Chapter 327
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Chapter 327
Going over my presentation didnt take long because I didnt have much prepared. The meeting with the Legate is all a big game of show and tell, a wallet-measuring contest of the highest levels, and Akanai only had a few suggestions regarding delivery, word choice, and tone. With that taken care of, she left me with a pat on the head and went back to her yurt, warning me not to overwork myself and get some rest. Unfortunately, sleep wont come easily after todays world-shattering revelations, so Id rather not lie in the dark and dwell on my serious mental issues, not to mention the anxiety and existential dread which comes with it. Knowing I have a problem doesnt magically make it go away; who knows when Ill start acting out on instinct and forgetting about it after the fact, or have another psychotic break and make up a new imaginary friend.
Eyeing the monk up and down, I double check my memories to make sure hes interacted with other people and is therefore real. Thats something I need to do now, because Im fucking crazy.
So instead of sequestering myself in my yurt, I decide to unveil my new weapon beneath the moonlit sky, with only a sleepy Ping Ping and a Concealed monk to witness it. Nestled within the folds of oiled leather is what can only be described as a transcendent work of art, a gleaming obsidian glaive lovingly crafted by my beloved Mila. Placing the base of the shaft on the ground, I guesstimate it measures over two and half meters long, with the double-edged blade taking up almost a third of its length. Theres a crossbar set at the base of the blade, or around eye level, while a lone handle juts out on one side just north of my shin, a grip for use when jousting with enemies.
Ill mostly use the glaive like a lance since its a heavy, thrusting weapon meant for use on quin or horseback. Im just happy I can actually fight while mounted instead of hanging on for dear life and flailing wildly about. Id seen the plans for this weapon when Mila was designing it, and remembering her enthusiastic descriptions, I fumble around with the cross-guard and find the release, which lets me twist the haft around like a crank. Emitting, a smooth, crisp clicking sound, the sword portion of the weapon splits in two equal parts and spirals downward while the cross-guard folds down, turning it into a long-handled double-bladed axe, a weapon much more suited to my current physique. One form for stabbing and charging from quin-back, the other for chopping and slaughtering on foot.
Thats not all this baby is good for. With the sword out of the way, this frees the hollow shaft to double as a rifle barrel, housing a two-meter-long highly-compressible spring within. Grabbing the lower handle which doubles as a pistol grip, I find both the trigger, loading, and cranking mechanisms and give those a whirl, testing the firing process once without ammunition. It takes about ten seconds to set up and when I press the trigger, the whole weapon rebounds with the force of a horses kick and sends a painful jolt up my arms and down my spine. This is Milas most powerful spring-powered rifle to date, benefiting from all the fruits of her labour. Id like to give it a test with live rounds, but Id prefer to keep our guns a secret for as long as possible, in case I have to send one of my people to shoot someone important. If Siyar is as good as Jorani says, I might move him to the top of the list for a new Spiritual Weapon. With everyone always on their guard against experts, a mundane sneaky assassin could come in handy.
Then again, it might be awhile before Milas next masterpiece considering she doesnt have access to a guarded smithy. I have no idea how Mila made this intricate machine out of one piece of metal. No mould or model could possibly have shaped this which means theres more to Divine Blacksmithing than meets the eye. This is some straight up black sorcery, magi-tech type of stuff, but even though shes happy to gush on for hours about historical metallurgy or tempering methods, shes incredibly secretive about the actual process behind making Spiritual Weapons. While my weapon is made from the same type of Spiritual Heart as Bulats and the others, its easy to see Mila went all out to make this one. Everything she learned has gone into this weapon, the convenient, complex yet mundane compression mechanisms, the simplified side loading chamber for easy reloading, the grooved rifling in the barrel, and some sweet, sweet aesthetics. With a glossy-black marbled finish, it almost drinks in the light before reflecting it, a beautifully-crafted masterwork weapon.
