Malware: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 2)

by J D Astra

  My blood boiled at the audacity of Min-hwan to keep such a dangerous weapon within arm’s reach. What kind of man kept something like this? What kind of Bastion allowed it to exist?

  I rose to my feet and held the spear out.

  “This is an abomination,” I declared in a wavering voice that exposed my anger.

  “I’m sorry you had to discover the dark things this weapon is capable of,” he said softly and bowed his head.

  “It’s not just dark, it’s evil.” I growled the words from the pit of my stomach where Jigu’s agony sat like a stone.

  He shook his head. “It is only as evil as its wielder.”

  The words struck my heart. Was I the monster?

  “No, dear boy,” Min-hwan said and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You were desperate.”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I tasted ash.

  “I didn’t know it would kill them,” I whispered.

  “How could you have known? You are not this tool’s master.”

  “Then why was I given it?” I asked, outraged.

  Min-hwan sighed again, as if summoning patience with his breath. “Would you have survived without it? Could you have succeeded without it?”

  I swallowed hard and looked at the weapon. “No.”

  “Then, you were adequately armed,” he reminded me of the very words I’d said to Bo.

  He opened his hand for the spear, and I felt a moment of hesitation. I could destroy it. I could prevent this power from ever being abused again.

  “Believe me when I say I’ve tried,” Min-hwan whispered. “This was formed with metal so strong it will not melt in the hottest flame. It will not break with a million strikes of a hammer. It does not rust, chip, or crack. The power is ancient, beyond us, and I have dedicated my life to protecting it from falling into the wrong hands.”

  He motioned me forward, and I placed the spear in his grasp. He turned, inviting me to walk with him to the main pagoda.

  After a moment of quiet, he spoke. “Ko-nah and his mother have fled their home. The Wong dojang has been destroyed.”

  “All the evidence destroyed,” I corrected him.

  Min-hwan nodded. “It seems, at this juncture, that Ko-nah and his mother were the cohorts working with Hiro Kumiho. Wansil Wong is denying awareness of the situation.”

  “How did I let Ko-nah get away with this?” I shook my head as I thought back to the moment in the hallway, likely minutes after he’d poisoned the water for the tea. How had I so easily forgotten that and moved on with my day?

  How had he convinced Hana to calm down and believe him? How had he convinced Tae-do that he would do his bidding—that he was afraid of him? He didn’t fear Tae-do; otherwise, he would’ve warned him about the tea. No, he loathed Tae-do. Ko-nah had been the puppet master all along.

  He never wanted to impress wansil Wong. He wanted to hurt him.

  I recalled the look of pure, sadistic excitement in his eyes when he knew he’d manipulated me into fighting Tae-do. Little did he know, he had caused the first domino to fall in the chain of events that foiled Hiro Kumiho’s plans. Yet still, he had convinced everyone around him he was harmless and feeble.

  He was the deadliest of all.

  Min-hwan hummed in grim amusement. “Spies are in high demand in every kingdom.”

  “So, he’s defected to Kokyu?” I asked with spite.

  “We assume as much, yes.”

  I had endured the trials of teaching his ungrateful hide, and this was how he repaid me—repaid Bastion? I had given him my time, effort, and genuine care. I had done everything I could.

  I wanted to hate him, but there was nothing there when I thought of Ko-nah. No anger, no pain or regret. I looked over to see Min-hwan glowing a soft lilac, extending a bubble of emotion-leaching ry around me. He had stolen my hate.

  Min-hwan smiled gently. “This is not a time to dwell on hatred. Your family needs you, and you need rest.”

  “And I need to feel,” I said flatly. “The blade isn’t forged in a comforting shelter. It is made in the inferno and sharpened with the hammer.”

  Min-hwan stopped. “Is that all you are, Jiyong? A weapon?”

  I blinked. “Isn’t that what a Bastion is?”

  Min-hwan’s shoulders slumped. “No, my boy.”

  He pulled me along through the halls to his office and led me inside. I sat down in his comfortable chair and melted into it. My body hurt. How had I not felt this before? I was exhausted, running on less than fumes, and starving.

