Chapters 1-5

“Brilliant Lance of Absolution!”

The brilliant beam of condensed spirit leapt from the eleven-year old’s open palm. Shot out with malicious glee, on a one-way trip towards Jun’s unprotected chest.

There was something decidedly hopeful about having nowhere to go but up. When the sky was the limit, and one’s room for improvement was unbelievably vast.

Okay, so, in his stepbrother’s defense, it wasn’t as if things were all bad. Sure, his technique might’ve been a bit on the… thinner side, but it was still plenty bright and… uh, lance-y? In that way, at least someone got the name right. Right? Okay, so absolution seemed like a bit of a stretch, but to each their own he supposed. It was only that the thirty or so seconds it’d taken for him to finally unleash his ultimate technique—in which they just sort of… stared at one another? It wasn't exactly what he'd call “intimidating.”

In fact, if it weren’t for his being held in such a loving embrace—if by loving he of course meant rough, and by embrace he’d meant manhandling—it would have been simplicity itself to make his way over there and… well. Do what, he wasn’t entirely sure. But whatever it might’ve been, he’d have had plenty of time in which to decide.

As it stood, he hadn't even had the chance to take a single step before-!

Holy mother of mercy that thing is fast! 

The beam hit Jun just below the solar plexus, burrowed a shallow hole there to the sounds of burning flesh, then dispersed, with a bright flash and a harsh snap, into a cloud of blinding white sparks. Naturally, as one does when placed in such an untenable position, he screamed. He howled. He kicked and he swore. He put words to his agony until his throat was rubbed raw. Until large, fat tears and globules of snot were dribbling down his face to conjoin at his chin.

Now, of course, it wasn’t as if he needed to do any of this. It was just that he'd found theatrics expedited the process by quite a bit. And, while sure, it did hurt—every heartbeat sending a jolt of agony through the shallow hole in his chest—in all honesty, he was pretty used to this kind of abuse by now. If anything, he disdained the need for all this melodrama. The thespian in his soul veritably wept. But, hey, if the cruel smiles and laughter were of any indication, at least his performance wasn’t going under appreciated.

 In reality, this back and forth was almost mundane at this point. For better or worse, he thought of it as just another part of his daily routine. One he didn’t particularly enjoy overly much, yet failed to find a way to excise altogether. A lot like flossing in a way. Or, for that matter, dealing with those damnable merchant princes without giving into temptation, and tearing his own hair out by the roots.

Seriously, of all the nine hellish realms, he had to imagine there was a special kind of residence reserved for those puffed up, pompous, profligate pontificators. Those insufferable loose pants wearing pricks. Them, their sycophantic entourages, and the bevy of severely overpaid, wildly under-qualified, chronically incompetent retainers tasked—at some point in the distant distant past—with the ever-elusive concept of “raising” them.

Or… no. Perhaps that wasn’t being entirely fair. They probably did their best… for whatever that was worth. Most likely it was just the fact that some were merely born rotten. And that nurture could, ultimately, only do so much. Actually, speaking of which…?

Oh yeah. That was right! He was supposed to be being tortured wasn’t he? Tortured. Tormented. Something along those lines. Awkward of him to let something like that slip his mind. Much like that fleeting twig of a lance, his theatrics had petered off somewhat abruptly. Jun’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed the looks of confusion on his stepbrothers’ faces.

While they were usually each as thick and slow as tree sap in winter, even they might start to get suspicious if given enough prompting. It was why he, generally, tried to keep consistent with his pretenses. He had certain appearances to maintain after all. Thinking fast, he decided to fall back on something basic. Something old and reliable.

No need for anything fancy…

Jun slumped bonelessly into his stepbrothers' arms as if suddenly faint. Then, without raising his head, said in the weakest voice he could manage.

“It hurts…! P-please. No more. Aren’t we supposed to be family?”

Aaand hook, line, and sinker. Seriously, had he picked the wrong career?

Because, I mean, that was good, right? Like, really really good.

The cadence. The presence. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions or anything, but was he actually a natural? Like clockwork, the stupid grins reappeared on their stupid faces. No doubt, even now, any misgivings were floating up and away on the winds that rattled around their tiny excuses for brains. One of his stepbrothers chuckled, a nasally, hiccuping sound.

“Not likely,” he snorted. “Cedric hasn’t even gotten to use his striker technique yet. Been looking forward to seeing that all week.”

The tall boy on his left, Cedric, the senior nitwit of their merry little band, threw his head back—shifting the long curtain of golden blond hair out of his eyes. Jun definitely couldn’t see a time in which that might prove a liability. Seriously, why weren’t all cultivators bald? Jun sure knew the first thing he’d do when facing off against ‘Honorable Sir. Hair that billow’s gently in the autumn breeze,’ is grab two good fist fulls of those luscious locks, and swing them around until either their follicles failed, or his arms did.

“Great Aunt Agatha says I'm not allowed to practice on the servants anymore. Not since that little waif had to go and die on us,” the older boy scoffed. “I swear, I wasn’t even giving it my all, she just up and collapsed out of nowhere. Mother says it was a weakness of the mind probably,” he gave a dramatic sigh. “No matter. I suppose you'll just have to do as our sorry little replacement. Let's just hope you last longer than she did.”

The boy grinned maliciously in what Jun supposed was meant to be a threatening manner. It was slightly undermined by the fact that he had to repeatedly flick his hair out of his face in order to maintain eye contact.

Jun’s already poor mood instantly soured.

She’d been a shy girl, from what he recalled. Liked to keep to herself mostly. That being said, they’d spoken polite words on more than one occasion. And the simple fact that she’d deigned to speak to him of all people practically spoke volumes of her character.

“Yeah! And if it killed her, just think what it’ll do to you and your weak, dumb, stupid weakling body. Prolly break you in half, prolly!” the little demon chimed in helpfully. 

