Author’s Note: Am back. Took a little longer than expected, but I’m not sure if I should chalk it up to vaccine fatigue or regular fatigue. Laziness is definitely a factor, as I didn’t resist too hard whenever the urge to nap struck, but what matters is we here and we have chapters again. Enjoy!
Roused by the piercing glare of the too-bright sun, Vithar kicked off the light silken sheets and rolled out of his too-soft bed with axe in hand, lamenting at how these southlander comforts were designed to breed weakness.
The sounds of battle and bloodshed did much to sharpen his mind and invigorate his spirits as he took stock of his surroundings, never taking his safety for granted not even in his private, guarded quarters, but he’d slept so deeply in his warm and comfortable bedding that any fool could have bumbled into his oversized tent and Vithar would not have noticed until the knife was already at his throat. Relaxing as the soft bed might be, a hard floor and sturdy quilt was all a true Chieftain needed, and any more was simply inviting calamity. Better to sleep light so the mind would stay active and just warm enough to feel the night’s chill, so that one’s skin would feel the barest movement of cold air. Were it up to Vithar, he would do away with these foolish trappings and live like a true Chieftain, but Gongsun Qi said these luxuries were ‘only befitting of this Prince’s Disciple’ and thus necessary for the sake of face.
A concept Vithar didn’t understand no matter how many times the southlanders tried to explain, mostly because they themselves didn’t seem to truly understand face either. There was no logical reasoning behind face, which was supposedly a measure of respect independent of strength and prosperity, yet was also somehow linked to them at the same time. Strength demanded one show face, but face itself must be maintained lest it be lost, which was possible even if one’s strength remained the same. Southern weakness at work is what it was, their lands so plentiful and lives so easy that they had to invent new reasons to go to war with one another, as if the mere desire to do battle was not enough.
Since accepting Gongsun Qi as his Mentor, Vithar felt that his worthless lessons in face took up far too much of his precious time, but despite those wasted efforts, he’d still progressed by leaps and bounds in every metric which mattered. The slender southerner was arrogant, but powerful and knowledgeable, and Vithar used the man even as he knew he himself was being used, though for what purposes, he could not say. Gongsun Qi’s motivations were a complete mystery to Vithar, but so long as the man didn’t demand too much from the tribes, then there were more benefits to be gained than losses incurred, which was really all that mattered in the end.
One weakness Vithar wholly embraced was the concept of cooking, but such ‘menial labour’ was beneath ‘Gongsun Qi’s Disciple’, so he could only rely on others to cook for him. This was one of the most valuable and most difficult lessons of all, to learn how to trust and rely on others to do what Vithar was accustomed to doing himself. Whether it be preparing his meals, repairing his armour, or even securing a place to sleep, it was crucial to delegate these vital tasks to others for the sake of personal growth. Back home in the frozen wastes, every minute of every hour was dedicated towards ensuring his own personal survival, a goal he could only rely on himself to accomplish. Even Asmani, fond of him as she was, would not sacrifice her own well-being to see him safe and fed, and might well have been the first to slit his throat if he should ever falter and show weakness, so Vithar had no choice but to remain vigilant and guarded at all times.
Here in the southlands however, they took their safety for granted, firmly believing in face, honour, laws, and other nonsensical, made-up concepts to keep their lives intact. “Do not trust them without suspicion,” Gongsun Qi had lectured. “Trust them to act in their own self-interest.” Which made sense, assuming one understood how a southerner might think, so while Vithar understood that the cook would be tortured and killed if he were to poison anyone eating his food, the only way to wholly ensure his food was safe for consumption was to force him to sample all of it. Only then did Vithar partake of his breakfast, a massive bowl of flavourful congee, four fried dough fritters each as large as his arm, a savoury rack of venison ribs, a plate of garlic stir-fried bok choi, and a pot of hot, fragrant tea. Delighting in each and every bite even as he pored over the morning reports, Vithar idly wondered how Asmani would react to such a meal, and wished she were here to share it with him.
Another concept he was unfamiliar with, this dining with comrades and companions. Back north, each tribesman ate alone so as not to reveal their hand, for much could be gleaned from knowing if a successful hunter was eating well in preparation for a challenge or saving it for harder times later down the line.
