Chapter 25 : Through the Fire and the Flames (Patreon)

Brahm, Immaculate Monk of the Second Coil

Realm Year 764, Resplendent Wood

House of Hale Mind Outskirts, An-Teng, Satrapy of the Realm

Souls approach perfection by harnessing Essence. The correct means to harness Essence is defined in the Immaculate Texts. Through successive deaths and rebirths, one accumulates good karma, and their souls grow increasingly aligned with the Five Elemental Dragons, the most natural and perfect manifestations of worldly Essence.

Dragonblooded are those souls who have spent many lives along this road, accumulating good karma and wielding Essence in the proper ways. They are as spiritually perfect as a human can be and remain human, the only step remaining is to join with the Elemental Dragons themselves, and sublimate into perfect worldly Essence. They are therefore the most suited to guiding others along the path of good karma and wielding Essence rightly, to reach the enlightenment of Exaltation of their own.

It would be unthinkable for such spiritually pure beings to lead lesser souls astray. It was a moral failing for lesser souls to not obey their orders. 

So why did doubt gnaw on his heart?

“Brahm- are you still a friend or has his magic made you a foe?” The sorcerer called back, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled along the deranged elder. The elder looked confused by the sudden change in circumstances, clutching to the trinkets around his neck and white robes flowing as they dashed. 

Brahm wanted to call out, to convince the sorcerer that a peaceful resolution could be met if only he submitted and stopped antagonizing the Dragon, but his lips refused to part and his tongue refused to wag. Nothing he could say would feel honest, with how quickly the situation had deteriorated. 

The screams of men and women behind him, made his fists clench.

“...Shuri- can I trust you to hold him off? I’ll guide Swan to the main chamber and begin the attunement process. I’ll be back as soon as I can to reinforce you!” The sorcerer turned from him and faced forwards again, pulling the old man along.

The respectable snake prince made an affirmative nod and hopped, turning in the air and letting his heels drag across ash-covered stone. His hands came up in a martial stance, and firm, slit eyes locked onto his.

Brahm stomped the ground, letting his sandals drag to prevent a collision, his own hands coming up in a firm stance. The clattering of titanic chitin echoed through the valley behind them, accompanied by screams and the roar of a bonfire. 

“We can.” Shuri stated with full confidence, scaled scars trailing along his bare arms. “Do what you need to, Sir Rhomon.”

“Please don’t kill each other- that will be awkward later!” The sorcerer called back, pulling the deranged elder through the doorway of the manse and disappearing into the shadows of the building. A charming, amusing statement full of the humor Brahm had come to expect from the sorcerer- and yet the joke provoked nothing from him.

Brahm and Shuri remained in the soot-stained courtyard, both in ready stances. Brahm’s gaze flickered about, recognizing the plates he had carved for the dead they buried together here, the stones of their campfire- someone had toppled both over, and scattered them about loosely.

His gaze returned to the beastman, and the sword at his belt. “You have not drawn your sword.” 

For some reason, the only words he could form were stupid, useless observations.

“We don’t intend on killing you, friend Brahm.” The beastman prince declared firmly. The gnawing sensation grew worse with those words.

“...Please just… just surrender.” Brahm forced out of a dumb mouth. “There is a monster currently attacking us- and Lord Galan is defending us-”

“Lord Galan has been nothing but antagonistic thus far, Friend Brahm.” Shuri cut him off with narrowed eyes. “Our righteous goal of curing a maddened Dragonblooded elder, on the cusp of success, and he’s seeking to stop it for the sake of some petty interpersonal grudge. How is that worth supporting?”

“He is Exalted.” Brahm grit his teeth. “More enlightened than either of us- he knows something that we don’t about the sorcerer or the elder, surely-”

“Friend Siata is Exalted, Brahm.” Shuri replied flatly. “Are his goals suddenly worth less now that Galan has appeared?”

Brahm stopped short, grit his teeth and tilted his head. “I- Siata has not countered his words…” The defense was weak, shallow, and the only thing he could bring to bear. The argument of the beastman was strong, and yet- he knew the righteousness of this action. It was the place of mortals to obey Dragonblooded, even when the orders seemed strange.