Ah. How eloquent. The heights of nobility. The future of their branch was in very good hands. The eldest glared balefully at the youngest.

“That was implied, idiot.”

“What? But you didn't say-?“

“Yes, because I didn't have to! Are you an invalid, or are you just that stupid? Uncle Darren explained it to us just this morning. When you want to threaten someone effectively you don't outright tell them what you're going to do. You let them stew. Come up with their own things that are probably way worse, and then you do that. Were you even listening Caspian?”

The one to Jun’s left chuckled.

“Probably too busy stuffing his face full of pastries,” he said, every hiccuping guffaw accompanied by the jiggle of multiple chins.

“But…? But..! You’re still just gonna punch him, right?”

“Well of course I’m just going to fucking punch him! It was implied you-!” he paused, and then sighed—massaging at his temples. “You know what? Never mind, just get over here and hold him steady.”

The young lad, no doubt only trying to imitate his idols, looked positively crestfallen as he slowly trudged towards Jun. As he passed, Cedric gave the boy a hard slap to the back of the head for good measure. And the teary-eyed look of hurt on the boy's face was… absolutely priceless. But! He was ever the professional. He’d had plenty of practice over the years of showing none of the elation he felt in moments like these, and so kept his face carefully blank—eyes slightly averted.

That didn't, however, stop the little brat from projecting all his pent up hurt and frustration onto him with a wicked glare. Though, to be fair, he honestly hadn't expected it to. Damage control, that was the name of the game here. Because there was a big difference between years of irrational resentment, and well-earned animosity. Well, the difference wasn't huge, but it had to be something right? Surely, he wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night, only to find a knife somewhere it shouldn’t be, and that same petulant glare glinting from somewhere in the shadows. Surely.

As Caspian finally arrived and clamped down on his arm, hard, the one to his right chuckled.

Damn these cultivators. Even this brat is stronger than me! How does that even make sense?

“Dumbass,” he muttered.

“Stuff it, Robert! What do you know, anyway? Bet you still can't even count past ten!”

“What!? This again!? I told you a million times. Uncle Edmund let me take a sip of his wine. I got confused, that’s all! Besides, it's not like I'll need to know my numbers once I join the emperor’s army.”

His Highest on High’s Imperial Legion.

“It’s the emperor’s legion dummy.”

“Who cares what it’s called? I-!”

“Silence!” Cedric broke in, beginning to massage the bridge of his nose now.

“Idiots... I'm surrounded by idiots,”

I like where this guy’s head is at. He makes some excellent points.

“Just hold him still, will you? I'm assuming you're capable of that much?”

The two brothers nodded along meekly.

“Good, because if he slips loose and one of you falls within my range, I can promise you, I will not be halting my attack due to your own incompetence. I'm finding out just how much damage I can do with two unblocked nodes one way or another this day.”

Both boys audibly gulped at the prospect, and then, with eyes that’d gone wide, redoubled their efforts to hold him in place. It would’ve been comical if it didn’t hurt so much. Meanwhile, as Cedric assumed a low stance and prepared his technique—muttering to himself and shifting his hair out of his eyes all the while—Jun took the opportunity to once more appreciate their surroundings. 

————————————————————

They were standing in a quiet grove of ashen trees, populated by pockets of dense thickets. A light breeze tugged at the sparse canopy above—plucking free the last vestiges of autumn with an inquisitor’s ease, scattering multihued leaves like celebratory petals at the feet of winters victorious army.

They were within the bounds of the kings royal hunting grounds. An isolated expanse of forest that went on for several hundred kilometers in every direction. Maintained and regularly patrolled by the kings very own royal huntsman, in hopes of keeping it relatively tame and free of criminals, it was the primary training ground most young and ambitious frontier cultivators graduated onto upon reaching a high enough stage in their development.

Did that mean it was anywhere near safe for them to be there? No. Of course not! In fact, the risk of encountering something explicitly unsafe was astronomically high. It was still meant to be a hunting ground for experienced cultivators, after all. A resource they were in regretfully short supply.

Were they breaking kings' law by trespassing on his lands? Absolutely they were! The penalty for entering the kings wood unauthorized was either death—in the case of a vassal, bondsman, or just plain old commoner—or a fine far too steep for their small branch to possibly pay.

And in the end, did this band of nitwits care even a smidgen about any of this? Were they even aware? Who cares!? They were here now, weren’t they? 

“Some place no one will hear you scream.”

Apparently, it didn’t matter that they were now so far from civilization that it was doubtful any of their screams would be heard regardless.

“Fist of the Broken Mountain!” Cedric exclaimed.

The faintly glowing fist took Jun just below the sternum, suspiciously close to where the first technique had struck. Impacting with enough force to tear him from his brothers’ hold and throw him for what had to have been several entire meters.

He felt himself flip through the air once, then twice, before his momentum was ultimately arrested by an unforgiving forest floor. Landing hard, it was several more seconds of tumbling and rolling before he at last came to a halt in an explosion of dry leaves.

The wind having been thoroughly knocked out of him; it was several precious seconds before his seizing chest allowed for even the shallowest intakes of breath. The jolt of agony that in turn caused making him wince. The natural response of which only further exacerbated the issue. And so, it was with a shaking hand that he discretely palmed something from his jacket pocket, then carefully brought it to his lips.

Swallowing the bitter pill with some effort, he immediately sagged in relief, as the blessed medicinal herbs began the process of realigning bones, stitching torn flesh, and regrowing burned tissue.

A peak grade mortal mending pill. It was an expensive solution, to be sure, but, where his continued health and wellbeing was concerned, only the best would do. Well, the best within reason anyway.

Ok. So. Jun had to admit, that had hurt. He supposed advancement to the foundation establishment realm wasn't as negligible a jump in strength as he’d once believed it to be. It was just so hard to parse at times—what with the heaps of unearned praise the branch lord’s sons were showered in on an almost daily basis—when an actual, genuine achievement somehow slipped its way into the mix.

