227: Soliloquy of the Ash Damned

Holiday schedule announcement:

Next Thursday is Thanksgiving in the US, and as such I will be taking Wednesday and Thursday off. So there'll be two chapters next week. Back to usual the week after.

Then, next month, I will be taking the week of Christmas and New Years off - there will be no chapters from December 25th - the 28th and on Jan 1. We'll be back on Jan 2, 2024.

These breaks allow me to restore my buffer and also groom my outline, since the story has started to deviate from it a bit. They also give me a much needed break to avoid burning out :-) Thank you for your patience!

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A battle raged in the sky. Vir’s Automaton Guardian fired its eye beam at the Wyrm that shrieked above, diving for the enormous Imperium creation. The avian beast’s attack was thwarted when the Automaton sustained its barrage, unrelenting. Constituent worms died off by the thousands, dropping from the sky like a rain of insects.

They were in the deepest parts of the Ash, now. A land where none dared tread alone. Not even Cirayus.

Vir glanced at the giant, who fended off a horde of a hundred vile beasts by himself. Even then, without the Automaton, without Vir and Shan, the giant would surely have perished long ago. Which, of course, meant Vir would have as well.

This was the true no-man's-land. The dark sky had darkened steadily over the past year, and now they traveled under the veil of eternal night. The lightning, while not striking quite as frequently as Saunak’s defense field, struck often enough that Vir had to maintain Prana Armor even as he slept.

Sleep, he thought. Now there was a luxury he so dearly missed. When was the last time he’d managed more than an hour here and there? Had it been weeks? Months?

Vir refocused. The aerial battle wasn’t his fight, and nor was it Cirayus’. Even with their strength, a single moment’s inattention would spell their doom. Vir had learned that lesson too many times already, as evidenced by his mangled seric armor. The once-beautiful work of art was now punched so full of holes and gashes, it was scarcely even recognizable. He’d considered abandoning it, but could never bring himself to. There were too many memories attached to it, both before and after he entered the Ash.

Cleaving through a Shredder, the beast died before it even knew what had hit it. As it fell, Vir bounded off the beast, bringing his greatsword down across the vulnerable neck of an Ash Biter.

His actions were fluid, like water, and his mind was elsewhere. For these enemies no longer posed him any threat. Not after the hellish training he’d been through.

That wasn’t to say he was invulnerable, though. Not even close.

Vir dodged a Chakra-laden attack from a nearby Phantomblade, its dozens of spikes all carrying the spiritual weight of the Warrior chakra.

Ash Beasts, it seemed, didn’t progress through the natural order of chakras that demons had to. Many of these beasts possessed Warrior Chakras, as well as the shield Chakra for physical defense. Only some had opened the Foundation Chakra, and those that had opened the second Chakra—Life—were exceedingly rare.

While Vir didn’t have to worry about mental attacks, Cirayus had drilled into him the irreparable harm he’d incur by sustaining even a single Warrior Chakra-laden attack. Recently, a worryingly increasing number of enemies they encountered had them.

Vir glanced up to the battle in the sky. Thus far, they hadn’t encountered a Wyrm who’d unlocked the Warrior Chakra—Vir suspected the more ancient, more powerful Wyrms that had lurked even deeper in the Ash. Or perhaps exclusively within the Mahādi Realm. If they did come across one, there would be little hope of survival, even with their Automaton. Even with Cirayus, who fought exclusively against Chakra-wielding enemies these days.

Vir had gotten the fight he’d asked for, what now seemed like ages ago. He’d fought Cirayus. He’d lost, and it wasn’t a loss he could even be proud of. It wasn’t a close battle, where Cirayus had pulled through by the skin of his teeth. No, it was only when Vir had lost consciousness, not even thirty seconds after the fight, that he realized Cirayus had never shown his full strength. Not until that day.

Balar 700 was a lie. Cirayus was easily in the multiple thousands with his Chakras, his half dozen tattoos, and his incomprehensible battle experience.

Days later, they’d fought again, and again Vir had lost. He should’ve known then that it’d become a trend. Not a week went by without them dueling, each time the outcome the same.

Vir never had a chance. Cirayus continually switched his tactics and styles, so Vir felt like he was fighting a brand new opponent each week. He hadn’t even known this many styles existed, and somehow Cirayus had mastered them all.

The demon insisted there was no secret to it. Just that every few years, he’d spend a few months learning a new style. When repeated across centuries, Cirayus was the inevitable result.

He had no weak spots. He had no deficiencies. His form was perfect, and while Vir beat him in raw speed, it didn’t matter. The demon had a sixth sense built up from the thousands of battles he’d fought. He’d seen every trick in the book, and even without the Third Eye Chakra, he predicted Vir’s movements perfectly, as if guided by an invisible ability.