So why was he failing to say that?

“...Please submit.” Brahm requested, his straw hat lowering to cover his vision, preventing him from looking the snakeman in the eyes. “I cannot ask again.”

Roars of men and titanic insect redoubled, many meters behind them. 

“You may be quick to abandon a friend, but we aren’t, friend Brahm.” Shuri stated plainly, hands still raised and stance firm. “You will not pass.”

Why was he useless for anything but violence?

He approached, keeping his guard up, a motion that Shuri reciprocated. They slowly moved closer and closer across ash and stone, until eventually coming into arms reach.

A blink of the eye, and they were clashing. Fists shot forwards, hands pushing those blows aside, attempted grapples and subverted clinches. Both of them were testing the other, most of their effort reserved for defense as they threw experimental attacks. Neither committed to blows, neither did substantial damage to the other, and in the brief seconds of opening exchange Brahm noticed many things.

Shuri was taller, stronger, and denser than he was. Each of those thin-fingered hands had the strength of a strongman thrice Shuri’s weight, and were as hard as pine. A lithe frame belied a terrifying amount of latent power, it would only take two or three solid blows for the snakeman to defeat him. 

The snakeman was well trained in unarmed fighting. Not to the same level of speed and precision of his swordplay, but more than well enough to compare favorably to veteran warriors. His fighting style relied on incredible precision and sharp jabs to weak points, a fighting style that the contained and controlled beastman was suited for.

Terrifying strength, great durability, good height and reach, good speed, and experience with a style suited for him. The beastman prince was truly an excellent warrior even without his sword.

Unfortunately-

Brahm’s torso turned, avoiding a ready jab, dropping low to spin into a sweeping kick at the snakeman’s legs. The snakeman hopped to avoid it, leg tensing and winding back with devastating power, readying a stomp that would shatter the monk’s femur.

Brahm’s heel smashed into the snakeman’s chin, sending the prince back before the stomp could follow, the monk’s second leg snapping out in the intervening moment. He continued to rotate on his palm, pulling to a stop and immediately kicking off the ground to follow the toppling beastman.

-Brahm was the foremost mortal prodigy of martial arts upon the Blessed Isle. His only peers were among the Dragonblooded, or were his elder by many decades. 

The snakeman attempted a defense, bringing his hands together as he stumbled back, blood trailing from his lips. Brahm’s fist fell like lightning, smashing into the snakeman’s guard and sending him crashing down onto his back, a wave of ash kicked up from the force of the blow. 

A foot shot out of the ash cloud. A foot that Brahm caught.

Instinct briefly told him to transition into a hold and snap the limb at the joint. He grit his teeth and twisted on his heel, dragging the snakeman along before smashing him into the stone wall of the manse. 

A few drops of blood escaped as the snakeman’s firm back crashed against hard rock. The beastman slid down the wall, and had just enough sense of mind to roll to the side as Brahm’s sandaled foot crashed against the stone. 

Slit eyes blazed between trails of blood drippling from his hair, the snakeman lifting himself up and retaking a stance. Brahm slowly turned, bringing his own hands up as the battle returned to a neutral state. 

Only briefly dazed. Brahm looked to his fists, and the building ache in his fingerbones. The Snakeman was extraordinarily durable. His gaze returned to the beastman, and he waited patiently. 

This time, the snakeman approached him, careful steps pulling him closer and closer until-

-Brahm gently brushed a ferocious jab aside, then another, then another. He twisted around a fourth blow and slammed his fist forwards, smashing into the beastman’s diaphragm and knocking the wind from his lungs. The snakeman staggered, and Brahm followed with another strike, this time a knuckle-jab into his opponent’s throat.

Another droplet of blood splattered across his hat as the snakeman staggered and coughed. 

It didn’t matter how naturally powerful the beastman was if he could never land a hit. It didn’t matter that he was supremely durable if Brahm’s hands could still reach his weaknesses. It was a battle in which Brahm was using the superior style, with superior skill, against an opponent not using his greatest advantage. 

