Occasionally, I feel like writing stuff. Often times, it comes in the form of a whole bunch of stories that have little to no connection between them. I'm going to be posting a few of them. Some have connected canons, but any of those connections should be pretty obvious. All criticism welcome. These are kind of like trailers or PVs of the full stories, so events occuring within them should be understandable without the greater world. If its confusing, please tell me. Table of Contents: Swordsman 1 Swordsman 2 Liene 1 Xiao Hong 1 Featherfall 1 Liene 2 Miss Banford 1 Xue Yi 1 Xiao Hai 1 Swordsman 3 “You’re just too short sighted.” Her father was always saying that. It just didn’t make any sense. She took another swing. The air split under the weight of her swing. Her fingers tightened around the grip. Too stiff. She took a deep breath, trying to let the tingling at her shoulders. What did shortsighted even mean? It’s not as if the phrase meant anything on its own. How could she possibly change that? Another swing. The air whooshed past the blade. She shook her head. She let the blade waver again. Sweat was dripping down her body. The sun was as bright as ever. Her own inability was more frustrating than anything else. That her body betrayed her like this. That she just couldn’t do what she felt, she knew was possible. One last swing. One last try before she would run out of steam. She tightened her stance, returning her sword to the rest position. One step forward. Her sword flew, faster than it ever had before. Faster than she’d ever seen before. Faster than she’d ever known was possible. Too Short Sighted. As if only things that could be seen could be cut. Her sword slowed, caught on something beyond the scope of senses. She opened her eyes. Found it. The wind began to roar. Light began to curve around the path of the blade. For a brief moment, the world began to become undone. She pressed forward, strove to drive the sword further. She failed. The distortions were gone in the next moment. Her courtyard was the same as it had ever been. She sensed her attendant walking out. She turned to take a look. “Miss, a Jade Green is here to visit you.” She flicked her sword quickly, drawing an arc through the air. The air shook, water droplets beginning to fall on a cloudless day. She cut rain from the sky. “Tell her I’ll be there after I wash up.” ... Two parts to this one, because either was pretty small (and because I had two stories of the same character) She didn’t feel different. She wasn’t really different. She was the same, clueless girl, she always was. But she wouldn’t have reached this point without trusting herself. Father was not around. He wasn’t here to give her advice. At this point, there was no additional advice to give. All she had to do was trust herself, trust her life she cut free from death. She held the sword to her chest, point right in front of her heart. Cliché, but her style. Father practiced by cutting open his stomach, the rite they once called Seppuku. She smiled. Their family was always so dramatic. She inhaled, feeling the edge of the blade on her skin. She took one last look at the blade. It was so clean it looked wet. She drove the blade through her heart. Less painful than she imagined. She felt her body becoming heavier, her heart pondering more with every dying beat. And for a moment, she was scared. For a moment, she was on the edge of life and death, wondering whether or not she would survive. In the next, she was fine. Cold, soaked in sweat, shivering, but fine. She dropped the sword, gasping for breath. She was alive.
Liene kept a notebook. Although she called it such, it really felt more like a diary than anything else. Brine was a step behind her, falling into line at a glacial pace. No, her time dilation was a step faster than normal. She slowed her pen down, letting her perception of time speed up slightly. Being too fast made communication uncomfortably slow. She checked the time, noted in tally-like marks alone the margins. Brine was 15 seconds late. She flipped the notebook back 45 pages, tearing out the page whilst still adding to it. She didn’t look back as she held it out to him. “Operation procedure should be all clear for a decent period of time. Yama will be out for a while, so continue reporting to me.” “Yes Ma’am.” He took the page, scanning over it briefly. Standard operation procedures, including their targets, even ranked in priorities. Liene had taken the time to include a comprehensive list of likely failures and contingency plans, as well as the parts of their organization status relevant to his functions. He turned, moving with purpose to start on his assignments. Liene flipped past the page she was working on, letting one of the spells engraved upon it activate. The page disintegrated, and she continued writing without pause. She appreciated Brine. He didn’t ask questions or waste time, just carried out his jobs. She’d hate to have to use one of the spells on that page on him. Fortunately, he was sensible enough not to turn on one of the strongest mages in the entire world. She frowned. Time was speeding up too fast. She’d gotten distracted again, and her Writing slowed. It was a fickle Word, always desiring her full attention. Sometimes, giving it that was just unreasonable. Yama was almost as unreasonable. He just loved to flit here and there, chasing after some sort of “fire” that she just couldn’t understand. She admired the passion, if nothing else. And she didn’t mind the responsibility she had to take up. Somebody was dawdling around, looking awfully anxious about approaching her. An unfamiliar face to her, meaning it was probably bad news. She flipped through her notebook, looking for something that lined up with somebody showing up at about this time. She found the page, 58 pages back. The bank robbery they had set up. She copied down the contingencies in the margins of the page, reinterpreting her original train of thought. Something didn’t line up. The robbery wasn’t really meant to succeed; success was just a potential bonus. It was just set up to smokescreen some of their larger activities in the region. None of her original plans had somebody coming to her concerned about something. She almost nibbled on her quill. A bad nervous tick. It prevented her from writing and slowed her thought processes. While she was distracted, the minion had finally mustered up the courage to report. “Ma’am, um, there’s a problem.” A program. How wonderfully vague. She frowned, knowing it would make him more nervous. She responded, filing a note to reprimand him if it wasn’t actually critical. “What kind of problem?” “We’ve lost contact with all of our operatives just after they reached staging point B.” That was a problem. Her agents getting captured was no major consequence. Even their deaths wouldn’t be a big deal in the grand scheme of things. But losing contact? That could jeopardize every single operation going on today, or more. Liene jotted down a quick couple of scrying spells. They fizzled out. She frowned. This was a really big problem. The Imperium’s Planner? No, this was quite a bit larger than his shortsightedness could perceive. She ceased the thought. Better not to rule anything out without some evidence. She scrawled a couple more scrying spells. One bounced, but the other showed a weary man leaning heavily against his desk. Definitely not the Planner. She jotted down a quick portal. The air rippled in front of her, before stabilizing into something a little like glass. She stepped through, leaving the nervous peon behind. She stepped into the bank with all of the leisure of a mundane stroll. The guards were still frozen by the unexpected intrusion. She jotted a spell before they reacted and they crumpled. She looked around. Not a single Titled or mage in sight. The scrying spell she previously wrote lit up, and her field of view expanded. In a perimeter around the building, there was an entire platoon of magi. A few particularly conspicuous magi were maintaining a barrier of some kind around the bank. As far as she could see, the street had been evacuated. She clicked her tongue. Their movements were too quick. It was nigh impossible that somebody around her was a rat, so one of her underlings’ minions was acting up, and knew too much. Either that or the Imperium had found another Titled with strategic ability. More likely, it was some mix of both. Judging by this setup, the Titled had studied under the Planner, but apparently the student had already surpassed the master. One of the more conspicuous mages began shouting at her. “Put” –Your hands in the air. She completed the phrase in her head as it began. She took a moment to analyze the barrier around her as she began to cast, her pen using accelerated time to cast spells thousands of times faster than ordinary mages ever could. A portal rippled in the air for a moment, before fizzling back out. Unfazed, she began firing more and more conspicuous spells, until the barrier was filled with the light of magic and reactions. “Your” Some of the conspicuous mages were beginning to sweat from the pressure they were under. The weaker mages were still preparing their first barrage. She scribbled another spell, a focused beam of light erupting out of the sphere. She smiled. This barrier was an interesting piece, dragged down by its need to be used for purposes of justice. She lifted her pen off the page, writing upon the beam itself, until it intensified to blinding brightness. Turning her pen back to the page, she swept the beam across the mage line. The ones looking at her were blinded, including the mages who were focused on maintaining the barrier, and it fizzled out. “Hands” Her next portal went off without a hitch. She tossed a page into it, the page appearing inside the barrier around the leading magi. The sound of the explosion was briefly obscured by the barrier, but in the next moment it stunned the rest of them. She looked at her time tally in the notebook, and bit her lower lip. She conjured a third portal, disappearing within the ripples. An instant later, the pavement she was standing on spider-webbed, buildings in the area sinking into the ground around the impact. Liene stepped back into her office, noting every detail she could recall of her excursion. Luckily, the strategist, for all of their prowess in analysis, was just as short-sighted as their predecessor. Her operations were basically entirely intact still, and they didn’t obtain a meaningful amount of information on her either. The Titled mage was no big deal, but the final attacker was most likely the Savior of Atalante of the Tarnished Vigil. Neither was too significant on their own, just some extra Imperium firepower, but their presence could mean her operations were going to be intensely disrupted. Liene sighed. Just where was Yama when you needed him.
