Chapter 508
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Chapter 508
Shrouded in the bleak darkness of night, the Defiled horde announced its arrival upon the outskirts of Sinuji with a deafening roar. Erupting from the throats of a hundred-thousand bloodthirsty cannibals, this wordless howl struck the Imperial defenders like a hammer-blow, and if any soldier flinched before the Enemy, no one would blame them. The Defiled were a fearsome foe, motherless savages whod forsaken their humanity in exchange for berserk strength and animalistic fury, so it was only right for mortal men to tremble before them. Fear was inescapable when faced with the prospect of death, but courage was not the absence of fear, but rather the ability to act in spite of it, and though Dastan had many fears, he also had courage to spare.
With his stalwart comrades standing at his side and the Mothers Chosen Son at his back, how could he not?
Tempered in over a hundred battles since they first stepped foot on the front lines, Dastan and his companions stood firm in the face of death, but battle would not be joined so soon. Though passing clouds obscured the moonlight and the Defiled carried no lanterns or torches to light the way, the darkness was no barrier to Dastans eyes. Across the blood-nourished fields of Sinuji, the Defiled gathered their numbers after a long days march, their eager and murderous expressions belaying their cruel and ruthless nature. Driven by the Fathers whispered lies, they had no mercy even for themselves, for there was not a single sign of doubt or hesitance to be found upon their ugly, twisted faces. How many tens of thousands of Defiled met their end here in Sinuji since the war began in earnest, Dastan would be hard pressed to even guess, but despite having marched for hours or perhaps even days without rest, these Defiled were near feral with desire for bloodshed.
Not for long though. Hed long since grown bored of sitting idly about, so Dastan looked forward to putting the fear of the Mother in Defiled hearts.
Northerners one and all, the pale, hulking Defiled figures were adorned in armour of leather and fur while brandishing crudely forged weapons of iron, bone, and stone. Primitive though they might be, their equipment was not to be scorned, for only the hardiest of beasts survived in the untillable permafrost of the north, and properly treated, their remains were a treasure trove of usable resources. Fangs sharp enough to rend through iron, hides sturdy enough to ward off sharpened steel, and so many Spiritual Hearts that one in ten savages bore a Defiled Weapon, the lands outside the Empire were a treasure trove of untapped resources waiting to be exploited, but it was forbidden to travel outside Imperial borders. More specifically, it was forbidden to return to the Empire after travelling beyond the borders, but to most, it was a distinction without a difference. A necessary precaution, as was the standing order to destroy all Defiled relics and equipment, but these days, Dastan often wished it were otherwise. If so, then he could be standing here in full Runic Armour salvaged from the fields of Sinuji, perfectly serviceable and without risk of Defiled Taint with the boss here to Cleanse it.
Well... the boss could have Cleansed it, were it not for his shattered Core. No matter, merely a minor setback in the saga of Falling Rain, for the Undying would rise again. He would rise even sooner if not for his morals, because the smart thing to do wouldve been to send Dastan and his comrades away to die so the boss could return to the Citadel in safety, but the man was utterly without fear. Earlier, when the horns sounded to warn of the Defiled approach, he looked them all in the eyes and uttered, Survive, and survive they would, for Falling Rain commanded it. Now, he stood behind them arranging water and bandages with his twin steel canes in hand, ready to fight and kill should the need arise. A warrior to the core, the bossman wouldnt let a minor thing like physical frailty or his lack of Chi keep him from doing what needed to be done, and Dastan respected him all the more for it.New novel chapters are published on
The rumours painted Falling Rain as a disgrace to the Imperial Clan, but where were all these esteemed nobles? Hiding in the Eastern Province, thats where, playing games of politics and intrigue while Imperial soldiers died to keep the nation safe. Those errant fops and entitled silk-pants were the true disgraces, a cancerous tumour on humanity best excised and forgotten alongside similar wastrels like corpulent merchants and corrupt officials of justice who perverted the laws they supposedly upheld. The world would be a better place if everyone followed in Falling Rains footsteps, but in order to set an example, he would first need to survive long enough to reforge his Core and reclaim his place at the Martial Peak.