Those days were behind him now, behind all the tribes in fact, for there was plenty of food to be had here in the southlands. So much food that the southlanders could afford to give it all away, as they were doing so along the Western Wall so that their weak farmers could remain hidden behind their District walls at all times. Raiding was no longer as worthwhile as it’d once been, with many a tribe returning with spare garos and empty saddlebags after clashing with the formidable Death Corps and Royal Guardians defending the Districts. A costly expense considering the farmers no longer worked their fields, weaklings whose only purpose in life was to provide for their betters yet unable to do even this. A waste is what it was, protecting these feeble cowards who were too dumb and deaf to heed their Ancestors and draw strength from their wisdom, but such were the southlander ways. Not only did they waste effort feeding and protecting their weak, they did so at the expense of their Warriors, a conflict Vithar only understood in passing because Gongsun Qi required him to possess ‘passing knowledge of the enemy’s political situation’, information he deemed entirely useless but reviewed nonetheless as he headed out to report for duty.
There were tensions between North, South, and Central, tensions which resulted from a new Chieftain of Chieftains rising up to seize control from the previous one. The southlanders called their Chieftain of Chieftains by many different names, the first being the Legate, and this new one the Commander General, but there was no real difference as far as Vithar could see. Before, the Legate commanded the spears of the Empire, and now, the Commander General was in charge, and regardless of who held power, none of the Imperial tribes were happy. That was how Vithar saw it, and trying to understand more only resulted in more questions, like why didn’t anyone just kill the Legate or Commander General if they were displeased with his orders? This led to more useless lessons on the made up concepts of face, honour, and laws, so he soon stopped asking and simply accepted that all southlanders were mad.
Some of the information was useful however, like knowing the guarded Districts had lost the support of their Commander General. Shuai Jiao was displeased to have so many useful Warriors wasted on mere weaklings, but the Legate’s under-Chieftain, one Consort Zheng Luo, refused to obey any and all orders to station the Death Corps and Royal Guardians elsewhere. Utter foolishness on both sides, but more so on the Commander General’s part, for one should not give orders unless one meant to see them obeyed, and thus far, Consort Zheng Luo remained unharmed and her Warriors left in place. This weakened the Commander General’s authority, and were he a tribal Chieftain, he would have long since been challenged and killed, but the southlanders merely used his weakness as a reason to disobey with minimal consequence. Foolish to play these games of politics with hostile tribes upon their doorstep, but according to Gongsun Qi, ‘politics’ ran deep ‘in the blood of Central’, a fact which made Vithar wary of consuming them.
What Vithar took away from this all was that the enemy was fractured and divided, with the Districts unwilling to support the Citadels and the Citadels unwilling to support the Districts, a flaw he and Gongsun Qi immediately exploited. Once they learned military intervention would be at a minimum, they increased border raids to target ‘civilian’ convoys while leaving ‘military’ ones untouched, though how Gongsun Qi differentiated between them was difficult for Vithar to say. Something about papers and permits and other such nonsense, but it was enough to know that the Commander General paid only minimal attention to attacks on civilian convoys, which were far less defended than military ones. For a time, Vithars tribesmen reaped plenty of rewards by going on these raids, until Consort Zheng Luo did something to hide her convoys from Gongsun Qi’s eyes. As far as Vithar understood it, they weren’t finding these convoys through the eyes of scouts, but spies passing along information regarding these targets so Vithar’s under-chieftains could target them. Whatever the means, it was lost to them now, and without knowing where and when their targets would appear, finding a worthwhile target to strike was a matter of luck and timing, but his riders had been returning empty-handed for an entire week now.
It was Vithar’s opinion that sending raiding parties so deep behind enemy lines was no longer worth the risk, especially after more than one party never returned to report. Others spoke of trapped convoys manned by Warriors masquerading as weaklings, supported by Concealed groups of Royal Guardians mounted atop their ferocious, black-maned lions. Vithar had seen their work firsthand in the battle of JiangHu and respected their strength, as any Chieftain who brought home a lion’s mane pelt had instantly become a Chieftain of note. There was also the possibility that some of Vithar’s raiders had simply thrown off the shackles of duty and obligation to strike deeper into the southlands on their own, which was more probable than having each and every rider captured or killed before they could make it back to safety. Whatever the reason for their disappearance, losing so many riders reflected poorly on Vithar and the under-Chieftains had taken notice. Much like how the Commander General had lost the confidence of his underlings by issuing orders which were not obeyed, Vithar would lose the confidence of his under-Chieftains if he sent too many of them to their deaths. Many were already unsatisfied serving under a Warrior weaker than themselves, but the Uniter’s support kept Vithar’s head intact, as did his willingness to speak plainly of his motives. Neither the Uniter nor the Commander General had their tribes’ best interests in mind, so Vithar was there to ensure their plans did not bring all their tribes to ruin. A simple enough explanation to accept, especially considering how many of them had died to make it even this far.