The newest servant set the teacup down in front of Xiao Hong with some trepidation. She gave the girl a reassuring smile as she stepped back. Her 4 servants were arranged in the ideal positions to attack, bodies rigid with tension. Xiao Hong took a whiff of the tea. It was a bit strong, but not bad for the girl’s first serving. From her position, in seiza, low table right in front, she could only track one person with her eyes. The new girl had backed off. It made little difference; her cultivation was a bit too low to be participating anyways. Xiao Hong closed her eyes, taking a single sip of the tea. Definitely too strong. Relaxing on the seat she was on, she took in the sounds of their breathing, the slight displacements they made in the air as they tensed up. She set the teacup down on the table. It was time to begin. “As you will.” No one moved. Xiao Hong nodded in appreciation. They knew better than to attack right at the start, when she was most prepared. Chen attacked from behind, and she ducked to dodge his fist. Leaning back, she kicked the table upwards, blocking the attack path of Lao. She rolled under the flying table, punching forward with the momentum. Lao dodged to the side, striking at her right side. Stepping back, she moved to catch his arm. He rolled with the motion, escaping her throw as Bai attacked from the left. Xiao Hong pursed her lips. Too impatient, as ever. She parried the strike, trapping the girl’s arm as she turned her in the way of Lao’s followup attack. He pulled back in the next moment, but Xiao Hong was already throwing Bai backwards, shattering the table with the impact. Back still facing Lao, she intercepted his kick, lowering her center of gravity to sweep out his other leg. He attempted to flip, and she followed through with the motion, slamming him into the ground below her. Chen had finally managed to get around the attacks of the other two, but at this point he was alone against her. Facing down a quick flurry of strikes, his guard broke, and he crumpled shortly after. Extending her hand, Xiao Hong caught the falling teacup, bringing it to her mouth for another sip. “Luo, you steeped this Chimeric Dianthus tea too long. Such a powerful leaf cannot be left for so long, or it will be too harsh in taste, or in the worst case, damage the body’s foundations.” Luo tensed up, shivering in fright. Xiao Hong smiled to reassure her. “It’s no major matter, my cultivation will not be hurt by something of this strength. But in the future, remember not to steep as much for the younger generation. Something like this is more befitting of those of father’s caliber than our own.” The other three were just struggling to their feet, backs straightened and at attention as best they could. She gave them a glance-over. “I believe you have some indications of where your pitfalls are.” They nodded. “Then this session was not in waste. As you are.” Her servants relaxed. A new table was carried out shortly, and the previous remains carted away by her family’s people. She handed the teacup to Luo, and the girl bowed hastily before running off. She sat down in front of the new table, circulating her qi for a brief moment. The garden was beautiful this time of year. If only these peaceful times would last.
Does this mean you will be posting the full stories? I really like the 1st one and the magic execution in the 2nd one seems really intriguing
So it's been a pretty long time since I last posted anything. I'm going to try to get this on some sort of schedule, because up until now I've just been trying to write more without posting any of it. Also I've been writing a lot of fanfiction. I'm trying for once a week for now, a bit conservative. -- A fluttering of feathers like that of a goose heralded the intruder’s arrival. The man in the black hood turned to give the intruding Titled mage his undivided attention. Not that he needed to, he had complete grasp of anything that changed within his domain at all times. It was a sign of respect. Featherfall, the shameless intruder, had a hawk-like nose and narrow eyes, always half-lidded. His hair had whitened, perhaps as a side effect of his Word. Not a common occurrence, physical changes, but perhaps a change resulting from actions he took because of the Word. It made little difference. The mage looked directly into his eyes, obscured as they were by his hood. Neither required light to ‘see’ the other. “Word from above?” the hooded man spoke first. “Something has changed within Seraphim’s predictions. She has calculated it to be related to Yama.” “As it always seems to be. A new Titled mage, perhaps?” “The most probable cause. She has modeled Yama appearing somewhere near here in the future, so we’re setting up a new perimeter.” “If our new mage can’t be predicted by Seraphim, I doubt my demesnes will give much more insight than what she has gathered.” The hooded man scoffed dismissively. “We don’t expect it to. Our perimeter will be metered to capture, not analyze.” The feathered man’s voice dropped. The hood lowered a bit, reducing the distance between them. “Seraphim plans to remove the anomaly. That is more than a little paranoid.” Featherfall’s eyes narrowed even further. “It is only for the purposes of modeling, nothing more.” “Because she’s ever captured someone to “model” and left them in one piece. You and I both know that is a kill order.” “Those times were necessary. The only unfortunate occurrence was that they did not come out of modeling intact.” He countered. “Is she afraid of losing the control she has over the world? As if she doesn’t look up at the tower every day, fearing the witch that sleeps?” The hooded man made no attempts to conceal the contempt in his voice. “You recall the last anomaly. That set us back years in stability. The next Outsider will come soon. We can’t risk two major catastrophes at once.” “The last anomaly wasn’t guided by Yama.” “That changes nothing, Nightveil.” Featherfall growled at him. “I see,” Nightveil murmured,”Her paranoia has eclipsed her rational thought. She’s afraid of him.” “That isn’t what this is about.” He hissed back. “Isn’t it? You wouldn’t be setting up liaisons with me if it weren’t for that. Savior would never agree to it, so you need me to do your dirty work in Atalante.” “This is about the existence of civilization, Nightveil. It goes far beyond petty politics.” Nightveil stood up. “I think we’re done here, dog of Seraphim. Go beg another Titled mage to do your assassination.” Featherfall stepped forward. “I think that we can still come to an agreement.” “Because you have anything you can offer me. Don’t soil my domain with another step.” He grumbled, but obeyed. -- He lapsed back into existence, under the cover of his regal feathers, at the foot of a throne, etched in marble and fringed with gold. The back of the royal seat was more modernized, however. Its metal back had a number of colorful wires and tubes emerging from it. The wires and tubes found their way to places under the woman lying on the throne, barely filling a quarter of its massive seat. Her head jerked somewhat unsteadily at his arrival. “Feather? How has it gone?” He closed his eyes, shutting them tightly until he could convince himself. So that he could do what he had to do. She couldn’t take much more. Forcing her to predict more, forcing to look further into things she couldn’t see with just her vision would break her. But she would. She would break herself without hesitation if she thought it was necessary. And anything unknown was necessary to investigate. He still remembered the year they fought against the witch. The first Titled mage she couldn’t understand just by looking at. The first one she had to investigate. She nearly killed both of them. Sera didn’t come out of it wholly intact. She still hadn’t recovered. And she didn’t entirely learn her lesson. If anything, it made her more cautious, more insistent that they stay within what she could predict, and stamp out anything that she couldn’t. That was before they knew of Outsiders. They had heard, certainly, but that was all it was, hearing. Seeing was far different. He couldn’t handle Outsiders. The entire Imperium might not even be able to defeat one of them. And they couldn’t be understood. They couldn’t be predicted in the way that normal things could. In the way that everything she saw had to be. And that nearly broke her again. Operations had to change. Their system couldn’t work only working among things they knew. They became part of a collective, a greater organization that they could coordinate the efforts of, use to further everyone’s ends. A system that worked for all the petty mortals that the witch looked down upon when she rose to fight the Outsiders. He saw the disdain glistening in her limpid eyes, when they had to call her. When the meager things they could do themselves weren’t enough, when her ranged assistance wasn’t even enough. He resented those demeaning eyes. But that expression had become far more common in recent times. The Savior first, convinced that Sera’s predictions were insufficient. That protecting the world was immoral if it didn’t come from the rigid outlines of the judicial system. Then on Nightveil, the Savior’s shadow, who took every word of Yama as