed to be like this, not this deep within the mountains. Not this close to the secret hideout of the Khal sect. Ash runs past the burning forests around, gliding around fireballs of trash as he charges up the stone steps, grimacing at the fact that the surrounding oceans have been burning for a week. The Khal sect is falling apart. He jumps over falling trash piles. Massive ornate pillars crumble along with their intricate carvings. Fractures and cracks amongst many men and women carrying black bags.
"Garbage Colllector's Glide!"
Ash flashes and whisks around the crumbling pillars, amongst them four massive stone statues, each wielding a different type of broom. The four fathers of the Khal sect. Everything they stood for, crumbling along with the sect. They would be so disappointed at this outcome of their legacy.
Ash Khal runs through the burning wreckage of his home. There is only one man who can deal with this situation, honorable sect master Khan Khal, his master. The man who took him in when he was abandoned at the Khal Sect doors as a baby. His parents probably had no means of raising him themselves. Master Khan insisted it's better to think that than consume himself with negative thoughts about "what if" situations. Sect Master Khan's wisdom knew no bounds, Ash quickly devoted his life to his cause, cleaning garbage from the world forever. Khan Khal raised him like a son, and taught him the sacred forms of trash management, techniques normally meant for the highborn and elite of the sect. Highborn now mingling with the rest as they desperately sort recyclables from non-recyclables, tossing aside what bags they can before the flames spread further. Those less disciplined were already running for their lives. It's not their fault, they are trash disposers, not soldiers. Though their cowardice regardless brings immense shame to the Khal sect.
Master Khan never did care for time honored traditions or reputation, instead he only sought the results of hard work and discipline. It's what Ash loved most about him, and what Ash feared would lead to Sect Master's death. One's status meant nothing to Sect Master, only the results of effort. The conspiracy which led to this must have been in the works for years, and Ash knows in his heart who is responsible for this mess. Khol Khal, the man who complained loudest when it was revealed that a "low born" was taught the sacred trash disposal techniques. He's tried to have Ash assassinated a few days before the ocean's caught fire, but there was no evidence on the assailant's corpse.
Sect master Khan told him not to confront Khol Khal, as though he's guilty, until some evidence presents itself. If it had been Ash in the sect master position, he'd have had that elder executed that very day. After living in the Khal sect for so long, he's learned to recognize trash in all shapes and forms, including a trash heart. Ash focuses his gaze and clears his mind. A technique he derived from studying the martial wisdom of a local ninja sect. Though normally these ninja disciplines are practiced in secret, when you're emptying their trash weekly since childhood, you'll eventually see a couple of things. This particular technique, a mystic gaze which enhances sight and reflex, took him ten years to recreate. In this state, even the darkest and most cluttered of spaces reveal their secret piles of garbage.
"Kaimen Garbage Vision."
Whether recyclable materials, or hazardous burning waste, they all become clear, detailed, and slow before his flashing purple eyes. A pile of burning black bags crumble down upon him. Ash raises out his fist, enveloping the bags with his spirit power.
"Trash compactor," he said. The piles crumble on themselves, harmlessly falling by his feet at a fraction of their usual size, causing webs of cracks to form on the ground beneath. I need to hurry, Ash thinks, shifting his feet in and out, dodging the other crumbling flaming piles. Grunts and struggles of battle come from afar, overpowered by the screams of sect members running from the destruction. Normally a martial exchange between two elders would grab all the attention, but today catching a glimpse of such expertise would come at the cost of one's life. For Ash, a small price to pay to save the man who gave him everything. Ash knows the type of man Khol Khal is, proud and strong, he's willing to do whatever it takes to win even at the cost of shame. Though Khol Khal would rather win the one on one...
Ash rushes towards the sounds of fists.
Khan Khal steps forward with a swift kick at his opponent's midsection, his long grey robes flowing with the motion, but Khol Khal would never succumb to such a simple move. He grabs hold of the Sect Master's leg, ready to disrupt balance, but Sect Master Khan's reflexes were too quick. With a leap to the air, the Khan delivers a brutal roundhouse kick to Khol's head, drawing blood from the traitor's mouth. Unphased, Khol the traitor delivers a flurry of punches and kicks, and gets rightfully countered before being tossed into a burning pile of trash.