“You should’ve drawn your sword.” Brahm muttered solemnly, stepping to follow as the snakeman staggered back and lashing forwards again.

He was caught off guard as the snakeman forwent any attempt at avoiding the attack, fist racing forwards to smash against his ribs. Pain blooming in his chest, Brahm skid back across ash, tripping back and rolling until his back hit the stone of the wall again. Now it was his turn to roll, ribs protesting sharply as he fell to the left, pulled himself into a flip, and slid away from the next blow.

Shuri’s heel slammed into the stone wall, a meter-wide snowflake of cracks blooming from the point of impact with the sharp sound of breaking rock. Brahm steadied his breathing, ignoring how his ribs screamed, and raised his hands defensively again. 

With one blow, the snakeman had shattered something, he could already tell. 

Shuri lowered his foot from the wall and slowly turned towards him, hands raising up again. Those slit eyes stared calmly into his. At some point Brahm had lost his straw hat, it seemed, and there was nothing to block that gaze now. 

One blow like that to any other area, and Brahm would lose. While the snakeman was bruised, and blood trailed from his lips and temple, he was nowhere close to defeat. How many more attacks would he need to inflict before the beastman submitted? How many more would he have to avoid? How many more could he avoid?

“We do not draw my sword, because you are our friend.” Shuri declared, those eyes paralyzing him.

The gnawing…

Brahm grit his teeth, hands aching and heart wavering, returning to a defensive stance. He- he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t adhere to both his sensibilities and wisdom here.

But it was the only thing he could do. This was the only thing mortals were good at. He bit his tongue and raised his hands, curling fingers into fists.

He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t do anything but fight. The contradiction was rooting him into place, unable to move.

Almost against his will, his body took a step forwards. In absence of decisions, his limbs defaulted to their most natural expressions. 

Why was he so useless except to fight?

He took another step-

“Immaculate Brahm! As Prince of the Earth, I command you to cease this conflict!” Siata’s shout rolled over the battlefield. Brahm’s limbs immediately lost their strength and dropped to his side, and swaying he fell against the stone wall and leaned, tired eyes clenched shut.

A direct order from a Dragonblooded, one that Brahm knew and trusted the good nature of. He breathed with heavy relief, gasping for air now that the pressure of earlier commands had been counteracted. 

The relief almost made him fall over.

He couldn’t fall over quite yet. “Lord Si- Sesus?” He almost called him by his first name, but that would be improper for a mortal like him. Familiarity might make him forget the young man’s station.

“This battle is over. Mnemon’s demands have been entirely reasonable thus far, and Galan is acting with impropriety beyond his station.” Siata declared, a liquid fire in his eyes as he walked forwards, fists clenched. “He may have the hearthstone after our companion’s purpose is done, and not a moment sooner.”

“We are glad to see you come to your senses, Friend Siata.” Shuri smiled, hands dropping from his combative stance. 

“Besides, we have much greater threats to worry about- the beast that’s attacking-” Siata began, only to be cut off by a tired, flat growl.

“Was attacking.” Walking between the broken archway that once contained a gate into the courtyard, the tall and strong form of Peleps Galan emerged. Flames wicked off his shoulders like a mantle, and blood and ash stained his form. “It’s gone now.” He said with an emotionless, dangerous tone.

His clothes were in shambles, his headscarf gone, and his face stonelike in grim countenance. 

Brahm tensed, pushing up from the wall as Siata turned to face him. “Ah, you managed to drive it off then, that’s goo-”

“No.” Galan interrupted. “I didn’t drive it off.”

In a tone that simmered like molten rock, the dragonblooded man explained. “That monster killed my entourage, every last man and woman, and then left.” He tilted his head slightly, so far beyond fury that he had ceased to make any normal expression. “Did the sorcerer summon that creature? Because if he did, he’s dead. Consequences be damned.”

“It- he did attempt to summon a creature a week or so ago, to defend us against you…” Siata began with a frown. “But the creature he described was in no way a centipede, and nothing appeared when he tried that…”

“Lucky for him, I don’t have to kill him then.” The older dragonblooded replied, tone barely restraining fury and grief. “Stand aside, whelps, I’m going to beat him into a pulp and go back to the Blessed Isle now.”

