Chapter 25: Grudge

Three days earlier:

A pulse of air shook the room, caused by Sirius swinging his hand with inhuman speed. It happened almost every morning when he woke up. All of his dreams involved violence, so waking up often pulled the fight into the real world. He had been trained this way, to be ready to kill his opponent no matter what the situation was, to keep his guard raised even when he slept. It was why his room was mostly empty, with his bed isolated and all furniture out of reach. Too many possessions had been destroyed in the past due to punches and kicks thrown while half-asleep.

It was just before sunrise, the same time that all members of the Sect of Silver woke up, though he was only a disciple. The predawn light streaming through his window was his alarm clock. His eyes had been trained to see in the dark, so this dim illumination was all he needed, not that there was much else. There was no electricity here. The walls, floor, and ceiling were solid stone, just one room of many carved into the mountains of the Amazon Rainforest in Brazil. There was little furniture, just a bedside table kept slightly out of reach, and a bureau with a washbasin and a picture of his mother.

Sirius sat up and rubbed the tiredness from his eyes with a groan. He was only nineteen, yet taller and more muscular than almost anyone else in the Sect of Silver. Despite being born in Brazil, he was actually half-American and half-Japanese, but one wouldn’t think it by looking at him. All of his father’s genes had been completely dominant, from his white skin to his wild black hair.

After washing his face in the basin, he got dressed in his training uniform. He was barefoot, as part of his training. It was time for predawn chores. All the other initiates were also starting their day, though they slept in barracks in a different area of the temple. Sirius left his room and moved through the corridors, navigating the temple that was his home. Since he lived away from the other students, he normally only crossed paths with masters of the Sect. He’d always give a courteous bow and bid them a good morning. They never responded, not that he ever expected them to.

Sirius reached his destination, the temple bathhouse. The baths, like the temple itself, were all carved out of the stone of the mountain, in a cavernous chamber with several branching rooms. The baths varied in size and temperature, with a divider between male and female. However, at the moment, they were all empty. It was the job of Sirius and his fellow disciples to collect water each morning for the baths. Others did the same for laundry and cooking.

Numerous other disciples of varying ages had already gathered, each collecting ceramic barrels to carry the water. The barrels themselves were immensely heavy, but all the disciples had awakened souls, meaning that they could use spiritual energy to strengthen their muscles. This was part of training. They all wore necklaces and charms made of arquerite. The Divine Rune algorithms shielded them from spiritual sight. They were never taken off, even when bathing or sleeping, for if one of the spawn happened to be flying overhead, it would be able to detect their soul. The mountain also had a high concentration of silver that kept the forces of Dominion from being able to clearly see anything inside, as well as absorbing any spirit energy released during combat or training that would otherwise leak into the outside world and draw attention.

No one spoke to Sirius, no one even looked at him. Despite being the tallest and strongest of the group, several of the more aggressive boys would intentionally step on his feet or bump into him. “Devil’s son”, they’d mutter, just loud enough for him to hear, but soft enough that if called on it, they could feign ignorance and claim they were saying something else or talking to themselves. One of them, an angsty boy of eighteen, even elbowed him in the gut, though it didn’t actually hurt him. Clay, he had hated Sirius since the day they met. Sirius didn’t respond to it. It was what he was used to.

The line moved quickly, as speed was also a part of training. Extra chores awaited those who fell behind. As soon as Sirius received his barrel, he put it on his back and took off. He rocketed through the corridors with superhuman speed to the nearest exit and burst outside. There was a river two miles away, down in the valley below. It was where all the disciples went to collect the water, and around him, he could sense others moving through the rainforest. However, despite everyone running at their top speed, very few feet actually touched the ground, and while this was a chore done several times a day for thousands of years, there were no paths.

They’d sprint through the rainforest with the challenge being that they couldn’t break any twigs or crush any plants and that they couldn’t leave a single recognizable footprint. They had to continuously generate a field of spirit energy under their bare feet that would act as a cushion between them and whatever they stepped on. If the field was too powerful, it would be no different from simply running with regular footwear and crushing everything underfoot. If the field was too weak, it wouldn’t keep them off the ground, and they’d end up leaving footprints.