gospel. Nightveil trusted a madman, a serial killer, for nothing more than the psychopath’s ability to find diamonds in the rough. As if every other thing the man touched didn’t explode. So he had to take things in his own hands. He opened his eyes again, genial smile upon his lips. “It went well, my dear. Don’t worry.” “Oh good.” She let her head fall back down, splaying out a bit further upon the throne relieved. “Then we can proceed with the re-modeling.” She trusted him absolutely, for all the times that they relied on each other. She might hate him for it, but if it saved her? He would lie to her every time. A puff of feathers, and he was gone again. -- He lapsed back in Atalante, preparing to do the work himself. They would pass through here. Sera never predicted wrong. Everything of the idea made sense. Yama would never pass up the chance to do so, to be his arrogant self in the greatest city in the Imperium. And that arrogance would be his downfall. It had been long enough. The collective supported Yama because of what he could do, but the results did not match the costs. In Atalante, the opposed members of the collective won’t be able to move. The Savior was naturally ambivalent, and Nightveil would never overrule the Savior’s decision. A wave passed over Featherfall like a chill. He moved to lapse, to go anywhere but here, but found his magic failing. He felt his body begin to sublimate, disappearing into nothing more than air. Magic died on his lips, fell apart within hid hands. Even his chantless magic dissipated under the pressure. Words bored their way into his mind as he felt himself dying. “Scuttle off back to the darkness, worm.” -- He lapsed back into existence within Seraphim’s palace, in one of the many side halls that it contained. Everything was perfectly pristine, exactly how he had left it, without a hint of dust. They had enchanted this palace long ago, when their dreams were more vapid and their minds free to wander. Sera called it an investment in their future, once. Something they would appreciate as they got older, built up more than they once had. Maybe she still dreamed of adding more to it: staff, objects of fancy or just life in general. Even if he knew she didn’t have the energy to look at anything beyond her room and the future she had to see. When he teleported away, he didn’t leave feathers behind. She wouldn’t appreciate the littering. -- He lapsed back in Atalante, once again. The witch only scanned twice daily, and the last scan should have been her last of the day. He still had time to prepare. Even skulking around in the dark, never able to poke his head out for fear that it might be cut off, he could still prepare. Yama never prepared. Featherfall doubted that he even knew what the word meant. The ending was self-evident: his opponents would find their hastily developed options wanted. All he had to do was lay the groundwork, set up a couple dominoes to fall where he needed them to, and the anomaly would be removed with minimal error. He would even deal with the problem personally. It was the least he could do for Sera, what he needed to do to ease her struggle. They would overcome this anomaly, like all of the others. Sera had been raving about a major anomaly recently, one that she couldn’t even see around, let alone past. This was just a blip on the radar compared to that. This was something he could deal with. The later anomaly, the one so large that it had nearly left her catatonic they’d have to work together for. They’d have to work with everyone, even that godforsaken witch. But this? He could do this alone, and she could rest. He finished etching the inscription under his feet into the ground, and it faded right in to the city’s streets. He lapsed away in another burst of feathers. He had time, but he didn’t have time to brood. He had work to do. -- Side characters, sort of. All worldbuilding may be potentially overwritten at any time, especially since I don't have many of the major details set in stone yet, but consider it 'canon' until then.
“Please, Liene, fire only grows when it has space to breathe.” “I don’t quite follow.” “That there, is your first mistake. You follow. You can’t be a slave and live.” “Do you not work under one above, Guest?” “YES! That is the attitude you need, my dear Liene! Respect isn’t given, It is Taken.” “Is that a yes or a no?” “You will know whether I serve before the day is out.” Liene heard some shuffling about near her, turning her face towards the noise. From behind the blindfold, she couldn’t see anything, and the sounds offering nothing to help. A light flickered in her eyes, barely visible beyond the blackness. “You see the fire, do you not?” “I do, though what you mean by it I have no clue.” “Let me tell you a story.” The light danced around her vision, and she followed it with her eyes. “I always had an “unhealthy” attraction to fire. Mom never quite had enough to keep the stove alight overnight, so the winter months were just so. I woke up every night, just a touch after midnight, and played with the embers.” She could have sworn he had closed his eyes, imagining the scene. “And that’s when I first knew that fire was nothing to be feared. They always said that it would hurt, that touching the flame would burn, but it just never did.” He laughed. “I brought my fingers to the flame, and learned that they knew nothing. That for all they proclaimed certain, they had never taken the time to experience.” The fire flickered, drawing closer to her eyes. “You know, they say that we stand upon the shoulders of giants to achieve success.” It was closer still, bright even under the blindfold. Liene could feel the heat tickling her nose. “But they couldn’t be further from the truth. Science, Magic, all of it was built on flaws!” He turned, and the fire was gone. “No, that isn’t correct. It was built on giants, ancient beings of a colder age. A less knowledgeable age.” That didn’t make sense. “Guest, isn’t their knowledge what makes us knowledgeable?” The fire was close again, so close she could see the light flicker. “Liene, have you ever watched a gallows burn?” “I can’t say I have, Guest.” “When the structure burns, it doesn’t fall. The char, the carbon behind the wood, lives on.” The fire was brighter now, her nose almost hot. “But our knowledge is never put to the test. And that is why we stagnate.” Everything shook for a second. “We live in an untried society, Liene. One which has never undergone the flames. And with no fire, it cannot grow.” “Like a forest, Guest?” The light raised upward, like he had stood up. “Precisely, Liene. Now you’re starting to fill in the blanks.” The light fell upon her blindfold, and it burned. “You’ve touched embers before, I’m sure.” Her eyes watered under the heat. Pain flared on her face. “But you’ve never been burned. It shows.” “But I have…” He sighed. “Figuratively, my dear. Sometimes, words are just so difficult. Meanings even more so.” She blinked. Her eyes were still blinded by the light, but it didn’t hurt. She touched the bridge of her nose. Nothing hurt. “You see. The fire doesn’t burn you. It can’t burn someone as bright as you are.” She bit her lip. That privilege was something she’d never have. “Magic…” He seized on the word. “Magic. The greatest gift man could receive. Magic is what allows us to burn.” “Figuratively?” “Personally, I find it both literal and figurative. But it’s a minor matter. Look around.” She obliged. The room was small, surprisingly so. It looked nothing like the rooms at home. The door as well, she’d never seen architecture use such concave shapes before. “This is..?” “Merely a staging platform upon which you can shine.” He handed her a pen, and a page. “You always loved to draw, didn’t you?” “I did. It’s one of the few things I can do.” “Doing what you can is the basis of living. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Her shaking hands tried to start on the page. She shook her head. It was no good. He looked back. “I see.” The door shot open, the winds screaming like banshees. Her eyes shot open. As far as her eyes could see, it was all blue. He laughed again, his shoulders tightening with shivers as he stared into the endless blue. “When the embers are burning out, in your dying breath, that is when the spirit of life ignites!” She stood upon shaking legs, almost against her own will. Before anything else, she just wanted to see what lied beyond the blue. The wind roared louder. She stumbled, light of breath. He stood amidst the gateway, smiling gently. He reached out to her. She stopped. She questioned. She feared. She took his hand anyway. Liene felt like a pressure had been lifted off her chest. She felt like she was burning, every cell in her body excited. Power flowed through her the likes of which she’d never felt before, and her mind was clear like a fog had been lifted. For a moment, she could fly. He stepped back. And they were alight. -- I don't really like this one that much. Its kind of short, and didn't really get the right tone for really either character. At the same time, I kind of got lost in editing it to a point where I actually liked the scene, so I tossed it into my writings folder and forgot about it. I figured, rather than waste away, it might as well go here.