  Min-hwan patted my shoulder. “You’ve stopped the signal that commanded the malware, but that munje is still in everyone’s system. Sung-ki and Li-Zigi have discovered a combination solution: a potion that will attach only to the invaders and a cleansing cycle that leaves no waste behind. It’s a lengthy process, but I’m sure we can have everyone cleaned up in a few days.

  “Rest for a while. I’ll return for you,” his voice was far away as I laid my head back.

  I closed my eyes for what felt like a blink, only to find myself waking what must’ve been many hours later. The midday sun shone through the high windows behind Min-hwan’s desk. I sat up and found a bowl of meat and rice next to me on the table with a tall cup of water.

  I went for the water first, chugging it back greedily. Then I pulled the bowl onto my lap and devoured the contents in seconds. Satisfied, I sat back once more.

  My family.

  I jumped to my feet—a mistake—and held my stomach as I swallowed back my meal’s attempt at escape. I walked at a fast pace as I made my way to the alchemy room when I heard the ry boosted voice of Min-hwan coming from the dining hall.

  I jogged that way, taking frequent breaks to hold down my food. Min-hwan’s voice was solemn as his words became audible. “—students who fought like Bastions, and died to save this school. May we honor them now with an expression of our zo.”

  I reached the door and peered inside.

  The dining room had been transformed into a makeshift infirmary; bedrolls laid out on the floor where the tables usually sat. Students sat crowded on the beds or between them, some leaned against the walls, arms crossed and faces red. The instructors all stood on the stage—except one. Woong-ji.

  Fear twisted my stomach, and I suppressed the need to call out to Min-hwan. This was a moment of peace for the dead, and Woong-ji may be among them. I stepped inside, keeping my footfalls silent. The students and instructors held their hands out, palms up to the sky as black zo collected there. I knelt at the edge of the crowd and cycled zo like them.

  Min-hwan’s voice rose from the front in a deep, melodic hymn. He sang ancient words to Jigu, asking her help in finding rest for the dead’s energy after departing the body. The instructors joined in, then the other students, and though I didn’t know all the words, I sang as well, following the melody.

  Our zo munje pulled away as one to the front of the room. Min-hwan swooped his arms through the air, collecting and shaping it. The black zo clumped into one mass, then split in two towering figures. The features of Gui-ne etched into the first cloud of zo, his moustache unmistakable. The appearance of Se-nim formed in the other, sporting a devilish grin even in death.

  The figures of zo bowed as Min-hwan finished his song. Min-hwan bowed in return, and I dropped my head to the floor with the other students. The room hushed, and then the black fog fell apart, dissolving into the air.

  “They will be immortalized in the Book of Bastions. We will never forget their sacrifice.”

  Chapter 42

  “DO YOU THINK SHE’LL like it?” I asked as I polished the red plate metal once more.

  “For the five-hundredth time, she’s going to be ecstatic,” Mae replied, crossing her arms as she stood beside the prosthetic. Her voice softened, and she beamed up at me from the table. “Your work at the Rabbit has really paid off. It’s beautiful.”

  I had recovered Woong-ji’s battle armor a week after the incident and set to work creating her prosthetic fr
om the metal that had crushed her leg. As it turned out, the very modification to the knee joint I had suggested was the only reason she hadn’t been pinned inside the armor when Hiro Kumiho crushed it.

  How he’d crushed it was another mystery to unravel. Had he gained such a powerful understanding of munje that he could affect the very fabric of reality?

  Too often, the scenes from the chaotic battle replayed in my mind. When I couldn’t shut the visions down, I got to work. I melted, ripped, shaped, and mended the armor that had crushed Woong-ji’s bones into something she could use.

  I pulled the machina half-leg up into my hands and rotated the ankle, then bent the toes. Yes, this would do nicely.

  “Hope you’ve kept it clean,” Woong-ji said from the door of the workshop, and I dropped the leg, spinning on the spot. “Looks a little cleaner than before, honestly,” she remarked and ran her finger along the worktable to inspect for dust. She limped forward with her cane, and her thin metal peg leg clopped down on the stone floor.

