“Father.” A weaker voice pleaded. “Leave him. He’s allied with our cause.”
The demon giant snorted, “What human can be fond of something he doesn’t understand, my son?” His ethereal form turned to face the heir of the Shikon family as he spoke. “There is folly in trusting any but the old one.”
“For now, he remains our friend—one of those willing to protect the Shikons if war does indeed break out.”
Abul Shikon, the heir to a legacy of demonic entities heralding from the more humanoid D’olabadon race, stepped from behind his father as he proceeded forward to greet me.
He was not only the same age but the same height as well. The only difference between us happened to be his generally emaciated appearance. Abul had been the child of a half demon and a full-blooded demon, resulting in a figure that could’ve been mistaken for a human’s. One eye, however, burned black as the other radiated scarlet while he maintained the same effect produced from being in the presence of someone like his father. The Shikon heir was capable of shifting his facial features between the image of a young adult to a more monstrous visage not intended to be seen by the average individual.
As Abul moved nearer, the bones in his face reconfigured while his body simultaneously shrank into an even less abnormal form. He smiled from behind a new mask, revealing perfect symmetry in his new appearance. At his side, I noticed an incredibly lengthy katana upon which he rested his right palm at its hilt.
Abul’s voice shifted to sound like that of an earnest teenager’s. “I apologize for the poor introduction to my family.” He glared back at his father until the demon patriarch finally turned to depart. Abul looked back to me and smiled again while extending his hand in a gesture of friendship. “It’s rare for anyone in Nagao to visit—in fact…”
After I’d accepted his gesture, he pondered for a moment. “Those who know of the Shikon are usually too terrified to investigate. Thus, Elder Nagao promised us discretion and claimed that the only possible ‘visitor’ would have to be one of the Meiziki.” He sighed, “If the Elder didn’t honor our privacy, the Citadel would erupt into chaos trying to find us or others like ourselves.”
“What is your home like?”
Abul frowned. “It is not a place meant for you to enter. You are too young to handle the things to which you may be subject. I am the Prince of the Shikon clan, and… as of now, I deem you unworthy of gaining entry.”
I was taken aback. “Unworthy?”
“Of course.” He grinned smugly. “Humans are naturally below us in the order of things, but I’m not above taking a walk to better understand the reality of you creatures.”
I considered fighting him but was unsure of how I’d fair against a monster occupying this kind of power.
--
Abul Shikon carried the same pride and often superior attitude for which his tribe had been reputed.
The demon prince had never truly fought anyone, believing his own existence above what he perceived as mundane combat. We walked through an abandoned park, and I listened to Abul—who I guessed had been lacking company or friends for years now.
“The Nagao used us, Tavon; they put the strongest Shikon on the forefront of the battlefield when they warred for territory in the Fourth Quadrant… that’s why few of us remain.” He paused. “My brother was the real heir; I was already adjusted to being a soldier, a servant…”
“I find that hard to believe.” I replied smugly.
Abul chuckled. “The family is more important to me than anything…” His expression became grim. “I have to ensure its survival against humans in this place. Although your numbers are great,” we strolled through an open plaza replete with vendors and outdoor restaurants and close to central Nagao territory, “I will bring my people to power in the Lower-City.”
I wanted to like Abul, but he could really be a prick sometimes; regardless, I humored him. “How do you plan on doing that?”
Abul scowled. “My kind… we don’t struggle in petty conflicts against each other; rather, the strongest is the one who shoulders the weight of the truth. Do you understand?”
In a way, that message spoke to me.
“I’ve only lived this long by being strong; Rokshasa would’ve killed me if I wasn’t.”
“But you’d kneel before a demon?” Abul smirked.
The insult stinged. “I’ve never…”
Abul laughed. “I’m fucking with you!” He nudged me. “Tsutsu Shikon is more powerful than anyone in the Lower-City—I guarantee it, Tavon! It’s only that he refuses to expand any further.” He rolled his eyes. “And now’s he’s gotten sick again.”
“He can get sick? Looked pretty healthy to me.”
“Any time father leaves the castle, he always falls ill upon returning. This city is infested with disease, I’m afraid.”
The two of us traveled to a hilltop overlooking more of the World Below.
“We know now…” Abul began. “That the Meiziki have plans to consolidate their power before moving on Uesugi and Nagao at once. If they claim the Fourth Quadrant for themselves, our enemies would aim to rival authorities in the Lower-City, as they are proving to be a bloodthirsty group.”
“But you make guns, right? You can protect the Nagao—"
“No.” He replied flatly. “Tavon, you must realize that Meiziki’s numbers have swelled significantly since Ovo’s death; our only option now is to ally with Uesugi. From there…” He seemed wistful. “I could manufacture an arsenal to outfit a joint force, but…” A shadow overcame his features.
The old Sun emitted a dense heat, but we bonded in that with both took comfort basking within it.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The Elder AND my father disagree with me.”
“Really?”