Best of all, each Chieftain was still the voice of their tribe, and Vithar merely the one who coordinated all their collective efforts and passed along the Uniter’s demands. In short, even though he had the lofty title of Chieftain of Chieftains, Vithar was seen as a mere mouthpiece, no different from that fool Gen. Grating as this might be, Vithar saw it as an opportunity to learn his rivals weaknesses while affording himself time to grow and surpass them in personal strength. There would come a day when he became strong enough to seize the title of Prime Champion of the outer lands through his own merits, and by that time, the tribes will have grown accustomed to heeding his commands. What’s more, according to Gongsun Qi, having Vithar to relay orders made many of the under-chieftains more receptive to following through, since they saw him as one of their own, more so than any southlander at least. An ‘unexpected benefit’, but one Vithar understood more than most, for no true Chieftain would allow those under their command to shed blood without benefit, not like these southlanders who had tribesmen aplenty to waste.
To this effect, Vithar approached Gongsun Qi’s command tent with the aim of calling off the day’s raids, but the southlander General would not hear of it. “Today’s raids be more important than any which have come before,” Gongsun Qi explained, his rugged features drawn in an expression of frustration as he pointed at his map. “Look carefully and tell me what you see.”
There was no need to look at the map, as Vithar had seen it briefly on his way in and knew where the riders were to be deployed. “You intend to strike at the districts themselves, sending blooded tribesmen to work in concert and overrun the defenders. This serves no purpose.”
“So you say, but does this be true?”
Gongsun Qi’s expression was unreadable, but Vithar knew this meant his answer bore more thought, so he turned to study the map in more detail. At first glance, his earlier answer appeared to be correct, but the longer he looked, the less sure he became. “Your deployment is not optimal,” he declared, the first time he’d felt that Gongsun Qi’s plan was truly lacking. “The numbers you have sent against each District are not enough to take them, not easily and without support, even for the blooded and true. If you mean to augment the attack with Chosen cavalry or Transcendents, then the military will not stand idly by, which would then trap my riders between the Citadel and the Districts, dooming them to inevitable death.”
“You be correct, Disciple,” Gongsun Qi replied, nodding in approval. “So then what do you think is my true intent?”
“That these movements are a falsehood.” Pointing at three Districts in particular, Vithar added, “And these be the true targets. The forces dispatched are more than enough to raze them and return safely.”
“Good, good.” Beaming from ear to ear, Gongsun Qi’s pearly white teeth stood out against his rugged, sun-baked complexion. “You arrived at the conclusion this Prince hoped you would, but your answer still be incorrect.” Gesturing at the Districts outlined on the map, the smiling Warrior shook his head. “The Districts are tempting targets indeed, and our foes will move to protect them, but we face an enemy divided. Shuai Jiao will undoubtedly divine our target, but lacks the reasoning why. The Legate’s Imperial Consort be a crafty woman, more cunning than most, and has concealed the delivery of many a convoy to these three target Districts. Their warehouses should now hold enough grain and meat to feed Central’s ailing farmers for weeks, which is why your riders have returned empty handed for so many days in a row.”
“They found no convoys because there were none to find,” Vithar concluded, spitting to convey his displeasure. His tribesmen tracked false trails which lacked quarry to kill, cheated by Consort Zheng Luo’s duplicitous deceptions. In all likelihood, the convoys that had been raided were bait to draw the eye away, so that her fully-laden convoys could make it through unscathed.