The axe comes to life in my hands as I give it a lazy swing, finding solace in the deadly thrum of metal slicing through air. Well-balanced and comfortable in my two-handed grip, the axe requires an assertive and dominant mindset to use on the battlefield, best suited for unchecked aggression and unbridled fury. Still, its not all that different from using a longer, heavier, top-heavy sword, so it should be easy enough to figure out with a bit of practice. Rotating the mid-section to turn it back into a glaive, I twirl the weapon about in a more serious sequence of practice swings. Heavy yet surprisingly flexible, I adjust to using this unfamiliar weapon using some familiar movements. Twitching Tail, Fluttering Raindrops, Pierce the Horizon, and more, remaining in control of my action pushes the limits of my Reinforced body, just barely able to rein the weapon in and move on to the next movement. Any longer or heavier and this glaive would be too unwieldy and probably tear my muscles to shreds. As it stands, Id be better off growing another twenty-five centimetres in height and maybe ten to fifteen centimetres in bulk, which is easier said than done considering theres only so much butter tea a man can stomach. So until such a time when I am no longer a manlet, the glaive form will be reserved for quin-back only, or maybe for an opening charge before tossing it aside in favour of sword and shield.
As evidenced by this incredible weapon, my beloved Mila is a genius among geniuses. Beauty, brains, and brawn, she has it all.
Which makes me feel terrible because all Ive got is a pair of pretty eyes, a scrawny frame, and oodles of mental baggage.
But lets be clear: My amber eyes are really pretty, so its not all bad.
...I need to stop talking to myself.
Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. The monks oft-cited catchphrase is heard once more as he makes his presence known, sitting cross-legged in his preferred spot next to my yurt door. Shaking his head, he launches into yet another lecture through Sending. Such depravity, such sin. The weapon you hold is a tool of death.
Having earlier concluded the monk is in fact real, I see no harm in answering out loud. Yea, pretty sure all weapons are tools of death. What else would you use them for? Hell, youve got a fancy tool of death tucked away behind you, that big old shovel-headed pole-arm.
My spade can be a weapon, the monk Sends, nodding in agreement, Just as the farmers scythe and the blacksmiths hammer can be a weapon, but they can be so much more. If I am tired, my spade is a staff to ease my burdens. If the weather turns cold, it is an axe to chop wood. If a burial is needed, it is a shovel to dig graves, and if the night is dark, it is a pole to carry my lantern. Only when I am attacked is it a weapon to defend myself. My spade serves many purposes, the least of which is weapon.
Well, when I need a latrine dug or wood chopped, Ill keep you in mind, but what I need now is a weapon of mass destruction. Waving my new transforming weapon around, I add, Failing that, this will do nicely. In case you havent noticed, the Defiled are coming and I doubt kind words and good intentions will keep them at bay.
One must live by the Noble Eight-fold Path if one is to escape Samsara, and in service to this end, the First Precept of the Brotherhood is to abstain from the taking of life, whether it be lowly insect or most sadistic Defiled.
... and Im still talking to myself. Old habits die hard, I guess.
The Energy of the Heavens rages around me, but I sit protected in my Natal Palace, insulated from its effects. A sign of progress I suppose, my core stable, solid, and warm in my belly, taking in Chi and moving it throughout my body and Spiritual Weapons under my directions. With each revolution, my Chi speeds up and my mind clears as I reflect on my previous Binding Ceremonies.
The sword is Peace, the placid peace of surrender and hushed peace of the grave. I bound the sword by piercing through my stomach and Core, an imagined, symbolic gesture of surrender. I was ready to die then, so afraid of suffering I threw myself into the fray, hoping to find a quick end to this terrifying existence. That is not true peace, for true peace comes from within. If I want mental, emotional, and worldly peace, then it will take hard work and exhaustive efforts. Even then Im not guaranteed results, but taking the easy way out is pointless. Suicide is merely a form of non-existence, a worldly desire which I must rise above.
Just because I dont agree with everything the monk says doesnt mean hes wrong about everything.
The shield is Tranquility, the stifling tranquility of a stagnating equilibrium in which nothing ever changes. I bound the shield by defeating myself, a battle for supremacy between two diametrically opposed personalities, the Warrior and the Brother. The Brother won out but instead of putting an end to the Warrior, an agreement was struck to keep both sides separate but present, an arrangement in which neither side lost but spelled disaster for both. In my desperate desire to avoid conflict and turmoil, I nearly strode down the path of no return, harbouring the Spectres in a reflection of myself while denying they truly existed, until I could deny it no longer.