Reaching up to his chest, he slipped his fingers through the neat hole in his tunic—idly tracing over the brand-new patch of skin. Feeling too the raised lines of his birthmark, stark and undeniably there—almost as if they’d never been burned away in the first place. He’d long since ceased to wonder why, no matter what his body was put through, those same aged lines just had a way of popping back up out of nowhere. The same rough lines aligned in the same strange patterns. He didn’t even think it was a product of the, admittedly potent, medicine he took.

I mean, they’re good, sure, but I’m not sure anything should be that good. Least of all a mortal pill.

Jun flinched as the vibrations from someone’s approach reached his sore ribs. Seeing no real reason to rise, he stayed right where he was. It wouldn't do to have them think he was capable of such a thing so soon after that striker technique had laid him low after all. Idly he noted that the tread of footsteps felt awfully heavy. So, Cedric then? But, no, the boy was tall, sure, but slim as a reed. He didn’t weigh that much. So, Robert then? But no, that didn’t seem right either.

Definitely not Caspian, so maybe all three? But then why were their steps so erratic...? And so… heavy. Very distantly he caught the sounds of wholesale destruction—the crack of shattered timber and creak of toppling giants. Like the tumult of a raging frontier storm or else…? 

Something is very wrong. 

He could feel it in his bones now, rattling his teeth and numbing his hands. Turning his head to the side, he felt his stomach sink all the way down to his boot soles. The carpet of leaves were supposed to be doing that, right…? Jumping in time with every distant reverberation. With every increasingly frequent boom.

A soft hand grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him to his feet. Looking down on him with a gleeful expression, Cedric opened his mouth to say something trite. Jun never gave him that chance.

“Wait! Shut up a moment. Do you hear that?” he asked, forgoing all pretense or chicanery. 

Cedric only sneered. Ignoring the question entirely, he leaned in closer—applying further pressure to his grip. No doubt to better make his dissatisfaction with Jun’s apparent impertinence clear.

“Insolent-! Listen here, you insignificant little-!”

But before he could finish, a piercing cry cut through the quiet atmosphere of the glade. And on its tail came a great cacophony of sound that seemed to portend the end of the world. To the west, two waves of earth and uprooted forest rose high above the swaying crowns of the King’s Wood, like the earthen wake of an enormous vessel.

And seeing as the near seismic vibrations only appeared to be increasing in intensity, it was easy enough to surmise that, whatever was at the forefront of that massive wake, was headed in their general direction. Meaning it was fairly self-explanatory where they should be when it inevitably arrived. Or at least that had been the reasonable, sane, non-suicidal thought process Jun’s mind had immediately gone through. Looking up at his step sibling, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that his opinion was not as universally shared as he might’ve hoped.

In all his panic he’d forgotten for a second that he was not looking to a sane, rational person. No, instead he was looking to a cultivator for prudence. A worse lapse in judgement, he could not currently bring to mind. The dimwit was smiling. Smiling by all the gods! And could he see a glint of avarice in the boy's eyes? That was it! The idiot was going to die. He was going to go die a fool's death, and then have the audacity to take Jun along with him.

Well, fuck that. He’d never agreed to that. Carefully, as not to interrupt the deadman's morbid fascination with the object of his demise, Jun ever so slowly attempted to extricate his arm from the slackened grip, only for it to tighten painfully in response. Jun winced. The jig was up. He was done for. Finished! His evil stepbrother looked down on him and smiled even wider.

“Hey, cousin? How would you like to do me a small favor?”

And for the briefest of moments, he was actually grateful for the support, because, just then, Jun felt his legs go weak.

***

BOOM!

A tangled ball of twisting fur and bloodstained feathers exploded onto the scene with earth shattering momentum. Breaking entire swaths of woodland into mere kindling and kicking up enormous waves of earth into the air. Waves which soon dwarfed the crowns of the surrounding forest, which themselves loomed impossibly high above. At one point, the tsunami of torn up soil rose so high that it managed to blot out the very sun itself, before that terrible wave finally crested, and it all came down in a great calamitous crash—half burying nearly everything in sight.

Deep reverberating growls were answered by the sharp clack of an enormous beak. These overpowering reports punctuating the otherwise chaotic squall of savagery—sounds of ripping, gouging, and tearing galore—as the two titanic spirit beasts tore into one another with reckless abandon. The two so impressive, in both strength and sheer scale, that it was as if the entire forest shuddered every time their terrific clash slammed one or the other back to what was left of the forest floor.

At least twenty meters in height and more than double that in length, one of the Goliaths, a fearsome looking wolf beast—whose coat glistened a polished black like chipped obsidian—straddled the winged form of the second: a titanic bird of prey of comparable size. The winged beast thrashed, flapped, and kicked in its attempts to extricate itself from the wolf, though ultimately, all of its struggles were to no avail.

A thunderous crack was followed by yet another piercing cry as the wolf's jaws found purchase on bone and bit down hard. Suddenly, with what had to have been the very last of its strength, the Roc flexed its mighty talons and launched the Blackstone Direwolf back through the air.

The Direwolf, first sent careening by the unexpected display of strength, swiftly righted itself midair to land gracefully several dozen meters away—whereupon it began snacking on the morsel of bird flesh it’d managed to hold onto. At once, the massive bird attempted to rise from its slumped over position, but it only managed to get so far before its injuries proved too much. Brought crashing back down to the ground by its own weight, the Roc let out another heart stopping cry. Although, unlike before, now there were definite notes of sorrow and desperation in its tone. The Direwolf, sensing that the hunt was nearly over, loped forward unhurriedly, bright blood contrasting the obsidian sheen of its muzzle. 

“Fist of the Broken Mountain!”

