Chapter 4

  The gentle seesaw of rumble and splash welcomed the newcomer as he stepped up to the cliff's edge. He appreciated the ocean's music since his sharp, yellow eyes couldn't pierce more than three feet in front of him. A thick fog coated the coast and the jungle behind him for several miles, not too different in color from his long, silver hair. He reached to his side and plucked out a scroll from among his crimson robes, which billowed as the wind played with them. Unrolling the scroll, his eyes peered past a beak of a nose to study a map of a place called the ‘The Han Empire’. The map marked what he presumed was the capital of this land, a city called Luoyang.

  He was nowhere near it.

  He assumed he had started at the little, red dot labeled ‘You’. That dot was on the southern end of an island south of the Empire. He had been dropped outside the realm he was supposed to protect.

  The fog had forced him to aim for the coast along with his need for a boat. Given how long it had taken him to reach the coast, he feared it would take him quite some time to arrive at Luoyang. With a small sigh, he rewrapped the scroll. They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

  He stepped off his left as he followed the coastline. The sooner he found a fishing village or a port, the sooner he could fill in the holes of his knowledge and figure out a way to the mainland. Wasn’t sure how he’d pay for it, but he was confident he could find some way to make it work. Only one other mystery concerned him.

  Where’s Mars?

  —

  Tian’s stomach rumbled about the void consuming it. He had been hungry before, had nearly starved to death two days ago. He knew he could ignore it for a day in a normal situation.

  In this situation, it was the straw stabbing the camel's back.

  His pyrokinetic thrusters sputtered out when his concentration broke as it was stretched five ways. He fought to focus. Flying might be becoming a second instinct, but he wasn't there yet. He just couldn't escape the single, screaming thought: what else can go wrong!?

  Desert heat drowned him as he fell out of the atmosphere. It inflamed his temper as it dumped a physical reminder of his ongoing streak of failures. Just shut your mind up and fly!

  Easier said than done. He thought of himself as a calm guy by nature, but he admitted this had been an ugly morning. Every additional hour only added to his troubles until… Well, until he was falling out of the sky.

  So close. I was so close!

  It wasn't just the failure in accomplishing the mission in one quick hour. It was the sheer cost of failure. He had plans for that Vitalis for the Last World! People he wanted to help. His stay in this dimension was going to be temporary.

  If he didn't splat against the desert first.

  His mind and emotions rallied around the one thing they can agree on: survival. The jets refired as it tried to catch him only a few hundred feet above the ground. He started to stabilize his flight. Then the alliance broke as a stray thought asked: wait, won't the Vitalis shield protect me? In the same moment, his stomach groaned its discontent.

  His pyrokinesis failed him.

  He crashed through sand as he clipped a dune. It sent him into a roll as inertia sadistically pushed him onward. Until he came to a final stop in the dune's shadow, face shoved into the hot sand. He lifted himself out of the sand before pounding into it. “COME ON!”

  The temper tantrum only added an additional layer of spite. He wasn't usually this out of control (minus his issues of sanity), but it didn't help that his soul bounced around in his body with relentless agitation. The wild energy hammered his soul as it demanded release. He would if he had any idea how to do it!

  He stopped punching the ground and forced himself to take several, deep breaths. He tried to reason with himself. I wiped out all of those monsters. I discovered who the ‘ancient evil’ is. I crippled them, killed one of them. Once I meet up with Silver, we’ll even know where to direct our efforts to preemptively wipe out the monsters before they can reach the Han. Today was a day of victory.

  The logic had no impact. Not when he had come so close to completing the mission in one quick hour. Worse, while his skin was back to pale, he knew how little Vitalis he had after the battle. A measly one percent of what he started with.

  He gave up on trying to fix his mood with logic and opted for distraction. How long had he been flying? His mood added another point of aggravation as he reviewed his current trip. An ugly trip with nothing to show for it. He had killed the Hairballs and started his flight toward the Empire. His foul mood and the wild energy had gotten so bad that he had his first hiccup ten minutes in. He had landed, taken a breather, forced himself to get used to the energy, and got back in the air.

  That had lasted some time. The entire time his soul was used as a rattle. Until it had nearly crashed him. Again. Stop, breathe, re-adapt, and fly.

  Another push before his body sounded the dehydration alarm. Nearly crashed. Ignore it and get back in the air. Realized he hadn't seen a single soul the entire time. Bank more south. Fly however long before he had finally crashed here.