“Indeed. The Imperial Consort will move Heaven and earth to defend these three Districts, for without them, her people will starve.” Moving the markers about in a quick and efficient manner, Gongsun Qi revealed the next step of his grand plan, with the tribes converging outside the intended targets and the Royal Guardians and Death Corps moving in to reinforce. “These movements will attract Shuai Jiao’s attention, and he will discern the reasoning behind them soon enough, assuming he is not already aware of the Imperial Consort’s deception. As such, he will have no reason to concern himself with our movements, as these forces are not enough to threaten the Citadel, nor are they large enough to be worth hunting down.”
Gongsun Qi was not a difficult man to understand, direct and straightforward as can be, but that did not mean the man was without guile. Seeing the trap for what it was, Vithar said, “And so you mean to do the unexpected, and send my tribesmen to attack the Citadel in full force. The eastern gates, yes? But as you yourself said, my riders are not enough to threaten the Citadel, not on their own.” Though there was nothing on the map to signify their presence, the absence of allied troops stationed to the north of their camp was telling indeed. “The Chosen cavalry, they are stationed here? Under Concealment and ready to ride out, likely.” Finding another gap in the lines, Vithar tried to calculate how many troops could fit into those empty spaces, but math and numbers still confounded him to no end. “What forces are encamped here? There are no units unaccounted for which would need so much room.”
“Truly a gem worth polishing.” Gazing at Vithar with pride and satisfaction, Gongsun Qi sank into his chair and sighed. “Some weeks ago, you were unable to even read the map, and now you see through my best laid plans with minimal direction.” Waving a hand in dismissal, he continued, “Worry not about who be stationed there. It be a surprise for ally and enemy alike, for they say the best kept secrets are those known only to one.”
The details didn’t matter all that much, but this meant Vithar had to trust the southlander’s judgment, something that still did not come easily to him. “These forces, they are enough to take the Citadel?”
“There be no such thing as certainty in matters of war.” Shrugging, Gongsun Qi added, “If victory was not possible, then this Prince would not have taken up arms against the Empire.”
A statement which rang false in Vithar’s ears. That was something these southlanders did, speak falsehoods without warning or reason, which made it even more difficult to trust them. Anyone who met him would know that Gongsun Qi sought out conflict and bloodshed like a garo drawn to carrion, and yet here he claimed otherwise, as if he’d been forced to acknowledge the Uniter’s strength and given the choice to serve or die. No, according to the tribe who first encountered Gongsun Qi here in the southlands, the strange and formidable Warrior had demanded to speak with the Uniter in person, and killed their Chieftain and two strongest Champions before giving up and moving on. The southern Colonel General came across three more tribes to similar results, until finally encountering a Chieftain with more sense than pride. Then and only then did Gongsung Qi secure a meeting with the Uniter, and only they knew the contents of their discussion.
No matter. Vithar cared not for Gongsun Qi’s motivations, only his competence, and thus far, the man had proved adequately brilliant and unwilling to act unless reasonably confident in his chances of success. During the planning phase of this assault, every one of Vithar’s suggestions had been analyzed and either discarded, accepted, or improved upon, including his idea to have the Transcendents consume corpses in the midst of battle, so as to make use of them before the southlanders could ruin them. Such a waste, rendering the bodies of their fallen into ashes and dust, but what else can you expect from those too foolish to heed the advice of their own Ancestors? In fact, this burning practice might well be the reason for their silent Spirits, for it was possible the fire did more than simply destroy the physical vessels of the departed, and was possibly destroying their Spirits as well.
Pointing at one group of tribesmen on the map, Vithar said, “I will lead this group personally, and command my riders from within.”
“An admirable request, but one this Prince will have to reject.” A Sending pulsed through the air, setting Vithar’s hairs to standing on end now that he knew what to look for, the answers provided not by his ‘Mentor’ but by the Ancestors themselves. Brought forth by his silent summons, five armoured Chosen strode into the command tent carrying an extra set of armour between them, one meant for Vithar, judging by the knowing look Gongsun Qi gave him. “You be this Prince’s Disciple now,” he began, as the Chosen strode forth to garb Vithar like one of their own. “And as such, there be more prominent roles upon the battlefield fit for a man of your station. You will command the entire army today, supported by my personal retinue of Warriors, each hand-picked and trained by this Prince himself, a force numbering ten-thousand strong and growing.”
Members of Gongsun Qi’s tribe, as Vithar saw it, and while he had borne witness to this retinue’s formidable strength, there were still questions to be answered before he could accept. “If I am to command the army, what will you do?”