With a great leap, Cedric flung himself up and over the hill of upturned soil. Another bound, and he’d sent himself careening through the air, long hair streaming and jacket billowing in the wind. He hurtled headlong towards the unsuspecting Direwolf, a savage grin splitting his face from ear to ear. With his left hand held before him, his right fist cocked back, it was simplicity itself to quickly recite his high mantra, and so wreath his knuckles in an etherial silver aura.

One so radiant, in both the physical and spiritual sense, that it actually hurt his eyes to look upon too directly. It permeated the space around his knuckles with a palpable weight—Cedric’s concept being applied to the utmost of his understanding. Empowering his strike with part of an ideal—not only multiplying his techniques effectiveness severalfold, but also imbuing it with nothing less than an enlightened truth about the universe itself. 

|Concept of Crushing| (1st Aspect)

[Aspect of Hardness]

My will is to crush anyone that does not bow before me.

With a resonant crack that echoed throughout the ravaged landscape—frightening off what few birds remained in the area—the young cultivator’s concept imbued, technique empowered fist met the midnight flank of the Blackstone Direwolf.

And promptly folded in on itself like a crumpled paper doll—every bone in his hand having been shattered simultaneously. Then, to add more injury to injury, the backlash from his fist being unable to leave even a mark on the beast’s wicked hide was enough to shatter every other bone in his arm for good measure.

It was as if the universal concept were rebuking the foolish child for using it on something he had no business trying to crush in the first place. Which, as it so happened, it technically was. Trying to crush something that wasn't crushable, to the concept of crushing, was a crushable offense after all. The wolf casually glanced down at the now crippled human, then snorted in contempt.

Momentarily stunned, by both shock and by pain, Cedric Divan Beckonfrost was in no position to evade the several ton obsidian tail that caught him squarely in the midsection. The very same that sent him spinning like a limp sack of meat.

————————————————————

As the limp form of his stepbrother sailed past overhead—in a poignant example of action versus consequence—only one thought readily came to mind. 

Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.

He was currently crouched behind the literal mountain of dirt that'd been upturned by the two titan’s mere passage. As he had been ever since Cedric unveiled his “ingenious plan.” Initially, Jun’s unenviable task had been to distract the giant killer bird so that Cedric could best the big wolf uninterrupted. How Jun was supposed to have gone about such a task remained a mystery. Although he felt it’d been not so subtly implied that running headlong into the beast’s cavernous maw would be a good start. Oh, and did he mention these things were big? Huge, even? Each as tall as a six story building with teeth and claws as long as people.

But no. Yeah, of course. By all means, fight the damned things. Really, when the odds were stacked so heavily in your favor, what in the world could possibly go wrong? Presumably, his dearest brother would’ve wrapped things up with the first beast just in time to clean the second’s clock—just as it was finished dabbing its beak free of bits of him no doubt. Thankfully things never escalated that far. As was only sensible, Cedric took the two beasts’ separation as a golden opportunity to rush in and start punching things. That it hadn't at all worked out in his favor was a mystery sure to haunt his sleepless nights for many years to come.

Welp! There went all his compunctions to hang around this death trap for a moment longer! Now all he had to do was slip away ever so quietly and wash his hands of this unfortunate debacle entirely.

“Brilliant Lance of Absolution!”

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

The idiot boy was taking a page out of his brother’s playbook it would seem. Jun wasn't sure what he knew about probability, but if the way the big wolfie easily manhandled his brother was of any indication- Wolf-handled? Wolf-paw-dled? Didn’t matter. The point was, it was incredibly stupid of him and really didn't speak well of his math tutors.

Tears streaming down his cheeks and body trembling uncontrollably, Caspian nevertheless stood atop the earthen rise with arms outstretched and fingers extended—sending condensed beam after condensed beam at the massive wolf. And, as if to make matters even worse, by some cruel twist of fate one of the errant beams actually landed. The technique hit the wolf directly on its nose. Snout? Actually eliciting a yip of pained surprise from the gigantic creature. From his vantage point, head just barely peeking over the earthen mound, Jun saw the very instant when the wolf’s murderous gaze turned in their direction. Jun’s blood went ice cold.

Well, that’s not good.

None too gently, Jun grabbed the back of the boy’s lapel and roughly yanked him behind cover. In the face of certain death, the possible repercussions for his not so friendly tone were the last things on his mind. Although, at least a little politeness never hurt.

“Robert! Would you please get the hell over here and manage your idiot of a brother before he winds up getting all of us kill-!”

Jun turned sharply, ready to continue his tirade, only to discover brother Robert was nowhere to be found. Wait? No. There he was. That tiny silhouette in the far distance, hightailing it as fast as his stubby legs would carry him. Huh. Well. At least someone had the right idea.

THUD!

Jun nearly lost his footing as the ground violently shook. An ominous gust of pungent, hot air slapping against the back of his neck. He turned around slowly, as if prolonging the reveal might possibly save him, only to come face to face with precisely what he’d feared. A cavernous maw, dripping with wickedly sharp canines. Craning his head up, and then up, then finally up a little more, he met the crimson irises of the Blackstone Direwolf—utterly inhuman and cruelly intelligent. And so it was that, in that life defining moment, he did the only thing he could think to. He shoved the troublesome runt in front of him, and broke out into a full-on sprint.

“W-what? Hey! You can’t just-!”

You know, now that he really thought about it, parts of Cedric ’s plan did have some merit to it after all. So long as he wasn't the one getting gobbled up as a distraction, he really couldn't find too many faults with its logic. Pawing through his jacket pockets, Jun half ran, half slid down the massive dirt hill. Headed in the only other direction his bladder fervently insisted was precisely the wrong way to go.

On a b-line towards the other enormous man eating spirit beast.