Peace and Tranquility are ideals, but hopeless ones. Most of the time, violence is the correct answer and murder the best solution. The rest of the time, theyre merely the easiest answer and solution. The Wolf hunts the Rabbit, the Tiger hunts the Bull, such is the way of life in this world and all others. Life is built on conflict and we are all made stronger by these trials and tribulations. Survival of the fittest is a fundamental part of nature, but so too are fortune and happenstance. Things change in the blink of an eye, whether it be a cleansing forest fire or turbulent flood, and we must struggle or perish. The Defiled are no different from a force of nature, and to survive, we cannot rely solely on Peace and Tranquility. What about discord and distress, conflict and fear? These too are a fundamental part of nature, parts I have been loath to accept for far too long, but no more.
Peace and Conflict, Tranquility and Turmoil, they are each a necessary part of the puzzle, and to leave out one is to ruin all the others. Ive been looking at things all wrong, and now I see the bigger picture. Fear and courage, love and hate, conflict and resolution, shy not from any of them and embrace them all. Theres nothing wrong with wanting Peace and Tranquility, you just have to make sure you arent sacrificing the wrong things to achieve it.
The new Spiritual Weapon blinks into existence inside my Natal Palace, a glaive, axe, and gun all at once. Flying into my grasp, the weapon guides me in a deadly dance of death, showing how to use it to the best of my abilities. There is no surrender, no conflict, only a mutual joining, the weapon and I working as one, moving from one attack to the next in an endless cycle of destruction. The dance goes on and I lose myself in the Forms, throwing everything I have into memorizing the skills my partner passes on. For a brief, inexpressible moment, it feels like my little brother is back again, showing me something new he learned and letting me share in his joy, but all too soon it comes to an end and Im left standing alone in my Natal Palace.
Swallowing my disappointment, I glance at the weapon in my hand and something clicks in the back of my mind. This weapon changes from glaive, to axe, to gun, but in the end, its still the same weapon. Its a little like me. Sure, I went back and forth between Warrior and Brother, and while circumstances have changed, it doesnt mean my little brother is gone, not entirely. Baledagh wasnt real, but he represented a part of me just like the Brother represented another part, two different sides of the same coin. I am Baledagh and I am Brother, and together, we are Falling Rain.
Hes not gone. Weve just... changed. For the better.
... As long as I stop referring to myself as we. Super creepy.
Mind at peace and heart tranquil, I thank my new weapon for this newfound clarity and dub it Unity.
...Harmony?
Solidarity...?
Tch. Im terrible at naming things, so why do I keep trying?
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 327
Going over my presentation didnt take long because I didnt have much prepared. The meeting with the Legate is all a big game of show and tell, a wallet-measuring contest of the highest levels, and Akanai only had a few suggestions regarding delivery, word choice, and tone. With that taken care of, she left me with a pat on the head and went back to her yurt, warning me not to overwork myself and get some rest. Unfortunately, sleep wont come easily after todays world-shattering revelations, so Id rather not lie in the dark and dwell on my serious mental issues, not to mention the anxiety and existential dread which comes with it. Knowing I have a problem doesnt magically make it go away; who knows when Ill start acting out on instinct and forgetting about it after the fact, or have another psychotic break and make up a new imaginary friend.
Eyeing the monk up and down, I double check my memories to make sure hes interacted with other people and is therefore real. Thats something I need to do now, because Im fucking crazy.
So instead of sequestering myself in my yurt, I decide to unveil my new weapon beneath the moonlit sky, with only a sleepy Ping Ping and a Concealed monk to witness it. Nestled within the folds of oiled leather is what can only be described as a transcendent work of art, a gleaming obsidian glaive lovingly crafted by my beloved Mila. Placing the base of the shaft on the ground, I guesstimate it measures over two and half meters long, with the double-edged blade taking up almost a third of its length. Theres a crossbar set at the base of the blade, or around eye level, while a lone handle juts out on one side just north of my shin, a grip for use when jousting with enemies.
