Tantra makes it in two strides, to be fair they’re long strides, enhanced biology and a generous amount of boosting proving to be a potent combination. In an instant she is beside a man as his broadsword bears down on Etra, in the next he is sent flying by a crushing strike from her kanabō

  Now, some (some referring to everyone) might say that turning your back on an enemy is a bad thing, and while that might be true for most, Tantra has a fun little secret. She can see through echolocation, enhanced hearing and prodigious training proving their worth as Tantra spins out of the way of a khopesh that would’ve split her skull.

  Tantra strikes the crazed inner disciple’s ribs as she completes her spin. She doesn’t hear them break, but she does hear them creak, which tells her that she can hurt him.

  Good.

  That’s always a worry with cultivators further along the path. If Tantra could infuse her weapon with Qi like her friends then it wouldn’t much matter, all her blows would prove devastating to those on her level.

  But she can’t, so it’s a moot point.

  Tanta maintains distance from khopesh as he tries to break through her guard, occasionally hitting his arms or legs, but it does little to faze him.

  Tantra clicks her tongue, she can’t take this long on one opponent, not when her friends are suffering the wrath of five. Of their number none have faced a true battle since they came to Ralth, bodies not durable enough for the arena.

  Neither is Tantra, but there’s something to be said for having an influential sponsor, so she’s had some privileges that the others didn’t. If you consider risking your life in a bloodsport a privilege-actually, scratch that, some cultivators probably would.

  Point being, while they’ve trained for duels Tantra’s acclimated to chaos.

  And combat is more often chaos than it is dueling.

  Khopesh barks a laugh at being struck again and dashes forward, but Tantra is relentless, maintaining her swings as she steps back to keep the distance.

  Tantra can hear Kisrin’s pained grunt as a jian digs into his guts, as well as the multiple blows he suffers from a set of nunchucks.

  Tantra clicks her tongue and moves.

  She’s bordering on her sensory limits, so she can’t add to the thread feeding her heart; instead she boosts her legs directly, making sure to maintain the main thread, can’t afford the backlash right now.

  She dashes to Kisrin-

  Tantra smells a wave of freshly shed blood as so much liquid Qi is used behind her, she can hear/see as Khopesh makes an explosive dash for her spine, bearing down both blades at a speed she can’t compete, her eyes widen and-

  A steel staff whips his head back, Etra letting broadsword get a good cut on her shoulder to aid Tantra. She would nod, but that takes too much time, instead she makes an internal promise to thank her later.

  Tantra arcs her club down on jian, striking his skull, and seemingly only doing as much damage as a heavy punch between mortals rather than caving in his skull. Jian, dazed, doesn’t react in time before Kisrin jams his spear in the man's heart

  Kisrin twists his spear and Jian crumples to the floor, clutching at his heart. Kisrin pulls out his spear and refocuses on Rimi as Tantra turns to face khopesh. She barely hears the whistle of blades as two pairs of claws rake across her back.

  Fuck, Tantra thinks, a sound technique.

  Efficient too, Tantra didn’t even catch a whiff of Qi.

  Tantra turns striking behind her, but claws crouches under the blow and boosts with a precipitous amount of Qi.

  Liquid Qi.

  Fuck.

  How many anchored cultivators did they send to block a gate?

  She doesn’t have time to contemplate that as claws springs from her crouch and jams into her torso, three claws digging through her heart. Tantra coughs out blood, but grips the arm piercing her heart, manifests her club, manifesting her bone jian, and cuts off the womans hand.

  All in less then a second

  Pays to be familiar with your storage artifact.

  Also to have enhanced senses but that’s besides the point.

  The point, as it were, is currently speeding towards claw’s brain.

  She dodges.

  Right into the guandao that cuts off her head.

  Tantra blinks at Yorin’s bloody form as he twists with the fury of a honey badger and charges the two opponents overwhelming Etra. She glances over to where he was fighting to find a man with hook swords missing an arm and a deep cut leading to his heart.

  Yorin did that?

  She’s impressed.

  No time to contemplate that however, Etra looks like she’s barely hanging…holy shit is she missing an arm?!?

  Tantra throws caution to the wind and boosts her legs with as much Qi as they can handle, causing an explosion as she kicks of the ground and is behind khopesh in an instant, her club moving to a speed she’s only attained once before as her arms are infused with so much Qi.

  Khopesh doesn’t even have time to react as Tantra caves in his skull.

  Tantra goes to move for broadsword-

  A khopesh digs into her back and jams in her spine.

  Tantra lets out a scream as she swipes behind her, causing the weapon to be dislodged, she turns to face the man who should be dead as he smiles like a madman.

  She can barely fucking stand with how much she boosted for that one blow.

  “You’ve gotten stronger!” He slurs, “fabulous! If one had told me you were to grow into such a warrior in seven years I’d have thought them a fool.”

  “Do I know you?” Tantra coughs out.

  The man frowns, “huh, guess I didn’t really leave an impression last time did I? Does the name Soma Tellran ring any bells?”