With an unclenching of his gut, he felt his hand brush against the blessed cloth sack. Left pocket. Of course it’d been his left pocket. Wasn’t it always? Tugging it free with a little too much force, he felt the sack immediately slip from his grasp. Forcing him to fumble for it blindly. Thankfully, after a couple stomach churning seconds, and far too many false grabs for his poor heart to take, he finally managed to get ahold of it properly. He was quick to hold it close to his chest from there, cradling it like a newborn babe. Relief and sheer nervousness making his legs feel like jelly. Even still, since taking off he hadn't slowed down for even an instant. If anything, he only began to pick up the pace as the sounds of violence erupted from behind.

“Fist of the Broken Mountain!”

Oh. So he was alive then after all. Jun really wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand it would certainly complicate things. Especially should they all survive this. He was sure his part in this utter catastrophe would balloon outward to encompass all of the blame just as soon as they left the forest’s eves. On the other hand, it did allow him a great deal more breathing room. It took five more agonizing seconds to reach the foot of the gigantic spirit beast, at which point he fully appreciated the sheer magnitude of the thing. If anything, it was larger than the wolf had been, if less intimidating in its current state. Jun shook himself. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand—the reason why he'd hoofed it all the way there.

He wasn't stupid, he knew that even if he'd done the “smart” thing and bolted at the first signs of trouble, if the wolfie was intent on catching him, it would. The disparity between them was almost laughable. Which led him back to a logistical exercise.

After all, what do you do when a financial conglomerate capitalizes on a corner of the market to the point of total monopoly—slowly choking the economic lifesblood from consumers one ruthless price-gouge at a time? Simple. You introduce a different coagulation of funds whose only goal is to undercut the other guy at every opportunity. And, as the two of them go at it like fiends—as costs go down and quality goes up—who really wins in the end? He does, hopefully. Because while everyone else is too busy fighting their own battles, no one notices him sneaking out the back with a comically large sack of coin. Or, well, that was the plan anyway.

At last, he rounded the last few steps and reached the massive head of the spirit beast. The second it caught sight of him its entire body lurched—making him shriek, if in the totally manly sort of way—as if it were making to rise and failing utterly. Jun leapt back instinctively. Alright. So, it hadn’t kicked the bucket just yet. That meant everything was going more or less to plan. That was a good thing. Wasn’t it? He slowly circled the bird at what he hoped, very badly, was a safe enough distance.

The birds eye tracked his progress steadily. When he reached its front, the sudden lurch and deafening clack of its snapping beak told him that it most certainly had not been far enough away. Thankfully, Jun’s nerves were wired so tightly by then, they were fit to snap at even the slightest provocation. Meaning he'd been able to jerk his head out of the way just in the nick of time. The sudden displacement of air enough to tug at his clothes and lash at his hair violently. Jun took several stumbling steps back and swore. He was trying to help this dumb bird, and this was the thanks he got?

Collecting himself, Jun once more thought over the implications of what he was considering. He held the sack to his chest protectively, as if it were a newborn child. An irrational denial overcame him then, and for a long moment he contemplated going back on this whole sacrificial endeavor. Who was to say he couldn’t outrun the big bad wolf? He was in relatively decent shape for his age. Well, by mundane standards if nothing else. And really, wasn’t that all that mattered at the end of the day?

Surely there was another way to get through all of this unscathed, not to mention with all of his interests intact. There had to be. There just had to be. Jun racked his brain for some miracle cure or inspired solution for this untenable position, only to come away empty handed and bereft of excuses. The sounds of fierce battle reached his ears from nowhere near far enough away. Jun relaxed his death grip on the sack reluctantly. He’d just have to suck it up and be realistic. He’d already come this far, hadn’t he? It wasn’t as if it were worth his life or anything of the sort.

He wouldn’t sacrifice his future for the sake of something so trivial. So transient. Even he wasn’t that obsessed. He was better than that. He was stronger than that. Or at least he figured that if he kept on telling himself as much, sooner or later he’d actually believe it. Feeling like he was tearing away a chunk of his own heart in the process, he nevertheless acquiesced to whatever cruel god had orchestrated this whole entire mess—giving himself over to the will of the fates with a soul weary sigh.

Without any more hesitation, Jun reached into the bag, and took out a sandwich. Then a few kebabs, a couple colonial pears, and his drink. Only the best for his midday meal. He took a generous bite of the sandwich to sooth his anxiety. On an employee’s recommendation, he’d actually visited a different sandwich shop this morning. He’d been told they use only the freshest bread, baked in the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn, and you could definitely tell the difference. He made a mental note to send a man to look into them.

They were a hole in the wall joint with exclusively local clientele, though the turnout he’d seen was still rather impressive despite all that. What could they do with the right kind of capital he wondered idly. The crack of breaking bones and a scream so high pitched he hardly recognized the voice as Cedric’s broke him free from his ruminations. Jun shook his head vigorously. Now was not the time to be getting distracted. He had a regrettable task to perform, after all. And besides, his dearest siblings were in the direst of straights! If he didn’t hurry, they could be halfway down that big wolf’s throat before he knew it! And that would be...? Well actually, when he put it like that, there really wasn’t all that much urgency.

Huh.

————————————————————

Jun set his lunch to the side. He’d really only needed the bag in any case. He grabbed the sack and held it open, as if raising the rumpled thing to the heavens in offering. In all of its liberally stained and savory smelling glory. With a thought, a glowing blue rectangle appeared before him, covered in scrolling texts and spinning icons. Evidently familiar with this impromptu menu, he quickly selected the coin shaped icon on the far left with another mental command. In the next moment a new screen appeared to overlap the first. He looked blankly at this new screen for some time while the page scrolled, before he eventually pulled a face.

With a disgruntled tsk he made a mental confirmation. After that—with a series of brilliant golden flashes—a stream of marble sized pills materialized out of thin air only to fall with a series of clicks into the proffered hole.

Without pause, this miraculous stream of round medicines continued to rain down for quite some time, until the sack was nearly filled to the brim. Jun, for his part, despite the inconceivable sight occurring not inches away, looked as if he were being made to watch his entire family being butchered. When the spontaneous stream of pills finally stopped, Jun pulled the drawstring tight and got to his feet. He stared at the bird with only a hint of resentment, and a boatload of weary resignation.

