by DB King
“Thanks, boss, I’ve also taken the liberty of hiring a group of professional explorers to scour that place,” Yojimbo added, immediately catching Jin’s attention. After all, he had spent resources on something not quite necessary to their cause. Still, Jin offered him the benefit of the doubt. Yojimbo was no simpleton and it’d be foolish to treat him as such.
“What are you hoping to find in there?” The Sleeping Woods was roughly five hundred thousand square miles of dense forests. It was one of only places in the Eastern Provinces where magic had seeped deep into the bedrock, underneath the soil, bathing the trees themselves in magical energies. It was why so many Magical Beasts dwelled in it, and why it sounded very stupid that anyone would send a team of explorers into that place—not to mention the Werewolves.
Yojimbo’s grin threatened to split his face apart as he walked to a wooden chest and took out an old scroll. It was yellowed and withered, and upon it was a series of old Moyatani scriptures. “It’s a map to a lost treasure trove somewhere in the Sleeping Woods. It doesn’t specify just what the treasure actually is, but what it does specify is the location and how to get there safely.”
Jin raised an eyebrow. When was the last time he’d gone off on a quest to find some lost treasure? He’d surely done plenty of it in his adventuring days when he’d lived as Valden, but Jin simply never had the time or the inclination to pursue such things. He envied the explorers in a way. Adventure, in and of itself, was already a treasure—the excitement, the thrill, the sleepless nights, the battles to be held in tight corridors, and the loot that was shared afterward.
He shook his head. “How sure are you that there’s a treasure in there at all? For all we know, it could be nothing.”
And Jin had lost count of just how many hours he’d wasted chasing after a treasure that didn’t exist. Sure, he’d often recovered valuable loot and artifacts on his journey, but finding out the treasure he’d been chasing never really existed at all was often disheartening. And, as much as he wanted to, Jin simply couldn’t spare any resources for something that turned out to be nothing.
Yojimbo pulled out five books from his cache. Each one seemed to detail the life of one Umoro Hachiman, an explorer of great renown. Even Jin had heard of him, though he knew sparse details about the man’s life. What Jin did know was that he was famous for discovering some ancient relics that dated back all the way to the discovery of the island of Moyatani by the honored ancestors. Jin raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to read a few books, no matter how interesting they might have seemed.
“In all of his diaries and written works, Umoro Hachiman has referenced something he calls the Black Demon’s Treasure. No one knows what it is and I’m sure only around five people have ever heard of it.” Yojimbo explained. “While no one definitely knows that this treasure really is, I believe I may have cracked the mystery as to where it is. Hachiman was subtle, but he left many clues in the pages of his books. Each one points to its location. However, a single clue will take one absolutely nowhere. So, naturally, I compiled all his works and figured out the treasure’s exact location.”
Nobito hummed. “I might’ve heard of this treasure from my master, but I was a child then and my memories of it may be a little hazy to say the least. But my master believed the treasure was too great for any one man to wield, and that it should remain hidden from the eyes of the world forever. I honestly forgot why it was called the Black Demon’s Treasure. The old man did explain once.”
Yojimbo nodded. “In any case, I narrowed down the exact location of the treasure. It might be a weapon, it might be riches. I don’t know. But I’m sure it’ll help us in this war, somehow. It has to. Hachiman believed the treasure was a mighty thing of great and terrible power. It has to be something, at least.”
Jin sighed. It was a long shot and they didn’t exactly need it. But, if Yojimbo was right, then this treasure, whatever it was, might just be what he needed to keep Hirata safe when the war finally erupts. It could be a weapon, it could be mountains of gold, or it could be some kind of magical artifact—any of those things was worth it, Jin reasoned. Besides, Yojimbo had already sent out the exploration team. It’d be a waste of time to have them recalled. “Fine, if your little team finds nothing of importance, then it really wouldn’t weigh us down anyway.”