“Tsutsu favors doing nothing, because it protects his family. Elder Nagao wishes to negotiate with my uncle in Gaspul; he wants to acquire the same explosives used against Enrec soldiers by the insurgency. It’s cheaply-made garbage, in my opinion, but the Elder is going about ordering an entire shipment of it to stop the Meiziki’s schemes—and he still refuses an alliance with Uesugi!” He exclaimed. “It’s asinine!”
I found myself able to level with him. If the Nagao didn’t seek aid, they would be crushed. I, too, would most likely fall in the ensuing conflict.
“The Elder has an ancient vendetta against Uesugi’s deceased boss. Their boss’s son is now cursed to endure Nagao’s wrath until the Elder passes away.”
“But Naizo isn’t strong.”
Abul smiled, “Careful. That language could be considered treasonous, Tavon; can you best him in a fight yourself?”
Without a doubt. “Easily.”
Abul seemed impressed. “So, the skill the Elder speaks of is authentic? You did, in fact, knock Rokshasa from his feet?”
I nodded.
“Tch.” He shook his head. “I was informed by Rokshasa that you’d only been kidnapped to spite Uesugi.”
“I stole Ovo’s back-up plan against his father—”
“You caused Meiziki to grow.” Abul smiled at me. “Was it for your own entertainment?”
“W-what? I don—"
“Abul!” Beatrice approached and hugged the demon from behind.
The Shikon heir gasped in shock, which seemed out of character for him, but quickly became friendly as he turned to see his close friend…
And he became still.
“Abul?” Beatrice inquired, noticing that he’d turned deadly serious.
My anxiety increased with the following silence, and finally Abul spoke…
Slowly. Deliberately.
“Who. Did. This?”
“Oh… —!” Beatrice looked away. She’d been so ecstatic to see him that she’d forgotten to conceal her own injuries. She didn’t know how to proceed and so tried to move past the demon to embrace me in a similar fashion.
“Tav—”
Abul moved her back while maintaining his di
sturbing glare. “Who?”
“Abul…” She began to plead but grew quiet as she found it difficult to meet his gaze. “I’m scared.” Beatrice said.
“Has he always done this? Behind my back?”
“Please… I—"
“Abul!” I shouted before coming to stand before the Shikon prince, my fists ready at my sides. I was just a stupid kid, but I wouldn’t allow my friends to be harassed by anyone.
Abul turned to face me, rage clearly defined in his features. He looked me over for a time, and I taunted, “What? Do what you were going to do, Abul, but I won’t let you hurt her!”
The prince was solemn as he analyzed me, peered into my very spirit. And then…
He smiled, folded his arms, and closed his eyes as he declared, “Maybe one day you can hope to compete with me.” His voice had returned to normal. “But for now…” Abul stared ahead and seemed focused. “I have matters to attend to.”
He began walking away from us without a word to Beatrice. After Abul had left our line of sight, I went to her and comforted the samurai the best I knew how.
--
Beatrice insisted we sit by her favorite lake in the region owned by Nagao as she confessed as to what had been done to her.
“Uban Kai… my dad…” She said. “He used to be a respected warrior—a true samurai.”
“Is he still a one?”
“Not at all… and he blames me for it.” Beatrice appeared forlorn. “Uban is burdened with a disease restricting him to his quarters for the rest of his life. Although he still dictates orders for the Kai House, I might as well be in charge of the future of my family. Mother passed on, so Beatrice now leads the House of Kai…
“And this infuriates him.”
“Your father is angered by you? I’m sure he can’t blame you for something like that, Beatrice—”
“Tavon!” She said. “I thought you wanted to know so bad why I look the way I do today?”
“I just don’t want you to be hurt,” I said meekly.
I cared about her more than anyone. She’d shown me compassion in a world I’d thought emptied of it.
“It is what it is.” She said.
Beatrice turned and embraced me. “Tavon.”
“Yes.” It felt good to have someone there.
“Promise not to tell anyone else. I love him, Tavon.”
“I-I understand… I guess.”
“Sometimes, Uban lets me out after he’s finished ‘punishing’ me.”
She started crying. I waited patiently.
“At first, to avoid suspicion… he’d lock me in a shed and demand that I be quiet about what he’d done.”
I felt fury again.
Beatrice continued as I ruminated in a web of my own rage. “But since I’m older, old enough to carry the mantle… he hits me and lets me go afterward.”
“Do you hit him back?”
“No.” She sobs. “I can’t hurt him… it’s just that he loses control; he doesn’t mean to strike me—I know he doesn’t! You can’t tell anyone about this, Tavon!”
“I won’t.” I replied.
I’d make him suffer on my own. “I promise.”
27
Pac Blood
I TRAINED WITH EVERYTHING I HAD. I knew I was strong, but I planned to take on a samurai who’d been responsible for the deaths of many. I’d never even killed anyone, and so I planned to simply fight him… to win and make him understand.
I followed Rokshasa’s daily routines with renewed vigor, intent on surpassing him and Beatrice. If I could confidently fight Nagao’s greatest warrior, then Uban would be no match for me. Although the syndicate had exposed its grimier side, I believed that bettering myself would earn me a place at the top.
“Strange, huh…” Rokshasa began. “It’s amazing how one’s manipulation of a barbell can lead to greater power in all areas.”
