The conclusion of the titanic struggle between the armies of the Empire and the monstrous weapon of mass destruction known only as the god-beast.
Wrath of the God-Beast, Part 2
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
When historians would speak of the battle with the god-beast of Kali-ma, they would speak in glowing terms of the skill and prowess of those assembled to fight for the security of the Empire and for the survival of the city of Ryoko Owari Toshi. Many heroes were born that day, and far too many perished on the same day that their legend truly began. If the historians could have watched the battle from above, however, then the tales of its would be far different indeed, for the movement of the Empress’ forces across the battlefield would rival the most intricate and celebrated dances of the Kakita artisans.
As the wave of the great beast’s unholy spawn rushed forth to break the Empire’s lines, a countercharge of heavy Crab infantry surged from the front lines. It was as if a wave had been smashed by a boulder just before it reached shore, with water, foam, and debris cast in all directions. The serpentine demons scattered as the Crab shattered their ranks and split them into multiple directions. Then the Crab parted, forcing the ranks apart and creating a wedge within the twisted creatures’ ranks, a wedge that was promptly struck as the hammer strikes the anvil by an explosive charge by the Unicorn cavalry. The already disoriented creatures were completely scattered by the second charge, broken into three or four different groups, each casting about without direction or leadership. And that was when the Lion regulars moved in, neatly cutting the groups off from one another with line after line of ordered, disciplined troops. Once separated, the enemy was eradicated within mere moments, opening a gigantic hole in the enemy ranks and exposing the god-beast to the forces of the Empire.
The god-beast continued its inexorable advance, seemingly heedless of the slaughter of its minions. Through the constantly expanding holes in the ranks of its forces, a sudden rush of movement, faster even than the Unicorn cavalry, swooped toward it. The power of the Tsunami Legion, an elemental force powered by well-trained shugenja of the Phoenix Clan, assaulted the god-beast’s right flank. The flesh of the creature’s leg flickered once, quickly, like a horse’s flank when bothered by a fly, and then an absent lash of one of its limbs erased the Phoenix attackers from existence, striking them with such force that their armor, their weapons, their very bodies, simply shattered into tiny fragments.
The god-beast continued.
* * * * *
“Fortunes help us,” one of the shugenja whispered. “Taiko’s entire squadron is just… just gone.”
“We will offer prayers for their valor later,” Isawa Kimi said. The Master of the Void had a haunted look in her eyes, but her expression was one of absolute determination. “There is too much for us to do here, and small enough chance of success without succumbing to despair.” She peered carefully at the shugenja who had spoken. “Are you with us, Takashi?”
Isawa Takashi closed his eyes and nodded. “I am with you until the end and beyond, mistress.”
“Thank you, my friend,” she said with a slight smile. She turned to one of the other Phoenix gathered around her, well behind the Empire’s forces. “Gifu-sensei,” she asked quietly. “Are you ready?”
The tiny old woman cackled like a lunatic. “I haven’t been this excited in over a century, lass!” she said with a smile. “Just tell me when to begin!”
“As soon as you are able, thank you,” Kimi said, bowing slightly.
The old woman who was not a woman at all rubbed her hands together briskly and then folded them palm to palm and closed her eyes. She stood unmoving for several long moments before she began to grin again, but her brow was furrowed and sweat began to appear on her forehead. “Ugh,” she panted. “It is… very powerful. Very strong indeed.”
“What is she doing, Kimi-sensei?” one of the others asked.
Kimi turned. “It is difficult to explain, Kumai,” she answered. “For now, sufficed to say she is attempting to tame the bestial spirit of the god-beast.”
Realization dawned in the Phoenix woman’s eyes. “So then we…”
“Yes,” Kimi answered. “While she attempts to suppress the beast, then we shall commune with the Void and attempt to reach the god within it.” She peered up at the monstrosity in the distance. “I hope that some vestige of its mind remains,” she whispered to herself.
“Is it working, Gifu-sama?” one of the other Void shugenja asked.
“It is… a bit early… to tell,” the spirit woman gasped. “I have summoned… an old ally… that I sensed nearby. He can… assist me.”