And since the Mothers Chosen Son was too sentimental to leave his slaves to die, Dastan would have to survive so he could keep his foolish master safe.
Thankfully, there was no sign of those disciplined, heavily-armoured Defiled here in Sinuji tonight, but their absence only made Dastan all the more wary for the future. A matter for another time though, for it was best to face the problems in front of him first before worrying about other problems to come. The Defiled were eager and unruly, but even they understood the need to rest after a long days march and gather before assaulting a fortified position. Tense minutes passed by as the Defiled continued with their bellowing chants, but once their numbers reached the tipping point, the Defiled crowd fell silent as one and lit a single torch for the sake of their Imperial foes. Holding the torch up high, a lone tribal Chieftain marched out from the throng, his contemptuous sneer illuminated for all of Sinuji to gaze upon. Planting the torch in the dirt, he raised his bone halberd into the nights sky and bellowed in bestial challenge, a cry which the Defiled horde echoed with zealous enthusiasm. For them, this battle was not about taking territory or resources, nor was it about the Mother and Father. No, for them even victory or defeat mattered little, for they were here to shed blood, and it mattered little whether the blood was Imperial or Defiled. They fought solely for the sake of fighting, to vent their anger and hatred upon the world, which was why the Defiled would never emerge victorious against the Empire. As corrupt and debase as it might be, the Empire stood on the side of the Mother, and thus, they stood on the side of the righteous.
Well, most of them did. Probably.
...
Falling Rain stood on the side of the righteous, and for Dastan, that was enough.
Though yearning to leap down from the walls to meet the Defiled Chieftain in challenge, Dastan knew the battle would be long and arduous enough, so he stood in place while another officer strode out to duel. The unfamiliar warrior didnt even have a chance to announce his name before the overeager Chieftain rushed out to meet him, and the two traded blows in a ringing concert of steel and bone before the unnamed Officer was felled by an unlucky glancing blow. Standing over the corpse of his defeated foe, the Defiled Chieftain cackled as he hacked the poor officers head off and used it as if it were an ornamental bowl, putting the stump to his lips to taste the dead mans lifes blood.
Cheers rose from the Defiled horde while the Imperial soldiers bristled with rage and indignation, Dastan included. The Chieftain was no Peak Expert and didnt even exhibit signs of a Domain, which fit the general pattern for Defiled duels, starting with lower-levelled warriors looking to raise their reputation amongst their tribal clansmen. These life and death events were little more than sport to them, but the Imperials would not be shamed into declining a duel, lest the refusal strike a grievous blow to the armys morale. In the same vein, the Empire wouldnt send out someone too much older or stronger, so a second officer strode out to meet the Defiled Chieftain, this time a Senior Captain from the South. Again, the Imperial warrior lost by the slimmest of margins, as did a third and a forth, and only then did Dastan realize the cunning savages ploy, feigning weakness and only barely winning so he could remain standing in the public eye.
The Defiled were feral and bloodthirsty, but only a fool would think them stupid.
By now, Imperial morale had plummeted to dangerously low levels, but their foolish Commander Watanabe seemed frozen with indecision, neither sending a fifth junior officer out to meet the challenge nor escalating the challenges with an older, more experienced duellist. If Falling Rain were in command, he wouldve likely either killed the Defiled Champion himself, or shot him from a distance to show his disdain, but Lieutenant Colonel Mitsue Watanabe did neither as time passed them by, the Imperial soldiers standing in subdued silence while the Defiled cheered and jeered in obvious ridicule.
After long minutes of uncertainty, Falling Rain said, The commander has ordered me to select a representative to meet the Defiled in single combat. Which one of you wants the job.
To which Dastan responded with a second overhand strike, almost exactly the same as the one which claimed the Defiled Chieftains life.
Ichor sprayed through the air as his axe bit deep, but Dastan was well prepared in advanced, manoeuvring his Domain to Deflect the Ichor away. A few globules still splashed upon his skin and clothes, but the pain was a small price to pay for inflicting a grievous wound upon a newborn Demon in his first ever battle against one. He still had much to learn, as the Demon was not dead and he wouldnt emerge unscathed, but even as he took a glancing blow from its twisted hammer hands, he roared in glorious celebration of how far hed come.
