Though it paled in comparison to the Supercolonies being constructed by the Empire, several walled cities had already been constructed in the aftermath of The Fall. These were meant to be bastions for humanity, places where chosen survivors could escape the ever-growing population of monsters that now roamed the countryside…
A stark contrast to the nearby metropolitan ghost town, one of the most prosperous cities to come into existence, Post-Fall, was the former residence of the Emperor of China, the historical landmark known as the ‘Forbidden City’. It, much like the Clock Tower in London, had previously served as a public face to conceal greater secrets. Now that the world had descended into chaos, this facade was no longer necessary, so, while much of the surrounding cities had been brought to ruin in the wake of The Fall, the Forbidden City stood proud like an unblemished gemstone.
Unlike the Magecraft and Sacrament used by the Mage’s Association and former Holy Church, China had been practicing a unique method of energy manipulation known as Taiji for millennia. This was a philosophy that predated even the most ancient Chinese civilizations, founded upon the principles of Yin-Yang theory, the Five-Elemental Forces, and, more recently, the Chinese Zodiac.
Users of the Taiji Arts were colloquially known as Practitioners, but, due to recent trends, many had adopted the term ‘Cultivators’. They were the very same people most Chinese fantasies and folklore was derived from, so, compared to orthodox systems of Thaumaturgy, they relied heavily on the use of physical arts, principally represented by hundreds of martial schools.
The ultimate goal of every Cultivator was to oppose a concept known as ‘Heaven’s Will’, represented by Gaia and Alaya. They believed that, by refining their ‘Qi’, the combination of physical and spiritual energies referred to as Mana by Magi, they would be able to strengthen their Soul directly, elevating themselves beyond mortality and allowing them to enter the realm of Immortals.
Unfortunately, ‘opposing Heaven’s Will’ was not a simple feat, so, while the average Cultivator was far stronger than Magi of the same level, they plateaued much faster than skilled Magi. It often took hundreds of years for a Cultivator to break through the Houtian level, achieving a state where their Spirit Body fused together with their Physical Vessel. This state, known as Xiantian, allowed them to achieve a form of biological immortality, but, without the aid of various treasures, achieving this level was something many could only dream of.
In all of China, there were a total of thirty-seven Xiantian-Class Cultivators, the vast majority of which belonged to one of three ancient families. Of these thirty-seven Cultivators, thirteen belonged to the Aisin family, nine belonged to the Zhou family, and seven belonged to the Khun family. As for the remaining ten, they were the patriarchs of various families, some with records predating the Shang Dynasty, a period between 1570-1045 BCE.
Due to the availability of rare materials and resources, most ancient Chinese families had been at odds for centuries, if not longer. They proactively hoarded materials to cultivate their Descendents, proactively interfering in the Martial Paths of other, less-established, families. This had allowed them to strengthen the foundation of their own families, but, as a result, China had never been able to rise to prominence before the Modern Era.
Now, setting aside past differences and representing a more unified front, twenty of the thirty-seven Xiantian-Class Cultivators had gathered together within a massive Spiritual Formation. This was their version of the Bounded Fields produced by Magi, but, instead of using Magic Circles and powerful Catalysts, they relied on various treasures to gather the ‘Energy of Heaven and Earth’, powerful seals, and runic symbols. This achieved a similar effect to the Projection used in Avalon, but, rather than refer to it as such, the colloquial term used to define the interior space was ‘The Realm of Spirit and Illusion’.
Though each of the elderly men gathered within the chamber was a powerhouse that had achieved biological immortality, none of them were bold enough to speak out in the presence of the trio that had gathered them. This included a young man with white hair, a robust Chinese man with fair skin and handsome features, and, most hatefully, a Japanese woman with soft-pink, almost silver, hair…
Due to past conflicts, most orthodox families in China had a fair bit of hatred toward the Japanese, regardless of their origin. They were also a strictly patriarchal society, placing heavy emphasis on the development of males over their female counterparts. This was a byproduct of various female figures bringing entire dynasties to ruin, so, despite the beauty and skill possessed by the woman standing before them, the majority refused to truly respect her…
Annoyed by the hateful looks sent her way, Musashi began to lightly tap the hilt of her katana, her eyes squinting slightly with a taunting smile on her face. This was enough to cow most of the men present, who, in spite of their pride, knew better than to ‘seek death’ against a far more powerful foe. She had already beaten most of them rather severely, so, even if they resented her quite a bit, they lacked the courage to openly state the disdain they concealed in their hearts.