“How difficult is it?” Agasha Yuhiko asked, his tone eager. “How would you compare it to the volcano?”
“Kumei, please,” Yuhiko interjected.
“It is approximately twice as difficult as a volcano!” Gifu belted out suddenly. “Now hush, you impertinent child! An elder is working!”
Yuhiko shrank in horror, but Kimi reached her hand toward him and the others. “Come,” she said. “It is time to be one with the Void.”
* * * * *
Butaru stood very still in the darkened building, his own breath deafeningly loud in his ears as he tried not to move or make any sound. He clutched a tonfa to his chest, but its value as a weapon was long since forgotten, and he held it to his chest as a child might clutch a favorite bed-thing, to keep the shadows at bay. Outside, such a short distance away, he heard something moving, sliding with a sickening sound like a large serpent, and heard a cart overturn in the street. He bit his lip to keep from letting a panicked scream slip out.
“A difficult situation, is it not?”
Butaru could not keep from a terrified squeal as he hurled himself to the floor with a thud. He waited for death, but nothing happened for several seconds, and finally he opened his eyes.
A woman in a mixture of bright blue and black was standing over him. “Difficult,” she repeated. “I have been in many such positions before.”
“Please be quiet!” Butaru hissed. “It will hear us!”
“They, not it,” the woman corrected. “But they will not hear us at the moment. I can prevent that, at least.”
Butaru frowned. “Are you a priestess?” He glanced at the swords on her hip.
“Not really,” she said. Butaru noticed now that there were three other men standing behind her. They looked almost as worried as he was. “I simply… know a few tricks.”
“We have to get out of here!” Butaro hissed. “Please, milady, we have to leave!” He tore at his own hair. “Oh Fortunes, why did I stay? I am a fool!”
“Probably,” the woman admitted. “But I know why you stayed. You stayed because you saw an opportunity. You saw a chance to claim the wealth left behind by those who fled, and that overpowered your fear.” She paused, tilting her head to the side. “Is your fear stronger now?”
Butaro ripped a small pouch from his belt and threw it to the ground, sending silver coins scattering in every direction. “The money means nothing if I die!”
“But what if you don’t?” she asked. “Are there not things more important than money? Don’t you want to be forgotten as a thief and a criminal, and be known as a hero? What greater reward can there be than adulation? What could not be yours for the taking if you are one of the heroes who saved the city?” She smiled. “Think of the rewards.”
Butaro licked his lips. He looked up at the others following the woman. He knew two of them. Criminals, both of them. Scum. Probably the same thing that people said about him. But perhaps not any longer. “Heroes,” he muttered.
The woman smiled and nodded. She looked at the others and saw the same thing in their eyes. Coins. Power. Women. Everything they wanted, if they were simply willing to take it.
Butaro nodded slowly. He rose and hefted his tonfa. “I am ready,” he said. “How many are there?”
“Two outside,” the woman said. “Go now. Become what you’ve always desired.”
Butaro grinned and turned to move to the door, the other three close behind.
Kakita Kensho-in rolled her eyes slightly as the men departed. She had not lied, not really. They would be remembered as heroes who aided in defending the city, and their families, what little they had, would benefit enormously from it. That the men would not live to enjoy the spoils of their efforts was of little concern. What use was reincarnation if it was not taken advantage of, after all?
* * * * *
Shimekiri moved through the wasted battlefield like a god of war, intent upon his prey. He paid no heed to the corpses at his feet. The dead were as nothing to him, and the living little more than that. It was the battle that mattered. The enemy at hand, the perfect moment of a flawless strike and absolute victory. That was all that mattered, that and nothing else.
Something clutched at his ankle.
The swordsman looked down, his grip on his blade tightening in anticipation of a swift and perfect stroke ending this distraction, but the fierce countenance of the man at his feet stayed his hand for the moment.
The man in the dirt was battered, his armor shattered and torn, his body drenched in blood despite that he had only a few wounds. His face was a mask of anger and determination. “Help me up, you damned simpleton Crane!” he snarled. “There is work to be done!”
“I am not Crane,” Shimekiri answered.