Because I've got a trend with threes. -- Noelle opened her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. It was 7:15. Somebody had tampered with her alarm clock. She sighed. Guess it was clothes easy to move around in today. No alarms had gone off in the estate, so she couldn’t look rushed or unprepared. Her uniform had to be semi-formal, she might not have the time to change later on. So not a pant suit, a maid uniform. The former wouldn’t be appropriate for the ball tonight, it was too masculine. She picked out a high cut, the black, white frilled skirt ending just above the knees. Easy enough to move around in. Stockings went up to the mid thigh. For shoes, the casual flat shoe wouldn’t do. She sighed again. Aether combat boots could pass for a maid at a ball. The uniform had space within for a few necessities. Money for Miss Banford’s day out. Handkerchiefs, one for herself, one since Miss Banford almost certainly forgot hers. Stun glove? She shook her head. Hadn’t had time to perform maintenance. Loose microfibers would be very bad with the aether vial she was bringing along. Needles and string, black, for any minor clothing issues. Spare parts, bits of copper wire, a switch, pocket watch, pliers, and a vial of aether about the size of her pinky. Enough scraps for Miss Banford to toy with. Lastly, she put in her contacts. She didn’t need glasses at all; the contacts revealed aether signatures. Miss Banford’s design, modified to be more discreet. She looked down. Her body was glowing like a teal Christmas tree. Perfect. Noelle hurried up to the third floor, stopping in front of the third room on the right. She knocked twice on the austere door before calling. “Miss Banford?” She waited five seconds proper. No response. She tried again, more for protocol than anything else. “Miss Banford, are you awake?” Five seconds more. Silence. She tried the doorknob. Locked. She picked out a couple of spare parts, finding her tension wrench and a hook pick. She picked the lock, stepping into the room with one last ”Miss Banford.” The suite was empty. Bits of scrap laid all across the floor, some arcane gadgets sitting upon the desk. Over half the room was covered in the thin teal mist of aether remnants. The gadgets were even more colored, with a deep blue glow at their cores. Noelle exhaled lightly. Miss Banford’s scrap might cost half her yearly salary. Noelle stepped carefully around the bits on the bloor, making her way over to the bedroom. Miss Banford’s dress for the ball hung luxuriously in its corner. The window let in the gentle morning sunlight and wind. Knotted sheets hung over the sill. A couple of bits of teal were tucked in the bed. She dug the trinkets out. Her tracking devices. Noelle sighed. Of course that wouldn’t work again. Miss Banford’s favorite clothes: slacks, button-up and light jacket, were missing. Noelle had a vague idea of where Miss Banford would be going. She checked the time: 7:33. On foot, she couldn’t have gotten too far. She jumped out of the window, boots taking the shock of the three-story fall. Brushing off a bit of the kicked-up dirt, she set off in a light jog toward the gate. Every single gate definitely had aether sensors installed within, meaning Miss Banford snuck out without tech. The guards gave her an apologetic look as she passed. The head of security must have helped. She didn’t have clearance to move aether in or out of the manor. No matter. She could vault the ten foot gate. Light aether conditioning and aether combat boots went a long way. Miss Banford’s carefully cultivated idle physique couldn’t do the same. Noelle drew the aether vial and a silver needle covered in copper tip. A single drop of the liquid aether fell into the needle’s hoop, and entered the hollow shaft. Removing the copper tip, Noelle drove the needle into her upper arm. She sighed again. This really was too extravagant; all this expense to not alert the madam. Her body, within the contact’s vision, flared teal, and her body temperature increased to take in the vast amount of energy. She broke into a jog almost instinctively, the pace around that of her unboosted sprint. The security looked away as she kicked off the ground, clearing the fence easily. Noelle hit the ground cleanly, putting on her most dignified fast-walk as she headed toward greater Ars. Miss Banford would never stay in the upper district in her excursions. The biggest change from the upper district to the city proper was the high-rise buildings. Upper class districts were spacious, filled with plant life. By contrast, the city was filled with metal buildings and busy people. Alleyways snaked around only slightly larger streets, traffic at basically permanent gridlock. The sky was covered at almost every time of day by smog clouds, with only the occasional teal glimmer of aether appearing in her vision. Noelle craned her head, looking for some sort of vantage point. Ducking into an alleyway, she placed her boot on the metal wall, pressing her toe into the sole. The boot stuck with a slight “clink”. Bracing herself against the wall, the “clanked” the other boot after, clinking and clanking her way up the wall at a careful pace. The roof leveled out, and another press in the boot disabled its magnetism. She scanned the streets below for her charge’s vibrant ginger hair or figure, leaping to an adjacent roof when she didn’t find Miss Banford. For better or for worse, Miss Banford stood out, especially in a crowd. City folk generally didn’t like bubbly people or people that looked rich, and Miss Banford was both. People gave her a decent berth on any but the most crowded of days. Today, Noelle found her all but kissing the glass of Aether Marvel. Noelle dropped into an alley around the side. She checked the time: 7:58. Aether Marvel opened at 8:00. Noelle let out a breath. Right on time. -- This one I've actually sort of (not really) found a direction for. Its a bit more grounded than most of the others, but I still wanted to emulate a steampunk-esque vibe of creativity and exploration, which was surprisingly difficult to make coexist. It's like, whenever you have a setting in that period, it feels like it would be improved by war, or at least defined by such, because it lines up surprisingly close to WW1 or the civil war historically.
Gonna be honest, I didn't actually write anything other than fanfiction this week. But I have a backlog of stuff I never posted as panic fodder. This one I actually liked a decent amount, as it was inspired by The Grandmaster Strategist. At the same time, it fell into a "flavor of the week" kind of feeling that didn't quite make the middle parts I'm looking for as nice as I wanted them to be. A the same time, I could see this one going somewhere. Just, probably not any time soon. -- Xue Yi was always an impetuous child. Being the only son of the Marquis of Taizhou certainly didn’t help. The Marquis was a stern fellow, a solemn, dignified general of Zhao. But he was also a father, naturally lenient on his heir. And so, the five year old was an absolute terror within the compound. Xue Yi bounded through the rooms of his courtyard, leaving a mess wherever he passed through. Maids and butlers chased after the young master, feebly calling for him to slow down. There was a mischievous gleam within his eyes as he looked back at his pursuers, making a short detour to tip a nearby dresser. From a decent distance away, a pair of men were watching the chase, wry smiles upon their faces. One carried an extremely imposing aura, like that of a lion constantly searching out prey. The other was more reserved, a constant half-smile on his face and a relaxed posture. His bald head didn’t bow even a bit in the face of the powerful Marquis. “Marquis Xue, have you considered our proposal? Your son is certainly a dragon among men, and I fear no teacher in Taizhou is worthy of teaching him.” The Marquis of Taizhou scowled at the Buddhist monk in front of him. How could he not know that the North Seeking Sect feared his influence? This proposed schooling was no more than an excuse to take the Marquis’ son hostage. But, even if he knew that, great Zhao had given their tacit consent. “Buddhist Great Compassion, Xue Yi is just a boy. I fear the world of Martial Arts will be too harsh on him.” Great Compassion chuckled. “Marquis doesn’t have to be concerned. He will be a personal disciple of mine. Like this, he will definitely not come under harm.” The Marquis sighed. “Very well. I hope he grows into the dragon that he can be.” Across the courtyard, unaware of his fate, Xue Yi bounded about, smashing pottery with the wooden stick he fancied a sword. “Ai, can no one in the Marquis’ manor catch