“Look, Feathers, if you’re going to be munching on anything it might as well be these. Can’t say they haven’t served me well, but I’m pretty sure they’ll do a lot more for you than my brains ever could.”

And with that, he tossed the sack practically overflowing with peak grade mending pills and revitalizing tonics at the beak of the titanic feathery beast. The ones worth a small fortune in spirit coins. The ones he’d just payed a small fortune for. The ones that would soon be swept down the proverbial drain like so much drainage disposal. It was like the worst of his nightmares made manifest. It was fine, though. It was ok. He was nearly a man grown now. He wouldn’t weep over something as trivial as this. No matter how much he wanted to. The bird looked at his incredibly generous offering, and he could’ve sworn, for a second, it almost appeared skeptical.

Oh, you ungrateful little-! Big-! Well, alright, you’re pretty darn huge, I’ll grant you, but that still doesn’t give you the right to-!

After taking a tentative sniff, however, Feathers lowered its head sharply, pinched the relatively tiny cloth sack between its massive beak, then tossed it down its gullet with a swift and fluid motion that belied its massive size. Jun suddenly felt weak. Not just in the body, but in his very soul as well. Feathers quickly finished swallowing and then looked down at Jun somewhat ominously.

An errant thought hit him then. Ramming into his mind like the head of a sledgehammer, and neatly embedding itself there for all to see. What if it just ate him? Because, really, what was stopping it? It was a spirit beast after all, they weren’t exactly known for their good will. It was a possibility he hadn’t fully appreciated until now. And, as he felt was only natural, now it was all that he could think about.

When he ruminated on the thought process that’d led him this far, he found that he’d predicated much on the unfounded belief that this bird would be suitably grateful after his grand and noble sacrifice. But that begged the question, could it even feel gratitude? Or was this plan actually doomed to fail from the very beginning? And even worse! If so, did that also mean he’d just thrown away all that coin for nothing!?

He’d been running on pure intuition up until this point and praying his improvisation would be enough in the end. But what if his intuition was actually terrible? He couldn’t be eaten! He had so much left to do! Recoup his losses on this disaster for one. No. He wouldn’t be eaten. He outright refused. He would fight! … somehow… in some way… surely…

Well, he wouldn’t go down easily, that was for sure! Oh no, not him. No way no how. If he was going to die here, he would choke the life from the damned bird, if it was the last thing he did. He could do that much at least. Hells, if the bird was so keen on eating him, he would do that much and more! He would-! He would-! …he… paused, then he sighed. No. No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t go down kicking and screaming like a petulant child.

If these were to be his final moments, he would accept his death with the dignity and poise he’d always hoped to show when his time finally came. Sure, he hadn’t imagined this to be the way he’d go out, but who knew better than him how things rarely went to plan? And so, with a lighter heart than he’d thought himself capable, and a reaffirmed resolution, Jun open his arms wide, closed his eyes, and embraced his fate with a wry smile.

***

The Roc looked down at the strangely standing human while waiting for her bones to reset. She cocked her head to the side in obvious confusion. Well, it certainly seemed like an odd way to stand, but then again, what did she know? Perhaps this was the way all humans stood when they weren’t moving around or making loud noises. She’d honestly never payed close enough attention to their comings and goings to be sure one way or another. She knew others in her clan payed closer attention to such things. Perhaps she would ask one of them when she returned.

Even still, it certainly seemed very peculiar. Let humans be humans, she decided sagely. So long as they weren’t encroaching on the nest. She’d already known from his aura that this wasn’t one of the truly scary ones. True, there was a stink about him that she didn’t entirely understand, but that was no reason to kill the youngling, only frighten him a bit. Just so that she was sure he knew his place.

She’d learned over the course of these last few cycles that you could never be too trusting of their kind, after all. He had surprised her though. Against all expectations he’d offered her a gift, if a meager one. Nevertheless, she was grateful for the aid. And a gift received must always be re-payed in kind, she asserted with a wise bob of her head. And so, it was with slow movements, as not to stress the healing process currently mending the worst of her wounds, that the Sheer Talon Roc plucked free a single feather from her plumage, and immediately began imbuing it with the heights of her Resonance Pillar. Not in a bid to empower it, as she might do by invoking a chosen mantra, but instead to suffuse it with her present understandings. And then, in another few moments the process was done.

Finished with her obligation—and recognizing that her body was as recovered as it was likely to get—she released the feather. Allowing it to drift down towards the interesting little human. Then with a grateful nod in his direction, she propelled herself into the sky with a single beat of her wings. She’d traveled far and wide to stamp out the last embers of this rebellion. Even going so far as to test the bounds of one of the dangerous human settlements. One last beast lord in need of putting down before she’d finally feel safe in returning to her clan, mate, and rambunctious little chicks. And just like that, with images of home on the forefront of her mind, Skyfar Clawdancer, Aerial Noblesse of the Astari Clan, propelled herself towards the enemy.

***

Strangely enough, despite the flurry of torrential winds which tore at seemingly everything around, the lightly drifting feather didn’t shift off course by a hair—entirely unperturbed by anything and everything outside of its predetermined path. Held fast, as if by an invisible tether, it merely drifted its way ever closer, towards the one it had been meant for since its spiritual conception.

***

After the furious winds settled, the air around him became eerily still. Bracing himself for the worst, Jun hesitantly opened his eyes to narrow slits.

Nothing.

He wasn’t dead. Huh. Well, wasn’t that a pleasant surprise. He let his arms flop back to his sides somewhat lamely.

Though that did beg the question, where’d the big bird go? A loud yip sounded from somewhere behind him. Turning, he just barely caught the streaking blur of obsidian fur and brown feathers, as the big bad wolf was snatched up into the air—its flailing claws and massive teeth little use when dangling from several stories up. Now that he could properly take a second to compare the two, he realized that Feathers was indeed significantly larger than the wolf. To what lengths had this wolf gone to get the upper hand in the end, Jun wondered.