Reining in the urge to continue the battle, he put his fancy footwork to good use and backpedalled away from the fight at top speed, but the Demon was not yet finished. Maddened by rage and hunger, it scurried after him with swinging fists and wouldve caught him if not for its unbridled greed, slowing to gather up the corpses of Dastans fallen opponents. Unwilling to leave Imperial soldiers to such a grisly fate, Dastan halted his retreat and lashed out on instinct, a course of action he wouldve been better off thinking twice about, but it was already too late. The attack had been made and the Demon was upon him, so now all that was left was kill or be killed.
No. Death was not an option. Falling Rain, a man who treated Dastan like a brother instead of a slave, had commanded him to survive, and survive Dastan would.
Cut. Thats what he needed to do in order to survive. Cut through the Demon and kill it with a single blow. Only then would his survival be ensured and his orders adhered to, so cut through the Demon he would.
His Domain responded to his thoughts without effort, One with the Weapon, One with the Self, and One with the World.
Cut.
His Chi gathered about the axe-blade and Honed it to perfection, but this wasnt enough.
Cut.
The air buckled and burst as his weapon cleaved clean through the atmosphere, his Chi manifesting into the world as an invisible blade, formed for one purpose and one purpose only.
Cut.
His axe struck two of the Demons misshapened arms and one of the original ones, all three raised in defense while its remaining arms hurtled towards Dastans throat.
Cut.
Ichor sprayed as severed limbs flew through the air, and the Demon let loose with a bestial shriek, one laced with terror and reluctance before it ended abruptly. The Demons head joined its severed limbs in flight even as its attack landed on Dastans chest and sent him flying backwards into the dirt.
Manifesting his Chi into a physical blade drained Dastans Chi reserves to near nothingness, though the Energy of the Heavens quickly surged into his Core as he reached and found Balance. Head ringing and body aching, he found his battle-axe still in hand and used it to push himself slowly to his feet. Heaving with exertion, his chest surged with pride as he stood over the remains of his defeated foe, pride which quickly drained away as he watched the Demons caustic Ichor spill across the dirt and stone, seeping into the blackened dirt underneath and rendering it untillable for the foreseeable future. Even in death, the Fathers foul minions sought to destroy the Mothers Creations, but so long as Warriors like Dastan Zhandos and Falling Rain stood on the side of the righteous, then the Mother would always prevail.
The worst part was, victory would be theirs in the end, but even this might not be enough to save Falling Rain from Imperial machinations. The Empire was worth saving, but the Imperial Clan? Not so much.
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 508
Shrouded in the bleak darkness of night, the Defiled horde announced its arrival upon the outskirts of Sinuji with a deafening roar. Erupting from the throats of a hundred-thousand bloodthirsty cannibals, this wordless howl struck the Imperial defenders like a hammer-blow, and if any soldier flinched before the Enemy, no one would blame them. The Defiled were a fearsome foe, motherless savages whod forsaken their humanity in exchange for berserk strength and animalistic fury, so it was only right for mortal men to tremble before them. Fear was inescapable when faced with the prospect of death, but courage was not the absence of fear, but rather the ability to act in spite of it, and though Dastan had many fears, he also had courage to spare.
With his stalwart comrades standing at his side and the Mothers Chosen Son at his back, how could he not?
Tempered in over a hundred battles since they first stepped foot on the front lines, Dastan and his companions stood firm in the face of death, but battle would not be joined so soon. Though passing clouds obscured the moonlight and the Defiled carried no lanterns or torches to light the way, the darkness was no barrier to Dastans eyes. Across the blood-nourished fields of Sinuji, the Defiled gathered their numbers after a long days march, their eager and murderous expressions belaying their cruel and ruthless nature. Driven by the Fathers whispered lies, they had no mercy even for themselves, for there was not a single sign of doubt or hesitance to be found upon their ugly, twisted faces. How many tens of thousands of Defiled met their end here in Sinuji since the war began in earnest, Dastan would be hard pressed to even guess, but despite having marched for hours or perhaps even days without rest, these Defiled were near feral with desire for bloodshed.
