Chapter 799

Chapter 799

A Divinity died in Shi Bei, and yet the siege continued unabated.

That was the way of the world, was it not? Much as Divinities loved to hold themselves high above the others, they were still mere mortals in the end, with the same mortal failings as everyone else. They had to eat, sleep, and shit like mortals, and in the end, they died like mortals too, so there was hardly anything Divine about them. Even then, it was still jarring to see everyone continue on with the battle, unaware of the close brush with death theyd all collectively experienced, for he had held nothing back in his singular attack. Ignorance was bliss, or so someone once said, a truth he found both frustrating and amusing at the same time. This singular statement perfectly encapsulated how these mortals lived their lives, in ignorance of the grand Dao before them. Even most Martial Warriors were wholly unable to perceive the shifting Energies of the Heavens as they almost ran amok and killed everyone here in this city of blood, sand, and sun, like ants unaware of the boot which just narrowly missed them.

How could they even live like this, so feeble and ignorant to everything around them? The same way they lived without the ability to parse through the scents on the wind or track a deers path through the forest, he supposed. It was never easy living among beings with such limited senses, like being the only man with eyes in a world of the blind, but hed long since given up trying to understand why or how he was different and just accepted that there were precious few others just like him. A lonely life it was, passing the days and nights without a noble pack of peers to lead on the greatest of hunts, but such were his trials and tribulations, so he would bear with them a little longer.

Because without them, then the only thing left to him was death and reincarnation, a prospect which neither tempted nor terrified him any longer.

The old wolf, they called him, a name he didnt much care for, but even after living for so long, hed never bothered to come up with another. He was who he was, regardless of what anyone called him, and seeing how he was the only one of his kind, why was there any need to tack on an extra old? He was the wolf, plain and true, but at one point, they started calling him old and he just accepted it. Because it fit, he supposed, his lip curling as he massaged his thin and delicate wrist to ease the pain while wondering where the strapping muscles of his youth had disappeared to. He couldnt remember the last time he woke without aching, and these days even walking around tired him so. Better to rest and be carried about like the Emperors of old, but palanquins were too large and needed too many people to easily Conceal. Besides, it was always better to cozy up to someone warm and familiar, but the cub claimed it would be undignified for her to carry him around anymore, and the blue-eyed pup had never been willing. A sour one that, but not without reason, having grown up without the love and affection of a harmonious pack. Turned out fine enough though, and the old wolf made no apologies, for hed done far worse to the first of his pups when he was too young and stupid to know better. That left only the yellow-eyed pup who was something of a disappointment, but the wolf was rather fond of this youngling despite his feeble mind, heart, and body, because he had a broad, strapping back with space aplenty and a smooth, ambling gait that helped rock the wolf to sleep.

Bah. Old age. A curse upon it for what time had done to him, reduced to a spindly, shrunken old fart who found it exhausting to stand up straight. Make no mistake however, for though he was old, he was still stronger than most, and a good thing too. He despised weakness, scorned and abhorred it, because the weak were prey to the strong, and he was no prey. Not yet at least. There might come a day when that changed, but today, he proved to the world that he was still the wolf for now.

A low growl settled into his chest as he looked down at his defeated foe, a pathetic excuse for a Divinity. To think, there would come a day when he took such pride in hunting so feeble and unsavoury a foe, the so-called Phantom of the Enemy and Progenitor of all Wraiths. An unsightly thing with pale, pasty skin hanging loosely off its thin skeletal frame, giving it a ghastly, inhuman appearance which did not match its formidable reputation. This lanky, grotesque thing was neither man nor woman, and no true hunter either, but rather a sneaky scoundrel who slinked through shadows to catch targets unaware, a coward who killed without risk or challenge. Many Divinities had died at its hands these last two years, but no one the wolf cared for, else hed have hunted down this Phantom ages ago for daring to lay hand on one of his. Even knowing all this, hed been surprised at how easily it died, but now he smelled the wrongness within its lifeless corpse and understood why. It was not a foul or putrid stench like that of a mortal city or western tar pits, but an unnatural malodour that reeked of sin and transgression. This thing was no true Divinity, not raw and unbridled like himself, but a false Divinity in every sense of the word, for there was no sustenance to be found in his meat and bones, no succor to be had from his corpse. This was an unnatural creature akin to the Demons and Half-Demons of the Enemy, and a Divinity in name only, the same way a ramshackle hut was still a house in the basic sense of the word.