  His soul always rattling.

  “HOW DO I GET IT OUT!?” He thought about how he had gotten it. “A fight!” Shouting helped vent a little. “Got it in a fight! So, what if I just-!”

  He swung his war-scythe.

  Nothing happened.

  “ARRRRGGGGHHH! DON'T TELL ME I HAVE TO GET IN A FIGHT TO RELEASE IT!”

  He spun around, looking for an opponent. The draw offered no such thing. He stomped back up to the top of the dune. His head jerked left then right.

  A desert hare froze under his wrathful gaze.

  …

  His grip tightened on his war-scythe.

  The hare bolted.

  He stepped off… and caught himself on step three. Another deep breath as he closed his eyes. “I need to get myself under control.”

  His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten since the fight. His eyes snapped open. “Oh, right, food!”

  Focusing entirely on his hunger, he punched with his free hand. The stream of fire smashed into the top of the next dune two seconds after the hare disappeared behind it. He sprinted over. On the other side of the dune was more desert.

  No hare in sight.

  He felt himself losing control of his temper as a loud growl escaped his throat. He sucked it back in before releasing a jittery breath. He needed a couple more before he had the rage back under control. For better or for worse, he had plenty of practice in managing far worse episodes.

  Sweat started to roll down his face as the physical heat built up. He needed to find refuge or die as a husk. The crimson cross on the back of his hand offered him potential relief. Not yet. I can go a little longer.

  He returned to the dune's crest. He scanned around for the lowest ground before taking a few steps in the opposite direction. One more deep breath, wrestling hunger, thirst, aggravation, and the wild energy under control, before he sprinted. Leaping off the dune, he kicked his legs forward. Jets shrieked into life. Sand melted right beneath the thrusters, while the rest scattered away. Inches shrunk between the fire and new glass before he stopped sinking back to the planet.

  Lift off was tricky but doable when he didn't have to worry about burning anything green. Sand melted beneath him before he rose off the ground as he oriented back to the right direction. Once he was two hundred feet straight into the air, he angled his feet to set off. Although on the move, he didn't stop rising, until he found the sweet spot. The zone of air high enough that the winds kept him cool. If only he didn't have to fly so high that breathing became uncomfortable.

  If only the temperature would drop already, he cursed as he used a hand to pull his hood over his head. What he wouldn't give for a good helmet, or at least a pair of goggles. Flying was a lot harder when he could ignore wind burns as a deity or had A- to protect him from the elements. His Vitalis shield served the same purpose, but he wasn’t sure how close it was to wearing it out and didn’t want to waste more Vitalis just to figure out that answer. It would die when it would. Hopefully, not at the worst possible moment. One of his jets twitched. Stop thinking negative. Just focus on the mission and survival.

  If only he could spot some birds to cook. This high up, he couldn't spot any land animals, however he hadn't even spotted a vulture to ambush. That has to be pure bad luck.

  Hunger, thirst, and that cruel war energy never relented as they poked and prodded at his strained focus. Below him, the desert stretched onwards; his head locked pointing down. The wind plastered his hood against the top of his hood. So, he really could see only half of the desert.

  His parched lips begged for relief.

  Just a little longer.

  Time passed.

  His stomach groaned.

  A jet stuttered. He grunted and pushed back at hunger. The jet restrengthened.

  The second I see a bird, I'll stop.

  No birds crossed his limited vision. How far could a bird see? Hear? Was he giving off some long-range warning? Were his jets that loud?

  Drumming against his back, the war energy never ceased its one wish: release.

  He growled and ignored it.

  He spotted nothing on the world below.

  The duel of endurance continued. He parrying and weaving against Hunger, Thirst, and War. The stalemate was painful but a victory in of itself. He would reach the Empire eventually.

  Alas, his body had other needs.

  It had been afternoon when he had left the Last World. The caves had screwed up his sleeping schedule, adding to its eventual treachery. Sleep oozed into the mental melee and lazily stabbed him in the back.

  His thrusters died entirely. The wind ahead softened to slap at him from below. His hood flew behind his head as he shook off the sleep. He kicked his legs toward the ground. “GET IT TOGETHER!” The air started to whistle as he fell at terminal velocity.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Fire sputtered at his feet.

  A quarter of the way down.