Not for long though. Hed long since grown bored of sitting idly about, so Dastan looked forward to putting the fear of the Mother in Defiled hearts.
Northerners one and all, the pale, hulking Defiled figures were adorned in armour of leather and fur while brandishing crudely forged weapons of iron, bone, and stone. Primitive though they might be, their equipment was not to be scorned, for only the hardiest of beasts survived in the untillable permafrost of the north, and properly treated, their remains were a treasure trove of usable resources. Fangs sharp enough to rend through iron, hides sturdy enough to ward off sharpened steel, and so many Spiritual Hearts that one in ten savages bore a Defiled Weapon, the lands outside the Empire were a treasure trove of untapped resources waiting to be exploited, but it was forbidden to travel outside Imperial borders. More specifically, it was forbidden to return to the Empire after travelling beyond the borders, but to most, it was a distinction without a difference. A necessary precaution, as was the standing order to destroy all Defiled relics and equipment, but these days, Dastan often wished it were otherwise. If so, then he could be standing here in full Runic Armour salvaged from the fields of Sinuji, perfectly serviceable and without risk of Defiled Taint with the boss here to Cleanse it.
Well... the boss could have Cleansed it, were it not for his shattered Core. No matter, merely a minor setback in the saga of Falling Rain, for the Undying would rise again. He would rise even sooner if not for his morals, because the smart thing to do wouldve been to send Dastan and his comrades away to die so the boss could return to the Citadel in safety, but the man was utterly without fear. Earlier, when the horns sounded to warn of the Defiled approach, he looked them all in the eyes and uttered, Survive, and survive they would, for Falling Rain commanded it. Now, he stood behind them arranging water and bandages with his twin steel canes in hand, ready to fight and kill should the need arise. A warrior to the core, the bossman wouldnt let a minor thing like physical frailty or his lack of Chi keep him from doing what needed to be done, and Dastan respected him all the more for it.New novel chapters are published on
The rumours painted Falling Rain as a disgrace to the Imperial Clan, but where were all these esteemed nobles? Hiding in the Eastern Province, thats where, playing games of politics and intrigue while Imperial soldiers died to keep the nation safe. Those errant fops and entitled silk-pants were the true disgraces, a cancerous tumour on humanity best excised and forgotten alongside similar wastrels like corpulent merchants and corrupt officials of justice who perverted the laws they supposedly upheld. The world would be a better place if everyone followed in Falling Rains footsteps, but in order to set an example, he would first need to survive long enough to reforge his Core and reclaim his place at the Martial Peak.
And since the Mothers Chosen Son was too sentimental to leave his slaves to die, Dastan would have to survive so he could keep his foolish master safe.
Thankfully, there was no sign of those disciplined, heavily-armoured Defiled here in Sinuji tonight, but their absence only made Dastan all the more wary for the future. A matter for another time though, for it was best to face the problems in front of him first before worrying about other problems to come. The Defiled were eager and unruly, but even they understood the need to rest after a long days march and gather before assaulting a fortified position. Tense minutes passed by as the Defiled continued with their bellowing chants, but once their numbers reached the tipping point, the Defiled crowd fell silent as one and lit a single torch for the sake of their Imperial foes. Holding the torch up high, a lone tribal Chieftain marched out from the throng, his contemptuous sneer illuminated for all of Sinuji to gaze upon. Planting the torch in the dirt, he raised his bone halberd into the nights sky and bellowed in bestial challenge, a cry which the Defiled horde echoed with zealous enthusiasm. For them, this battle was not about taking territory or resources, nor was it about the Mother and Father. No, for them even victory or defeat mattered little, for they were here to shed blood, and it mattered little whether the blood was Imperial or Defiled. They fought solely for the sake of fighting, to vent their anger and hatred upon the world, which was why the Defiled would never emerge victorious against the Empire. As corrupt and debase as it might be, the Empire stood on the side of the Mother, and thus, they stood on the side of the righteous.