While they ran, they had to avoid touching any ferns or vines. Not even a single leaf could be allowed to touch their uniforms, and the density of the rainforest had to remain unbroken. This could only be done by harnessing their spirit energy and using it to enhance their strength and reflexes, allowing them to go far beyond human limitations.

Since its conception, the Sect of Silver had mastered the art of concealment, so that the world would never know of its existence. In the age of Dominion, when his forces constantly combed the planet in search of humans not yet enslaved, their efforts had to be doubled. To anyone walking through the area, this would appear to be a regular mountain, untouched by man. With these skills, they had avoided detection for thousands of years, moving through every nation of the world in every era without ever even being photographed. They were the shinobi of the western world.

Sirius raced through the rain forest like he was flying. Unlike all of the other disciples, he was incapable of producing an aura or releasing spirit energy, despite having an awakened soul. He could only use it to enhance his body. So, that meant that he couldn’t run on the ground, and had to instead move from tree to tree, without damaging the bark or the moss and vines that grew on their trunks. Every surface he touched, he did so with the smallest amount of contact possible. His senses were on full alert, sorting through the vast array of smells, scanning for safe places to land and jump from, and measuring air density and humidity as factors that may slow him down. He was putting in minimal physical effort, yet he was still outracing every other disciple. His natural strength gave him a key advantage, and despite the size of his body, he knew how to move through the brush and foliage without causing a disturbance.

He reached the river first, as usual, and began filling up his barrel. As soon as he started, he pulled back, avoiding a stick that was fired out of the rain forest like a bullet. It was thrown with lethal force, but its aim was the barrel, not Sirius himself. Disciples were forbidden from attacking each other, but a disciple who damaged their barrel would receive a failing mark for the day and be strictly punished. It was likely Clay or one of his friends, yet again trying to make his life difficult.

Once Sirius finished filling up the barrel, he made the return trip. Yet as he ran, he sensed the presence of other disciples hidden in the canopy above. Rocks were thrown from all angles, propelled by spirit energy like the stick. A normal spirit user would just release their aura to create a protective field, but they were well aware that he lacked the ability, despite his strength.

In midair, he pulled the barrel off his back, held it against his chest, and wrapped his limbs around it. Most of the stones hit his body, and any that would have hit the barrel were deflected by swings of his hand. They were thrown with incredible strength, but his body was tough enough not to bruise from something like this. He touched down on a small rock sticking out of the ground and launched himself back into the air, getting out of range before they could throw more rocks.

He returned to the temple, not even out of breath, and made his way to the bathhouse and emptied his barrel into one of the stone tubs. More than a dozen trips had to be made for each disciple. He took off once more, and over the course of the early morning, countless attempts were made to hinder his progress. His fellow disciples were certainly energetic.

Once the sun had risen, it was time for breakfast, and everyone in the temple went to the dining hall. It was a vast chamber, part of the cave system that the original temple was built in. Long tables and benches stretched through the chamber, with seating depending on one’s rank in the temple. The room was illuminated by great glass windows on the back wall. From outside, someone looking at the mountain wouldn’t even see them. They were made to resemble the stone around them perfectly, but they let in a great amount of light.

On the ceiling of the hall was a grand mosaic, depicting the four Old Gods that the Sect of Silver prayed to. They had created the world and the human race, with their children, the Guardians, stationed to watch over mankind. Through training and prayer, monks of the Sect of Silver could learn to wield the true power of their souls to fight demons—evil spirits that sought to destroy mankind and cursed the Old Gods—and wraiths—human entities that had fallen into madness for not living a faithful life. However, the Guardians were no more. Dominion killed the first three and the fourth died thousands of years ago, overpowered by an army of demons. Now the Sect of Silver was mankind’s last hope against Dominion.