Ill mostly use the glaive like a lance since its a heavy, thrusting weapon meant for use on quin or horseback. Im just happy I can actually fight while mounted instead of hanging on for dear life and flailing wildly about. Id seen the plans for this weapon when Mila was designing it, and remembering her enthusiastic descriptions, I fumble around with the cross-guard and find the release, which lets me twist the haft around like a crank. Emitting, a smooth, crisp clicking sound, the sword portion of the weapon splits in two equal parts and spirals downward while the cross-guard folds down, turning it into a long-handled double-bladed axe, a weapon much more suited to my current physique. One form for stabbing and charging from quin-back, the other for chopping and slaughtering on foot.
Thats not all this baby is good for. With the sword out of the way, this frees the hollow shaft to double as a rifle barrel, housing a two-meter-long highly-compressible spring within. Grabbing the lower handle which doubles as a pistol grip, I find both the trigger, loading, and cranking mechanisms and give those a whirl, testing the firing process once without ammunition. It takes about ten seconds to set up and when I press the trigger, the whole weapon rebounds with the force of a horses kick and sends a painful jolt up my arms and down my spine. This is Milas most powerful spring-powered rifle to date, benefiting from all the fruits of her labour. Id like to give it a test with live rounds, but Id prefer to keep our guns a secret for as long as possible, in case I have to send one of my people to shoot someone important. If Siyar is as good as Jorani says, I might move him to the top of the list for a new Spiritual Weapon. With everyone always on their guard against experts, a mundane sneaky assassin could come in handy.
Then again, it might be awhile before Milas next masterpiece considering she doesnt have access to a guarded smithy. I have no idea how Mila made this intricate machine out of one piece of metal. No mould or model could possibly have shaped this which means theres more to Divine Blacksmithing than meets the eye. This is some straight up black sorcery, magi-tech type of stuff, but even though shes happy to gush on for hours about historical metallurgy or tempering methods, shes incredibly secretive about the actual process behind making Spiritual Weapons. While my weapon is made from the same type of Spiritual Heart as Bulats and the others, its easy to see Mila went all out to make this one. Everything she learned has gone into this weapon, the convenient, complex yet mundane compression mechanisms, the simplified side loading chamber for easy reloading, the grooved rifling in the barrel, and some sweet, sweet aesthetics. With a glossy-black marbled finish, it almost drinks in the light before reflecting it, a beautifully-crafted masterwork weapon.
The axe comes to life in my hands as I give it a lazy swing, finding solace in the deadly thrum of metal slicing through air. Well-balanced and comfortable in my two-handed grip, the axe requires an assertive and dominant mindset to use on the battlefield, best suited for unchecked aggression and unbridled fury. Still, its not all that different from using a longer, heavier, top-heavy sword, so it should be easy enough to figure out with a bit of practice. Rotating the mid-section to turn it back into a glaive, I twirl the weapon about in a more serious sequence of practice swings. Heavy yet surprisingly flexible, I adjust to using this unfamiliar weapon using some familiar movements. Twitching Tail, Fluttering Raindrops, Pierce the Horizon, and more, remaining in control of my action pushes the limits of my Reinforced body, just barely able to rein the weapon in and move on to the next movement. Any longer or heavier and this glaive would be too unwieldy and probably tear my muscles to shreds. As it stands, Id be better off growing another twenty-five centimetres in height and maybe ten to fifteen centimetres in bulk, which is easier said than done considering theres only so much butter tea a man can stomach. So until such a time when I am no longer a manlet, the glaive form will be reserved for quin-back only, or maybe for an opening charge before tossing it aside in favour of sword and shield.
As evidenced by this incredible weapon, my beloved Mila is a genius among geniuses. Beauty, brains, and brawn, she has it all.
Which makes me feel terrible because all Ive got is a pair of pretty eyes, a scrawny frame, and oodles of mental baggage.
But lets be clear: My amber eyes are really pretty, so its not all bad.
...I need to stop talking to myself.
Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. The monks oft-cited catchphrase is heard once more as he makes his presence known, sitting cross-legged in his preferred spot next to my yurt door. Shaking his head, he launches into yet another lecture through Sending. Such depravity, such sin. The weapon you hold is a tool of death.
Having earlier concluded the monk is in fact real, I see no harm in answering out loud. Yea, pretty sure all weapons are tools of death. What else would you use them for? Hell, youve got a fancy tool of death tucked away behind you, that big old shovel-headed pole-arm.
My spade can be a weapon, the monk Sends, nodding in agreement, Just as the farmers scythe and the blacksmiths hammer can be a weapon, but they can be so much more. If I am tired, my spade is a staff to ease my burdens. If the weather turns cold, it is an axe to chop wood. If a burial is needed, it is a shovel to dig graves, and if the night is dark, it is a pole to carry my lantern. Only when I am attacked is it a weapon to defend myself. My spade serves many purposes, the least of which is weapon.
Well, when I need a latrine dug or wood chopped, Ill keep you in mind, but what I need now is a weapon of mass destruction. Waving my new transforming weapon around, I add, Failing that, this will do nicely. In case you havent noticed, the Defiled are coming and I doubt kind words and good intentions will keep them at bay.
One must live by the Noble Eight-fold Path if one is to escape Samsara, and in service to this end, the First Precept of the Brotherhood is to abstain from the taking of life, whether it be lowly insect or most sadistic Defiled.
... and Im still talking to myself. Old habits die hard, I guess.
The Energy of the Heavens rages around me, but I sit protected in my Natal Palace, insulated from its effects. A sign of progress I suppose, my core stable, solid, and warm in my belly, taking in Chi and moving it throughout my body and Spiritual Weapons under my directions. With each revolution, my Chi speeds up and my mind clears as I reflect on my previous Binding Ceremonies.
The sword is Peace, the placid peace of surrender and hushed peace of the grave. I bound the sword by piercing through my stomach and Core, an imagined, symbolic gesture of surrender. I was ready to die then, so afraid of suffering I threw myself into the fray, hoping to find a quick end to this terrifying existence. That is not true peace, for true peace comes from within. If I want mental, emotional, and worldly peace, then it will take hard work and exhaustive efforts. Even then Im not guaranteed results, but taking the easy way out is pointless. Suicide is merely a form of non-existence, a worldly desire which I must rise above.
Just because I dont agree with everything the monk says doesnt mean hes wrong about everything.
The shield is Tranquility, the stifling tranquility of a stagnating equilibrium in which nothing ever changes. I bound the shield by defeating myself, a battle for supremacy between two diametrically opposed personalities, the Warrior and the Brother. The Brother won out but instead of putting an end to the Warrior, an agreement was struck to keep both sides separate but present, an arrangement in which neither side lost but spelled disaster for both. In my desperate desire to avoid conflict and turmoil, I nearly strode down the path of no return, harbouring the Spectres in a reflection of myself while denying they truly existed, until I could deny it no longer.
Peace and Tranquility are ideals, but hopeless ones. Most of the time, violence is the correct answer and murder the best solution. The rest of the time, theyre merely the easiest answer and solution. The Wolf hunts the Rabbit, the Tiger hunts the Bull, such is the way of life in this world and all others. Life is built on conflict and we are all made stronger by these trials and tribulations. Survival of the fittest is a fundamental part of nature, but so too are fortune and happenstance. Things change in the blink of an eye, whether it be a cleansing forest fire or turbulent flood, and we must struggle or perish. The Defiled are no different from a force of nature, and to survive, we cannot rely solely on Peace and Tranquility. What about discord and distress, conflict and fear? These too are a fundamental part of nature, parts I have been loath to accept for far too long, but no more.
Peace and Conflict, Tranquility and Turmoil, they are each a necessary part of the puzzle, and to leave out one is to ruin all the others. Ive been looking at things all wrong, and now I see the bigger picture. Fear and courage, love and hate, conflict and resolution, shy not from any of them and embrace them all. Theres nothing wrong with wanting Peace and Tranquility, you just have to make sure you arent sacrificing the wrong things to achieve it.