Well, most of them did. Probably.
...
Falling Rain stood on the side of the righteous, and for Dastan, that was enough.
Though yearning to leap down from the walls to meet the Defiled Chieftain in challenge, Dastan knew the battle would be long and arduous enough, so he stood in place while another officer strode out to duel. The unfamiliar warrior didnt even have a chance to announce his name before the overeager Chieftain rushed out to meet him, and the two traded blows in a ringing concert of steel and bone before the unnamed Officer was felled by an unlucky glancing blow. Standing over the corpse of his defeated foe, the Defiled Chieftain cackled as he hacked the poor officers head off and used it as if it were an ornamental bowl, putting the stump to his lips to taste the dead mans lifes blood.
Cheers rose from the Defiled horde while the Imperial soldiers bristled with rage and indignation, Dastan included. The Chieftain was no Peak Expert and didnt even exhibit signs of a Domain, which fit the general pattern for Defiled duels, starting with lower-levelled warriors looking to raise their reputation amongst their tribal clansmen. These life and death events were little more than sport to them, but the Imperials would not be shamed into declining a duel, lest the refusal strike a grievous blow to the armys morale. In the same vein, the Empire wouldnt send out someone too much older or stronger, so a second officer strode out to meet the Defiled Chieftain, this time a Senior Captain from the South. Again, the Imperial warrior lost by the slimmest of margins, as did a third and a forth, and only then did Dastan realize the cunning savages ploy, feigning weakness and only barely winning so he could remain standing in the public eye.
The Defiled were feral and bloodthirsty, but only a fool would think them stupid.
By now, Imperial morale had plummeted to dangerously low levels, but their foolish Commander Watanabe seemed frozen with indecision, neither sending a fifth junior officer out to meet the challenge nor escalating the challenges with an older, more experienced duellist. If Falling Rain were in command, he wouldve likely either killed the Defiled Champion himself, or shot him from a distance to show his disdain, but Lieutenant Colonel Mitsue Watanabe did neither as time passed them by, the Imperial soldiers standing in subdued silence while the Defiled cheered and jeered in obvious ridicule.
After long minutes of uncertainty, Falling Rain said, The commander has ordered me to select a representative to meet the Defiled in single combat. Which one of you wants the job.
To which Dastan responded with a second overhand strike, almost exactly the same as the one which claimed the Defiled Chieftains life.
Ichor sprayed through the air as his axe bit deep, but Dastan was well prepared in advanced, manoeuvring his Domain to Deflect the Ichor away. A few globules still splashed upon his skin and clothes, but the pain was a small price to pay for inflicting a grievous wound upon a newborn Demon in his first ever battle against one. He still had much to learn, as the Demon was not dead and he wouldnt emerge unscathed, but even as he took a glancing blow from its twisted hammer hands, he roared in glorious celebration of how far hed come.
Reining in the urge to continue the battle, he put his fancy footwork to good use and backpedalled away from the fight at top speed, but the Demon was not yet finished. Maddened by rage and hunger, it scurried after him with swinging fists and wouldve caught him if not for its unbridled greed, slowing to gather up the corpses of Dastans fallen opponents. Unwilling to leave Imperial soldiers to such a grisly fate, Dastan halted his retreat and lashed out on instinct, a course of action he wouldve been better off thinking twice about, but it was already too late. The attack had been made and the Demon was upon him, so now all that was left was kill or be killed.
No. Death was not an option. Falling Rain, a man who treated Dastan like a brother instead of a slave, had commanded him to survive, and survive Dastan would.
Cut. Thats what he needed to do in order to survive. Cut through the Demon and kill it with a single blow. Only then would his survival be ensured and his orders adhered to, so cut through the Demon he would.
His Domain responded to his thoughts without effort, One with the Weapon, One with the Self, and One with the World.
Cut.
His Chi gathered about the axe-blade and Honed it to perfection, but this wasnt enough.
Cut.