Jin shifted his focus back toward the map. “I’ll try to sneak into the enemy army once it stops near Hirata. They’ll likely make camp here, near the river. It’s far enough out that our watchtowers wouldn’t spot them, but close enough to launch an immediate attack if they want to. If they have a mage, then I will do my best to eliminate said mage, even if I have to alert the whole bloody camp to my presence. If there are no mages among them, I’ll try to kill as many of them as I can. With any luck, I might just drive them to retreat before they ever reach Hirata.”
Nobito sighed. “This is why mages shouldn’t interfere in the wars of men. Nearly all of you can shift the outcome of a battle with just a flick of your fingers. I’ve seen mages freeze entire battlefields on a whim, turn legions of men into ashes…”
Jin couldn’t help but agree. Mages shouldn’t be a part of the lives of mortal men, ever, but where their powers could be used for personal gain, it could also be used to help others. A powerful mage could just as easily bring life to a barren farm as another mage could burn it all down. “Whatever the case, if they have a mage in their ranks, it’ll be good for the continued existence of Hirata that said mage be eliminated immediately. I can’t have someone blow a hole through the walls that took so much time and effort to build.”
Yojimbo nodded. “I agree, enemy mages need to die before they ever reach civilian centers. It’s too dangerous, otherwise.”
“In that case, you better remember everything I taught you about remaining unseen, Jin,” Nobito said, before walking toward the tent’s exit. “I’ll take my leave. I’ve many students to teach today and most of them are idiots.”
Jin nodded as his former master exited the tent. He continued, “If they do reach Hirata, I want your men to be constantly snapping at their heels. Poison their water supply, set fire to their camps at night, set vermin upon their food stashes, and whatever else you can think of that doesn’t involve direct combat.”
“What about their horses?” Yojimbo suggested. “I can send in a few of my sneakiest boys to set their horses loose. An army without a proper cavalry force would never be able to function properly. They’ll have no forward scouts or skirmisher screens.”
Jin agreed. “If you can, then do it. Cripple them as much as possible. Our objective is to ensure they never reach Hirata at all. If they do reach my village, I want this enemy army to be nothing more than a shadow of its former self.”
He would not—could not—betray his promise to his uncle.
Jin was prepared to do everything in his power to protect the people.
Chapter 21
“Oh? You’re finally awake,” It was a child’s voice, holding a certain air of condescension that was held only by those who knew themselves to be truly powerful. He knew that tone well enough. “You’ve been floating here for the last two days. What happened to you?”
Shinji did not recognize the voice, but it was somewhat distantly familiar—a stray memory in a forgotten trail of thought.
Shinji tried speaking, but what came out of his mouth was a cacophony of dry coughs and gurgles—not quite the words he’d been hoping for. There was a soft chuckle to his right, but the footsteps indicated that whoever was near him happened to be moving, likely in circles. “People say they saw you fly out of the village, like a ball of fire, screaming and kicking in the air. I had to see for myself. I even had the guards make sure you were never disturbed, but when I came here all I saw was you floating in an old fishing pond.”
Shinji’s eyes drifted to the side and met a barrage of water. He frowned and forced himself upright, rising to his feet and wobbling as he did. There were tiny fishes and critters a
ttached to his person, biting and chomping at his skin, though most of them were stuck as his flesh regenerated almost as fast as their teeth could chew. He’d been here for two days?
His clothes were torn ragged, likely eaten away by the elements and the creatures that dwelled in the pond he’d landed in. His eyes hadn’t healed—quite an oddity, considering everywhere else seemed well enough to move without aching terribly, which meant his regeneration was working fine. Something else was messing with his eyes – an external factor.
Something flashed in his mind’s eyes—dark memories and the thirsting laughter of an evil more ancient than anything he’d ever known or seen. It ordered him to do something—no, its command was clear in his head. He had to travel south and meet with the one who wields the light. He had to warn somebody—anybody—of this great and terrible evil. I can hear its voice in my head!