“You could have fooled me,” the man with the Crab mon spat. “You look the very…” his voice trailed off as his eyes lingered on the men following Shimekiri, and the goblin that numbered among them. “You are worse than Crane,” he finally said, spitting blood to the side and releasing the Spider’s leg. “I should cut this hand off for having touched you.”
“You are bold, for one in your position,” Shimekiri observed. “Do you not wish to beg for your life? Why should I spare a Crab?”
“I am Hida Fubatsu,” the man said with a snarl. “And if I valued my life so little to beg a piece of filth like you, then I do not deserve to live.”
Shimekiri’s expression did not change, but he nodded in the slightest gesture of respect. “Your wounds are not severe. You will live.”
“I do not need you to tell me that!” Fubatsu roared. “I am Crab! No gaijin demon can kill me!” He glanced in the direction that the Spider marched, and his brow furrowed. “You… march against the beast?”
“I march to kill it,” Shimekiri said.
Fubatsu’s anger dimmed for a moment, then his face twisted in hatred. “Damnation!” he said, striking the ground with his fist. He held a blade up. “Take this.”
Shimekiri took it. “The craftsmanship is… perfect.”
“Take it and cut that accursed beast!” Fubatsu shouted. “And get out of my sight before I change my mind!”
* * * * *
Shiba Yoshimi helped Isawa Mitsuko as the two moved toward the ritual circle Isawa Kimi and her acolytes had created. The four of them sat facing one another, perfectly positions in the northern, southern, eastern and western facings. Nearby, Agasha Gifu stood with her hands folded, her face a mask of concentration and discomfort. As the two Phoenix approached their kinsmen, a man in Mantis colors arrived as well, seemingly just materializing from the fog that had sprung up around the four Phoenix involved in the ritual. “I believe I made it clear that I no longer wish to speak with you,” the Mantis said quietly. He bore the mon of a fox over his heart.
“Now is not the time, Mizuru!” Gifu said. “I need your help!”
The man shook his head and looked around nervously. To Yoshimi he appeared tensed as if ready to flee. For some reason the image of a fox with its tail flickering nervously floated into Yoshimi’s mind. “I turned my back on that life,” he began.
Gifu’s eyes popped open. They were no longer even vaguely human. “Do you see what is taking place here?” she demanded. “You will turn your back on all life! Of all kinds! Now help me!”
The man bearing a Kitsune mon frowned, but stepped forward and placed his hands over Gifu’s, then closed his eyes. “What is going on?” Yoshimi asked the Master of Air.
“Hard to understand the ways of the spirits,” she replied, her voice exhausted.
Yoshimi frowned, but nodded. “Rest here,” he said, lowering her gently to the ground.
“I will be fine,” she insisted. “See to the others.”
Yoshimi moved toward Kimi, but stopped several paces away. Her eyes had gone completely black, and her mouth twitched every few seconds as if in some semblance of speech. “My lady,” he said in a very quiet voice, “are you well?” He waited several moments, looking for any sign that she could hear him. For any sign that she was in distress. Finally, frowning, he reached out with a tentative hand to touch her shoulder ever so lightly.
Another hand seized his wrist with a grip like iron. “I would not do that.”
Yoshimi looked up at the tattooed man who had appeared beside him without so much as a whisper. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I am Togashi Akagi,” the monk replied. “You do not understand the intricacies of the Void. Do not touch her. To do so would imperil her very soul.”
“Her body and soul are mine to safeguard. Do not question the execution of my duty.”
Akagi gave him a contemptuous smirk. “Do not succumb to such arrogance, brother. Are the Shiba no better than that?” The grip on his wrist tightened painfully. “Do not touch her,” he repeated.
Yoshimi growled and looked to Kimi. “I will not touch her, but not for your sake. For hers.”
“Very well then,” Akagi said, releasing him. “I must return to the battle.”
Yoshimi nodded. As the monk turned to go, he added “Do not step between my charge and I again, monk. It will be your end.”
Akagi glanced over his shoulder, chuckling. “Will it?”
“Yes,” Yoshimi said. His gaze did not waver, and he paid no mind to the swimming motion of the tattoos across the monk’s back.