Thinking on it, for a moment, he almost felt bad for the poor pup. But then he remembered how it’d tried to eat him less than a minute ago and all empathy he might’ve felt quickly evaporated. Without warning Jun’s legs gave out. Now lying atop the lumpy carpet of torn up earth and blood-soaked sod, he reveled in the sensations of simply being alive.

It was only then, as his eyes appreciated the bright blue color of the sky, that he noticed something peculiar floating lazily towards him. Was that a feather? Feather’s feather. He chuckled. Must’ve tugged free in its sudden departure. Almost absentmindedly, Jun reached out a hand as if to catch it. When his finger and the feather finally touched, however, the world around him first warped, then smeared, and then vanished entirely.

 ————————————————————

The brisk wind buffeted her spotted brown plumage as she ascended rapidly through the lower sky realms. She allowed her wings to guide her along Effritt’s many pathways while her mind spat and churned like the furious tempest winds—incensed by the sudden, inexplicable betrayal. To think that the gale blighted Eliss clan would stoop so low as to ally themselves with the filth begotten earthbound. In all of her three hundred cycles under Effritt’s benign watch, she had never, not once, seen it’s like.

Was their string of meager, if not outright incompetent, hatchlings not shame enough in the eyes of their ancestors? Would they add treachery of the most foul to their growing list of crimes? They would willingly choose to untether themselves from the pact so completely. And for what? Transient power and more heavily disputed territory? Did they not realize the kind of precedent this set? The ramifications of going against the accords after all this time? Because it wouldn’t only affect them, but the whole of the clans for many years to come. She shuddered to think of what kind of world she might be raising her chicks in, all because of the foolhardy decisions of the few.

Tens of thousands of cycles spent dutifully adhering to the shared breath accords. The lasting peace fostered between the clans so complete—and the nest-beds of the clans so hopelessly entangled—that the continued distinction between the fifteen had long since become perfunctory at best. Years of alliance, community, and tradition tossed aside like so much down in a windstorm. She would have their wings for this atrocity. By her ancestors she would, and let none stand in her way.

She felt the temperature plummet as the cloud layer separating the lower from the higher sky realms loomed large in her vision. A roiling grey cover that seemed to wrap the whole of the sky in dreary darkness.

Without even an ounce of hesitation she plunged beak first into the artificial night. She was leaving behind her brothers, sisters, and mate to the intense melee below in order to waylay this new incursion. There was no way she would hesitate now of all times. It broke her heart as it was, to be here and not down there, fighting to protect her nest, her family, and clan. The thought of harm befalling them or, ancestors forbid, her eggs, while she was so far away made her clench her talons in impotent rage. But the fact remained that she was Aerial Noblesse for her clan. And with that title, and its many privileges, came certain responsibilities. To believe anything less would make her no better than the cursed Ellis.

With one final savage beating of her wings, she breached the cloud cover and emerged into the middle heights. It only took a moment for her to catch sight of the distant enemy. From one end of the curving horizon line to the other, the Eliss clan’s secret vanguard flew unerringly towards the blessed hearts tree—its mountain sized trunk rising from the cloud cover below, proud and as awe inspiring as ever. Its vast canopy reaching well above the highest of sky realms. It’s root systems spanning almost the entirety of their stretch of forest. A planetary wonder and an unparalleled resource for any daring enough to lay claim to its shade. The great hearts tree, the Astari clan’s ancestral nest. An ancient pilgrimage site and semi-divine natural treasure all rolled into one. And one which also happened to be her ancestral home.

The Eliss clan warriors flew with their backs to the setting sun—their projected shadows rippling across the cloud cover below like a second army of liquid darkness. Gleaming feathers, backlit by waning sunlight, threw into sharp relief the rest of their otherwise dull grey plumage. A deceptive trick, she knew from painful experience. Seeing as those unsuspecting feathers were as impressive as they were deadly. Sharp as honed razor claws and as tough as iron bark hide, they weren’t something to take lightly if you valued your life.

In willful defiance of all the accords, she spotted earthbound beasts riding atop their backs. Hundreds of them, thousands. Upon final confirmation of their duplicity, her fury became a still, cold thing—her eyes turning sharp and flinty. This had clearly been meant as a surprise attack. Despite the lack of any real cohesion in their formations, their flight was as swift as it was silent. In fact, if it weren’t for the chance sighting of a reckless young hatchling, they might not have known of the threat until it was too late.

Quickly, she scanned their forces—noting, with some relief, that there didn’t seem to be any that could truly give her pause. A few atypical beast lords, though, earthbound as they were, none should prove a threat. Her greatest concerns assuaged, she hovered in place for a moment, allowing them to see her. Let them know their own folly, witness the avatar of their demise. Let them choke on their inferiority all the way into the great beyond.

With a flex of her will, a white mist bloomed out from her, looking like a sparkling cloud of powdered frost. The cloud quickly coalesced into a flurry of snowflakes. Snowflakes which then flit away on energetic currents of wind. By deftly manipulating her aura, it was simplicity itself to affect the space around her. Leveraging her will she was able to shed the irritating layer of frost which had been slowly coating her feathers—like a thousand minuscule talons striking all at once. That done, she focused more intently on the enemy arrayed before her. As if mere fodder deserved such a distinction. To earn the title of enemy, they’d have to have stood a chance of defeating her after all.

Having spotted her at last, the army began showing clear signs of distress. They beat their wings faster, no doubt in hopes of closing to a distance, where their numbers and deadly feathers could be used to greatest effect. Unfortunately for them, no matter how tempting of a spectacle it might’ve been, she hadn’t the time to play games. With a flex of her will, and a cold wave of contempt, she raised a single talon. Against such trash, she would not deign to use anything more. In any event, there was honestly little need. And so, it was with a deceptively casual flick, without fanfare or pretense, that she cut.