The cooks arrived, carrying steaming pots of food. Hot porridge and rice, fruits and vegetables from the rain forest, and assorted salted meats and fish. Everyone in the temple, master and apprentice, lined up and received their meal on wooden bowls, then took their seats.

“You have some dirt on your cheek.”

Entering the dead space of empty seats around where Sirius sat, a young woman appeared. Eva, she was a year younger than Sirius, a true Brazilian beauty with long braided hair, a symmetrical face, and kind eyes. She had been Sirius’s friend since she came to the temple at eight years old, an escaped slave from one of the concentrations camps. Her brand had even been removed, leaving a patch of discolored skin on the cheek of a face that always seemed to smile when she was with him.

“Oh, I was hit by a rock,” he said as he wiped it away.

“They threw rocks at you this time? Why don’t you tell any of the masters about it? They should know what their students are doing.”

“I can handle it.”

“You’ve said that for years and yet you’ve never done anything to stop them. You handle a problem by fixing it, not by letting it continue.” Sirius simply shrugged. “You should at least tell Eric or your grandfather. They might be able to do something to help.”

“I don’t need any help. Everything is fine.”

Eva leaned over the table. “How do you expect to fight Dominion when you can’t even fight your own battles?”

Sirius dropped his spoon. “Enough! Just ... let it go.”

“Eva, I get the sense that you are poking at a wound rather than healing it.”

Sirius looked over his shoulder to see Shahti standing behind him. She had aged well since Dominion took over the world, her lifespan and vitality extended by her practice of the spiritual arts. She was one of the few people who actually cared for him, something she had in common with her apprentice.

“My apologies, Master,” Eva replied with a bow of her head.

Shahti then looked down at Sirius. “But her poking at a wound is hardly better than you ignoring it. Is there something to wish to say?”

“No, ma’am. Everything is fine.”

She didn’t press further, as much as she wished to. She knew he was hiding his mistreatment by the hands of his fellow disciples, but she had just chastised Eva for her nosiness and couldn’t contradict herself. Besides, she and the other masters were ordered not to intervene, to give Sirius the opportunity to stand up for himself. Pacifism had its place and was quite valuable to those who wielded immense power, but passiveness was only a hindrance.

“Both of you, eat quickly. It’s almost time for lessons.”

Sirius, along with several other disciples, gathered atop a cliff overlooking the rainforest. At the edge sat a man sat with his back to them. He had a shaved head and wore the robe of a master monk like Shahti. Without moving a muscle, he rose up into the air as if he was riding a magic carpet, and rotated to see his students. His eyes were yellow with slits for irises, like a snake, a sight that all three were well used to. By now, it would look stranger if he had normal human eyes.

He was the Grandmaster, and despite his appearance, he was the original founder of the Sect of Silver, a truly ancient being. Sirius, and those gathered before him, were the most powerful and gifted students, handpicked at different ages to be taught directly under him. Unfortunately, Clay was among them, and none of the other disciples were fond of Sirius.

Standing by the Grandmaster’s side was the man with a collaborator’s ID stamp on his cheek. He had arrived soon before Dominion took over the world, and was nothing like the nervous beansprout he was when he lived in Augusta. Two decades of training like a madman had given him a physique that could normally only be reached with steroid use. Add that to his big red beard and he looked more like a burly lumberjack than a monk. To Sirius, he was also the closest thing he had to an older brother.

“Grandmaster,” the disciples all said while bowing their heads.

He raised his hand and bowed in response. “My students, today is a day for celebration. Your upperclassmen, Eric, has been promoted to the rank of Master.”

Eric was no ordinary monk. Like Sirius and the others, he had been personally trained by the Grandmaster, and was almost always present during lessons, acting as an assistant teacher. All of the disciples clapped in praise, though some were less enthusiastic than others. Usually, in order to be trained by the Grandmaster, one had to show exemplary talents as soon as they first started learning the spiritual arts. Eric was the only exception in both cases. He began training under the Grandmaster when he arrived at age sixteen, despite being nothing more than an average artist. True, he had fought tooth and nail to reach his current level of strength, but no one knew why he had been given such a high honor in the first place, and it left many who were deprived of the opportunity bitter.