Shaking his head at Musashi’s antics, Shirou said, “Leave them be, Musashi. They might be bigoted, but they aren’t evil. The people still need their leadership so just ignore their petulant pride…”
Hearing Shirou’s remark, Musashi began to laugh uninhibitedly, much to the chagrin of the twenty elderly figures gathered in the room. One, no longer able to bear the ‘indignation’ in silence, gripped his hand into a fist, stepping forward to ask, “Lord Shirou, Ancestor Yi, are you certain that man will even bother to show up? What if he decides to lay waste to the Forbidden City? Though we would never doubt the strength of the Heroes Faction, are we not risking too much by exposing ourselves like this?”
Turning his attention to the elderly man with streaks of silken black and white hair, Shirou couldn’t help but frown slightly. Fortunately, Hou Yi was present as he had grown tired of dealing with these relics of the past, the youngest of which was more than three hundred years old.
Freeing Shirou from the burden of having to answer, Hou Yi adopted an amicable smile as he said in a soft tone, “The Esteemed Patriarchs and Lords need not worry. While the Sage Dragon Emperor is a terrifying foe, he does not engage in wanton destruction. Despite his past actions, he is an honorable man who fears no challenge. So long as we are forthright in our actions, we need not fear his wrath.”
As Hou Yi was one of their Ancestral Gods, even if he had previously been stripped of his title by the Jade Emperor, the Throne of Heroes gave him an effect similar to [Charisma: EX] amongst those of Chinese descent. His presence had been instrumental to the meteoric rise of the Heroes Faction in China, and, though Shirou was the ‘official’ Leader, the difference in their treatment was like that of Heaven and Earth.
With shimmering eyes reminiscent of young children meeting their Hero, all twenty Xiantian figures nodded their heads in understanding, many openly commenting on Hou Yi’s wisdom. This brought a slightly wry smile to the former God’s face. As for Shirou and Musashi, they exchanged exasperated looks, both finding it senseless that they were ‘hated’ for no better reason than being born Japanese.
Deciding to interrupt the elderly group’s never-ending praise, Musashi released a bit of her Sword Intent, silencing everyone in the room. Then, with an uncharacteristically neutral expression, she said, “It is almost time. I can’t imagine the Emperor showing up late to an official challenge. You all might be useless in the upcoming battle, but you should still be able to provide some form of protection to the surroundings, right…?”
Though they wanted to rebuke Musashi for her ‘thoughtless’ words, none of the Xiantian figures had the courage to step forward when she was still releasing her Sword Intent. She was a ‘barbarian’ that wouldn’t suffer reproach in silence, so, unless they wanted to spend several days recovering in a bed, they had little choice but to grind their teeth in silence.
This time, it was Hou Yi’s turn to shake his head, but, rather than comment on Musashi’s behavior, he said, “Lady Musashi is correct. After extending an invitation, the Sage Dragon Emperor will not afford us additional time to prepare. We have been preparing for forty days, let’s not waste our efforts over insignificant squabbles. We have gathered here as allies, unified toward a common goal. If we allow past grievances to divide us, the path to Heaven will be close off.”
As if they hadn’t been sending murderous glares toward Musashi just moments prior, each of the elderly figures nodded sagely in response to Hou Yi’s words. They acted as if they had been given some great enlightenment, some even stroking their beards with distant looks in their eyes.
Seeing the reaction of the old fogeys, Musashi just rolled her eyes before turning to Shirou and saying, “I’ll be going ahead. If the Empress shows up, I’ll do my best to draw her attention. Will you be fine…?”
Hearing Musashi address Artoria by her title, Shirou couldn’t help but adopt a bitter expression as he said, “I’ve already accepted reality. Don’t worry, even if she shows up, I’ll be fine. Do what you think is necessary to secure victory. We’ll be relying on your skills to buy us some time.”