“This Prince will be busy elsewhere,” the southlander replied, his smile widening even further in gleeful anticipation. “For my full focus be required if I am to take Shuai Jiao and Ryo Dae Jung’s heads. The Uniter’s undue haste has led us to incur excessive losses and accept an inordinate amount of risk, but he assures this Prince there is good reason for alarm. What those reasons might be, only the Uniter knows, but regardless, it is only a matter of time before victory is ours. If not today, then tomorrow, or next year, or the next, this Prince has set his mind to task, and he has never known failure, for failure is only possible when one stops trying.”
So Gongsun Qi was committed to taking the Citadel today, having worn his most dangerous foes down to near exhaustion in a series of gruelling engagements. The compiled reports spoke of how Shuai Jiao and Ryo Dae Jung had finally been forced to take part in the battle last night, and even now continued to come under attack from Chosen Chieftains, Transcendents, and Wraiths aplenty. There was no doubt in Vithar’s mind that Gongsun Qi would continue to hound his quarry until it was finally time to strike, at which point victory might well be assured. Few could match him in single combat, but at their best, Shuai Jiao and Ryo Dae Jung most certainly could, so there was no shame in wearing down a superior foe before moving to strike. This was the opportunity they’d all been waiting for, what the lives of so many tribesmen and Chosen had paid for in blood, an opening to take the Citadel in one fell swoop. Once their strongest Warriors were dead, the Imperial defenders would flee and the tribes would finally hold position of strength to fall back to and rest in, one closer than the week-long march between the Western province and the border walls.
The Districts lay within an hour’s ride, and there were even more tempting targets a day’s ride out, the thought of which set Vithar to salivating with desire, but all this would have to wait until after the Citadel fell.
Adorned in his Chosen armour, Vithar carried the burden with ease, if not familiarity, but he had to admit that the cold, hard steel was mighty reassuring. In the past months, he’d borne witness to many a Chosen shrugging off blows that should have ended their lives with ease, the attacks bouncing off their armour like stones across ice. That being said, there was no way his garo could bear the extra weight on its back, so Vithar had no choice but to ride a gajashia instead, a vicious but pliable beast which was hardier than the garos he favoured, but far less versatile as well. At least now he understood why Gongsun Qi insisted he learn how to ride the beasts, having planned for this very occasion long in advance, which left Vithar feeling uncertain and confused. He had not earned this position through his own personal merits, but instead granted them through his association with others, first Gen and now Gongsun Qi. Nothing in life was ever given to you, or at least that’s how Vithar had lived until now, yet he’d come further and farther than ever with the help of two men. On the one hand, to hold so much power filled him with a heady rush of excitement, knowing that so much of the death and destruction to come would be attributed to his name, but then he wondered if he deserved this… this honour.
Another strange southlander concept, but Vithar understood honour most of all. It was the ability to defeat a weaker challenger without having to kill them, to take in an enemy tribe’s younglings and ensure the continuation of their ancestral line, to stay true to one’s word even in the presence of adversity, and to respect an enemy’s strength and covet the taste of their flesh. The southlanders held honour in high esteem yet few cared to uphold it, yet another curious contradiction Vithar had no intention to explore. That was simply their way, and there was no sense digging deeper into the matter, for soon, the southlander ways would be no more once the superior ways of the outlanders took root in these lands.
A day that drew closer with every breath, now that the Central Citadel’s fate had been all but sealed.
There was still some time before Vithar’s riders were in place to attack, time Gongsun Qi used wisely to prepare. A barrage of questions tested Vithar’s ability to react and adapt to changing circumstances as he demonstrated his understanding of the tactics at hand. Both sides had plans and counter plans already in place, but a plan was only useful under certain conditions, and once changed, it was no longer of any use. At this point one must adapt or die, and Vithar was adept at survival, if nothing else. Hidden ambushes, trapped structures, circuitous mazes and more, together they went over the myriad of defences the Imperials had in place and the most efficient ways to respond and counter them. Much of this had been discussed in planning, but as always, there was room for improvement, and Vithar answered all of Gongsun Qi’s questions to satisfaction. All the while, the garo riders were moving into place while the infantry continued to assault the walls without rest, grinding down the Imperial Defenders through sheer weight of numbers. There were no crossbows on the battlefield here in the Central Citadel, a welcome relief if there ever were one, and Vithar laughed at these foolish southlander ways, for even Gongsun Qi did not wholly respect the ranged weapons as he should.