Others couldn’t trust him because he still bore the mark of a collaborator. All those who had managed to escape Dominion’s nearly cried in joy when they had their brands removed, but Eric refused to do it. A known collaborator working so close to the Grandmaster, the foundation of the Sect of Silver, was just asking for trouble. Then there were those like Clay, who simply despised him because he was so closely related to Sirius. Both of them were suspicious figures, even all these years later.

“Tonight, Eric will be undergoing the initiation ritual to receive his glyphs, so we shall spend the day with you competing against him. I wish for you all to see the power and skill one requires to be eligible to become a master. Tomorrow, we will repeat the process, so you may come to know the metamorphosis that one goes through during their initiation.

Now we shall commence with our morning routine.”

The Grandmaster stepped down onto the ground and stretched his arms with a deep breath. Eric and the six disciples mirrored the act. A shimmer of light moved through the group, everyone releasing their spiritual auras. Only Sirius and the Grandmaster abstained, the former because he lacked the ability, and the latter because it was unnecessary.

The Grandmaster began altering his posture and appearance through various stretches, with his breath loud and intentionally paced. Eric and the students followed him as he set the pace. This was a form of yoga that the Sect of Silver created around the same time that its Indian counterpart was born, with many believing that one spurred the arrival of the other, but with no one sure which was which. Like Indian yoga, its practice focused on pinpointing specific areas of the body, to either fully utilize their benefits, or to strengthen their weaknesses, from massaging of the kidneys to enhance the immune system, to controlled breathing to regulate one’s body temperature.

The main aim of the sect’s yoga was to improve spiritual abilities. The stretches and breathing were a means of channeling focused spiritual energy through different parts of the body. All spiritual abilities were based on the foundation of using one’s body as a transmitter. Power had to be properly sent through the body like electricity through wires so it could be fully utilized, and the more precise one’s control, the better the results could be. One could improve their physical strength by flooding their muscles with spirit energy, but if they could direct the energy through specific muscle cords in perfect sequencing, then they’d get the best results.

It also taught them how to extend their stamina. Muscle strain and fatigue could be warded off or even prevented completely, depending on how much spirit energy was used to propel movement, compared to biological energy. The more power one could directly infuse with their muscles, the longer they’d last without tiring.

It would take a full day to go through every single technique to their intended potential, but masters used it as a way to warm up their students before lessons, with the time spent depending on their level. Under the Grandmaster, these early morning exercises lasted three hours and were intense enough to make anyone sweat and tremble from fatigue. Everyone except Sirius, though he was sweating from the humidity.

Since the goal of the day was to compete with Eric, everyone had to hide their exhaustion. Perhaps, if they did a good enough job today, the Grandmaster might deem them talented enough to earn a promotion, prompting fantasies of their name in the records as the youngest masters in the sect’s history.

Once they were all finished, the Grandmaster gave them a moment to drink from wooden canteens, but that was all. There was no time to recover their physical strength, for if they were tired, that simply meant they weren’t properly utilizing their spirit energy.

“Good, now that you have all limbered up, you will spend the rest of the morning sparing again Eric. When I name a style, you shall adopt it. It will go on until one of you falls to the ground. Alicia, you will go first.”

All the disciples stepped back, minus a scrawny young woman with her hair tied into a bun. She stepped forward and she and Eric bowed to each other, then assumed a fighting stance. Her arms were raised to protect her head, while he widened his stance to guard his center of gravity. They waited for the Grandmaster to give the signal.

Facing Eric was something all the students were familiar with, but this was different. Normally, the Grandmaster would teach them a move for fighting and they would practice it with Eric. They’d test out the move and he’d block it, or he’d attack them and they’d attempt a new way of defending, but these exchanges normally only lasted for a single moment, just repeatedly practicing techniques until the students got them right. This, however, was an actual fight, meaning that they had to use their own judgment to decide what move to use and their goal was to win.