The new Spiritual Weapon blinks into existence inside my Natal Palace, a glaive, axe, and gun all at once. Flying into my grasp, the weapon guides me in a deadly dance of death, showing how to use it to the best of my abilities. There is no surrender, no conflict, only a mutual joining, the weapon and I working as one, moving from one attack to the next in an endless cycle of destruction. The dance goes on and I lose myself in the Forms, throwing everything I have into memorizing the skills my partner passes on. For a brief, inexpressible moment, it feels like my little brother is back again, showing me something new he learned and letting me share in his joy, but all too soon it comes to an end and Im left standing alone in my Natal Palace.
Swallowing my disappointment, I glance at the weapon in my hand and something clicks in the back of my mind. This weapon changes from glaive, to axe, to gun, but in the end, its still the same weapon. Its a little like me. Sure, I went back and forth between Warrior and Brother, and while circumstances have changed, it doesnt mean my little brother is gone, not entirely. Baledagh wasnt real, but he represented a part of me just like the Brother represented another part, two different sides of the same coin. I am Baledagh and I am Brother, and together, we are Falling Rain.
Hes not gone. Weve just... changed. For the better.
... As long as I stop referring to myself as we. Super creepy.
Mind at peace and heart tranquil, I thank my new weapon for this newfound clarity and dub it Unity.
...Harmony?
Solidarity...?
Tch. Im terrible at naming things, so why do I keep trying?
Chapter Meme
Chapter 327Going over my presentation didnt take long because I didnt have much prepared. The meeting with the Legate is all a big game of show and tell, a wallet-measuring contest of the highest levels, and Akanai only had a few suggestions regarding delivery, word choice, and tone. With that taken care of, she left me with a pat on the head and went back to her yurt, warning me not to overwork myself and get some rest. Unfortunately, sleep wont come easily after todays world-shattering revelations, so Id rather not lie in the dark and dwell on my serious mental issues, not to mention the anxiety and existential dread which comes with it. Knowing I have a problem doesnt magically make it go away; who knows when Ill start acting out on instinct and forgetting about it after the fact, or have another psychotic break and make up a new imaginary friend.Eyeing the monk up and down, I double check my memories to make sure hes interacted with other people and is therefore real. Thats something I need to do now, because Im fucking crazy.So instead of sequestering myself in my yurt, I decide to unveil my new weapon beneath the moonlit sky, with only a sleepy Ping Ping and a Concealed monk to witness it. Nestled within the folds of oiled leather is what can only be described as a transcendent work of art, a gleaming obsidian glaive lovingly crafted by my beloved Mila. Placing the base of the shaft on the ground, I guesstimate it measures over two and half meters long, with the double-edged blade taking up almost a third of its length. Theres a crossbar set at the base of the blade, or around eye level, while a lone handle juts out on one side just north of my shin, a grip for use when jousting with enemies.Ill mostly use the glaive like a lance since its a heavy, thrusting weapon meant for use on quin or horseback. Im just happy I can actually fight while mounted instead of hanging on for dear life and flailing wildly about. Id seen the plans for this weapon when Mila was designing it, and remembering her enthusiastic descriptions, I fumble around with the cross-guard and find the release, which lets me twist the haft around like a crank. Emitting, a smooth, crisp clicking sound, the sword portion of the weapon splits in two equal parts and spirals downward while the cross-guard folds down, turning it into a long-handled double-bladed axe, a weapon much more suited to my current physique. One form for stabbing and charging from quin-back, the other for chopping and slaughtering on foot.Thats not all this baby is good for. With the sword out of the way, this frees the hollow shaft to double as a rifle barrel, housing a two-meter-long highly-compressible spring within. Grabbing the lower handle which doubles as a pistol grip, I find both the trigger, loading, and cranking mechanisms and give those a whirl, testing the firing process once without ammunition. It takes about ten seconds to set up and when I press the trigger, the whole weapon rebounds with the force of a horses kick and sends a painful jolt up my arms and down my spine. This is Milas most powerful spring-powered rifle to date, benefiting from all the fruits of her labour. Id like to give it a