There would come a day when every last one of Vithar’s tribesmen would carry one such crossbow, as would the other tribes if they were quick enough to adapt, but for now, they would have to make do with carrying throwing spears and axes. So simple a concept, to kill from afar, but even the Ancestors were displeased by this, though they refused to disclose why. Perhaps because of the reduced risk to the wielder, which brought to mind what Gongsun Qi once claimed, that the Ancestors cared not for the strength of Vithar’s tribesmen, only their suffering and survival. ‘Life is suffering’, as the monks did so love to say, droning on and on about life after death and such, but to Vithar, life was to be lived, and death avoided until it could no longer be denied, at which point he would join the Ancestors to help guide the next generation. That was all there was to it, nothing more, nothing less, and anything else was irrelevant.
As the time of reckoning drew near, Vithar’s lessons slowed as Gongsun Qi devoted more and more of his attention towards the battlefield, directing Chosen, tribesmen, and Transcendent alike in an all-out effort to take the walls. Such was his style, to never rely on a single plan but rather to have many plans in place, so if one should fail, there would still be other avenues to success. It took a sharp mind to keep all these plans in place, for merely memorizing them was of no use if one could not act accordingly. To do so, countless variables needed to be tracked and numerous scenarios accounted for, but even one as farseeing as Gongsun Qi could never have anticipated what happened next.
Arriving in a burst of wind and a cloud of dust, Monk Vyakhya landed heavily within the command tent, his bony shoulders heaving as he panted with exertion. Beside him was none other than Gen himself, or rather the Transcendent Gen had now become, a grotesque, unpleasant creature of twisted metal and contorted features whose mere presence set Vithar’s nerves to screaming in alarm as the Ancestors fell silent as one. This was a being of despair and dejection, a harbinger of hopeless desperation and inescapable tribulation, one he feared to stand too close to much less contend with on the battlefield. Even Gongsun Qi and his elite guards seemed affected by the Transcendent, one which radiated power like no other, a being whose sole authority over despair was so complete it threatened to overwhelm everyone in its presence.
So shocked by the Transcendent’s appearance, he failed to notice yet another Transcendent until it was close enough to attack him, a possibility that was never out of the question when it came to these unpredictable vessels. They were the Ancestors’ will given flesh, but even the youngest tribesmen knew that the Ancestors were not always united in harmony, which only made sense once you took into account just how very many Ancestors there were. This particular Transcendent however appeared utterly in control of its own faculties, a bloody, three-faced Demon whose stony expressions revealed nothing at all. Six eyes sat closed and three sets of lips pursed, while six nostrils flared as the Transcendent drew breath. Two bloody hands were pressed together in prayer, while four massive obsidian arms were folded behind its back, with two towering hooked swords nestled within their embrace. Where the metallic Transcendent radiated wretched misery without end, this crimson and black Transcendent lacked any presence at all, as if it were a thing of imagination rather than the avatar of death and destruction it clearly represented.
Add in the Wisdom’s dishevelled robes, and Vithar’s panicked mind was able to pierce together that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.
“I must speak with the Uniter,” Monk Vyakhya began, his shaky tone clearly conveying his struggle to remain calm. “He must be informed of what has happened, for a calamity awaits us all if not soon addressed.”
Beside him, the metallic Transcendent stirred as its twisted expression took on a cast of even more despair and dejection, a feat Vithar had not thought possible until he saw it for himself. There were tears in Gen’s – no, the Transcendents eyes, as if he’d seen all the darkest horrors a mind could ever experience a thousand times over and somehow still retained his sanity despite opening his mouth wide to scream a keening wail of silent terror. There was too much life in his features to overlook with ease, too much similarity to the man he once was, and Vithar could not help but see the young, talented, arrogant boy standing before him rather than the vessel he’d become.
As for the other Transcendent, he too retained many of Goujian’s features, but in a set of three that made him just inhuman enough to overlook. Following the metallic Transcendent’s failure to speak, the Sanguine Transcendent opened its mouths and spoke with three voices, none of which were similar or synced together. “The Uniter,” it’s voice impossibly deep to start with before transition into a high-pitched squeal to complete its delivery, “Knows all.”