Sect Master Khan weaves hand signs, and tightens his grip. This move of his is not something the Khal sect teaches. What he does now is an example of what many consider the result of that demon child Ash's influence. It's clear to Khol now what his brother has become. This improvised form he's taking is a perversion. A heretic deviation from the established tenants of the Khal Sects Garbage Arts. Instead of seeking preservation to the utmost, it seeks to burn and dispose the utmost.
"Khan Khal you treacherous filth!"
"Entropic Form of Trash Incineration!"
A pillar of fire erupts to the sky. The traitor, Khol, struggles to break out from the burning wreckage, his clothes charred and nearly falling off. Sect Master Khan looks down.
"How could you do this, younger brother?" he said.
"Because you're a fool, elder brother. You teach our sacred arts to a demon, let him pervert our ways and lower our status across the continents. We refuse to be led by such a person."
"We?" Sect master Khan said, failing to realize until six traitors were already driving their knives towards his back.
Hng!
Ash coughs blood as the six knives each find their way into his vital organs.
"Ash, no!" Sect master Khan yells, he kicks the six traitors away, before getting a knife into his own back.
"Good, you can die here with that filthy commoner you tarnished our history for." Khol Khal said, digging the knife in, "Oh, and when this is over I'm going to sell all our secrets to the Wutang sect," he said with a twist.
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"You're a fool, younger brother." Sect Master Khan said, coughing blood. His vision blurs as he slumps over and falls towards Ash. Khol Khan digs the knife into his neck.
"From now on there will only be three great families."
"He was a prodigy, a true genius, he was going to save the world," Sect Master Khan said with his dying breath, holding dearly onto Ash, who's already slipped into the grips of death.
"It's because of those delusions that he's dying here with you." Khol Khan said, twisting the edge again.
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"Ah!" Ash screams, unable to say more. Everything is so bright and warm, but he can't make out the forms of what he sees, they're just blurs. There is something wrong with his eyes, and his body won't move properly. Two figures look down on him, all he can really make out are the colors of their hair. One black, and the other a gentle warm brown.
"Look how energetic and pale he is, are newborns supposed to be able to move this much?" the man with black hair said.
What?
Ash cries, he's a baby again. His last memory of his old life a knife in his masters back. No doubt the Khal sect is crumbled, and his master is dead. Ash gave his life for nothing, and changed nothing. His tears flow relentlessly as he screams. What was the point of it all. Thirty years he had spent training diligently, mastering the three sacred forms of trash disposal, and was on the verge of unraveling the secrets of the fourth, a technique reserved only for the elders of the Khal sect. Jealous louts. Given everything in life but would do nothing with it, and yet they look at him poorly for trying his best to push the Khan Sect to new horizons. Ash knew better than to practice in range of their evil eyes, so he'd often sneak out in the middle of the night. That habit his undoing, for it was inevitable someone would eventually notice him slipping out to practice "heretical techniques." Of course his enemies would closely monitor him. It was his own impatience that caused his death. Had he not excitedly tried to unravel the fourth art, none of this would have happened. Ash cries hysterically but soon finds his tears fading as he's pressed into a warm ample embrace, mother and father on both sides, a warmth he never knew in his old life. A nice, relaxing feeling, much better than the cold stares around him growing up. Maybe reincarnation isn't such a bad thing.
"Look the color is coming back to him," his mother said gleefully, the dad smiles as he yanks him from her plump, warm chest.
"Pale skin and Ashy grey eyes. I think I know his name," the dad said, the mother tilts her head.
"What is it?" she asks.
"Ash," the father said. Ash looks at his dad in shock, though his facial muscles were unable to register the expression. Instead he opens his eyes wide and coos, to the giggles of his new mother.
"I think he likes it, Ash it is," she said. His father spins him around with a wider smile.
"Ash Khal, Has a nice ring to it. Welcome to the world of the living little guy. Let's show you your new home."
They never made it to that new home. Ash could barely comprehend what was happening, the noises in his ears were complete gibberish. It’s not the language he used in his old world. So strange, just moments ago it felt like he could understand everything his parents had said. It’s as though a mental connection was severed.