“Taka!” the Grandmaster announced.

Alicia shrouded her hands in her aura, making it look like they were burning with white flames. “Ha!” She threw a punch, ejecting a burst of spirit energy at Eric, like a fireball.

He activated his own aura, but it was much more tempered, just a shimmer, and deflected the bolt with the back of his hand. He lunged forward and swung his leg for a kick aimed at her head. She backflipped out of his reach while continuing to launch rapid-fire bolts at Eric. ‘Taka’, it was the use of spirit energy for medium and long-range attacks, however, they weren’t having much effect. Eric’s aura, despite his subtleness, was strong, and her blasts were just splashing off him. He charged towards her like a bull and she was forced to retreat out of his range.

“Don’t be afraid to increase the power. You do not have to worry about fatigue,” said the Grandmaster.

After reaching a safe distance, Alicia put her hands together and began charging a powerful storm of spirit energy. She gave a cry of determination and launched a bright, linear blast, shooting towards him like a jet of water. Eric dodged to the side and rocketed over to her with a leap. She swung her arms, trying to catch him, but he narrowly avoided every time. Getting in close, he fired an explosion from his palm, and Alicia, focusing all of her power on offense, couldn’t do anything to stop it. She was thrown through the air, landing on the stone ground with a thud.

Eric walked over and helped her up. “You shouldn’t assume your hands are your only means of attack. Every square inch of skin is a potential release point of energy.”

“Alicia is eliminated,” said the Grandmaster. “Next, Denshi.” A young man stepped forward and Eric returned to the original ring. They both assumed their preferred stances. “Argata!”

Denshi pounced and threw a punch forward with the second knuckles of his index and little finger slightly extended, a move known as ‘the bull’. Eric swung his hand to deflect the attack, to which Denshi attempted to jab into his forearm with the extended fingers of his other hand, ‘the crane’. Eric pulled back and used the momentum of the move to deliver a wide kick. Denshi ducked under the kick and tried to attack when Eric had his back turned. Eric, anticipating this movement, fired a blast back at him, forcing Denshi to cancel the attack.

“If your enemy won’t let you get close, then you must interrupt his movements. Even if it means taking a risk, you must stop his counters if you are to have any chance of delivering your own attack.”

Denshi took the Grandmaster’s words and charged towards Eric. Once again, he unleashed a storm of frenzied attacks. Eric, rather than blocking, would direct the attacks away from himself, like he was avoiding a swinging knife. The Argata style involved precise strikes to pressure points and weak spots while injecting one’s own spirit energy, providing electrocution-like damage, similar to jabbing them with a cattle prod. Because they were such precise, penetrating strikes, they were difficult to defend against. Even if the receiver flooded the target area with energy to block, their opponent’s energy, even just a small portion, would still infiltrate the flesh.

Eric was deflecting Denshi’s moves away from his body, but it was the pressure points in his arms that he was actually aiming for. From the outside, it looked like Denshi was incapable of harming the apparently invincible Eric, but the man’s face was tightening from the growing discomfort in his arms. Even if Denshi was failing to reach his pressure points, he was still injecting his spirit energy every time they made contact, and it was causing his arms to feel like they had fallen asleep, but the pain was sharper.

Before he could lose any more control, Eric grabbed both of Denshi’s wrists and delivered a jarring headbutt. It wasn’t strong enough to cause a concussion, but it still was powerful enough to make Denshi’s legs buckle. Eric had strengthened his skull and gray matter with spirit energy, so he was unharmed.

“You did well, but you held too much back. You should have increased your output in those jabs. Even if you weren’t hitting my pressure points, you should have been able to completely incapacitate my arms.”

“Denshi is eliminated. Eric, would you like a moment to recover?”

“Yes, thank you, Grandmaster.” Eric clapped his hands together and his arms glowed like fluorescent lights. He was saturating his flesh with spirit energy, purging the tissue of Denshi’s influence and healing the damage. It only took a few seconds for his arms to return to normal.