It was infuriating. And yet, despite that, Vir improved. He improved something far more precious than merely combat prowess—he improved his adaptability. He’d now experienced such a vast array of fighting styles, Vir doubted there were many demons alive who could surprise him. Let alone best him.

His technique had been refined and honed to the absolute limit—every minute error beaten out of him. Perfected. His battlefield awareness, experience, and survivability had multiplied. Not only on account of the thousands of Ash Beasts he’d defeated, but from Cirayus’ tutelage and their innumerable duels.

It didn’t stop there. Vir was now equally as proficient with talwars, spears, and even greatswords as he was with his katar. While he’d trained in all before, he’d only had basic familiarity. Now, he’d grown so adept that it had become difficult to discern which weapon was best suited for certain enemies—Vir wiped the floor with them with equal ease, regardless of the tool in his hands.

Furthermore, the moment he’d mastered a weapon, Cirayus had him switch hands and fight left-handed until he’d mastered that, too.

It was why they’d begun counting the kills per minute. It mattered little against individual Ash Beasts, but against mobs, certain weapons fared better. The greater reach of the greatsword and spear allowed them to shine in crowd control situations, while Vir’s katar still reigned when inflicting lethal pinpoint stabs targeting prana centers.

Even so, more than Vir’s strength gains, it was his skill at exploiting his enemies’ weaknesses that had grown the most. His prana capacity, while greater than before, hadn’t undergone nearly as much progress as it had initially in the Mahādi Realm. A year ago, he’d boasted a prana capacity a hundred times that when he’d entered the realm. Now, it was half again as much.

A hundred fifty times his initial capacity—which was by no means small—was nothing to scoff at, however. He could now power all of his Talents at least a handful of times, and several of the more efficient ones—like his prana darts, claws, and basic mobility Talents—dozens of times.

Even in the Voidlands, Vir was confident he could get through any single battle with his current reserves. A feat he suspected few could boast. And with Prana Current more efficient than it had ever been, he didn’t need much ambient prana at all. That would give him an edge, even in the prana-deficient Demon Realm.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, however. What irked him the most was his progress—or lack thereof—with Chakras. It was the one dimension where nothing hindered his progress other than his own mind, but for one year, he’d remained firmly stuck. Beating his head against an invisible wall.

Worse—Cirayus was just as puzzled. The giant had never seen anyone struggle this much with their Foundation Chakra—said to be the easiest of them all to open. Even with Cirayus aiding and accelerating his progress, they’d met with no luck.

Finally, they’d both concluded that Vir must be unique somehow. That there was some key they were missing.

It was a bitter end to his time in the Ash, now nearly over.

Over the past year, they had followed the Guidance Artifact. Deeper and deeper into the Ashen Realm. For the longest time, Vir had wondered just how the realm could be so vast until he learned the startling truth. The realm was repeating itself.

Not that they saw the same locations they’d previously passed. Not exactly. But mountain ranges they’d crossed would reappear with only slight differences. Their arrangements to forests and streams would be identical, allowing Vir and Cirayus to easily locate food and water wherever they went.

The realm was broken in ways that were difficult to understand. It seemed to twist all the rules Vir knew about reality.

Sensing movement in his peripheral vision, Vir swung his greatsword in an arc, deflecting a projectile behind him. The way the blade clanged and deflected told him what type of enemy it was even before Prana Vision showed him.

Phantomblade.

Long ago, he’d been forced to attack their underbellies. No longer. All Phantomblades had soft necks and vulnerable heads. Just that most enemies wouldn’t dare get close enough for it to matter.

Vir wasn’t most enemies.

He lightly pushed back on his toes, Blinking blindly backward with Haste active. The Phantomblade let loose a torrent of its obsidian scales, but Vir had expected as much.

By synergizing Haste with Prana Current and pushing it to its limit, he leveraged the steps he’d practiced tens of thousands of times, moving the slightest amount to dodge each projectile, while predicting the trajectories of those yet to fire.

Vir didn’t duck, bob, and weave. Those were the movements of amateurs. He simply walked, moving the barest amount to dodge each spike with barely an inch to spare. Micro Leap aided his motions, jerking him imperceptibly in one direction after another, and soon, Vir was at the Ash Beast.

Placing a hand on its head, he pulled, sucking the prana out of it, absorbing it into his own body.

Then, using its very own life energy, he surged it back into the beast. Its brain, unable to bear the concentrated deluge of prana, burst. The beast collapsed, dead.

Vir and Cirayus stood in a field of corpses, watching as the infinite wave of beasts closed the noose. When they’d first entered this realm, the landscape had been mostly barren Ash, sparsely populated by Ash Beasts.

Now, Vir could scarcely find a single inch of land that wasn’t roving with these monsters. When his eyes looked to the horizon, he no longer found fields of Ash. He found hostile, deranged organisms. Not hundreds. Or even thousands. Millions.