The monk chuckled again. “Perhaps it will,” he said. “We shall see, I suppose.”
* * * * *
The Spider forces grew nearer to the beast, and only narrowly avoided a casual strike that devastated an entire company who fought only a few hundred meters away from them. “It is… beyond thought,” the sergeant who had abused the goblin scout only a short time ago said, his voice low and awestruck. “We cannot fight such a thing.”
Shimekiri backhanded the man, cracking his helmet and spinning him around twice before he hit the ground, unmoving. A tiny giggle escaped the goblin’s mouth, and he stared up at the swordsman with undisguised adulation. “We kill the beast,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”
“I do not wish to draw your ire, my lord,” another of the armored men said, stepping forward, “but do you have a plan? We will do whatever you say, but it is our hope that you will not throw our lives away on a meaningless gesture.”
“That would be a waste,” Shimekiri said flatly. He withdrew a small clay bottle from his belt. “This will end the beast, or at least weaken it enough that it can be killed.” He stabbed the blade the Crab had given him into the ground and held the bottle aloft. “This was granted to me by Lord Daigotsu. It contains the blood of our god Fu Leng. If introduced to the beast, it will weaken him. Perhaps kill him.”
“How can we know for sure?” the man asked.
“We cannot,” Shimekiri said. “We must have faith.”
“Put blood on weapon?” Gakku asked. “Stab beast?”
“If we must,” the swordsman said. “If we can find a way to get it into the beast’s system more directly, that would be better. That seems impossible, however.”
“Not impossible!” Gakku shouted. Quick as lightning, he grabbed the bottle from Shimekiri and ran toward the beast. The swordsman’s inhuman speed was a fraction of a moment too slow to capture the little beast, and the goblin’s hair slipped through his fingers as he unleashed a brief shout of rage and surprise.
The goblin deftly crossed the field and leapt to dig its talons into the flesh of the god-beast’s leg. It scurried up the thing’s leg, its presence too little to attract the beast’s attention. It took longer than seemed possible, with Gakku making his way with the benefit of occasional Tsuruchi arrows that were lodged throughout the things flesh. He drew nearer and nearer to its maw, the bottle held gently in its teeth.
In Gakku’s mind there were images of Daigotsu, praising the name Gakku, welcoming the little being into the Spider as a hero and a veteran. It was all the scout could do to keep the smile from causing the bottle to slip. As he grew closer, he smelled the fetid stench of the thing’s breath, and he lifted the bottle, yanking the stopper out. “For Spider!” he screamed.
In the distance, Shimekiri watched in mute horror as the god-beast flicked its head like a cow might, and watched as the tiny speck that was on its cheek was hurled into the air. Almost as an afterthought, the beast raised its head and snapped the tiny gnat-like thing up, the speck disappearing instantly.
“We are undone,” Shimekiri said morosely.
* * * * *
Kimi was one with all, and one with nothing.
Often she had drifted beyond the veil of the Void, swimming in the emptiness between the spaces of all things. This time she had sojourned farther than ever before, farther than she would have dared under different circumstances. Her acolytes anchored her, adding their power to her own, tethering her to the mortal realm despite the distance she swam through to the other side. She could no longer feel anything of the world, only the strength of her acolytes, a beacon that she could use to return when her work was finished.
If it could, in fact, be finished.
The raging, animal presence that filled the Void in this place, that leaked from the very pores of the god-beast’s flesh, had at last abated and receded. Its attention was centered in the mortal realm, both by the battle it faced, inconsequential as it might be, and the efforts of the spirit that called itself Agasha Gifu. In the absence of the beast’s rage, there was something else, something that Kimi must reach if there was any chance for the day to be won. It was nothing more than a spark. A sliver of light. A memory.
Can you understand me? Kimi called with her mind through the Void.
There was no actual response, but after what seemed like hours, there was a tiny flicker of awareness.
Praise the Fortunes, Kimi thought/spoke. She felt like weeping, but dared not let her focus waver for even a moment. I know that you are there. I know that there is something left, something remaining of what you were before the Destroyer wrought her horrors upon you. Please, I need you to come back. I need your understanding.