test with live rounds, but Id prefer to keep our guns a secret for as long as possible, in case I have to send one of my people to shoot someone important. If Siyar is as good as Jorani says, I might move him to the top of the list for a new Spiritual Weapon. With everyone always on their guard against experts, a mundane sneaky assassin could come in handy.Then again, it might be awhile before Milas next masterpiece considering she doesnt have access to a guarded smithy. I have no idea how Mila made this intricate machine out of one piece of metal. No mould or model could possibly have shaped this which means theres more to Divine Blacksmithing than meets the eye. This is some straight up black sorcery, magi-tech type of stuff, but even though shes happy to gush on for hours about historical metallurgy or tempering methods, shes incredibly secretive about the actual process behind making Spiritual Weapons. While my weapon is made from the same type of Spiritual Heart as Bulats and the others, its easy to see Mila went all out to make this one. Everything she learned has gone into this weapon, the convenient, complex yet mundane compression mechanisms, the simplified side loading chamber for easy reloading, the grooved rifling in the barrel, and some sweet, sweet aesthetics. With a glossy-black marbled finish, it almost drinks in the light before reflecting it, a beautifully-crafted masterwork weapon.The axe comes to life in my hands as I give it a lazy swing, finding solace in the deadly thrum of metal slicing through air. Well-balanced and comfortable in my two-handed grip, the axe requires an assertive and dominant mindset to use on the battlefield, best suited for unchecked aggression and unbridled fury. Still, its not all that different from using a longer, heavier, top-heavy sword, so it should be easy enough to figure out with a bit of practice. Rotating the mid-section to turn it back into a glaive, I twirl the weapon about in a more serious sequence of practice swings. Heavy yet surprisingly flexible, I adjust to using this unfamiliar weapon using some familiar movements. Twitching Tail, Fluttering Raindrops, Pierce the Horizon, and more, remaining in control of my action pushes the limits of my Reinforced body, just barely able to rein the weapon in and move on to the next movement. Any longer or heavier and this glaive would be too unwieldy and probably tear my muscles to shreds. As it stands, Id be better off growing another twenty-five centimetres in height and maybe ten to fifteen centimetres in bulk, which is easier said than done considering theres only so much butter tea a man can stomach. So until such a time when I am no longer a manlet, the glaive form will be reserved for quin-back only, or maybe for an opening charge before tossing it aside in favour of sword and shield.As evidenced by this incredible weapon, my beloved Mila is a genius among geniuses. Beauty, brains, and brawn, she has it all.Which makes me feel terrible because all Ive got is a pair of pretty eyes, a scrawny frame, and oodles of mental baggage.But lets be clear: My amber eyes are really pretty, so its not all bad....I need to stop talking to myself.Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. The monks oft-cited catchphrase is heard once more as he makes his presence known, sitting cross-legged in his preferred spot next to my yurt door. Shaking his head, he launches into yet another lecture through Sending. Such depravity, such sin. The weapon you hold is a tool of death.Having earlier concluded the monk is in fact real, I see no harm in answering out loud. Yea, pretty sure all weapons are tools of death. What else would you use them for? Hell, youve got a fancy tool of death tucked away behind you, that big old shovel-headed pole-arm.My spade can be a weapon, the monk Sends, nodding in agreement, Just as the farmers scythe and the blacksmiths hammer can be a weapon, but they can be so much more. If I am tired, my spade is a staff to ease my burdens. If the weather turns cold, it is an axe to chop wood. If a burial is needed, it is a shovel to dig graves, and if the night is dark, it is a pole to carry my lantern. Only when I am attacked is it a weapon to defend myself. My spade serves many purposes, the least of which is weapon.Well, when I need a latrine dug or wood chopped, Ill keep you in mind, but what I need now is a weapon of mass destruction. Waving my new transforming weapon around, I add, Failing that, this will do nicely. In case you havent noticed, the Defiled are coming and I doubt kind words and good intentions will keep them at bay.One must live by the Noble Eight-fold Path if one is to escape Samsara, and in service to this end, the First Precept of the Brotherhood is to abstain from the taking of life, whether it be lowly insect or most sadistic