The air buckled and burst as his weapon cleaved clean through the atmosphere, his Chi manifesting into the world as an invisible blade, formed for one purpose and one purpose only.
Cut.
His axe struck two of the Demons misshapened arms and one of the original ones, all three raised in defense while its remaining arms hurtled towards Dastans throat.
Cut.
Ichor sprayed as severed limbs flew through the air, and the Demon let loose with a bestial shriek, one laced with terror and reluctance before it ended abruptly. The Demons head joined its severed limbs in flight even as its attack landed on Dastans chest and sent him flying backwards into the dirt.
Manifesting his Chi into a physical blade drained Dastans Chi reserves to near nothingness, though the Energy of the Heavens quickly surged into his Core as he reached and found Balance. Head ringing and body aching, he found his battle-axe still in hand and used it to push himself slowly to his feet. Heaving with exertion, his chest surged with pride as he stood over the remains of his defeated foe, pride which quickly drained away as he watched the Demons caustic Ichor spill across the dirt and stone, seeping into the blackened dirt underneath and rendering it untillable for the foreseeable future. Even in death, the Fathers foul minions sought to destroy the Mothers Creations, but so long as Warriors like Dastan Zhandos and Falling Rain stood on the side of the righteous, then the Mother would always prevail.
The worst part was, victory would be theirs in the end, but even this might not be enough to save Falling Rain from Imperial machinations. The Empire was worth saving, but the Imperial Clan? Not so much.
Chapter Meme
Chapter 508Shrouded in the bleak darkness of night, the Defiled horde announced its arrival upon the outskirts of Sinuji with a deafening roar. Erupting from the throats of a hundred-thousand bloodthirsty cannibals, this wordless howl struck the Imperial defenders like a hammer-blow, and if any soldier flinched before the Enemy, no one would blame them. The Defiled were a fearsome foe, motherless savages whod forsaken their humanity in exchange for berserk strength and animalistic fury, so it was only right for mortal men to tremble before them. Fear was inescapable when faced with the prospect of death, but courage was not the absence of fear, but rather the ability to act in spite of it, and though Dastan had many fears, he also had courage to spare.With his stalwart comrades standing at his side and the Mothers Chosen Son at his back, how could he not?Tempered in over a hundred battles since they first stepped foot on the front lines, Dastan and his companions stood firm in the face of death, but battle would not be joined so soon. Though passing clouds obscured the moonlight and the Defiled carried no lanterns or torches to light the way, the darkness was no barrier to Dastans eyes. Across the blood-nourished fields of Sinuji, the Defiled gathered their numbers after a long days march, their eager and murderous expressions belaying their cruel and ruthless nature. Driven by the Fathers whispered lies, they had no mercy even for themselves, for there was not a single sign of doubt or hesitance to be found upon their ugly, twisted faces. How many tens of thousands of Defiled met their end here in Sinuji since the war began in earnest, Dastan would be hard pressed to even guess, but despite having marched for hours or perhaps even days without rest, these Defiled were near feral with desire for bloodshed.Not for long though. Hed long since grown bored of sitting idly about, so Dastan looked forward to putting the fear of the Mother in Defiled hearts.Northerners one and all, the pale, hulking Defiled figures were adorned in armour of leather and fur while brandishing crudely forged weapons of iron, bone, and stone. Primitive though they might be, their equipment was not to be scorned, for only the hardiest of beasts survived in the untillable permafrost of the north, and properly treated, their remains were a treasure trove of usable resources. Fangs sharp enough to rend through iron, hides sturdy enough to ward off sharpened steel, and so many Spiritual Hearts that one in ten savages bore a Defiled Weapon, the lands outside the Empire were a treasure trove of untapped resources waiting to be exploited, but it was forbidden to travel outside Imperial borders. More specifically, it was forbidden to return to the Empire after travelling beyond the borders, but to most, it was a distinction without a difference. A necessary precaution, as was the standing order to destroy all Defiled relics and equipment, but these days, Dastan often wished it were otherwise. If so, then he could be standing here in full Runic Armour salvaged from the fields of Sinuji, perfectly serviceable and