  Vaguely, yes.

  “No.”

  He frowns harder, then shrugs, “well, I doubt you’ll forget it after today! Such a splendid battle, you are a warrior beyond warriors, I hope when next we meet, the bloodshed will be as legendary as it was today.”

  “Surprisingly verbose for someone with half their skull caved in,”

  He waves her off, “there are ways to…modify your organs, if you know the right secrets of course. Anywho it looks like the battle’s just about over, congratulations on your victory!”

  The man de-manifests his weapons and bows then…walks away.

  Tantra lets him, she doesn’t know if she can manage another strike like the one that smashed his brain. She turns to find that the fighting…has mostly stopped, the tag along cultivators finishing their battles with the few ambushers remaining.

  Most of the nobles, including their children, are dead.

  Tantra looks on at the mangled corpses, searing the sight into her memory before turning to her friends.

  Etra is sitting on the floor, holding onto her severed arm as she pants heavily, meanwhile Yorin and Kisrin face down Rimi exchanging expletives, as Doman grabs Rimi’s elbow, holding her back

  Tantra blinks.

  Why is he alive?

  Wasn’t Rimi going after-

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Oh.

  Ooooh.

  “Doman,” Tantra hacks out a glob of blood, “you fucking bastard, you’re the one behind this?”

  Doman ignores her.

  “Rimi, calm down, we need to go,” he says, “you can’t take them all on your own.”

  Rimi lets out a long breath from her nose, “okay, okay, I’m calm”

  “Good.”

  “DOMAN,” Tantra yells, “don’t fucking ignore me!”

  He continues to ignore her.

  Rimi picks up Doman and Tantra catches the scent of liquid Qi and-

  They’re gone.

  -

  Yorin is mad.

  He knew Rimi, talked to her a few times, she was quite pleasant company all told. He always thought Tantra’s dislike for the woman was juvenile. Sure she’s from the same sect as the two that killed Rakan but she isn’t the one who did it, didn’t even know the twins that did. So, through his guilt, he bridged the gap and got to know the woman.

  He knows she likes to perform a mix of tricks and acrobatics with her nunchucks.

  He knows The Mouth Of The Deep actually prepared them for dao’s, unlike the Serpent's Fang.

  Most importantly he knows that she’s fiercely loyal to Doman.

  He doesn’t know where that loyalty comes from but he always found it admirable.

  Now he finds himself brooding on the stupidity of what she’s doing.

  He’s officially convinced that The Mouth Of The Deep is cursed, as they suffer a second ambush from the same gods damned sect. It’s Tikor all over again, except so, so much worse.

  Yorin is staring at a poster, one of the many he found plastered all over the city. Whoever drew them must be a master of their craft because they captured the faces of the Farlagh family almost perfectly.

  It’s too bad about the bounty.

  A hundred platinum per head.

  Yorin assumes these were posted during the funeral because the only one eligible left is Synthia, the rest either not in Ralth or very dead

  Doman isn’t on it of course, that would just be stupid, and the boy clearly isn’t stupid.

  He must really be scared of Synthia if he included her in the bounty, which is fair, Yorin wouldn’t be surprised if the woman found some avenue to contest Doman’s legitimacy, despite women in power being rather stark exceptions to the rule.

  Politics is a beast he doesn’t bother to understand, it’s just too convoluted.

  So.

  The city is, officially, a death trap.

  And Yorin is the only one fit enough to fight.

  Tantra and Kisrin are both unconscious, Tantra because of the backlash of her brand of boosting. Yorin was worried considering there are three blades piercing her heart but she’s still alive, and from what little he knows about healing, it’s best to keep them there until Tantra can use regeneration.

  Then there’s Kisrin, good ‘ol reliable Kisrin, Yorins surprised he was able to move considering his partially caved in skull. But he was determined to carry Tantra.

  Apparently love can outmatch tremendous brain damage, go figure.

  He’s just leaning on a wall right now, sleeping off his head wound and exposed guts, which’ll both take much too long to heal.

  Etra and technically Erick are the only cultivators other than him still conscious. Both suffering through Synthia’s complaining as the noblewoman tries to sew Etra’s arm back on, a lot of it is because Erick keeps shaking while holding the severed appendage.

  It’s a pretty funny scene.

  What isn’t funny are the multiple rents and gouges littering Etra’s body, and, somehow, a burn that melted through her side.

  He…genuinely doesn’t know how she’s still alive, sure her vitals are safe but they’re not so far into foundation that they can ignore wounds like the ones she’s suffered.

  Yorin feels weirdly guilty, all he’s suffered is a few swipes from a hook sword, which made him bleed a lot, but all of them were superficial.

  So until Tantra wakes up he’s the only fighter they’ve got.

  Great.

  -

  Tantra is…floating.

  Immersed in a gel that radiates warmth. Every moment, there is a heartbeat, and with each heartbeat there is revelation. Like a dog lapping at a lake, Tantra drinks deep from this place, feeling her soul grow and change. It’s a good change, she knows this instinctively, it smooths out edges and molds her into something ever closer to perfection. There’s a deep longing in her soul that Tantra’s never noticed before.