  “I have, uh, something for you,” I said as nerves bounced around my stomach.

  She hummed loudly while she moved objects in her workshop idly. “Liquor, I hope?”

  I chuckled anxiously as I turned back to the machina leg. “No, though, maybe that would’ve been a better idea.”

  “Well, out with it,” she said with playful impatience.

  I pulled the leg from the table and turned. Woong-ji’s smile disappeared when she saw the prosthetic in my hands. She sucked in a breath and she reached out, running her hand over the limb.

  “Is this from Titan?” she whispered as her fingers brushed the polished red and black metal.

  I nodded, then set it down and pulled up a stool for her to sit. “Let me show you how to work it.”

  We unstrapped her metal peg, and I showed her how to secure her new limb. I would need to make modifications to her stump equipment so she could get in and out of it easier and more securely, but that could be another time. I reviewed the features with her—the ma control mechanisms—which would hopefully all be as intuitive as walking with her biological leg.

  When I finished showing her how it worked and helping her with a few trial walks without her cane, she stopped and held my arms. Her brow was pinched and eyes watery as she looked up at me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, worried the prosthetic had hurt her somehow.

  “I failed you,” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “Your leg was crushed, ribs broken, and you were knocked unconscious by the blast. You did everything you could.”

  She frowned, then nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

  After a moment, her smile returned. She stomped her new foot twice, then wiggled the toes. “I knew I picked the right acolyte.”

  “You’re welcome for that neural mapping,” Mae said through the speaker.

  She loved getting her credit where it was due. “We were able to use pieces of the enemy’s ghost device to create a special component Mae coded using the ancient language of machina. This is what translates the zo information from your left leg into readable data to operate the prosthetic with ma.”

  “Thank you.” Woong-ji’s eyes glossed with tears, and she bowed deeply. “Min-hwan is waiting.”

  I nodded and followed her out to the hall. I didn’t know what Min-hwan was waiting for, but I was sure I would find out. We made our way down the stairs. Woong-ji held the railing tightly but after the first floor, let go and walked naturally. She looked back at me with a childlike grin that made the weeks of watching her recover in the infirmary worth keeping this a secret.

  We arrived at Min-hwan’s tall double-dragon doors, and Woong-ji knocked. Sung-ki opened the door and nodded us inside. Hana, Shin-soo, Cho, Yuri, and Bo turned to look as we came through, and smiles lit their faces—most of their faces.

  “What are we doing here?” Shin-soo asked with a bit of annoyance.

  Sung-ki’s lip curled back. “You’re awaiting our Grandmaster.”

  “I am here,” Min-hwan said behind me. I moved farther into the room to allow the man some space. He clasped his hands and we fell into a loose semi-circle around him.

  He hummed and nodded, looking at each of us in turn.

  “This matter is very sensitive. I will need a Silent Pact from each of you to proceed,” he said as he stepped up to me. He held his hand out, palm up, where a sickly green munje mist formed. “You may only speak of this information to the individuals you see here in this room—and the one we do not see,” Min-hwan said with a chuckle. “Mae, would you join us?”

  A flourish of blue sparkles appeared at my shoulder, then took shape as a miniature Mae. She sat, smiled, and kicked her feet a few times before crossing her legs.

  Min-hwan nodded, then looked back to me. “Place your hand on mine and confirm your silence on the information I am about to impart.”

  I did as he said and put my hand on his. The green munje tickled the creases of my palm, as if trying to find a way to get inside me. “I swear silence on this matter. I will speak of it to no one except who I see here in this room.”

  “Me too,” Mae said with a grin, putting her hand up.

  The tickling in my palm intensified to scratching, then stabbing. I winced and tried to pull my hand away on reflex, but Min-hwan grasped it tightly. The ripping sensation continued up my arm, through my neck and into my head. I gritted my teeth and inhaled sharply as the pain throbbed in my skull. After a moment, it subsided, and I sighed with relief.