“Clay, you are next.”

Clay, just by his appearance, had a chip on his shoulder that anyone could see from a mile away. He was stocky with a crewcut and a standing expression of a lifelong attitude problem. He and Eric readied themselves.

“Boro!”

Once more, Eric let his opponent make the first move. Clay lunged and began hurling thunderous punches and kicks with his body fully infused with spirit energy. ‘Boro’ was the full utilization of physical enhancement for pure destructive attacks. This was a style for breaking bones and smashing through barriers, for situations when raw power was the best answer. Eric was dodging all of Clay’s attacks, and what he couldn’t avoid, he blocked with his own enhanced body.

“Damn it, get back here!” Clay barked.

They were moving across the top of the cliff, Clay chasing Eric, who showed no fear to the prospect of falling off the edge. As Clay made a wide swing, his footing was disturbed and the attack was hindered. With that brief opening, Eric aimed his palm at the young man and unleashed the same explosion he had used on Alicia. Clay blocked the attack with his raised arms, shielding his eyes and maintaining his guard against the kick that immediately followed. The blow from Eric knocked him through the air, but he managed to stick the landing and charge back again.

“Don’t let your emotions get the better of you! Clay, you’re being too rash!” the Grandmaster boomed.

Clay wasn’t listening and continued his feral onslaught of attacks. Eric blocked them all with their combined force pushing him back and leaving two trenches in the earth from his feet, but none of the attacks were doing any damage to Eric, not with his body fully enhanced. Once again, a slight disturbance in Clay’s balance created an opening. Eric lashed out, grabbing Clay by the throat, then lifted him above his head and threw him to the ground with furious power.

“Listen to the Grandmaster! You were so focused on landing blows that you paid no attention to your footing! Calm yourself! There is no fight in which you don’t have enough time to plan your steps, only a mind that hasn’t practiced enough to make the time.”

“Clay is eliminated.”

The next two disciples had their turns. The boy after Clay, Yamb, used Taka, and the girl after him, Brunilda, had Argata. So, when it came to Sirius, it was obvious what he’d be assigned. He stepped into the ring and faced Eric. However, unlike when he faced the other disciples, Eric summoned his full aura. He was wrapped in a white torrent, staring down Sirius. He and Eric sparred every single day, often for hours, but not as part of the group lessons. This would be the first time the other disciples would see them fight.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you, because I don’t expect you to go easy on me,” said Eric.

Sirius just faced him with stoic eyes and assumed a stance.

“Boro!” the Grandmaster announced.

This time, Eric made the first move. He lunged towards Sirius, his fist pulled back with enough power to kill a normal man. The punch was never delivered, for as soon as Eric entered Sirius’s range, a hurricane of blows erupted between them. They were throwing punches and kicks at superhuman speed, with the remaining disciples becoming more unnerved with each passing second. This level of combat was beyond any of them, both the force and the speed. It was like two titans duking it out. They could feel the air shake with an audible thunderclap whenever a blow connected or was blocked and the moves were blurring beyond discernibility.

What was so frightening was that Eric was going at it with his full power, but not even a shimmer could be seen from Sirius. The fact that he couldn’t emit spirit energy had always been a point of ridicule, but even after all these years, the fact that he was this physically powerful and combat proficient was disturbing.

Seconds turned into minutes, with neither side backing down. Their moves never slowed or weakened, and their accuracy and precision remained razor sharp. The entire cliff was shaking with dirt and stones even beginning to levitate. Finally, the Grandmaster raised his hand.

“That’s enough!”

The two disengaged. Sirius was calm, but everyone saw the scowl on Eric’s face with his chest heaving. He had become physically fatigued, despite using so much spirit energy. Something ruined his focus. Why was he so angry?

“Let us move on to waterfall training. The six of you, go on without us. I shall be with you shortly. I must discuss Eric’s initiation with him.” The disciples all bowed and departed, leaving the Grandmaster with Eric. “You lost your composure towards the end.”