this young master? This young master couldn’t possibly have surpassed all of you so quickly, right?” -- Xue Yi sighed as he looked out the monastery windows into the endless mountain range. Over these fifteen years, his demeanor had become incomparably calm, as if even the destruction of the world wouldn’t faze him. His monk’s robes were well maintained, cleaner even than if they were freshly washed. The wind blew more intensely into his face, but he continued staring out, lost in thought. At times like these, Xue Yi didn’t care to think of much. His mind, although entirely unaware of his body’s happenings, wasn’t focused on any thoughts in particular. The monks thought that meditation came naturally to him, like most things seemed to. But this feeling wasn’t relaxing, like a meditative trance. He was distinctly aware of himself, and that above all made him, lethargic, in a way. “Disciple, focused on something far away?” Great Compassion had approached him some time ago, and his words brought Xue Yi out of his trance. He looked back at his master, into that eternally smiling face and deep brown eyes, trying to divine just what the man was thinking. “Ah, Master, this disciple was just reminiscing about his past.” “You were quite the impetuous child. Marquis does not even believe us when we speak of your change to him.” Xue Yi smiled a bit. He didn’t resent the North Seeking Sect for holding him captive. Although he had yet to experience much, he learned enough about his status from father’s letters and their teachings to understand his position. As the gifted son of the Great General of the North, how could any of the major powers of Zhao or the world of Martial Arts let him be? This accommodation was lenient, if anything. Great Compassion leaned a bit closer towards his disciple, trying to peer into the thoughts behind the calm eyes. “If disciple was reminiscing about his younger years, could it be that he wishes to spar again?” Xue Yi fought a lot in his early years within the monastery. But in the last half of his internment, he stopped sparring altogether. Even so, to Great Compassion, it seemed like his aura was building in strength every day. He had once gone to the sect master about this phenomenon, and although the sect master wasn’t entirely sure either, it seemed like this child had reached another realm in internal energy. Its just, with every advancement he made, he became less and less willing to display his grandeur. Xue Yi gently shook his head. “This one was too rash before. I must apologize for the inconvenience that I caused in my younger years.” The North Seeking Sect was extremely generous with his education. They hid no secrets in their Martial Arts from him, and he absorbed the knowledge like a sponge. Every day, without fail, he meditated, cultivating his internal energy. Feeling the energy circulate through his body was incomparably comfortable and calming, clearing his mind whenever he worried about the affairs outside. Now, he found even the use of internal energy regretful, because every drop was like a breath of fresh air, pure and invigorating. “Would disciple like to watch the snow with master?” Great Compassion’s smile didn’t carry a hint of insincerity. Xue Yi responded in kind. “This disciple would love to.” The mountains of the north only experienced light snow on most occasions. Wearing only monk’s robes and thin shoes, the master and disciple pair would undoubtedly suffer from the chill. But under the influence of their internal energy, the freezing weather was a trivialty. “The last time is snowed was my third year under your care.” Xue Yi walked lightly, his feet barely leaving imprints within the snow. “The snow comes down on the most auspicious years. That year, great Zhao was entirely at peace.” Great Compassion mused. Xue Yi turned toward Great Compassion. “Master, in that year, wasn’t the devil sect defeated by the Martial Alliance?” Great Compassion winked at him. “Truly. Even though the master of the Devil sect, Jiang Zi, summoned a powerful demon, a Taotie, to conquer the world, he was rightfully defeated by the good martial artists of the world. Xue Yi looked up in thought. “Also, for the first time in nearly a century, a dragon appeared in the world, didn’t it?” In the distance, carried by the wind, the two heard the sounds of fighting. The sounds of unarmed combat formed a rhythm just around the loudness of their steps upon the soft snow. Hearing this, Great Compassion’s pace slowed to match the beat, as he enjoyed the tempo. “Your junior apprentice-brothers are quite full of vigor.” Xue Yi smiled as he felt the passion evoked by the disciples sparring. Just hearing the sounds of their fists making contact, he could feel the flow of the fight. “Ah, junior Lu has improved quite a bit since the last time I saw him. He already can take the upper hand from Buddhist Pure Tranquility.” Great Compassion looked inquisitively at Xue Yi. While Pure Tranquility did not focus on martial arts, having spent so much time upon this northern mountain, his body must have become strong. By comparison, Lu Xin was a newcomer, not even a year into his guidance. “You can tell without seeing?” Having spent the last decade upon a mountain, Xue Yi’s senses had been sharpened to a superhuman extent. Perhaps it was part of his talent, but if he closed his eyes, taking in the sound of every strike and parry, he could visualize the entire battle down to an individual move. At times, he even felt that, if he focused enough, he could figure out what they were going to do. “Junior Lu’s breathing is quite fast, since he hasn’t acclimated to the weather yet. His pace is naturally fast too, favoring soft trades and relentless pursuits over Senior Pure Tranquility’s strong, steady counters. Thus, this rhythm of soft impacts is most likely in junior Lu’s favor.” Indeed, as the two mounted the hill separating their walking path from the sparring platform, Lu Xin had Pure Tranquility on the platform edge, his relentless offense slowly breaking through the steady defense of the other. Great Compassion’s eyes on Xue Yi became sharper. “The blood of a Great General truly flows thickly through my disciple, having that sort of insight.” Xue Yi was unfazed by the praise. “Ah, It was nothing much. Just a bit of a lucky guess.” Seeing Great Compassion and Xue Yi, Pure Tranquility found a good excuse to break off the spar. “So its junior apprentice Xue and Great Compassion!” Hopping off the platform, Pure Tranquility ran as leisurely as he could pretend to be, not looking back at the unresigned Lu Xin. Xue Yi bowed before the slightly pudgy monk. “Apprentice Xue greets senior Pure Tranquility.” Pure Tranquility chuckled, complete serenity on his face. “It’s good to be young. Old fellows like me can’t keep up with you youngsters.” Great Compassion laughed as well, ribbing his fellow Buddhist slightly. “Ah, you’re hardly a year older than them!” Pure Tranquility blushed, but the smile on his face was incomparably shameless. “Well, the weather is certainly tough on these old bones. In any case, little Xue is certainly a better match for little Lu than I.” “I have heard great things about brother Xue as well. I hope that I can receive brother’s guidance.” Even from the platform below the hill, Lu Xin’s voice carried significant power. Xue Yi had no choice but to pay attention to his junior. Lu Xin should be the son of the minister of finance, Lu Can. As a descendant of one of the major political figures within Zhao, Lu Xin should normally be in the capital. But here he was, in the snowy north. If it was just a matter of learning martial arts from a major sect, it’s more likely that the Lu family would seek out the Li Fire Sect closer to the capital. Xue Yi tucked away the idea. In any case, questions like those were more at home in politics, which he had no plans of being close to. Bracing his legs, Xue Yi leapt down onto the platform below. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and circulating his internal energy once. The energy ran through his body like a chill, his muscles shivering slightly as the energy warmed them up. He bowed towards his opponent, knuckles cracking within his cupped hands. “I will gladly engage you, brother Lu.” Xue Yi opened his eyes again, forcefully detaching their focus from Lu Xin to take in his surroundings. Great Compassion and Pure Tranquility both looked on in great interest. The wind was calmer than before, perhaps because the hill shielded the platform he stood upon. From 5 meters away, Lu Xin couldn’t reach him in one move. Xue Yi breathed in again. It was more shallow this time, his breath slightly faster due to adrenaline. He closed his eyes again, forcefully slowing his pace back down. One more breath, one more cycle of internal energy. He opened his eyes. “Please take the first move, Junior Brother Lu.” Lu Xin’s first attack was decisive. It was fast, faster than Xue Yi expected. But he wasn’t troubled. He stepped into the right straight, his palm striking Lu Xin’s extended shoulder. The sound was crisp, and Xue Yi couldn’t help but smile. It’s often said that the first contact determines the result of a fight. If his father, the Marquis, was told that, he’d definitely rebut violently. He loved to prattle about things like ‘fighting spirit’, and the ‘tempo’ of a fight in his letters. And, truthfully, while fighting Xue Yi did feel himself sinking into a rhythm of sorts, a flow of action countered by reaction. But that was where his cool was most important. Rhythms created patterns, and patterns were exploitable. Lu Xin’s fist brushed right by his face as Xue Yi weaved under the chest-level blow. Xue Yi rose attacking the right side, and Lu Xin took a step back to brace his right half. Right after he took the step. he grit his teeth, realizing the opening he provided. And Xue Yi would not pass up an opening. His left shoulder trapped Lu Xin’s exposed left arm, and, shifting his weight, threw his junior right onto the stone floor. His shoulder and palm trapped the captured arm tightly, leaving no opportunity to escape. Great Compassion had strained his eyes, focused on the bout below him. While he anticipated the result, he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive due to his disciple’s aptitude. Lu Xin hailed from Jinyong, the capital of the Zhao Empire. He was certainly groomed from a young age in some form of martial arts, and likely had some military experience. But there he was, trapped in that scholarly young man’s arm lock. And if the two had fought using internal energy… Xue Yi frowned slightly as he held Lu Xin down. He could feel the young man’s pulse via his arm, and it was quite obvious that he wasn’t worked up about his defeat. It was reasonable to assume that he had expected the result as best and purposefully lost at worst. Lu Xin didn’t appear to be particularly perturbed either, although he struggled nominally. Xue Yi couldn’t sense any malice in the man’s expression, though the look of curiosity in his eyes seemed a bit perverse. Having finally found his opportunity to evaluate his disciple further, Great Compassion spurred them onwards. “There are significant benefits from broadening your horizons, you two. How about you continue your match?” Lu Xin appeared to contemplate while lying on the ground, before quickly assenting. His mind, of course, was made up from the very beginning. Xue Yi saw no reason to refuse. -- The midday sun made the weather surprisingly hot for a snowy winter in the mountains. Some of that heat, however, had to be attributed to the physical activity Xue Yi had just engaged in. While he wasn’t particularly exhausted, continued physical activity made his muscles itch slightly within his pristine robes as he sat in a cross-legged position to meditate on the sparring platform. The fight had not been particularly enlightening to him, but getting some experience with military-style martial arts was definitely not a waste. Lu Xin was sprawled out on the ground nearby, heaving with exhausted breath. His robes were tattered in quite a few places and soaked in sweat, but he still had a confident smile on his face. Watching from right on the sidelines, Great Compassion was also smiling, but more enigmatically than before. Although Xue Yi focused his senses on his master’s actions, he couldn’t ever seem to decipher what he was thinking. Xue Yi’s thoughts lingered on him for a moment longer, before focusing again on his own body. He sighed just thinking about the amount of internal energy he dissipated during the spars. During the latter half of their session, Lu Xin had begun incorporating internal energy in his strikes, and Xue Yi had to use some of his own to counter. In any case, the match was over now. Judging by their appearances, both Great Compassion and Lu Xin appeared to be satisfied by the results. Pure Tranquility had left a while ago, perhaps trying to maintain his reputation. Xue Yi stabilized his heartbeat in meditation, using his internal energy to cool down his body from its heightened state of activity. Feeling the energy rush through him, he felt like his senses were expanding. The wind was much calmer now than earlier in the day, and the monastery was waking up, the distant sounds of activity no longer escaping his notice. Mind and body settled, Xue Yi stood up to begin his daily chores. “Disciple Xue, the SectMaster has sent for you. Go ahead and speak with him first.” Great Compassion patted Xue Yi on the back as he was about to leave. Hearing this, Xue Yi couldn’t help but feel his pulse begin to rise. He had only met with the sect master once before, on the first day he arrived at the North Star Monastery. He couldn’t help but think back on the conversation he had with his master earlier in the day. “A fortuitous year, is it? This disciple is going, master.” Great Compassion silently waved at him as he walked off. Any words that needed to be said had been said long ago. Xue Yi ran his hand along the inner walls of the monastery as he headed for the master’s chambers. His fingertips picked up the dust of the unclean halls, what was supposed to be his task for the day. The halls were warm, in great contrast to the cool breeze outdoors, the transition making him sweat slightly. Xue Yi couldn’t tell if he desired this meeting or if he dreaded it, whether he loved the secular world, or hated it. Within these halls, within the world of martial arts, society imposed no bounds. In his fifteen year internment within this sect, he felt freer than he had been as the Marquis’ son. Free from the eyes upon him, the envy of the lower class, and the schemes of his equals. With every information report he received from his father, every dossier on the tumult of politics, Xue Yi appreciated the simplicity of his life more. And yet, with each step he took towards that room, he could feel his excitement build. Even with his internal energy flowing, his mind consciously aware of his building emotions, he couldn’t help but feel joyful. The life that he thanked fate for freeing him from, he wanted nothing more than to return to. Half conscious, he saw the figure of the sect master seated upon a dais in front of him, the very image of grace and prestige. He felt his heart rate pick up, his sense of danger on high alert from merely being in the man’s presence. Xue Yi exhaled more intensely than normal, his internal energy coalescing in a brief moment of intensity. He felt his shoulders loosen slightly, his breathing deepen. He bowed down without meeting the master’s eyes. “This one has come as per Sect Master’s request.” The face of the sect master was shadowed by the light streaming from behind him. His voice was deep and intense, boring through Xue Yi’s ears into his very mind. “It has been a long time, young one. You’ve grown so much over these years.” Xue Yi thought back to their first meeting, how he at 5 feared nothing within the world. And yet, this man was so large, so imposing that he knew fear in an instant. Fifteen years later, and yet he still felt so small in comparison. He shuddered slightly as the sect master continued. “Then, you entered with nothing but your youthful passion. Now, you leave with the knowledge you have gained by your own will.” The sect master’s tone shifted, seeming very wistful. “You must have heard the news. This year is auspicious, but this generation… is wreathed in strife.” He trailed off, and Xue Yi raised his head to look at the man for the first time. The sect master had a calm expression on his face. He appeared to be unconcerned by anything. But his face was covered in wrinkles, especially his forehead, from countless hours of furrowed brows. Xue Yi closed his eyes, imprinting the face within his memory. Having looked more closely at the figure he respected so deeply, he no longer worried about the pressure of the atmosphere. He felt his breathing settle into its usual patterns like a weight off his chest. He took a moment to think of the words he had to say. “This generation is wreathed in opportunity. If we are true to our paths, we are unshakable.” The sect master smiled, a glint in his eye that seemed to be long lost reappearing. He stood up from his dais to look into the light beyond him. He gave the same wave that Great Compassion did, slowly, but steadily, as he turned away. “Go, Xue Yi. Your path awaits you.”