The world has no idea, Vir thought, nearly laughing at the absurdity of it all. If they knew how many mythical beasts lurked in this realm… If they ever got out…

That would be the end of the world as humans and demons as they knew it. The least of the monsters that surrounded him was Balar Fifty. And there were millions, some many thousands of Balar ranks strong.

Some poured through half-formed Ash Tears—half dying in the process. Some simply popped into existence. It was a land where nothing made sense, and where every moment of every hour of every day was a constant, relentless fight for survival.

Forget sleep—even eating became a chore. Every meal involved fighting their way to vegetation, praying that the beasts who’d come before hadn’t already eaten their fruits and vegetables. They even fought while they ate.

Vir’s duels with Cirayus had ended long ago. There was no time for such luxuries anymore. Now, they simply fought Ash Beasts, and whatever Vir learned, he learned in deadly combat. As for meditation, it was the last thing on his mind.

“We’re nearly there, lad! Hang in there. It has to be around here!” Cirayus roared over the din of the clattering, shrieking, howling, and roaring.

That’s what he said yesterday… Or was it a week ago?

Days blurred together as time lost meaning in this place, and Vir dared not hope. Cirayus’ Artifact had led them here, its light growing brighter and brighter, but it’d led them astray before. It was entirely plausible that Saunak had sabotaged it, or that it was guiding them to another Imperium tower.

Vir didn’t dare consider the possibility—the thought of escape was the only thing keeping him going.

His eyes found Shan, who heaved with exertion despite the thick prana of their surroundings. Not quite as thick as Mahādi, but close.

The land had taken a toll on all of them. Vir had snapped at Cirayus more than he could count, and Shan was always irritable these days. Even Cirayus, who clearly spent great effort to keep his gentle and strong demeanor together, was fraying around the edges.

At least Vir could seek refuge within the Shadow Realm, where he fled to more and more these days, purely to retain his own sanity. For every minute, he spent nearly half of that within the Realm. Regaining his peace. Prolonging the endless torture.

When he could, he brought Shan in with him. The Ashfire Wolf appreciated it. How Cirayus managed without it, Vir couldn’t know.

When inside the safety of the shadows, Vir often thought of Maiya. He thought of his home in Balindam’s Undercity, tucked safely away from harm. He yearned for the sturdy walls of Saunak’s tower. What a luxury it was! It was only now, when he was so far from safety, that he realized its value.

I’m so sick of this place. How much longer can I last?

Not long. More than once, in the moments when he dodged an enemy’s attack, his mind had drifted off. What if? What if he didn’t dodge? What if he just let it all end?

The pain, the relentless fights, it’d all disappear to sweet, black nothingness.

It was Maiya’s blood soaked image that always shook him out of those thoughts. It was a bleak reminder for why he fought.

Not for himself. But for her. For all those who’d sacrificed so much for him. But everyone had their limits, and Vir had long ago exceeded his.

“Lad! Over there! What do you see?” Cirayus shouted, snapping Vir out of his reverie. During his daydream, he’d killed another half dozen Ash Beasts.

Vir flowed prana to his eyes, straining in the direction Cirayus pointed.

He saw nothing, but Prana Vision caught it. Covered by Ash Beasts was a network of underground… somethings. Passages, by the looks of it. They crisscrossed under their feet, deep below the ground. It was difficult to tell with the amount of Ash Prana in the earth.

Vir’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced his emotions under control. He refused to celebrate. Not yet. Not until they were out.

But how do we get in? In between attacks and dodges, Vir traced the passages up to the surface. There was no obvious entrance.

“Cirayus! Shan! To me!” Vir called out, avoiding another rain of worm fragments as they fell. Even dead, each worm was like acid, burning everything it touched.

Vir didn’t look for his allies—that was a fruitless endeavor with the throngs of enemies. He simply followed the trail of death they left in their wake as they made their way to his position, and he knew they did the same to locate him.

Reunited once again, Vir played his hand over the Automaton’s control tablet, ordering it to follow. It was far too dangerous to venture away from the Guardian, and so they always fought with it close by.

Using its legs as cover from the Wyrm above, the three slowly made their way to the spot. They were aided by the Automaton, because while its eye beam was focused on the Wyrm above, its legs did a fine job of mulching any Ash Beast unfortunate enough to be caught under it.

Vir ordered a halt the moment they arrived.

“Well?” Cirayus asked, his voice strained. “Where is it?”

“Below us!” Vir said, “but I don’t know how to—!?”

A brilliant white light shone, blinding Vir. Consuming the world around them. The Ash Beasts faded away, breaking up into motes of white essence, as if reality itself was coming undone.

And then there was nothing. Only darkness.

So this is what death feels like.