Then again, even though this Phantom was less true than most, they were all false Divinities in many ways. A truth few cared to admit, since so many were infected with pride and hubris, but the wolf only understood confidence and certainty, not arrogance and pretension.

It was not arrogance to claim himself stronger than a weaker foe, only confidence to state that in a direct clash, the wolf could have easily killed the Phantom without inciting the Wrath of Heaven so long as it stayed to fight, but if it chose to run and hide, then he would have been hard pressed to find it again. There was a lesson to be learned here, one hed learned countless times before yet still often forgot, that weak was not the same as useless. In his eyes the Phantom was weak, but hunting it would have been challenging indeed, if only because it was so difficult to track. Before revealing itself to attack, the wolf had not sensed its presence, not like he sensed the other Divinities hiding in and around Shi Bei. They were bright beacons of sounds, smells, and sights, so obvious and evident that even Concealment wasnt enough to hide them completely, save for a select few who knew how to fool his senses like the irritable hare and idiot rabbit. The Phantom was even sneakier than the both of them, sneakier than any Divinity the wolf had ever crossed before, yet even it could not hide from the boy standing here beside him, a scrawny little thing not even half a century young that smelled of danger, sea water, and uncertainty.

A boy who was neither wholly mortal nor entirely Divinity, a true mystery to be sure.

Turning his ailing eyes towards the boy, the wolf sniffed to scent his presence and found it as utterly lacking as before, yet there were times when it would surge and swell into a monumental existence that seemed larger than life. Thats what prompted the Phantom to attack, the unprecedented spike in the boys presence only seconds ago, one that no doubt rivalled the full-fledged attacks from Divinities of yore, before they had the Treaty to restrict them. Having visited those lands outside the Empire and felt the destructive forces still radiating from a battle that took place long before his birth, the wolf could readily believe it, and the boys attack exceeded even that.

And yet the Heavens did not see fit to punish him for this affront and provocation, this challenge to their authority, and the wolf found that most curious indeed.

That wasnt even the end of it, for the attack had not been aimed at a Divinity, but one of Surkithyrs get. Void-Blessed, judging by the scent of his fast-fading presence, an empty nothingness that reeked of stale insignificance. A common Esoteric Blessing as things go, likely due to the influence of the Void on little mortal minds, but few ever did more than just touch upon the secrets contained within. The dead spikehorn fawn hadnt even been the one to control his Blessing, having surrendered control over to the Demon lingering within his unnatural armour, but neither Warrior nor Demon was able to mount any sort of defense against the boys devastating attack. A manifestation of Domain that severed through body, mind, and soul, even a Divinity would not dare take such a blow lightly, and the wolf wasnt sure if the boy understood what hed just done or the cost he paid to do so.

Or maybe he did and just didnt care, for the boy reminded the wolf of those idiot Terror Birds, giant flightless beasts that attacked everything that crossed their path and cared not for the consequences.

Even more surprising than the superlative attack was the boys ability to track the Phantom, for without his warning, the wolf might not have reacted in time to strike the sneaky scoundrel before it escaped. The boys work again, for hed done something with his Honed Aura to stop the Phantom in its tracks, else the wolf wouldnt have killed it so easily. That was even more alarming, for the boy now possessed power enough to strike down a Divinity from afar and the ability to hold them in place long enough for his attack to land. A dangerous combination indeed, which was entirely different from what the idiot rabbit claimed, that the boy had fangs and claws aplenty, but lacked the ability to use them effectively. A paper tiger, she called him, using one of the few idioms she understood to denote the fact that the boy was no real threat to them, but far from it. With the advent of this new attack, he transformed into a fragile yet deadly creature with the power to kill a Divinity from two-hundred paces and the intelligence to quickly learn how to control it. Add in the oddly protective and wholly terrifying Divine Turtle hiding in his hair who had yet to even act and the boy was a weapon which surpassed everything on this battlefield, especially once you factored in his ability to negate the wrath of the Heavens.