“I cannot do that.” Siata declared firmly, back straight and hand going to the hilt of his sword. “For all the time I have known him, he has been fair, reasonable, and noble. You will deal with him peaceably or not at all, Peleps.”

Silence lingered over the ash and stone. Now that Brahm was aware of it, the missing screams and chitinous roars were deafeningly apparent. 

A small exhale emerged from Galan’s lips, the air flickered with a red flame.

“You chose a poor time to grow respectable, whelp.”

The dragonblooded disappeared, and a burning comet took his place, exploding into a dash so swift that Brahm’s eyes could scarcely keep pace. He was upon Siata in an instant, a heavy fist smashing into the younger exalt’s diaphragm and sending him flying back. 

Half a moment after the battle began, Siata’s back hit the wall of the manse hard enough to crack the stone, a fist-shaped indentation in his breastplate. 

Brahm wheezed, straightening himself as Shuri dashed forwards, drawing his sword and swinging it in a flashing silver arc.

The bonfire shaped like a man drew his own sword, curved blades clashing thrice before he flowed forwards into a chop that sent the beastman crashing into the ash-laden ground. 

Shuri rolled away in time for the dragonblooded’s blade to rip down, making a terrible groove in the rocky earth and sending sparks flying. Shuri’s clothes were already beginning to cinder and disintegrate, not even getting a chance to burn before the aura of power around the dragon ripped the mortal materials apart. 

Shuri swung up, but was immediately parried and sent rolling as Galan’s sword smacked away his blade and his fist smashed down into the beastman’s face.

A bare handful of seconds had passed. 

Siata roared as he burst from his slump against the wall, a blaze of seafom blue bursting to life around him, dissolving ashes as he passed. He leapt forwards with sword drawn, swinging in a broad, cleaving arc.

Galan’s smaller blade met the heavy chop and strained, red flame rolling against blue-green seafoam. Blood burst from Galan’s nose. Cinders ate away at Siata’s skin. 

The older dragonblooded pushed the younger away, but his attempted counterblow was interrupted with the need to parry another sword. Shuri leaping up from his injured heap, skin melting away in the clashing auras to reveal a layer of pale green scales beneath, and sword flashing in quick arcs.

The battle became one of blades clashing and elemental power ripping away ash and soil to reveal bare stone. For a moment Brahm thought Galan was forced into a defense against the pair of flashing blades, but that thought was soon dispelled.

Siata and Shuri were not forcing Galan onto the defensive. Even outnumbered, Galan was still forcing the both of them on the defensive, sword moving sublimely between blows and flashing to slice at their limbs every few moments.

They’d lose on their own.

His friends would lose.

Brahm grit his teeth, shut his mind to pain, and moved.

Galan’s sword sent Shuri’s blade aside. Ducking suddenly to avoid a broad swing from Siata, his leg swept out and tripped the pair of warriors, and his blade rose in a long, wide sweep that would catch both of his opponents at once. 

He rose to a pair of sandaled heels crashing into his skull, sending the older dragonblooded rolling across the ashen ground before he flipped around and caught himself, sliding to a stop. 

Brahm landed with singed legs, arms raised in a defensive stance. 

Shuri and Siata pulled themselves up a moment later, strong smiles on their faces. “Good of you to join us, monk.” Siata huffed, raising his broad blade once more.

“Forgive my lateness.” Brahm muttered, gently brushing out the cinders that had come to life along his cloth pants. Kicking the older dragonblooded felt much like how he imagined kicking a furnace might be like. Sturdy as stone and painfully hot. “I won’t be able to engage him but briefly, please accommodate my fragility and open his guard for my attacks.”

Galan rose, a blaze that was eight feet wide with his body at its center. His hand slowly rose and brushed away a droplet of blood from his lips, the only damage they had inflicted upon him yet.

The slowly weakening blaze suddenly returned to its full strength, the shape of a roaring demon’s face coming to life in its tongues of fire. 

And then, Galan was upon them again.