Again, the delay was considerable. Finally, there was another flicker of awareness, but nothing more than basic emotion. Fear. Regret. And desire. A longing more powerful than anything Kimi had ever felt. It washed over her like an ocean, staggering her.
I know what you want, she thought/spoke to the entity. I would give anything if I could restore you. What was done to you, even a gaijin deity, should never have taken place. Nothing divine deserves such a fate. But I cannot restore you. There is not enough remaining. What you were, what once was, cannot be remade. Your presence is forever lost.
Pain. Loss. Anger. Pain. So much pain. And then, after a long while of pain, there was something else. Something pleading. Something pitiful and terrible.
Kimi lowered her head. If that is what you wish, then yes. You are a god, and beyond that which I know, but there is so little left of you… yes. Yes, we can unmake what remains. We can set you free.
Rage. Pain.
Acceptance.
I am sorry, Kimi said. Please, forgive me.
* * * * *
The beast staggered and nearly fell, despite that there were no obvious attacks that had struck anything vital. It shook its head and roared, this time in surprise and pain, sounds that the assembled armies had not heard, but which all instantly recognized as a moment of opportunity.
Horiuchi Nobane’s face was streaked with white paint and the blood of the countless foes he had slain. Even the blood of the beast itself stained the hem of his kimono, as he had launched more than one successful strike against the thing’s flank and lived. He screamed in fury as he led his men to the charge, silently begging his ancestors to grant him a glorious death so that he could join his them.
Togashi Kaelung ground his teeth against the pain as he launched flurry after flurry of attacks against the beast’s inhumanly resilient flesh, flesh that had destroyed his trusted axe hours earlier. Before, it had been like striking steel. Now, it was as striking stone, but there was some yield, and the thing’s flesh first discolored and then began to bleed. The monk was certain that his hands were broken, but he would not stop, not until it was dead.
Daigotsu Shimekiri said nothing as he cut the beast again and again, marveling privately at the quality of the Crab’s steel. Huge hunks of flesh fell to the ground, staining it black with gallon upon gallon of blood. The beast’s death was his masterpiece, his crowning achievement, the most flawless of all victories.
The beast raged and stomped its feet, its legs completely stained with its blood as its tiny enemies carved away at its flesh mercilessly. Its wrath truly aroused, it took a terrible toll, destroying legions with its mad flailing, but each move was slower, each attack slightly less potent. The thing began to pale from blood loss, no longer caring that it trod upon a field littered with hundreds or thousands of dead.
The beast staggered, and it fell.
Gakku the goblin screamed its throat hoarse, stopping only to draw deep, ragged breaths and spit out the thick ichor that kept filling its mouth. The bottle had been forgotten, dropped somewhere as it entered the beast’s maw, and if he had contemplated the matter at all, the goblin would have realized he could not be certain if the bottle had even entered the beast’s mouth in the first place.
The crude blade he carried saved Gakku from a terrible descent into the beast’s stomach, and he hacked away mercilessly at the roof of the beast’s mouth, desperate to try and escape. He tore through the roof of the mouth, nearly drowning himself in a torrent of blood and bile, choking on it but fighting his way to the top, crawling out of the mouth. The strange crystal pendant that he wore, the one that he had found in the rubbish bin near the Fingers of Bone, glowed slightly, allowing him to see ever so slightly the nightmare that surrounded him.
The red gave way to a sickly gray, and the torrent of blood changed in consistency.
Gakku screamed a strangled cry and redoubled his efforts to escape.
* * * * *
The unholy thing was done. Kimi sensed the beast dying, but that no longer mattered to her. The thing she had done, the unmaking she had performed, was blasphemy by any measure of the word. It mattered not to her if the thing she had helped to die was a Fortune or some ancient gaijin god whose name she had never heard. She had aided in its death, and though it had been a mercy, she felt sure her soul was imperiled. She was lost.
The grief she felt was overwhelming. She was lost not only metaphorically but literally. In her pain, in her guilt, she could no longer sense her acolytes. Their light was gone, and she could not find it. She was adrift in the Void. In the emptiness that was all things and nothing.