without risk of Defiled Taint with the boss here to Cleanse it.Well... the boss could have Cleansed it, were it not for his shattered Core. No matter, merely a minor setback in the saga of Falling Rain, for the Undying would rise again. He would rise even sooner if not for his morals, because the smart thing to do wouldve been to send Dastan and his comrades away to die so the boss could return to the Citadel in safety, but the man was utterly without fear. Earlier, when the horns sounded to warn of the Defiled approach, he looked them all in the eyes and uttered, Survive, and survive they would, for Falling Rain commanded it. Now, he stood behind them arranging water and bandages with his twin steel canes in hand, ready to fight and kill should the need arise. A warrior to the core, the bossman wouldnt let a minor thing like physical frailty or his lack of Chi keep him from doing what needed to be done, and Dastan respected him all the more for it.New novel chapters are published onThe rumours painted Falling Rain as a disgrace to the Imperial Clan, but where were all these esteemed nobles? Hiding in the Eastern Province, thats where, playing games of politics and intrigue while Imperial soldiers died to keep the nation safe. Those errant fops and entitled silk-pants were the true disgraces, a cancerous tumour on humanity best excised and forgotten alongside similar wastrels like corpulent merchants and corrupt officials of justice who perverted the laws they supposedly upheld. The world would be a better place if everyone followed in Falling Rains footsteps, but in order to set an example, he would first need to survive long enough to reforge his Core and reclaim his place at the Martial Peak.And since the Mothers Chosen Son was too sentimental to leave his slaves to die, Dastan would have to survive so he could keep his foolish master safe.Thankfully, there was no sign of those disciplined, heavily-armoured Defiled here in Sinuji tonight, but their absence only made Dastan all the more wary for the future. A matter for another time though, for it was best to face the problems in front of him first before worrying about other problems to come. The Defiled were eager and unruly, but even they understood the need to rest after a long days march and gather before assaulting a fortified position. Tense minutes passed by as the Defiled continued with their bellowing chants, but once their numbers reached the tipping point, the Defiled crowd fell silent as one and lit a single torch for the sake of their Imperial foes. Holding the torch up high, a lone tribal Chieftain marched out from the throng, his contemptuous sneer illuminated for all of Sinuji to gaze upon. Planting the torch in the dirt, he raised his bone halberd into the nights sky and bellowed in bestial challenge, a cry which the Defiled horde echoed with zealous enthusiasm. For them, this battle was not about taking territory or resources, nor was it about the Mother and Father. No, for them even victory or defeat mattered little, for they were here to shed blood, and it mattered little whether the blood was Imperial or Defiled. They fought solely for the sake of fighting, to vent their anger and hatred upon the world, which was why the Defiled would never emerge victorious against the Empire. As corrupt and debase as it might be, the Empire stood on the side of the Mother, and thus, they stood on the side of the righteous.Well, most of them did. Probably....Falling Rain stood on the side of the righteous, and for Dastan, that was enough.Though yearning to leap down from the walls to meet the Defiled Chieftain in challenge, Dastan knew the battle would be long and arduous enough, so he stood in place while another officer strode out to duel. The unfamiliar warrior didnt even have a chance to announce his name before the overeager Chieftain rushed out to meet him, and the two traded blows in a ringing concert of steel and bone before the unnamed Officer was felled by an unlucky glancing blow. Standing over the corpse of his defeated foe, the Defiled Chieftain cackled as he hacked the poor officers head off and used it as if it were an ornamental bowl, putting the stump to his lips to taste the dead mans lifes blood.Cheers rose from the Defiled horde while the Imperial soldiers bristled with rage and indignation, Dastan included. The Chieftain was no Peak Expert and didnt even exhibit signs of a Domain, which fit the general pattern for Defiled duels, starting with lower-levelled warriors looking to raise their reputation amongst their tribal clansmen. These life and death events were little more than sport to them, but the Imperials would not be shamed into declining a duel, lest the refusal strike a grievous blow to the armys morale. In the same vein, the Empire wouldnt send out someone