The warrior crouched, concentrating on his form as he lowered himself to grasp a steel bar seven feet in overall length. Attached to both sleeves, there hung five thick plates that had been worn away with both time and usage.
Rokshasa breathed in heavily and paused before exhaling as he hefted the weight and performed a set of controlled repetitions; it was the most he’d been able to lift as of yet. In comparison, I could only put up three plates on both ends at most; the young samurai demonstrated an intimidating potential for growth, and he compelled himself through grueling exercise far more than I’d been willing to participate.
But now I had a real goal—something like a purpose in an existence I’d only been conscious of for five years since I’d awakened.
To Rokshasa’s surprise, I stayed mostly by his side as he only seemed to be interested in lifting and sparring. And as a result, I came to understand how to better foster strength in myself. I learned how to grow and compete with someone of the samurai’s caliber. He offered to attempt to train me in different weapons once again, but I was determined to deal with Uban using only my fists.
That’s how I’d show my true strength to the Nagao.
In the months that followed, I’d met with Beatrice less and less due to her having become more reclusive. Uban was trying to discourage her from the path he’d taken as a thug, even though he required an heir just as bloodthirsty to protect the Kai House.
She covered up much more than before, causing me to suspect that she might be hiding more wounds inflicted by her father. The samurai was changing, her own image of herself contorted into something she despised. I was there to speak with her when she chose to, but Beatrice seemed mostly despondent. I knew I needed to do something soon, and so I decided I would tell him.
Rokshasa needed to know what was happening to his best friend.
One morning, I waited while watching the warrior best himself with increased weight on the same lift. He’d added extra, smaller plates this time. Rokshasa growled as he mustered all of his power in order to deadlift the weight until failure. His features reddened, and his thoroughly veined body tensed as the samurai groaned upon his final repetition, dropping the barbell to the ground while falling to his knees as it rang out.
In the same moment, I thought I noticed a dark, round shadow obscuring one of the windows giving view to the outside world.
Rokshasa struggled to catch his breath under a mountain of sweat as he spoke, “We’re… getting better.”
“You think so?”
The samurai stood before turning to smile at me while expressing something resembling pride.
“I’m amazed at how quickly you managed to catch up—”
“What?!” I smiled. “I’m nowhere close to you!”
Rokshasa chuckled. “Nonsense. For someone new to this lifestyle, you’ve demonstrated a resolve worthy of my respect! Perhaps,” he said earnestly, “the Elder will grant you your own House should you continue to be one of the best.”
“If you say so, Rok.”
“I know so.” His features became somber. “I’m going to need your help one day… against Mendo Meiziki.”
He piqued my curiosity. “I thought you were Nagao’s champion? What should you have to worry about?”
Rokshasa frowned. “How can you not see what others see, Tavon?” He drew closer while maintaining eye contact. “Mendo is more akin to you than I—that is to say, brother, that the two of you are cut from the same cloth.”
“Rokshasa, that doesn’t make any sense; I only served his son once.”
“Ovo didn’t inherit Mendo’s unique… gifts…”
He was about to continue, the samurai’s focus nearly unbroken, when we heard the entrance crash open.
And there before us:
Uban.
A man whose skin had greyed while transitioning into a plane of ulcers and pus leaking from various crevices across his abnormal shape.
“Uban Kai?” Rokshasa gazed at him in astonishment. “You’ve been… changed!” His eyes darkened.
As the Kai House leader stepped closer, we noticed tha
t his eyes had become only two orbs dotted with black and white. Black blood leaked from his mouth while a pale substance oozed from his eyelids.
“What’s been done to you, Uban?!”
“Rokshasa!” I tried to stop him from proceeding, but the samurai found himself far too engaged.
“Get out of here, Tavon! Something’s not right here, but it doesn’t concern yo—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I responded defiantly.
Wisps echoing fractures in our reality hovered around the disturbed form of Uban.
He screamed, spilling a great deal of blood from between his jaws, before dashing with such unexpected speed that we weren’t prepared for when Uban grabbed one of the larger plates and used the momentum of his body to hurl it at us like a disc!
Rokshasa ducked as the plate soared by, narrowly grazing my cheekbone, as it smashed through the wall behind us.
Uban continued his rampage by grabbing a slightly smaller plate before he sprinted. The old samurai leapt from a weight bench and lead with the plate as he attempted to bash in Rokshasa’s skull. Rokshasa moved back just as the plate came to the ground in front of him, and I charged in ready to strike Uban’s side!
My opponent, however, pushed me back with a hand containing enough force to blast my body far away from the two of them. Not only had Uban been corrupted, but he also appeared strangely obsessed with Rokshasa!
The enraged samurai quickly proceeded to grab the empty barbell my friend had prepared for me. He hefted it up in time to pivot and thrust it toward Rokshasa as he advanced to stop him!
Rokshasa was struck square in his chest, knocking him off balance and onto the floor as Uban followed up by hoisting his new weapon in the air. The old samurai brought it down—but Rokshasa reacted hastily by rolling to the side before springing to his feet once more as he prepared to make the house leader submit.
Angelos Odyssey Page 55