Clearly taken aback by the Uniter’s ability to speak out loud using the Transcendent’s voice, the Wisdom took a moment to gather his thoughts, a moment in which Vithar was unable to tear his thoughts away from the shockingly human textures of the Transcendent’s mouth. The teeth, tongue, and even the lips looked no different than they had in life, a disturbing resemblance which made the Confessor’s fate seem all the more terrifying. There were some tribes which venerated their Transcendents and worshipped them like the Ancestors given flesh, but Vithar’s tribe saw them for the failed gambit that they were, a broken attempt at creation which bore no true life at all.
Clearly, the Wisdom shared Vithar’s aversion to the Transcendents, but the old monk was much stronger than he appeared. Collecting himself with a single breath, Vyakhya launched himself into a tale which Vithar could hardly follow, much less believe, one which began with a monk Ascending to Divinity and ended with the Devourer bending the Energy of the Heavens to his whims. An impossible feat as far as Vithar understood things, but judging by his frantic accounting of events, one the Wisdom wholeheartedly believed the Devourer had accomplished. “Given time to learn and left unchecked,” Vyakhya concluded, his eyes wide and cheeks scarlet, “The Devourer will soon master his skills and wield the power of a True Divinity with none of the restrictions! Can you imagine what such a being could accomplish here in the mortal world? He could be rid of us all in a single thought, and this is this least of our worries. What if he seeks to do more than unmake us, but reshape us to his liking? We would not only be powerless to resist, but also unaware of the changes even as they take place.”
Thankfully, the Uniter finally stepped in to silence the Wisdom, raising the Transcendent’s bloody hand to place a finger over Vyakhya’s lips, the movement so fast Vithar didn’t even see it stir. “Calm yourself,” the deep voice said, offset by two more voices in the background that twisted the sounds in unpleasant ways. “Even if such a thing were possible, the secrets of Heaven are not so easily unlocked. The Devourer is formidable, but still no match for a failed Divinity, much less a true one. As he is, a Peak Expert could defeat him, given the right circumstances, hardly the calamity you so claim.”
“Yet here upon this battlefield sits everything he requires to hasten his progress towards the Dao,” Monk Vyakhya retorted, losing even the illusion of calm and composure. “What’s more, it took this monk three days to arrive here, even with the support of these two abominations beside me, and every minute was spent in fear that he was already too late. With both Rakshasa and Kukku at his beck and call, the boy could be here in a matter of hours, if not sooner, and who knows how far his insidious Talent will propel him along his Path.”
“There is nothing here for the Devourer to steal.” Calm neutrality resonated from the Transcendent’s whispered voice, but again, the underlying tones from the other two mouths warped his inflection to one of dissonant discomfort. “Not once this Sovereign’s troops take the field.”
“What troops?” Monk Vyakhya’s retort was delivered with a sneer, one so full of fear and contempt it seemed like the old bag of bones had lost it. “Your Transcendents? They are but lambs to the slaughter before the Devourer, or have you forgotten what he did in Sinuji?”
“Yes and no.” Grinning in shockingly human-like glee, the Sanguine Transcendent opened its eyes and Vithar saw nothing human within those dark, emotionless orbs. “Base Transcendents have no defence against them, but the Heavens are upon this Sovereign’s side. Even before discovering the Devourer’s bothersome Talent, this Sovereign’s preparations had already been made to counter it, a fortuitous twist of fate if there ever were one.” Turning to Gongsun Qi, the Transcendent declared, “Begin the attack. Show the Empire true despair and deliver unto them a devastating defeat, but leave one in ten alive to tell the tale.”
“By your command,” Gongsun Qi replied, cupping his hands in a salute before marching out of the tent, and Vithar followed him out soon after. Barking out orders as he went, Gongsun Qi led them north until they were firmly outside of the encampment, with a clear field before them and the Citadel walls to the east. Here, Vithar had a perfect view of the rubble upon which once sat the outer walls, as well as the backs of the attacking Chosen and tribesmen further down attempting to take the secondary walls. Turning to Vithar, Gongsun Qi smiled his contrasting smile once more and said, “Earlier, you asked what forces be encamped here, and now, this Prince shall show you.”