So eager to do away with the Treaty and consign all these mortals to death are we? I for one would welcome the chance to test my spear against the Old Wolf of the mountain, but my Mentor has other plans.

The pompous tone of Mataram YuKons Sending set the wolf to snarling, his fury ignited by how the traitor twisted the truth to suit his needs. A human concept, that of lying, and one the wolf loathed with all his heart, for humans were confusing enough without having to account for dishonesty. Bah. Your Phantom lies dead at my feet because he tried and failed to strike down one of mine. If you think that enough to act on, then bring your spear and this wolf will gladly snap it. Bring my old rival the stag with you, because you alone aint enough to fill my belly.

Hmph. You will find me more difficult a foe than the failure lying at your feet. A useful failure, but a failure nonetheless, and even then, you needed to give it your all to kill it. Have you grown weak and frail with old age, long-tooth? Shall I end your suffering quickly?

Long-tooth. Now that was a name the wolf could accept, but it just had to come from that stupid brat YuKon. You can try, the wolf replied, flashing a toothy grin towards the idiot who thought himself so well hidden. But if you thought that was my all, then you best settle your affairs before coming. Must be hard, losing so many descendants in one day. Three generations of Mataram leadership, all dead and decayed, with centuries of effort gone to waste.

I can always sire another heir, YuKon replied, trying and failing to appear aloof and indifferent, but his scent gave him away as it spiked with feverish rage and bitter enmity. You, however? How many more heirs do you have left in you before your heart gives out?

Enough to outlast anything you and yours might build. A single pup was worth a thousand Matarams, and the wolf had two on the field here today, though admittedly, there were probably more than two-thousand humans who could trace their lineage back to YuKon. What a wonderful thing it must be to see ones bloodline flourish so readily, and the wolf pitied his weak little pups for their inability to ever know the joy of proliferation. Whether youre coming to fight or leaving to fuck, Im all out of patience for talking, so make your move or shut your mouth.

It was far easier to bury his pain and anguish than confront it head on, to run away and pretend as if his life had ended when his precious First Joy stabbed him through the chest. If only that spear had pierced his heart, then Naaran would have died then and there, and everything mightve changed for the better. Killing his father might well have filled Ankhbayar with remorse, enough for him to repent his sins instead of gathering his co-conspirators to flee into the night, setting off a chain of events that led them here to an Empire on the brink of a war between Divinities, but how was Naaran to know?

No, ignorance was no excuse, for hed had thirty-odd years to make up for his mistakes and had done absolutely nothing about it. Leaving Gerel in the orphanage had been the best option for everyone involved, because Naaran himself had not been in any condition to care for a child, not after he almost killed his daughter-in-law and grandson both as he chased them out of the village in a blind rage. Upon discovering his son had turned Defiled, Naaran almost succumbed to the Fathers lies himself, and to this day, he still had difficulties holding fast to Balance more often than not. Thats why he didnt dare show his face before Gerel, because the boy had already lost his parents and maternal grandparents, so why subject him to losing another grandfather again, or worse, implicate him a second time? No, better a clean cut to sever ties until Naaran was sure he could control himself, but even after a decade had passed, his anger and guilt still burned hot.

It was no ones fault but his own, yet it still pained him to see his grandson grow up into a splendid young man and know he had nothing to do with it. Two grandsons now, though he suspected as much from the first time he laid eyes on Rain, as the Heavens conspired to remind Naaran of his failures as a father and grandfather both rather than leave him to wallow in his misery. The fact that both his grandsons excelled without his support only made his incompetence that much more evident, for despite giving Ankhbayar all the love and guidance he could spare, Naaran had failed to raise his son right.

At least his beloved Yisu was not around to see this, though she would have done a far better job raising their child than he did. The Mother took her away too soon, but only because She wanted Yisu close by Her side, and Naaran could hardly blame Her.

That being said, his own shame did not stop him from finding delight in Gerel and Rains accomplishments, only regret that he could not share in their successes as a grandfather should. It took him fifteen years to get over Ankhbayars betrayal and try to reconnect with Gerel, but the first time they saw one another, Naarans grandson reacted with such anger and betrayal he didnt know how to make things right. He thought to give Gerel time and space until he was ready to talk, but that day never came and Naaran only realized the error of his ways on the day of his grandsons wedding, which he watched from afar like an unwelcome stranger, for that was what he'd become.