  Fliers struggled to feel fear in the air. Mastery over gravity was quite the cure for fear of heights. The Vitalis shield only encouraged that arrogance.

  The ground flying up to crush him cured him of that confidence.

  Halfway down.

  Sleep came to his ironic rescue. His eyes drooped before snapping open. For a brief second, adrenaline and terror speared his chest as he forgot his shield. He grabbed both and clubbed Hunger, Thirst, War and Sleep into a stupor.

  Last quarter. Images of bones breaking and blood splattering raced through his mind.

  Jets fired into life.

  Gravity's murderous pull struggled against him. The land's approach slowed. Until, with his chest heaving, he came to a gentle stop. He slowed down his breath before looking away from the sand.

  And saw green.

  He blinked before rubbing his eyes. A mirage? He opened his eyes.

  No, it still looked like he could see grass in the distance. Next to a lake? He stared at the wondrous sight for a few more seconds.

  His jets died again, dropping him another thousand feet before he brought his focus to bear. Back on mission, he chided. He soared forward, ready for the greenery to vanish back into the desert haze. There was plenty of heat for it. In spite of the new sweat, he maintained this lower altitude.

  He didn't know long his adrenaline high would last.

  Answer: long enough for a mirage to vanish. One that was on the other side of the small lake. A modest stream from the north kept the lake alive along with a patch of wetland. A small village of a dozen mud huts nestled next to the mouth of the stream with two dozen large, colorful tents surrounding the huts. A couple of modest farms sat next to the village.

  At the sight of human life, a couple of thoughts sounded off. First, he needed to plan out his landing strategy. He needed to land without causing any damage. Second, first contact protocol. Xiangu had mentioned that there were strange things going on with himself. It would be wise to land and approach on foot, minimizing his powers.

  The third thought shouted down the first two: WATER! FOOD!

  His stomach rumbled in enthusiastic solidarity with the thought. He pictured himself just dropping into the small lake. Hell, soaked clothing would be a mercy in this temperature.

  Too loud of a thought. By the time wiser thoughts could push aside the straightforward needs of the body, he heard shouting below. Tearing his eyes away from the water, he saw several horsemen guarding a herd of goats as they drank from the lake. The horsemen wore light brown coats and robes with caps or turbans on their heads as they pointed up at him.

  Ah, well… so much for the humble approach. …I wonder if they’d be more willing to give me some food this way though.

  He scanned the area in the last few seconds before he’d arrive at the village. Now that he had been spotted, he really needed to make sure he didn’t start a fire on this precious grassland. For better or for worse, since it did border the desert, it wasn’t too difficult to pick a spot for a landing. Not that he had that many successful landings to his name.

  Good thing too because he had all of five seconds to pick out a spot.

  He swooped in low as a commotion took over the village. Only the horsemen could see him at this point, so it was the best chance to minimize whatever impression he might give. With his free hand, he aimed in front of him before firing a new jet... or so was the plan. Hunger punched him in the gut, and Thirst tore at his throat with freshwater so close. Only a fart of a fireball poofed in front of his hand.

  On the verge of missing his landing target, he over-corrected.

  He didn’t panic, just over-corrected.

  He killed his thrusters completely. Gravity and wind resistance began to slow him. Not nearly as fast as he zoomed toward the earth. And crashed into the sand like a meteorite. The ground was more than happy to drag him to a swifter stop as he ploughed through the surface, leaving a gouge behind and a dust cloud above. Yet, he didn’t feel anything as a crimson wave shimmered over his body, still intact. He coughed and shoved himself to his feet. He furiously swiped at the dirt and sand covering him as he twitched toward a pose, only to realize that not one speck stayed on him through the whole crash. He stood as clean as a whistle.

  The pose, though, was easier said than done. Deprivation yanked him toward a slouch, and he had to rely on his war-scythe to stand straight. He tried to broaden his chest when all his shoulders wanted to do was relax. He locked his tongue behind his teeth instead of letting it lap at his dried lips.

  He wasn’t sure what image he was projecting, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out. One of the horsemen galloped toward him as farmers and villagers followed in a hurried stream. The horseman reached him first, and Tian could see the man had a bow tucked into his saddle. His lean coat displayed embroidery down the lip of his robes and a necklace with a small white horse hanging from it.