“Hey, are you alright?” the childish voice asked. “You don’t look too good, mister foreigner.”
Shinji doubled over and puked out a clump of grass and moss. The taste of it was foul on his tongue and the thought that it’d been inside of him was enough to nearly send him into another regurgitating fit. But there was simply nothing in his stomach to purge.
When he finally came to, Shinji found himself standing eye to eye with the lord of Hirata’s son. The clarity of his vision had returned, though every color was still somewhat muddled and hazy, like a blurry painting, obscured by a veil of thin cloth. Still, Shinji could see well enough to recognize the lord’s only son, Toyotoda Ebisu.
“I—” Whatever Shinji wanted to say almost immediately disappeared as he paused, wide eyed, and glared at the utterly alien presence that was Ebisu. The boy’s aura, the feel of his magical energy, the unnatural cold he exhumed… All of it was utterly alien—a kind of magic that simply should not be. It wasn’t overwhelming in its presence, not like Murasaki Jin’s, but Shinji wasn’t even sure if the boy’s magic could be quantified at all. “What—”
The words died in his throat as dark magic seized his body, holding every inch of him in a monstrously powerful grip. He could not move.
Ebisu’s right hand was held out, a shimmering bubble of magic surrounding his fingers. Shinji couldn’t make out the tattoo on the boy’s forearm. It exuded a sickly, purple glow. “Weren’t you the one who intruded in my home? Father told me to look out for you. He said you might be trouble. I didn’t listen too much. I figured you’d be too afraid of my master to ever come back, but then…”
The boy’s face darkened. “It happened, and my master disappeared. I tried looking for him, but then I came home and heard of someone supposedly breaking into my home and then flying right out of it, just like my master.”
Shinji couldn’t fight back. Despite the utility and versatility of his abilities, they weren’t specifically meant for fighting. Sure, he could use them for fighting and he had done so numerous times already, with great success, but they simply weren’t meant to be used in such a manner. With his visions, he could see exactly what his opponent would do next, allowing him to evade, defend, or counter with utmost precision. Sometimes, Shinji would even see the whole fight happen before it ever does and he’d know exactly what to do to end it as quickly as possible, without ever allowing his opponent to unleash their powers. Sure, he had superhuman strength and speed, just like any other mage, but—unlike most Moyatani mages—Shinji was incapable of unleashing torrents of pure destruction from his fingertips, alter the weather, or turn entire forests into ashes in mere seconds.
He had none of that. He could only make use of what he had and what he had simply wasn’t optimized for fighting.
Then again, unlike the children of Moyatani, the Varnu people preferred to talk first before fighting. In fact, it was better if everything was resolved by talking, without ever having to raise one’s fists.
Shinji coughed hard, his lungs having soaked up quite a bit of water. It was only his magically enhanced physiology that’d kept him alive. Mortal men and women would’ve died if their places were reversed. “I’m sorry about that, lord Ebisu. But I was investigating the cause of the nightmare and my investigations simply led me to your manor. I wanted to get your permission, but you… well… you weren’t there. And I had a reason to believe that this might’ve been an immediate threat. So, for the sake of the people, I had to break into your home. I swear I stole nothing from your home.”
Ebisu’s head tilted to the right. He blinked once before sighing and dropping his right hand. The pressure around Shinji’s body dissipated instantly and he fell right back into the shallow pool. Is he using telekinesis? Shinji wondered. What sort of magical beast did he absorb to get such an ability?
“I know you didn’t steal anything,” Ebisu said assuredly. “I’ve had you searched while you slept. I just wanted to see if you’d die in there.”
“What?”
Ebisu laughed. The trees swayed away from him, as though the spirits of nature were repulsed by his presence. But… Ebisu was only a child. Though utterly alien and incomprehensible, his aura was not nearly as repulsive as the aura of that thing that called itself the Asura. No, that monster was evil and malice, given form. Shinji shook his head. “Regardless, my lord, I believe I’ve discovered the cause for the nightmare.”