As for little Rain, he tried to watch out for the boy by becoming his warden, wholly expecting to have to one day join him in exile, but the beaten little boy was tougher than he had any right to be and fought his way back from the brink through sheer willpower alone. Even if the boy himself didnt understand it, Naaran saw it all firsthand, how the boy would go out on his solitary hunting trips to indulge his dark curiosities, but he never did anything of the sort. He picked his shots and only ever loosed if he thought he could make a clean kill, and every time his aim was off, hed put the beast out of its misery while apologizing for its suffering. In spite of all he'd been through, Rain was a boy brimming with empathy for all things living, and that empathy would carry him a long way.

No one wanted the boy to succeed more than Naaran himself, but he understood the danger of allowing love to cloud ones judgement, and he refused to make the same mistake again. Proud as he was of the boys achievements, he remained objective and distant as could be, observing, confirming, and cross-referencing with others to ensure they missed nothing regarding the boys pattern of behaviour. So long as he remained Balanced and in control, then there was nothing to fear, but should he step out of line, then Naaran would be the one to claim his life, a duty he took more seriously than anything hed ever done.

He hadnt always been the gruff and dour man he was today, and in fact had been much like little Rain himself, a flippant, free-spirited young man who loved to drink, gamble, and cuddle animals whenever he could. Alas, all that changed when Naaran left home to visit Central as a young man in his thirties, one filled with dreams of glory and grandeur, only to return home a broken and defeated cynic who no longer loved the Empire so. He fought to protect it, yet the nobles of Central sought to kill him for no reason other than their own pride, so why should he bother with their affairs? Better to stay in the mountains and leave the Empire to its own devices, and even if the Defiled were to set the Empire ablaze, Naaran wouldnt care enough to even piss on the flames.

He harboured so much hatred and resentment towards the Empire for its lack of gratitude and appreciation, it festered inside him until it spilled out and infected his friends and family both. Ankhbayar grew up hearing about how the Empire would never accept him, and how he was better off staying loyal to the People and the Saints Tribulations Mountains alone. There was so much hateful rhetoric being bandied about that almost two generations of the People turned traitor and Defiled, all of which was born from the seeds of hate which sprouted in Naarans heart.

But Rain? Rain suffered so greatly at the hands of the Empire, and continued to suffer so at the hands of his supposed allies and comrades, yet never once did he succumb to hate. Make no mistake, the boy was no diehard patriot like Akanai or Binesi, and was in fact highly critical of the Empires social, political, and financial systems, but that never had any effect on the love he bore for the Empires people. No, not the Empires people, but his fellow human beings, for everything the boy did was geared towards improving the lives of the people, even going so far as to arm them with weapons of war and destruction, for he understood that change would not come until the people of the Empire were willing to seize it through blood and fire.

And now that boy was a man grown, one who killed a Divinity and helped bring down another. Two if you counted the Demon Divinity as a separate entity, and Naaran most certainly did, but proud as he was of Rains accomplishments, he didnt dare accept any undue credit for the young mans efforts. Naaran was grandfather by blood alone, no more worthy of love and respect than Ankhbayar, who Rain mercilessly mocked and renounced before all of Shi Bei. The boy had his own family now, one in which Naaran had no part in, this he accepted as true, and yet it still stung something fierce to hear him call the Old Wolf Grandfather before he even acknowledged their relationship with more than a glance.

No doubt sensing his inner turmoil, Rain turned towards him and offered an awkward smile, but that was all. There was no invitation for conversation, no implication that they would speak in the future, not even a hint of curiosity in his eyes regarding the circumstances of their relationship. Though he would likely make an effort to connect in the future, the truth was that the boy didnt care much about their relationship, because he had his family and Naaran had no place inside it.

A choice he made long ago, and had been paying dearly for ever since.