Defiled.... and Im still talking to myself. Old habits die hard, I guess.The Energy of the Heavens rages around me, but I sit protected in my Natal Palace, insulated from its effects. A sign of progress I suppose, my core stable, solid, and warm in my belly, taking in Chi and moving it throughout my body and Spiritual Weapons under my directions. With each revolution, my Chi speeds up and my mind clears as I reflect on my previous Binding Ceremonies.The sword is Peace, the placid peace of surrender and hushed peace of the grave. I bound the sword by piercing through my stomach and Core, an imagined, symbolic gesture of surrender. I was ready to die then, so afraid of suffering I threw myself into the fray, hoping to find a quick end to this terrifying existence. That is not true peace, for true peace comes from within. If I want mental, emotional, and worldly peace, then it will take hard work and exhaustive efforts. Even then Im not guaranteed results, but taking the easy way out is pointless. Suicide is merely a form of non-existence, a worldly desire which I must rise above.Just because I dont agree with everything the monk says doesnt mean hes wrong about everything.The shield is Tranquility, the stifling tranquility of a stagnating equilibrium in which nothing ever changes. I bound the shield by defeating myself, a battle for supremacy between two diametrically opposed personalities, the Warrior and the Brother. The Brother won out but instead of putting an end to the Warrior, an agreement was struck to keep both sides separate but present, an arrangement in which neither side lost but spelled disaster for both. In my desperate desire to avoid conflict and turmoil, I nearly strode down the path of no return, harbouring the Spectres in a reflection of myself while denying they truly existed, until I could deny it no longer.Peace and Tranquility are ideals, but hopeless ones. Most of the time, violence is the correct answer and murder the best solution. The rest of the time, theyre merely the easiest answer and solution. The Wolf hunts the Rabbit, the Tiger hunts the Bull, such is the way of life in this world and all others. Life is built on conflict and we are all made stronger by these trials and tribulations. Survival of the fittest is a fundamental part of nature, but so too are fortune and happenstance. Things change in the blink of an eye, whether it be a cleansing forest fire or turbulent flood, and we must struggle or perish. The Defiled are no different from a force of nature, and to survive, we cannot rely solely on Peace and Tranquility. What about discord and distress, conflict and fear? These too are a fundamental part of nature, parts I have been loath to accept for far too long, but no more.Peace and Conflict, Tranquility and Turmoil, they are each a necessary part of the puzzle, and to leave out one is to ruin all the others. Ive been looking at things all wrong, and now I see the bigger picture. Fear and courage, love and hate, conflict and resolution, shy not from any of them and embrace them all. Theres nothing wrong with wanting Peace and Tranquility, you just have to make sure you arent sacrificing the wrong things to achieve it.The new Spiritual Weapon blinks into existence inside my Natal Palace, a glaive, axe, and gun all at once. Flying into my grasp, the weapon guides me in a deadly dance of death, showing how to use it to the best of my abilities. There is no surrender, no conflict, only a mutual joining, the weapon and I working as one, moving from one attack to the next in an endless cycle of destruction. The dance goes on and I lose myself in the Forms, throwing everything I have into memorizing the skills my partner passes on. For a brief, inexpressible moment, it feels like my little brother is back again, showing me something new he learned and letting me share in his joy, but all too soon it comes to an end and Im left standing alone in my Natal Palace.Swallowing my disappointment, I glance at the weapon in my hand and something clicks in the back of my mind. This weapon changes from glaive, to axe, to gun, but in the end, its still the same weapon. Its a little like me. Sure, I went back and forth between Warrior and Brother, and while circumstances have changed, it doesnt mean my little brother is gone, not entirely. Baledagh wasnt real, but he represented a part of me just like the Brother represented another part, two different sides of the same coin. I am Baledagh and I am Brother, and together, we are Falling Rain.Hes not gone. Weve just... changed. For the better.... As long as I stop referring to myself as we. Super creepy.Mind at peace and heart tranquil, I thank my new weapon for this newfound clarity and dub it Unity....Harmony?Solidarity...?Tch. Im terrible at naming things, so why do I keep trying?Chapter Meme