Ebisu raised an eyebrow and leaned down. The boy, who was probably only six years old, loomed over him and looked so much taller than he actually was. The lord’s son spoke with a grave, but curious tone. “What caused it? Did something attack my village?”
Shinji shook his head. “I believe a powerful evil spirit has taken residence in your manor, my lord. It was so powerful that it was capable of fully interacting with the material world and casting me aside without the aid of magic. It was responsible for the nightmare. Its presence was similar to the dark presence I felt on the night of the nightmare. I just can’t wrap my head around why. What could it possibly gain by causing your village folk to attack each other?”
Ebisu nodded and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. How do we get rid of it?”
Shinji shook his head. “I doubt any of the methods I know of are enough to exorcise it from the mortal world.”
And it was true. While there were about a hundred different ways to help angry, vengeful spirits pass on into the realm of souls at the center of all the stars, all of them would fail in the face of the Asura—or the self-proclaimed Asura, anyway. Spirits varied greatly in power and scope. It defined who they were and what their roles were in the grand scheme of the world and its wonders. The Asura’s power was simply beyond anything Shinji had ever known—beyond anything his people had ever known. Its existence was, quite literally, impossible. The fact that it might’ve been a real, physical creature at some point in its existence made things even more complicated than they already were.
Still, Shinji had to hope that the spirit was only deceiving him. Otherwise… Well, otherwise, he wouldn’t know what he’d do. Exorcising curses was easy enough. All he’d need to do was to talk it down and convince it of the futility of its actions, convince it that it was simply better to let go and embrace the peace of eternity.
Spirits, as a whole, could be categorized into three types: Nature spirits, Free spirits, and Curse spirits. Nature spirits governed the many aspects of nature, ranging from Fire spirits to Time spirits. They were the most powerful type, given the responsibility they had to perform for the entirety of their existence. Shinji’s own Guardian Spirit was a Nature type, the Spirit of Visions, one who was responsible for all the visions in the world.
The second type was the Free spirits. They were not nearly as powerful as Nature spirits, but they were without responsibilities and burdens. They often took on the forms of fairies, elves, and dwarves, dwelling in places rich in magic, where they could take on physical forms. Otherwise, they spent most of their time playing tricks on children or placing weak curses in people’s houses. They were mostly harmless and uncaring for the affairs of mortals, save for the very rar
e occasions in which The Elders of the Varnu would call on them during feasts and celebrations as the Free spirits were drawn to happiness and merriment.
The most dangerous spirits were the Curse spirits, who were most often mistaken for demons. Like the Free spirits, Curses were without responsibilities and burdens. Unlike the fun-loving spirits, however, Curses exist only by the power of their own pain and the pain of others. The entities are very often borne of hatred and anger, anchored in the mortal realm by a constant need to feed on human emotions. More often than not, Curses dissipate on their own as most of them simply aren’t capable of sustaining their own hate, disappearing into the realm of souls after a while or after someone convinces them that holding on to grudges wasn’t going to make their afterlives better.
However, Shinji once asked his mentor, what happened when a Curse could sustain itself? What happens when it grows strong and powerful? What happens when it grows to match a Nature spirit?
And what happens when it grows even stronger?
The Elder’s answer had been rather simple: such a thing hasn’t happened and will never happen.
And, in a way, he was right. None of Shinji’s questions held any sort of merit, since none of his proposed scenarios were even remotely possible.
Except Shinji had felt the power of the most destructive Nature spirit, the Lord of Fire, and still it was almost nothing compared to the sheer presence of the Asura. That thing… could it even be called a spirit? Surely. It didn’t have an actual physical presence. What was there, at the root of its overwhelming presence, was raw, undiluted, malevolence. There was nothing else at work. Its connection to the source of its power was so great that it didn’t need a magical nexus to manifest itself in the mortal realm.