Ash tries to speak, but he’s not used to his own body anymore, it behaves strangely, and the noises that come out limited. It’s infuriating, so much so he spent the whole nap home thinking of all the ways he’s going to reclaim control over his body. A difficult and long task, but one always worth seeing through. It was in the middle of these thoughts that he felt panic from his mother. It stirred something deep within Ash, he cries, recalling the earliest memories of his old life, the day he was abandoned at the Khal sect doors.
In the darkness of the woods, blurry images of a bleeding woman.
No.
"Be strong," she said, with a fake smile.
No.
Her blood stains the trees as she slips into the darkness.
Not again.
"Ash!"
It's happening again
"Listen Ash,"
It’s happening again.
“Stop crying, please!" his mother begs, covering his mouth by smothering him in her chest. He calmed in that moment, yet his tears kept falling.
“From now on it’ll just be the two of us, Ash,” she said with a fake smile, “but don’t worry, I’m here.”
It's... not happening again.
Haha...ha...zzz.
Three years later.
She really was there. In that farm in the middle of nowhere, they had all kinds of fruits and vegetables naturally growing around. Sometimes the plants would attract meat. Janne was great with a bow. She sometimes waits for hours for food to come, leaving Ash inside to "nap."
He would never begin napping until after she returns. Instead, Ash continues his little training routine he's been following since first learning how to walk. Push ups, squats, planks, basic movements to give his body a good foundation. His mother would often express thanks for how easy he's been to raise, even more often questioning why he never cries, or why his body fat lowers with each passing day. Every night she would pray, asking her husband to watch over them, leaving the next morning to tend to the gardens, or hunt. Ash would use the time to further develop his workout routine.
Her hunts gave him the perfect amount of daily alone time to regain control over his body. Weak, shaky thing. It was similar to when he first began practicing Junk-fu. What a nightmare. Before sect members are even allowed to practice Junk-fu, they have to first develop the toxi-grip. A requisite for all Khal sect members if they wish to survive handling extremely hazardous and sometimes radioactive material in a manner which respects their body and environment. The stinging pain in his nerves on those initial days were beyond anything he's ever experienced, even death. The pain inducers... they lit up every pain receptor in his body. The pain killers weren't as bad though they did make him forget to breath for thirty minutes. Direct organ attacks were normal, but ineffective due to the antibodies he's been accumulating years before the poison tests. The worst one though was the complete paralysis venom, it nearly stopped his heart. Luckily it managed to squeeze out a couple dozen beats a minute. It was a good thing he could hold his breath until it wore off.
A lot of people die from that venom due to overconfidence in their own ability. It's why doctors always emphasize the importance of a slow and steady approach when preparing to learn the toxi-grip. Without the right preparation, death is guaranteed. Such deaths are the outcome of underestimating the pre-requisites for garbage disposal. However with the right training and diet, the body can be optimized for even the most extreme forms of waste. The great doctors of the Khal sect have spent thousands of years archiving, building, and improving their secret poisons, and the specific bodily conditions needed to become resistant rather than dead. Ash snickers as he runs up to the windows. The foods in this little slice of paradise are as abundant as they come. Berries, bananas, kiwis, dragonfruit, papayas, coconut, cabbages, spinach, herbs of all kinds. Ash could cry at the ridiculous abundance. There's no pollution. It's the very thing the Khal sect was created to preserve. He too will do whatever it takes to protect this home.
Once his arms get a little stronger, he'll be able to prepare his own foods, then his body will get much stronger much faster. Afterall, nearly seventy percent of gains are a result of a proper diet. Just a few more days. Who knows, maybe Janne could benefit from what he does too. It's a good thing the sect master personally taught him how to make the Khal sects secret seventeen recipes and poisons. Ash struggles through a few more push ups.
Push, push, push, push!
His arms shake heavily as gravity sits atop his back like a bowling ball talking smack.
"You think you can beat me?" that ball said.
They weren't kidding about the activeness of a child's imagination. Ash smiles as sweat drenches his face. Enough with the distractions.
Veins pop from all over as Ash surpasses his limits. The roar of his soul louder that the very bang which made the universe.
I will get through this last rep or die trying.
He pushes on with his mother looking along.
"What the fuck?"