too much older or stronger, so a second officer strode out to meet the Defiled Chieftain, this time a Senior Captain from the South. Again, the Imperial warrior lost by the slimmest of margins, as did a third and a forth, and only then did Dastan realize the cunning savages ploy, feigning weakness and only barely winning so he could remain standing in the public eye.The Defiled were feral and bloodthirsty, but only a fool would think them stupid.By now, Imperial morale had plummeted to dangerously low levels, but their foolish Commander Watanabe seemed frozen with indecision, neither sending a fifth junior officer out to meet the challenge nor escalating the challenges with an older, more experienced duellist. If Falling Rain were in command, he wouldve likely either killed the Defiled Champion himself, or shot him from a distance to show his disdain, but Lieutenant Colonel Mitsue Watanabe did neither as time passed them by, the Imperial soldiers standing in subdued silence while the Defiled cheered and jeered in obvious ridicule.After long minutes of uncertainty, Falling Rain said, The commander has ordered me to select a representative to meet the Defiled in single combat. Which one of you wants the job.To which Dastan responded with a second overhand strike, almost exactly the same as the one which claimed the Defiled Chieftains life.Ichor sprayed through the air as his axe bit deep, but Dastan was well prepared in advanced, manoeuvring his Domain to Deflect the Ichor away. A few globules still splashed upon his skin and clothes, but the pain was a small price to pay for inflicting a grievous wound upon a newborn Demon in his first ever battle against one. He still had much to learn, as the Demon was not dead and he wouldnt emerge unscathed, but even as he took a glancing blow from its twisted hammer hands, he roared in glorious celebration of how far hed come.Reining in the urge to continue the battle, he put his fancy footwork to good use and backpedalled away from the fight at top speed, but the Demon was not yet finished. Maddened by rage and hunger, it scurried after him with swinging fists and wouldve caught him if not for its unbridled greed, slowing to gather up the corpses of Dastans fallen opponents. Unwilling to leave Imperial soldiers to such a grisly fate, Dastan halted his retreat and lashed out on instinct, a course of action he wouldve been better off thinking twice about, but it was already too late. The attack had been made and the Demon was upon him, so now all that was left was kill or be killed.No. Death was not an option. Falling Rain, a man who treated Dastan like a brother instead of a slave, had commanded him to survive, and survive Dastan would.Cut. Thats what he needed to do in order to survive. Cut through the Demon and kill it with a single blow. Only then would his survival be ensured and his orders adhered to, so cut through the Demon he would.His Domain responded to his thoughts without effort, One with the Weapon, One with the Self, and One with the World.Cut.His Chi gathered about the axe-blade and Honed it to perfection, but this wasnt enough.Cut.The air buckled and burst as his weapon cleaved clean through the atmosphere, his Chi manifesting into the world as an invisible blade, formed for one purpose and one purpose only.Cut.His axe struck two of the Demons misshapened arms and one of the original ones, all three raised in defense while its remaining arms hurtled towards Dastans throat.Cut.Ichor sprayed as severed limbs flew through the air, and the Demon let loose with a bestial shriek, one laced with terror and reluctance before it ended abruptly. The Demons head joined its severed limbs in flight even as its attack landed on Dastans chest and sent him flying backwards into the dirt.Manifesting his Chi into a physical blade drained Dastans Chi reserves to near nothingness, though the Energy of the Heavens quickly surged into his Core as he reached and found Balance. Head ringing and body aching, he found his battle-axe still in hand and used it to push himself slowly to his feet. Heaving with exertion, his chest surged with pride as he stood over the remains of his defeated foe, pride which quickly drained away as he watched the Demons caustic Ichor spill across the dirt and stone, seeping into the blackened dirt underneath and rendering it untillable for the foreseeable future. Even in death, the Fathers foul minions sought to destroy the Mothers Creations, but so long as Warriors like Dastan Zhandos and Falling Rain stood on the side of the righteous, then the Mother would always prevail.The worst part was, victory would be theirs in the end, but even this might not be enough to save Falling Rain from Imperial machinations. The Empire was worth saving, but the Imperial Clan? Not so much.Chapter Meme