  In one smooth motion, the man pulled his reins to bring the horse to a quick stop with the horse’s flank toward Tian, jumped out of the saddle, landed right in front of Tian, and dropped into a full-on kowtow. “You bring us great honor, heavenly one!”

  …

  Well.

  This was either really good or really bad.

  The tension of the sudden choice pushed his physical condition away. Because he just knew that the Vitalis System counted this as an act of worship. He had never been comfortable with it, had been forced to do it by a Command during his war against the gods of the Last World. His feelings of unease had only been heightened by Merry’s theological lessons, and his own knowledge that his capabilities had come at the hands of a higher power that had yet to speak to him directly.

  But he had indisputable proof that Vitalis was, by far, his most powerful weapon against Xiangu and the monsters who served her. So far, the Ancient-of-Days had not punished Tian for utilizing the Vitalis System. Would it still be allowed after Merry had dropped more knowledge of who the Ancient-of-Days was?

  What’s more, he didn’t see a hint of modern technology among anyone approaching him. No watches, no S-, nothing electronic. Xiangu had mentioned spells and magic. This place might simply be too remote for technology, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to bet on that. That added another wrinkle on how to handle the situation, let alone the cultural differences he was ignorant of.

  As he debated with himself, the rest of the village arrived and followed the horseman’s lead. All black hair in various lengths and typical eye colors. All shorter than him, too. The tallest villager was half a foot shorter than Tian, and he didn’t break six feet. They kowtowed as they voiced their own supplications. After the last one, an older man being escorted by a young woman to the front of the people, had said his piece, there was silence among the little assembly. This moment would be an excellent time to either embrace or reject the Vitalis System.

  He opened his mouth…

  …and chose cowardice.

  “Thank you for the honor you have bestowed upon me. I request food and water.”

  It was the elder who rose first from his kowtow. He wobbled on his knees, until the young woman stood up to help him all the way. Once he was firm on his feet, he made a fist with his right hand and covered it with his left before doing a half-bow. “Of course, heavenly one. I am Chieftain Esen. Please, would you do the honor of staying in my home?”

  His body moving on older, unremembered instincts, Tian bowed in return, though something warned him not to bow as deeply. “I would be honored.”

  Esen turned around, and that seemed to be the signal to the others. The crowd climbed to their feet and made a corridor for their chief and Tian. Esen led the way to the central hut, which was a little larger than the rest. The chief gave out orders as they walked through the others. The horseman remounted and galloped off to his comrades, while villagers hurried to prepare a meal. Tian listened and watched as they walked. Everyone watched him as much as they could, but no one spoke to him directly. Even Esen seemed careful to speak around him.

  A cultural thing?

  The chief led him around the central hut rounding toward the south before through a felt curtain functioning as a door. The temperature dropped from melting to tolerable as Tian’s eyes adjusted. Rugs rounded the single room with blankets against the north side for beds. Tools and knickknacks occupied the west side, while a singular chest sat toward the east. There was a fireplace in the center of the hut with a hole above it. In stark contrast to the brown exterior, a variety of colors greeted Tian. Faded from use, each rug was a different pattern.

  Esen led him to the fireplace and stopped on the opposite side. He nodded to Tian before gesturing to the spot. Tian stepped onto it as the young woman led Esen to be straight across from Tian. All the while, the whole village crammed into the hut, careful to not come within several feet of him. Once he was in his spot, Esen watched Tian expectantly. An old instinct whispered to Tian, and he sat down on his rug, cross-legged, placing his war-scythe next to him pointed away from the people.

  The villagers broke out in whispers. They had never stopped staring, but there was less awe and more confusion now. Even Tian’s faded instinct tugged at him, however it was far too weak for him to understand it. After an awkward beat, Esen lowered himself with help, folding his legs beneath him as he sat.

  Oh, does it really matter that much how I sit?

  The moment Esen was settled, everyone sat in the exact same way. Tian suppressed his annoyance. Do I switch or just stick to my mistake?

  The only person who hadn't sat was Esen's aide. She maneuvered her way toward the tools spot where she picked up a clay jug. She hurried over to him, bowing before offering it. He accepted it with a nod, “Thank you.”

  Her head snapped up, surprised.