Around Xiao Hai, the sounds of slaughter rang out endlessly. One half of the world was like hell, lava streams mixing with the bodies of unfortunate martial artists. The other half was empty, an eerie completely flat surface, devoid of any life or aberrations. He stood right between the two planes, eyes twisted in rage focusing on the pair in front of him. The Monarchs of Fire and Space had valiant figures, even as the latter clasped his bleeding left eye within his hand. He leaned heavily on the other Monarch, not daring to let his spare eye off of Xiao Hai. The monarch of fire lent him a shoulder, eyes filled with worry as she attentively focused on him. Xiao Hai couldn’t see anything out of his right eye anymore. He sighed, his killing intent settling for a brief moment. The moment he made a move, he’d be split by special manipulation. He couldn’t see a single future without his demise anymore. He closed his eyes. It was over. -- Xiao Hai felt breathing. More precisely, he felt his own breath. It was soft, extremely faint. But it was there, long after he knew that he died. His left eye opened shakily, and he took in his new surroundings. The room was someone lacking, without much in the way of comfort or luxury. His arms, once sturdy, were wiry and pale. Xiao Hai felt out his body’s condition for a brief moment, realizing instantly just how miserable his current state was. This body didn’t even have all of its meridians opened, much less having qi to circulate. This certainly wasn’t his old body, the Monarch of Fate. He opened his right eye slowly. In an instant, hell was in front of him again. He could hear the wailing of the unfortunate army of the Monarch Union. He saw the river of lava ushered in by the Monarch of Fire, as she rushed to aid her husband. The Monarch of Space, once his closest friend, gripped his sword arm in his other hand, a thin line of blood running directly down his arm. His left eye twitched as space warped around him, distortions in the air which sought to trap or kill Xiao Hai. The picture was slow, each heartbeat passing at a minute’s pace. ‘The past?’ Xiao Hai looked at his own dominant hand. His hand was still attached, still wielding his treasure sword. He sighed. ‘My future must echo my past, after all?’ The image distorted slightly, than in larger and larger increments until he saw the room he was in again. He gripped his head, wincing from the intense pain coursing through his mind. His ears were ringing, his facial orifices bleeding from exertion. He smiled wryly, even as his body sunk unto the straw beneath him. He pressed on his right eye with his hand, gathering whatever natural energy he could to stimulate it. The eye changed color to a vibrant blue, and like a vortex began to absorb all of the natural energy around the room and the surroundings. Xiao Hai’s new body began to crack and writhe as it was re-forged from the ground up, new meridians growing and opening as his physique rebuilt itself with his original eye as its focal point. Xiao Hai began to focus on his new surroundings, imminent death avoided for the time being. Martial Arts within his current area were not very well developed, or else the former body’s owner would likely have had all of his meridians open. Thus, the first thing to do was understand the area around him. Xiao Hai stretched his new body, feeling out its new attributes as the vortex of natural energy faded. While his current self was a far cry from his original strength, it was miles above the body’s previous condition. The Eye of the Fate Monarch was the strongest treasure in the known world; for its owner, becoming a saint-level Martial Artist was practically a guarantee. Standing up for the first time, Xiao Hai took a closer look at the shack that constituted a room. Although he wasn’t expecting to find any treasures, somebody who had found his greatest legacy definitely wasn’t somebody normal. The room had been tossed into chaos thanks to his cultivation. Any artifacts the original inhabitant once had had definitely been sucked dry by now. But as Xiao Hai looked around, he found a small wooden flute, buried deeply within the straw. Although he couldn’t feel the slightest qi undulations from the flute, his instincts told him that this flute was definitely extraordinary. As he peered intensely into the flute, his right eye began to glow blue again. The air stirred as natural energy rushed about, the shack rattling and creaking under the pressure. The image was hazy, and his senses were limited to sight alone. But even if he couldn’t see much, his view was dominated by a single object, towering far above him. As he looked up at that massive tree, he gradually grew sentimental. A single phrase arose from his memory. ‘In this life and the next, we are connected.’ The image faded, the storm of natural energy dispersing with it. Although his head ached, Xiao Hai felt a constant elation, a supreme joy he hadn’t felt in ages. He caressed the flute in his hands extremely tenderly, as if it was a newborn reed. Putting the flute to his mouth, he tried to play. The flute made a sound somewhere between a blustering wind and a car horn. Xiao Hai’s face reddened as he cut off the terrible noise, smiling wryly at his own ineptitude. In his previous life, he was dedicated to the sword. It stands to reason that he had no knowledge of musical arts whatsoever, let alone the ability to play a divine flute. Making a few more experiments tooting noises with the flute, Xiao Hai felt a budding connection with the wooden flute. As he familiarized himself with the wooden flute, he felt like it was guiding his fingers along, making his tunes more palatable. Even so, the flute couldn’t coax skill out of a talentless waste. After a few hours of miserable noises, Xiao Hai set down the flute with some resignation. Having given up at learning the flute, Xiao Hai took his first step outside the shack. Since he still had no idea of where he was or who he became, he had to find out those things in short order, preferably without causing a scene. If he attracted too much attention, figures he couldn’t beat at his current state would inevitably appear. Therefore, his first priority was to gather information, and his second was to get a backing. His current cultivation, having been developed by his right eye, had progressed to the point where he’d definitely be considered a genius no matter where he reincarnated. Finding someone willing to lend support to a young genius should be simplicity itself, assuming nothing goes horribly wrong. Stepping outside, the first thing he noticed was the absolute lack of civilization. It seemed that his previous incarnation had disappeared into the woods for some sort of isolated training. Most likely, he had found an incredible legacy, and unfortunately succumbed to its power. Most likely, if the kid was stronger, Xiao Hai would be like one of those old ancestors in the young adult novels, stuck in his own treasure. In any case, he was free, and his previous self had passed on, hopefully without unresolved resentment. The woods were thick and heavily shaded, even under the midday sun. Even though it was the height of the day, the forest was incredibly quiet, disquieting, to say the least. Xiao Hai could sense some low level spirit beast frolicking about, but their natural predators were nowhere to be seen. The sheer calmness of the breeze heightened his tension. Although it was faint, he could feel something within the grove, something that appeared to be watching him. No, more likely it had its eye on him for a while now. Xiao Hai focused his mind, his right eye turning blue for a brief moment. He shut it immediately, like an extremely bright light was shown on it. He frowned slightly. His divination legacy was immensely powerful, and its feedback was similarly immense: overusing it at his cultivation level would definitely tear apart his soul. But to fail at such an early juncture, the thing watching him was certainly not ordinary. While it likely wasn’t at the level of a Monarch, it was disconcerting nonetheless. The moment after he used a divination to probe, the shivers on his back intensified, his sense of danger ringing out more loudly than before. Calming his nerves, his hands drifted to the flute he was holding. He didn’t have any sword on him, so he was completely powerless before what he was up against. Since that was the case, he just had to do what he could. Infusing the flute with his Qi, he began to play. Since he didn’t know any traditional flute pieces, he could only adapt the sword songs he was accomplished in to the flute. With the assistance of his qi and the wooden flute’s guidance, his originally crooked tune straightened out, a complete melody forming. The song became an overwhelming tide of pressure, like an army of thousands marching upon a city. Xiao Hai felt his consciousness within the melody fading, his fingers maintaining the melody subconsciously as it heightened in fervor and authority, like the defining moment of a siege. At that point, the song shifted, the tempo slowing like a funeral dirge. Xiao Hai could feel his qi running thin. His hands were sweating somewhat profusely, almost slipping against the smooth wood. Playing a sword song with his entire heart ran him out of energy extremely quickly; to the point where he couldn’t even finish the second verse. Breathing somewhat unsteady, the funeral dirge lingered in the air for a few moments more. He sighed in relief as the killing intent he felt faded. In its place, a feeling not unlike curiosity grew from the presence watching him. What began as a light breeze intensified abruptly, becoming a raging storm. The wind lifted Xiao Hai up, carrying him through the forest at a blinding pace. The forest cleared as the wind subsided, dropping Xiao Hai unceremoniously right in front of the clearing. The light streaming through the open skies fell on a massive lizard-like beast, over twice his size. The beast turned to look at him, vertical pupils glaring intensely. Blood red scales, harder than iron, glistened on its back. With a brief glance, Xiao Hai could tell he was no match for the beast. But that was not the one he sought. Xiao Hai kneeled on the grassy field, head pressed into the dirt in worship. “This one greets Your Magesty.” The gaze on him became heavier, a pressure that locked his body in subservience. The ground below shifted slightly, a guttural voice echoing out. It was overpowering, regal, and supremely arrogant. But more than that, it was passionless. “You, Are?” Xiao Hai grit his teeth. He hadn’t moved the dragon yet. If he failed, then he might as well give up on this life. Forcefully pulling his pulse to calm, he