Sensation.
There was a sense of a hand on her shoulder, and a gentle push. She was drifting then, washed away in the Void. There was a pinprick of light, a tiny flame like a candle on the horizon, and she moved toward it. She could sense them. The acolytes.
There was a shimmering for a moment, as if something was within the Void with her, and she saw a face. A familiar face. It smiled, and she felt his love for her one last time.
Kimi wept again, this time with joy.
* * * * *
Togashi Kaelung lay dying on the field of battle. There were no shouts of victory that he could hear, no cries of mourning. He had heard a sound, a terrible noise that could only be the beast’s death cry, and felt the unbelievable impact that could only have been its fall to the ground. Then there had been nothing. Kaelung wondered if the sound had made him deaf, but that did not matter. Soon he would be dead, and all else would fade away. The ground beneath him was already wet with his blood. There was not much left to lose, he thought. Kaelung thought for a moment of all the men he had seen die. They had all reacted differently, but some had passed without regret, with a certain serenity that he had always strived to achieve in life. He envied those men. That was not his fate, it seemed.
There was a rustling near him, and Kaelung saw a faint green glow at the edge of his vision. “Togashi Kaelung,” a voice said near his ear. “You have fought valiantly today. Your heroism is an inspiration to those who have seen you on the field of battle. The darkness in your spirit has never dimmed the light of your being.” A beautiful woman with wild hair floated in the edge of his vision, extending her hand to him. The hand was what glowed so brilliantly. “Take my hand, Kaelung. Be born again and change the world by your example.”
Kaelung stared at Matsu Benika for a moment, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He struggled for the strength to reach for her, but at the same time he became aware of shadows pooling on the opposite side.
“Is that really what you want?” a seductive whisper issued in his ear. “Do you want to be looked upon as an example, as a hero? Think of the burden that comes with it. Remember instead when you wandered the Empire, enacting your own will to achieve your own ends. Your own selfishness, your wrath, your power… you tapped into it and made it your own. You were no one’s man but your own. Think of what you could accomplish if you but returned to those days.” A dark and beautiful woman, Kakita Kensho-in, floated on the opposite side, her shadowed hand extended to him as well. “Join me, and we can shape the fate of men without the strength to find their own path.”
Kaelung glanced from one to the other, incapable of speaking for the moment. He closed his eyes, and reached out one hand.
* * * * *
The battle was long since over, and the massive corpse of the god-beast lay unmoving on the earth, its form partially driven into the ground by its own weight as it fell dead upon the ground. For several hours, large numbers of samurai stood guard against it to ensure that it would not rise again, but finally even they had retreated to the city to tend their wounds. Shugenja were stationed periodically around its edge, preparing for the ritual of unprecedented size that would take place at dawn to immolate the thing, keeping watch for any sign of life, but there was none. The beast was dead.
But there was life still within it.
Late in the night, when the shugenja were deep within their meditations, there was a tiny twitch of movement from the beast’s head. It was nothing to speak of, almost imperceptible from a distance greater than a few dozen feet, but if one had been standing upon the beast’s leathery hide, the sensation would have been unmistakable. Moments later, it came again, and then again only a few moments after that. It increased in frequency and strength, coming faster and faster until, finally, the flesh of the beast’s head tore and shattered with a sound like dry wood underfoot.
Something emerged from deep within the recesses of the beast’s skull. It bore no resemblance to anything that had ever walked the Empire before. It was taller than a man, and wider again by half. Its arms were tipped with deadly talons, and its mouth ran freely with the blood of the divine on which it had gorged itself. Large, muscular growths emerged from its sides beneath its arms, looking for all in the world like a new pair of arms growing from its ribs.
The beast panted and wiped the blood from its mouth, snarling at the discomfort from having to eat its way free. It flexed its new form, growling at the subsiding pain of transformation.
“Gakku,” it whispered, speaking its own name in a struggle to remember. The images that flooded its mind were not its own, but visions induced by the consumption of the god-beast’s flesh. It shook its head, trying to force the false memories from its mind.
“Daigotsu!” it whispered. “Kali-ma!”
The beast lumbered into the night.
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