And so, with a wave of his hand, the field shimmered and disappeared, hidden beneath the boots and bodies of thousands upon thousands of dark-armoured soldiers, ones who were clearly different from the Chosen.
No, not armoured soldiers, but Transcendents, or so Vithar would have said if not for the all-too-human eyes staring out from behind their helmets. Upon further inspection, he saw there were bits of identifiable flesh protruding from expected places, fingers poking out from under gauntlets or flesh revealed beneath cleverly attached plates. Their armour was identical to the armoured Transcendents the Uniter used to protect his underlings, the same ones that accompanied Gen everywhere until recently, but these ones were being worn by living, breathing humans, ones with features unfamiliar to Vithar.
No, not worn, for upon further inspection, he realized these humans were fused with their Trancendents, flesh and armour connected and intertwined until one could not see where flesh ended and metal began. What’s more, there were identifiable features about them, with half-bristleboars, half-mammoths, and other half-breeds aplenty, judging from the distinct hairstyles, tusks, antlers, and other bestial characteristics present amidst the armoured soldiers. Many others wore cloth armbands bearing the characters Ma-Ta-Ram upon their biceps, indicating they heralded from the clan of the same name, all of whom were gathered behind another figure whose back bore a banner with the Clan name and crest, a spear piercing the heavens embroidered in black and gold. However, there was one figure who stood out without even trying, radiating a powerful presence unlike anything Vithar had ever seen before, not even from Gongsun Qi or the metallic Transcendent of despair.
Amber eyes stared out from behind the Transcendent armour as he made his way over to them, eyes that almost glowed with power when they met Vithar’s gaze. Only for an instant, but in that instant, it felt as if all his weaknesses had been exposed and laid bare, subjecting him to death a thousand times in the blink of an eye without needing to move a single muscle. Even the Ancestors were unable to stand before his attentions, falling silent as they hid within Vithar’s mortal frame and emanated fear and loathing like never before. Then the amber-eyed Warrior’s gaze moved on, leaving Vithar in a cold sweat while acknowledging Gongsun Qi with the slightest of nods and the barest show of respect. Contrary to his prideful nature, Gongsun Qi merely nodded in response, even inclining his back ever so slightly in an almost involuntary bow. “The time be nigh,” he said, lacking his customary airs and pretension. “The targets are worn and spent, so their death is all but certain, but it would be best if we joined hands together to kill them.”
“Very well.” The amber-eyed Warrior’s raspy voice was seldom used, as evidenced by how he turned towards his banner-bearing Mataram comrade. “Come, Mataram Clan Patriarch,” he said, and then without further preamble, they were off, Cloud-Stepping towards the Citadel to slaughter all in their path. Not just Amber Eyes and the Mataram Patriarch, but every single one of the thousands of armoured Warriors around them, each one darting off into the distance faster than Vithar could follow. Gongsun Qi left with them as well, leaving Vithar with a Sending to remind him of his duties, duties which seemed utterly frivolous considering the overwhelming strength those Transcendent Warriors just displayed.
No… one could not grow complacent just because victory seemed at hand, for nothing was certain until all your foes lay dead on the ground before you. There must be good reason for Gongsun Qi’s caution, else he would have long since revealed these Transcendent troops and overrun the Citadel in the first day. With this in mind, Vithar hurried away to do his part and command his army, his heart unsettled and mind a flutter. Perhaps it was the despairing presence of the Metallic Transcendent, or the unsettling timbre of the Sanguine Transcendent’s voice, or perhaps it was the Wisdom’s tale of Falling Rain’s prowess or the unsettling effect the half-Transcendent Warriors had upon the Ancestors, but whatever the reason, Vithar was less confident of victory than he should be, and so he would do everything in his power to stave off defeat.
For he would not have the heavy burden of defeat foisted upon his shoulders if the worst should come to pass. No, that burden would rest firmly with another, or Vithar might as well take his own life here and now.
“Surrender,” the Ancestors whispered, “And you need not fear anything ever again.”
Similar offers had been made many a time before, lies one and all, but for the first time in living memory, Vithar was sorely tempted to accept.
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Savage Divinity 
Welcome back. That Amber eyed demon thing is curious, indeed. Sarnai had recognized it as well… hmmmmmm.
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3 days,, I’m gonna go ahead anad say rain took one day to heal li song, abbot and burry the dead.
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