  She is an ugly thing of so many chips and flaws and this place can fix that, this place can give her absolution, this place can-

  A hand grabs her by the collar and pulls her out of transcendence.

  “That’s more than enough, thirsty thing,” a voice that is life personified says, carrying with it a strange kind of familiarity, “any more and your soul will just about burst, and FATE would be quite angry with me if I allowed something like that to happen. Don’t ever want to get on their bad side, scary bastard.”

  Tantra sputters on a beach of pulsating flesh, hacking up crimson ambrosia, thoughts clearing. She looks up to the sky and finds clouds made of crossing veins and arteries, raining more of the precious substance into the ocean of strange gel.

  “Where am I?” Tantra echoes, her voice carrying a strange ethereal quality.

  “You’re in my home!” Says the heartbeat, “hello and welcome and please stop ignoring me.”

  Tantra almost chuckles, but that would be rude so she doesn’t.

  She turns to look at the stranger and finds…herself.

  Except different.

  Instead of sect robes the doppelganger dons a strange toga of interwoven vasculature, exposed arteries and veins glowing as her iris pulsates, contracting and expanding.

  She’s holding out a hand to Tantra.

  Tantra just stares at the woman, “who are you?”

  The strange double sighs and retracts their arm, “right to business eh? What, don’t want to let the mystery perchlorate for just a little longer?”

  “No,”

  “Fair,” the being shrugs, “I’m HEART and you stand in my domain, congratulations! This means a lot of good things for you, especially considering your current circumstances.”

  “Wait,” Tantra looks amazed at the woman, “are you the dao?”

  The woman gives her a thumbs up, “just a part of it though! There’s so many other facets you’ll never get to see, shame that, some of them are forgotten and all lonely. Like ECHOES, poor thing hasn’t had a single bond since its inception.”

  “I’m…I’m talking to the dao?” Tantra says absentmindedly, “how is that possible.”

  “Is that a serious question or are you just starstruck?” HEART says smugly.

  Tantra gives the woman…is it a woman? Or is it just mimicking her form?

  “Mimicking your form,” she chirps, “it’s the most convenient form of communication! Your soul can’t really comprehend me as a concept.”

  Tantra blinks.

  “You can read my mind?”

  “Nope! You just suck at hiding your thoughts from your soul.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing important, unless you're gonna start talking to gods and shit, then it’s pretty important. But you're more likely to die from their presence rather than engage in pleasant conversation…if those things are even capable of pleasant conversation.”

  “Please slow down,” Tantra begs, “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  The dao person, daoling? Tilts their head.

  “Sorry about that! I’m not very popular so I get a bit carried away, but you don’t have to worry, we're just having a conversation before I bond with your soul, you don’t have to remember the minutiae of what I say.”

  “What do you mean bond?” Tantra says incredulously.

  “Right, you're from that puny sect, didn’t teach you much beyond training and other basic shit did they? That’s okay, explaining it myself is more fun!”

  HEART flourishes and points at Tantra with gravitas that intimidates her, just a little.

  “You!” She intones, “have passed the threshold to be connected to the great dao, through our bond you’ll have access to strength beyond strength. Especially with that fancy technique of yours, quite impressive, I approve.”

  Tantra blinks.

  “I’m going to get a dao,” she says incredulously.

  “Yup!”

  “How?”

  “Well, a few more years in the arena and you would’ve gotten to this point, but getting your heart impaled really boosted your progress, that and FATE’s being a bit of a cunt about it.”

  “Fate isn’t real.”

  The copy shrugs, “there’s a dao for it so it must be”

  “But-”

  Tantra is interrupted by an earth shattering quake, sending her face first into the flesh-floor. She looks up to find the heart-clouds parting, a strange light that is not light but so much more searing through.

  “Damn,” HEART says, “they’re early, why’d they have to be early? I don’t get visitors often!”

  “Who’s they?”

  “One of the gods, which unfortunately means we need to end this pleasant little conversation. I don’t think you can survive a tribulation.”

  “Wha-”

  “No more talking!” HEART says as she squishes both of Tantra’s cheeks.

  Tantra, confused, is entirely unprepared for the daoling to shift into pure energy and absorb into her face. Tantra falls back to the floor writhing as her soul is marked with something impossible.

  She is traveling through veins and arteries, captain to a ship that sails a sea of blood-

  She is the pump, the furnace, the core-

  She is beating a drum to a tune she knows too well-

  She is cradling a small heart in her hands, filled with so much potential-

  Her skin changes, glowing vasculature shining through as her vision starts to pulsate.

  Her heart isn’t a drum, it is a warhorn audible even amongst the trembling of the earth, each beat sending new blood filled with promise coursing through her veins as the old is cleansed and replaced, she can feel every change so, so intimately.

  It is burning.

  Tantra musters one last scream before she disappears.