lifted his head, looking straight beyond the lizard into the distance. “I am the Fate Monarch.” The air stirred. The lizard in front of him shivered, pressing its head to the ground as if to play dead. The ground shook momentarily, voice rising from beneath enunciating every word. “You, Are, Weak, Now.” Xiao Hai sighed. He had been the strongest then, but lost everything in the process. At the time, he felt like it was worth it. Looking back, he felt like his past self was insane. He let out a breath. “I was shortsighted then.” The voice paused, contemplating his words. Xiao Hai smiled. Dragons were generally worldly creatures: They revered the strong. But this one was a bit special. “Play. Your. Song.” It was more forceful now, almost temperamental. The lizard nudged its head against Xiao Hai’s body, revealing a sword between its teeth. The sword glistened a pristine silver, bare and unadorned. It was short, barely longer than his forearm. He felt the hilt, and a slight heat ran up his arm. Xiao Hai shivered as the rush ran up his spine. Holding a sword like this brought some less than favorable memories to light. And yet, it also excited him. Performing a sword song was much easier with a sword than a flute. One land holding the hilt, he rested two fingers of his other hand upon the flat of the blade. Although his current qi reserves were low, he began to press qi into the blade, and the blade began to vibrate accordingly. The first verse began. With the sword, each motion seemed incomparably natural. The overwhelming march of a thousand soldiers was more lifelike than before, the sound flowing out like the tide. Xiao Hai felt the sound resonating within his bones, his blood boiling with the melody’s intensity. His qi was flowing endlessly, in fact, he felt himself invigorated from the affair. His back was dripping with sweat, but he didn’t feel the slightest hint of exhaustion. The melody heightened, shifting abruptly into the second verse. This time, the funeral dirge wasn’t a lingering cry, but a battle-cry. Xiao Hai felt his song leave his control, killing intent enveloping his melody. The song turned berserk, like the last stand of a cornered general. Around him, the trees shuddered around the grove, faint cuts of sword qi appearing on them. The lizard reared back, eyes narrowed, backing up into the forest. Xiao Hai felt his body begin to move against his command, moving in step to a dance accompanying the song. The sword was vibrating faster than ever before, the song moving into the third verse. Xiao Hai focused his thin consciousness on his right eye, but it had no reaction. In fact, he could feel some of his previous life’s resentment budding within its power, shaking his mind. The third verse was berserk, faster than the previous two, more intense, and more overpowering. He felt his hands begin to bleed as they gripped the sword more tightly, but he didn’t feel the slightest pain. In fact, he was more comfortable than he had ever been before. His consciousness gradually grew dim within the ever building ringing. Crack! Xiao Hai shook as his body was abruptly woken up. His left palm bled slightly, gripped tightly around the silver sword hilt. Running along the sword hilt were thin fractures, the grip nearly crushed within his tight grip. Cuts ran along all of his right hand, small silver shards embedded within the palm. His heart was racing, breathing unsteady. He sighed, shaking his head. Dragons had extremely strong natural instincts. The being beneath the ground was definitely stuck in contemplation, and so Xiao Hai waited. Taking the lotus position, he focused on his own condition, trying to steady his breathing and qi flow. He still could feel an afterglow of his sword dance, but the fatigue was catching up to him rapidly. The voice was lower than before, a growl that seemed filled with dissatisfaction. “What, Do, You, Seek?” Xiao Hai smiled. The older dragons were more cautious than their juniors. He beckoned the lizard towards him, leaning against the creature’s side as he relaxed, the perfect image of leisure. The lizard shifted a bit, uncontent, but Xiao Hai paid it no mind. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the soft breeze. “I don’t ask for much, just a few worldly necessities.” -- This one was a little more generic than even the last, because I was working on it during a generic-feeling phase. Its not recent, unfortunately enough, but I've been trying to lengthen some things that I actually kind of like for a couple more long-term stories, and I'm a little worried posting it will make me completely drop all my desire to. I'll probably have another Swordman-universe PV soon, though it probably won't be from her perspective. If there is one from that perspective,it'll be pretty short.
Bit of a late update, and a short one. Distractions have been popping up, and will continue as finals close in. Sorry about that. I'll try to add a bit more tommorrow as well. -- She cut down the door, and all of a sudden she was the focus of attention for everyone in the room. Even if they were supposed to be fighting to the death just a moment before. She cut down the first spurt of bulletfire and the man behind it with her first swing. That was the signal for everyone else to begin bailing out. As if it would make a difference. She dashed forward, two cuts per person. One cut to kill them, right through the heart and everything in the way. The second cut cut down their momentum, quite literally. One moment, the dead body was falling the direction it was running. The second, it was stopped in the air, waiting for gravity to take the wheel. Less muckiness this way. She hated running through blood and guts. She also, for what it’s worth, hated this job. Frankly speaking, Jade would have been better served sending Julia, or Gerrard, or Vrin. All of them would have done it faster than she could have, probably from miles away too. But Jade had sent her, so she was busy cutting up people who couldn’t fight back instead of doing better things. Like cutting up people who could fight back. That was infinitely more productive. The fun was a nice bonus. She reached the other side of the room, not a drop of blood on her. The ground was starting to pool with blood, with the corpses slowly beginning to fall apart on it. She turned to look. One body wasn’t bleeding like the rest. Nor was it in two pieces. Now that was interesting. She distinctly remembered each cut she’d made, and there was definitely one around that area. Furthermore, he was the only one pretending to be dead, and succeeding. She’d cut down all of the others easily enough. She drew her sword again. He screamed as he was cut in half. She watched the blood drain out of him. Then he was back, flat on his face. And decidedly not dead. She smiled despite herself. This time, her target didn’t just play dead. In fact, he jumped up, sigil already bursting from his palm. She cut his arm off before it even went off. The spell functioned even without his body as a mana source, but a brief swing its direction cut off its effect. Better safe than sorry when those things were concerned. She wasn’t a mage, she didn’t have use in studying their spells. This time, she didn’t kill him. Not immediately, that is. She breathed in, concentrating a bit more deeply as he gasped in agony. Then she cut. But deeply. She reached beyond the physical sword, beyond the physical world, feeling the sword slow as concepts dulled its cut. But she didn’t need to go all the way here, just a level deeper. His physical life root. The blade snagged cleanly, and she drew it back, cutting the root down as she did. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. But then he stopped bleeding again. His arm reattached itself. And the spell he was palming was already taking off. She shifted to cut. She was slower than before, like running through mud. He moved to cast another spell. She just sped up. She cut his arms first, and then cut off his bleeding. Luckily for her, he couldn’t cast without hands, apparently. Leaving her plenty enough time to figure out just what made him tick. This time, she closed her eyes. She would need the focus. She swung, diving past the physical just like she did before. The katana cut deeper still, past even his life root. At that point, she just ran it by instinct. She felt her blade slow, like being dragged through water. She carried through the motion, looking for something to cut. The resistance became stronger, like mud. She forced the sword deeper. And she felt it. It was exceedingly thin, and so taught it could be snapped with just a tiny bump. But she was stuck. Drawing back now brought her exhaustion back to the forefront. He found herself gasping for air, arms straining against the difficulty of the swing. But she was in her stride, now. If she didn’t cut it now, she’d lose the opportunity to dive that deep anytime soon. So she swung again. It was faster, not physically, but mentally. She knew what she was looking for, and that made it many times easier. But, if she was just aiming for the strand, it felt like a waste. So she cut something she wasn’t sure of. Father would have cried if he knew. Her blade slowed as it plowed through the string and the gel it was suspended in. And the world slowed with it. The man screamed, the wave of sound slowing even as she was hearing it, until it was too slow for her to hear. She opened her eyes. Darkness. But she didn’t need to see to know what had happened: everything had stopped. It held for a moment, and then the screaming and light returned to her sight. Time returned to flowing. But it had been cut, if only for a moment. She had finally grasped the art her father had added to the New Moon Style. She almost cried. She thanked Jade in her mind, even as she realized the entire reason she had been sent here, to do something completely inconsequential in the grand scope of their plans. She cut the time traveler down one last time. He didn’t rise again. She headed back, a slight spring in her step. -- Swordsman shorts are quick and just generally make sense: she enters, cuts things to pieces, and leaves. There's a simplicity to it that makes them really easy to write, but at the same time somewhat vapid. Its an interesting conundrum, for a character that really wasn't meant to be a major character within the overarching story of the universe (though she does end up being somewhat important).
Your writing is quite good, I envy how vivid your action scenes are. The way you're posting all these excerpts feels as if this is kind of like your public notebook, huh? I think once you've got enough shorts strung together to form the full story, it'll be an awesome result.