  “Thank you,” he said, then moved on to the next student to do the same.

  Mae gasped as she spoke only to me, “He’s put a block on the short-term memory you’re about to make. This is very interesting! It appears that you won’t be capable of recalling the details when talking to anyone other than the faces you commit to this memory. Amazing!”

  ‘What about ry illusions?’

  “Hm, no. It would have to be the most incredible illusion to trick every one of your senses. They would have to impersonate them in manners, language, looks, everything. You know everyone in this room well, aside from Sung-ki—”

  ‘I think I know him well enough,’ I thought with a hopeful smile and looked to the instructor. Sung-ki quirked an eyebrow, then shifted his gaze to Min-hwan. They performed the same silence seal, and then everyone in the room was finished.

  “Very good. This incident is internally being dubbed The First Incursion. There were many less fortunate citizens who lost their lives that night, and two of our own, but the Kokyu are denying all involvement. They’ve pinned the blame on a rebel group that has given the current ruling king, Hisachi Sakai, reason to be fearful.

  “The rebels, Liberty Sun, known as Ribatasan in their tongue, have gained significant power with the people in recent years. They aim to bring an end to the wars that the king of Kokyu has been waging with Chi-ganya, our neighbors to the north, and Solari, the kingdom beyond the cold mountains.

  “King Hisachi has told our king he would never jeopardize our relationship. He has his guard patrolling the streets picking up anyone wearing the Ribatasan insignia and executing them.”

  He paused, then paced.

  “But we have discovered the true plot through several spymaster connections. This was an attempted coup carried out by a rogue military group that works for Dokun Yamamotto, the wansil-ne and foreign ambassador of Kokyu. He is the clan elder of the Yamamottos, a very large, very powerful clan. This was a plot to unseat the king by civil outrage.

  “The people of Kokyu would never support entering a third concurrent war and would rise up against the king with Ribatasan. Dokun would’ve thrown in, becoming the voice, spear, and shield of the Ribatasan, and therefore the people of Kokyu.”

  Min-hwan stopped and looked to each of us in turn. “We have foiled this plot and bought ourselves another year, perhaps two. Dokun will try again.”

  I felt stupid for knowing nothing of politics and decided to speak up. If this was critical inform
ation for us to know, I needed to understand it. “Why does Dokun want to be king? What does he gain by rising to that office? He seems to be capable of doing quite a lot of harm from where he is, and not getting blamed for it.”

  Min-hwan smirked. “Astute question; thank you, Jiyong. What he gains is a populace who is tired of their tyrant and ready to fervently back anyone who brings them peace. He gains the love and adoration of the people he will save from crisis, while implementing his own measures to control them without their knowing, all in the name of keeping the people safe.

  “What he seeks to gain is the might of a kingdom of forty million capable men and women who are willing to follow him wherever he leads, until he shows his true colors. Then, it will be too late. They will be trapped by his system, incapable of escape.”

  Shin-soo scoffed. “So what, he’s just the worst king of Kokyu ever? How is this our problem?”

  Min-hwan chuckled. “Another astute question. He is not trying to be just the worst king ever.” He quoted the words as he said them. “There are rumors that Dokun is planning some way to control our munje with powerful machina from the ancient ones. This is a dangerous claim.

  “As you well know, the third-year students perform an exchange on the fifth week for the entire year. The current exchange has been returned early due to the circumstances—and a delegate has been dispatched to be present for our graduation ceremony to offer condolences and promises.”

  “Dokun,” I growled the ambassador’s name.

  Min-hwan nodded. “Very good. Now, this is under the guise of mending the wound and bridging the rift between our kingdoms, but I fear for those who played a primary role in foiling his plot,” Min-hwan said with gravitas as he glanced around the room.

  “Us,” Shin-soo groaned.

  Min-hwan replied only with a kind smile.

  “What are we going to do about it?” Hana asked, ready to get started.

  Min-hwan paced again. “You are all graduating top of your class. The top twenty third-year students travel to the Kokyu for the entire year. This will put you squarely in enemy territory, where Bastion cannot protect you.