‘To cut is my way; my reason is to protect—my conviction is a talon: CUT ONE-HUNDRED THOUSAND-FOLD.’

Immediately the invading army ceased their frantic movements—their bodies drifting forward on momentum alone. Within seconds, millions of fine lines were subtly revealed, spiderwebbing across feathery flesh and fur clad hide alike. No blood gushed forth in great arcs, though they were surely dead all the same. No sign whatsoever that anything was amiss, despite the utter devastation she had clearly wrought. Her cuts were far too precise for anything so crude; her will far too honed to have achieved anything less.

And just like that, in mere moments, the Eliss clan’s secret vanguard, the one meant to sway the tide of this unnecessary war—a veritable army nearly fifty thousand strong—rained down from the sky in meaty, uneven chunks.

***

Jun blinked. He was once more in the ruined clearing, staring up at a bright and cloudless blue sky. While at the same time, phantom sensations of gliding through the air on majestic wings—of rending blasphemers with her wicked talons—still harried his waking mind. To the point that it almost felt as if this were the dream, and his long life spent aloft, high up in the clouds, was the reality. Surrounded by loved ones, with chicks on the way, and possessed of a strength so great and indomitable that he knew, intrinsically, very little could stand in his way.

It was so impossibly vivid in his mind, he had a hard time reorienting himself to this new, or now he supposed, old reality. He had to constantly curb the impulse to curl his toes for instance—expecting that, with each flex, he’d feel the comforting heft of razor-sharp talons. Convince his body each movement of his arms didn’t feel decidedly off—as if the equilibrium were entirely wrong.

In time though, he did manage to recover. Or, at least, so he first thought. Upon closer inspection however, he realized something was amiss almost immediately. Something just beneath his ribcage, just beneath his birthmark in fact, which throbbed with a sickly warmth bordering on nausea.

He tried shrugging it off at first, as he had all the other sensations—those lingering impressions. But, to his surprise, no matter what he did, he just couldn’t seem to rid himself of this inexplicable, soul aching, debilitating lack. It clung to him like a wasting sickness—sapping away his strength for every second it persisted.

An image of shredding to pieces those that’d sought to do him harm—to take what was his, hurt him, harm his children—flashed through his mind. And as it did, a feeling of untold power flowed through him. A stark recollection of regal, barely restrained dominance. As if the entire world were at the mercy of his talons.

And then the feeling was gone, leaving him feeling hollow, cold, and afraid. Jun slapped himself in frustration, and more than a little concern.

“Easy now. Nothing to get worked up about. It’ll pass. Just need to… focus on other things. Yeah, that should do the trick.”

And so, it was with a frantic kind of desperation that Jun fell into himself. Tallying sums, counting prime numbers, running through tongue twisters, possible acquisitions, the odd memory exercise or two. Anything and everything that might somehow force composure on his increasingly unraveling mind. And all the while, his panic only grew more and more pronounced as none of his efforts seemed to amount to anything.

Reaching beneath his tunic he ran a hand along his birthmark. It was an unconscious response born primarily from stress. A hangover from early childhood—little more than a silly charm really—as if by tracing the swooping curves, jagged lines, and circles, he might banish all the awful, wicked things in the world. Normally, it was a comforting ritual. This time, any comfort it might have given him quickly evaporated. His mind registering only belatedly how feverishly hot and raw the skin there was.

And that said nothing of whatever sensation still roiled underneath. It was as if his eyes had been opened to a subtle, yet fundamental truth, only to then have that divine message snatched away oh so prematurely. And suddenly, he found that, more than anything in the world, he wanted that feeling back. Needed it back. Otherwise, he honestly wasn’t sure how he would go on.

 And so, it was almost in a trance that Jun raised a finger, just as Feathers had done with her talon. Placing it gently against an errant blade of grass, he followed the simple motion he still so vividly remembered. With a swift horizontal swipe, he cut.

Nothing happened. Annoyed with himself, he made to pull away, but again, that deep seeded need egged him on. Jun stared daggers at the grass blade, as if this were all its fault.

His brows knit together in concentration, his mind desperately grappling with the problem. Then, suddenly, an idea hit him. He leaned forward once more, took in a deep breath, and made to try again. Fingernail slightly bending the blade of grass, he recalled with complete clarity not just what he’d seen in the vision, but what he’d felt in it as well.

It wasn’t just a desire to cut that she’d displayed, but a cold surety that it would be cut. As if it had already happened, and she were merely going through the motions. An aloof disinterest. A frigid disdain. A negligible distinction by all accounts, logic dictated as much. His gut, however, insisted otherwise.

Jun focused then. Not so much on the motion of his hand, but instead on his intent, on his demeanor, his self. On that confidence bordering on full blown arrogance. That he might cut the world in twain on a whim if he so wished it, with little more than a disdainful flick of his wrist. That it might as well have happened already, and all he really did was cross some t’s and dot some i’s.

With a start he realized that it wasn’t such a hard mindset to slip into. It felt very reminiscent to the final stages of the deal making process. When you already knew they would sign and were merely waiting for them to realize the same. And so, it was with that strange mindset firmly held in place, a flare of his will, and an unconscious sneer on his lips, that he cut.

Almost lazily, the severed half of the green stalk drifted its way to the forest floor.

A chime sounded in Jun’s head making him yelp in surprise. Several inches from his face, a thin vertical line was drawn in faintly glowing blue light. That line then expanded horizontally in both directions until the light resembled a perfectly cut rectangle. It looked like a phantasmal piece of parchment—semitransparent and wholly artificial. Jun sat up straight and the strange parchment followed suit, as if it were affixed to his head in some way. Scrolling text appeared on the rectangle—read in time by a soothing, androgynous voice. Upon registering the insane words being spoken, his mind went utterly blank, and his jaw, slack.