  He feared he had stepped onto another taboo. Yet, when he glanced at the crowd, they were surprised… though it didn't sound negative. Regardless, she quickly dropped her head back down. He accepted the jug. A last villager, an older boy, came running in while holding a bundle. Good thing it was wrapped well because the boy barreled into the back of one villager and bounced into a couple of more. Apologies came fast and distracted as the boy rushed over to Tian. After nearly tripping over the firepit, the boy came to a chaotic stop. Breathing hard, he offered the bundle as an older woman stepped into the crowded hut.

  “Show respect boy!” Esen barked. Tension struck the crowd.

  Both the newcomer and the boy froze. “Sorrysorrysorry,” The boy chanted as he bowed repeatedly, while the woman (his mother?) stared fearfully at Tian.

  Tian smiled at the boy. “No offense taken.” Relaxation washed through everyone as he accepted the bundle. The boy scampered to the last arrival as they tried to find places. Tian opened the bundle to find a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat. After a beat, he realized he wasn’t going to get a cup. What’s more, the village watched him and waited.

  …am I supposed to say anything?

  He didn’t know. Hunger and Thirst couldn’t spare one care for his social anxiety as they kicked him to slake their needs. He grabbed the jug first. Taking care to not put his lips directly on it, he tilted his head as he started to pour… and almost shoved the whole thing into his face. The water was lukewarm, but it was clean. He resisted, surrendered, and then guzzled his full, draining half of it in one go.

  Without his throat screaming how dry it was, he turned to the humble lunch, right as his stomach sounded its inconsiderate alarm. He took a bite of the bread. It was a bit dry yet somewhat fresh. He had no idea what kind of bread it was. Definitely not wheat. He took another bite before turning to the cooked lump of meat. It wasn’t chicken or pork, however he doubted it was beef. He thought back to the herd he’d seen outside. Goat? I’ve never eaten goat before.

  He took an experimental nibble. Gamey was the first thing to come to mind. Cold too. Kind of bland. They must not be able to afford spices out here. Wouldn’t be too bad, but I bet it’d taste better warmer.

  He glanced up at his audience. They kept staring at him. What kind of cultural thing is this? Or is this religious? He wasn’t sure and dropped his gaze back to his food after a few seconds, fighting to not feel self-conscious with so many people just watching him eat. The earlier idea snuck back into his head. It was… kind of arrogant.

  But they’ve already seen me wield fire, soooooo…

  Setting the bread aside, he held up the meat with his left hand. His right hand hovered beneath it, until a simple fire combusted in his palm. The onlookers leaned away from him with slack mouths and wide eyes. They said nothing as he reheated the meat. Not even a day in his universe, and I already miss having a microwave. Only when he snuffed out his fire did the villagers break out in excited and tense whispers. Esen made no attempt to silence them as Tian returned to eating.

  That was how the rest of his brief meal went. Well, with the inverse relationship of needs versus anxiety. As his body relaxed with food and drink, he became more and more aware how everyone was just watching him eat. No attempts to talk to him, and the chatter among them was just quiet enough that he couldn’t make out any details.

  When he took one last swig, finishing off the jug, he set it down and looked at Esen. Outside, the thunder of a small cavalry force approached the village. No one seemed alarmed by it, so Tian took it as a sign that it was more of the riders from earlier. Esen bowed toward Tian. “Heavenly one, I pray that our offering, though meager, was suitable?”

  Tian inwardly twitched. Offerings and libations. I’m doing an awful job of rejecting the Vitalis System. He nodded back. “I thank you for the meal. It was sorely needed after my battle.”

  The miniature stampede came to an end, replaced by a more human one. Esen paid it no attention as he bowed again. “You honor me, heavenly one. Have we earned the privilege of knowing your name?”

  Tian opened his mouth to say ‘Tian Long’ but hesitated. Xiangu had mentioned something about not using both names at the same time. Some kind of cultural faux pas. He had to pick one, and he struggled to remember what she had exactly said about it. Sentinel sounds more important, some kind of position. I’ll go with that. The flap to the hut was thrust aside as a scarred warrior ducked in, scattering the nearest sitters.

  “My name is Ying Huo.”

  Everyone froze, including the rider.

  Then, the boy who had brought the lunch jumped up and pointed at Tian. “HE’S THE DRAGON OF WAR!”

  Tian had a feeling that he had made his life a lot more complicated. Proven a second later when the villagers exploded into shouting. Half of them immediately prostrated themselves, crashing into others, while the other half scrambled to the exit.

  Tian watched all of the chaos and sighed.

  This is Sim’s fault, I just know it.