As Naarans emotions threatened to overwhelm him, the Heavens showed mercy by sending him a foe to fight, and he rushed forward with spear in hand to defend the boy. Earlier, hed hesitated to act when Rain came under attack because he thought the boy still had matters well in hand, for if he was capable of warding off a blow from Mataram YuGan, then surely three Half-Demons couldnt threaten him so. This almost cost little Alsantset her life and earned Naaran a stern talking to from Akanai, so he would not make the same mistake twice. Bounding forward in the blink of an eye, his spear took his first foe clean through the throat, killing the Half-Demon outright. Rather than pull back, he carved through flesh and bone to strike at his second target and send him stumbling aside, whereupon Baatar dispatched the Half-Demon with an errant back-handed swipe. Twirling his spear in his hands, Naaran stood before Rain and wielded his spear like a glaive, for this was the only way he knew how to help the boy. Despite having had it for some time now, he still used his polearm like a sword with a long hilt, which wasnt entirely wrong, but not entirely correct either. The strength of a spear lay not solely in its range, but in the sheer versatility of the weapon in the hands of a Peak Expert, and Rain was still a ways away from reaching that particular milestone.

The boy was strong, but his foundations weak from progressing too far too fast and leaving all too many flaws behind. Though capable of near miraculous feats, his basic knowledge was sorely lacking and it showed whenever he fought in a more traditional manner, a weakness he made up for with his unconventional approach. A rather effective one, Naraan admitted while watching the boys flying weapons kill three Half-Demons on the approach. The boy was more than capable of putting up a fight without needing to take a single step, and he preferred using his glaive as a rifle these days, but Naaran might as well try to teach him something in the hopes that it would be of use. Who knows, as perhaps it would come in handy one day, and if so, then all the better for it. If not, well then nothing of value would have been lost, so really, there was no harm in trying.

The Forms had always bored Naaran, as he would much rather take Kharuul out for a ride or spend time with the love of his life Yisu. She was no Martial Warrior and had other responsibilities of her own, meaning they had precious little time to spend together in their youth. The Martial Path was simply a profession to him, not a passion or obsession like with so many others, and so long as he could put food on his table and provide for his wife and family, why did it matter if he was the strongest Warrior of all? His laid-back approach and attitude meant no one was willing to take him on as a Disciple, and it infuriated Akanai so, for he was Kharuuls partner in battle and the Spiritual Quin was a formidable force on his own.

Luckily for Naaran, he loved nothing more than playing with Kharuul, for they were lifelong companions since the first day they met, when the greedy quin stole his candied fruits and he bawled his eyes out in protest. Years of keeping close company meant they shared a bond unlike any other, and when they rode out into battle, he only ever had to heed his partners directions to know what to do and where to strike. Kharuul was even older than Akanai, and hed seen more than his fair share of battles, so under his guidance, Naaran quickly rose to become one of the greatest young talents of his generation.

Explosive speed and power, that was the key to a quins strength. There were plenty of creatures out there that were stronger, faster, and more durable than quins, but few that hunted in packs. So long as there was someone else to distract their prey, a quin would not hesitate to launch itself at an opening, even if it wasnt for a killing blow. Thats how Naaran fought, without fear or hesitation, for even though his lifelong partner was not here on the walls of Shi Bei, he did not fight alone. The boy fought with him, coordinating his flying weapons to distract and harass his foes, allowing Naaran to close in for the quick kill, and he tried his best to pass along all his hard-learned lessons as best he could.

Be decisive, but always hold something in reserve. With a spear or polearm, you didnt have to put all your strength into each blow, for leverage combined with the weight of the weapon would do most of the work for you. The blade itself wasnt your only killing tool, as the haft and base of your polearm is more than sturdy enough to break bones and take lives, to say nothing of fist or boot. Dont be afraid to get in close, because your foe doesnt expect it either, so sometimes a good shove is all thats needed to gain the upper hand. Conversely, dont be afraid to retreat either, because taking a step back might well give you space enough to allow your foe to impale themselves on your weapon.

There was so much Naaran wanted to say, so much he wanted to pass on to Rain and Gerel both, but he was never any good with words. This was the best he could do, show him the man he was and the Warrior he hoped they would both one day surpass, assuming that time had not already come. Most of all, he wanted to tell them just how proud he was of them both, and how sorry he was for being too weak to properly protect them, for though he did not show it well, he still loved them so.

Naaran did not deserve to call himself their grandfather, but they were the blood of his blood, and he would sooner die than see either of them come to harm, a fact he was more than willing to prove through actions alone.

Chapter Meme