Nodding her head in understanding, Musashi gave Shirou a light pat on the back, a vain attempt to comfort his weary soul. She knew the drastic changes to Artoria still influenced him even to this day, as, compared to the sentiments that had been present during their reunion, the only emotion shared between them seemed to be disdain. Artoria had even severely injured him on one occasion, visible scorn visible in her countenance as she seemed to consider striking him down permanently…
After leaving the mausoleum-like room behind, Musashi was finally able to breathe easier. She couldn’t stand the stuffy feeling of being cooped up in the same room as so many relics, especially when the majority hated her guts. If they were stronger than her, she had no doubt they would see fit to ‘punish’ her for daring to slight them, something she found rather laughable considering they were supposedly ‘righteous’ Cultivators.
Recalling how some of the men looked at her with covetous eyes, Musashi released a tired sigh, her fingers twitching on the hilt of her katana. She often found herself wondering why she bothered to stay with the Heroes Faction, but, remembering the changes to Artoria’s personality and the effect it had on Shirou, she never found the resolve to partake of Vahn’s ‘offering’.
With this thought crossing her mind, Musashi found herself holding the bottle of [Shōjō Sake] in her hands, tempted to just drink it and be done with it. All she had to do was remove the cork, and, after a single swig of the legendary alcohol, her fate would be tied to the Vahn. She would no longer have to run around at the behest of a bunch of old men who viewed her greater disdain than they would a stray dog. She would be able to spend her days idling about in Avalon, drinking sake, lazing about, and fighting powerful foes whenever she pleased…
After absentmindedly loosening the cork, Musashi allowed a bit of the heavenly fragrance within to tickle her nose. The only thing that prevented her from drinking it was the feeling of guilt that would plague her whenever she thought about how Shirou and the others would react to her ‘betrayal’. She could easily imagine Alice and Abigail crying for hours on end, their sorrow slowly giving away to far more negative emotions.
Though she considered herself a pretty selfish person, Musashi didn’t want to be hated by children that looked up to her as a big sister. Just thinking about it made most alcohols taste bland, so, even if she was highly tempted by the lifestyle promised by the Empire, she ultimately tightened the cork before placing it into her deep cleavage.
As an immortal being, Musashi knew there was no need to rush into anything. Though they were at odds with the Empire, it wouldn’t be long before most conflicts ceased entirely. One of the purposes of today’s battle was to give an example of Vahn’s power to the old fogeys that had been gathered, as, despite being globally resented, few people feared him as much as they should. This had caused the Heroes Faction a number of problems, as, with the passage of time, more and more people had begun to demand they take action against the Empire.
No matter how much they insisted it was better to focus on surviving in the changing world, there would always be a subset of the community that mistakenly believed it was possible to return things to ‘normal’. They were an exceptionally vocal part of the community, so, every time a Hero stepped in to defeat some terrifying monster or prevent an uprising, demands for a ‘revolution’ would sound out for weeks on end.
Knowing most of these events had been set in motion by the thirty-seven Xiantian figures that ruled over China, the Heroes Faction had decided to try and settle the matter by displaying their power in comparison to the Emperor’s. They had set a multi-layered trap that, by design, should even be able to seal away a God. This was one of the benefits of being able to ‘summon’ Vahn to a location, but, even if they set hundreds of such formations, Musashi knew they would be useless in the face of his ‘Infinite’. Thus, despite more than a month of preparation, she would undoubtedly have to face off against the rather domineering man once again, a battle that was as frustrating as it was fun…
Remembering her last duel against Vahn, a small shiver ran through Musashi’s body. Following this, she could feel her body begin to heat up slightly, culminating in a hot sigh escaping her lips. Even if she tried to forget, her body still remembered their battle. It was like a part of his existence had been carved into her own, the echoes of their exchanges still present within her bones. She knew this was the result of his peculiar energy wreaking havoc inside of her body, but, as there was little she could do to resolve it, Musashi often found herself looking forward to the next time they crossed swords…
As this thought crossed her mind, Musashi began to slowly draw her katana, exposing a small part of the blade as she muttered, “It looks like I’m in for another restless night…”
(A/N: Alternate Titles: ‘Someone mixed a CN in my EPIC!’,’Smells like bigotry up in here…’,’Echoes of battles past, sounding far into the future…’)
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