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Chapter 139: [Spear God]
🕑 Added 2025-03-25 02:31:19 +0000 UTCRae took a deep breath of the fresh air.
He felt at ease.
Complete.
Life was long. Especially for an old man like Rae, life had been long. Thousands of little experiences played into it, a million, billion tiny decisions. What to eat for breakfast. What movie to watch. How many hours to dedicate to training.
Who to kill.
Another deep breath. His blood was rushing through his veins, unprecedented. That was why he’d retired. Because it was risky. Because he was a hot-headed idiot. But he was also tempered, now. A year of calm, of amnesia, of soul-searching and centering himself had reduced his world down to the things that really mattered. His wife, his love, and Fio.
It was a day ago that she had knocked at his door. Shown up, nervous but firm. He’d almost have described her as looking grim.
“Rae?!” White Tiger bellowed, interrupting his thoughts.
The old master frowned, just a little. “Shhhh, Tiger,” he said, then smiled. He closed his eyes and looked to the sky. “I am reminiscing.” Then the smile turned mischievous. “A fossil like you surely knows what that means.”
And then, he reminisced. Memories came easily, flowing like water.
The knock on the door. The awkward silence. Dancing around the topic for just a little bit, before Fio broke like a waterfall. He’d asked how he could help, and she’d told him.
She’d told him about Zinnic. About the way they’d treated her family, about the thing they were planning now, about how they lacked respect, lacked kindness and lacked foresight. He’d listened, patiently, and asked again: How could he help?
It was the question he most dreaded. The question he always knew would, eventually, come.
“Master… would you hold a spear again?” she’d asked.
Rae, naturally, had no memories of holding a spear. Not before now. But he wasn’t stupid. He felt it. Felt it in the way he watched Fio move, felt it in the way she swung that blade at the end of a stick around. He knew spears. Like the back of his own hand, no. Better than that. He knew spears.
White Tiger tried to strike him, but all Rae needed to block was his will, not his sight.
“Yes,” he’d said, and whispered now again. It was a difficult answer to give, but it was the same. Ingrid was more fond of Fio than he was, and if he made excuses about making her sad, she might smack him over the head with a baking tray.
He smiled at those thoughts. At the knowledge of his past. His full past.
Another deep breath.
“Why are you here?!” White Tiger demanded.
Rae smiled, so brightly. “What better reason is there for an old man to fight, than when his family asks?”
Fio was family, to him. She was his pupil, his darling star in the sky. His bond to that ethereal past he didn’t remember, to that agonising hole in himself. Always respectful, always appreciative, kind and patient with his antics. If she asked him to fight, then there was no doubt.
“You have no family,” White Tiger spat. “You and your-”
Rae breathed out. “Hey,” he said, leveraging his weapon for the first time, pointing it forward. “Don’t finish that sentence.” That wound was raw. The one that told him that he would never, ever have children. That he was born to die alone.
And then, now, he had someone he could call granddaughter. Without guilt. Blood ties? They didn’t matter. Family was chosen. And they had chosen each other.
So, when she had asked him to put on the ring, to sleep a little before he fought, he agreed. He trusted Fio with his life. He trusted her as his eyes grew heavy, as he fell asleep on the kitchen table, and as he awoke before a storm of annihilating, scintillating light washed over him.
Slowly, he turned to his pupil. “You did good,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Now let’s see what these old bones can do.”
It was time, finally, to fight.
- - -
White Tiger came onto him fast. The old bastard was aspected towards light, after all. Fast, ephemeral, untouchable. But Rae was not like that, not at all. Oh, sure, his aspect sounded similar, but it was not quite the same.
Rae breathed out as the other old man rushed towards him. The air crackled, faintly. He drew arcs in the air with his spear, spinning it, and turning aside the Tiger’s charge with a deft flick of his wrist. It was a blow.
“Fine then!” White Tiger bellowed. “Let us exchange pointers one more time, old enemy!”
The air buzzed, hummed, sang to Rae. His spear, Ricipia, the Sky Terror, resting in his hand like an old friend, an eternal, reliable companion.
Electricity buzzed, until the hair on his body rose. His smile widened, threatening to split his face. The storm coursed through his body, old techniques flickering to life, one by one. Mixing and mashing with new talents, new powers granted by that network of his disciples, a wonderful thing it was.
As the tiger came close, fast and untouchable as light, Rae manifested his aspect. He opened his core, and let it all pour out, and it felt like summer rain on his face.
In a moment, the sky was blotted out. Tiger’s Radiance a candle to a bonfire. Clouds gathered, dark and foreboding, unstoppable.
Rae was not as fast as the Tiger. He was not as untouchable, not as conniving, not as tricky. He was, however, greater. A bolt of lightning split the sky, and Rae’s grin turned terrifying, his presence descending like a sledgehammer, like a god taking up arms. “Exchange pointers? You love your allegories, eh, bastard?! Well, let me tell you something!”
The words poured out as a roar. “This old dog still has some bite! And you? You’re a mutt that needs to be put down!”
Tiger screamed in defiance, and rushed in. His wings of light flared. His ruinous power enough to tear into the clouds, to shatter the ground, to break and destroy everything in its path, to send scathing incandescence over everything and everyone.
It was met with ruin.
Lightning. That was Rae’s aspect. Simple, pure, blinding, incandescent, terrible and horridly powerful.
If the Tiger was a streak of all consuming incandescence, then Rae was a summer storm given form. The Tiger roared half a screech, and Rae’s spear met him like a guillotine.
There was no contest.
With a crash so loud that it could tear a man’s head off, lightning lanced down. It spilled out of Rae in an absolute torrent. A violent deluge of tearing electricity, surging after his spear. He drew out an arc - not that of a circle, but an arc of electricity.
A flash, a bolt, and a scream.
Tiger lost his left arm.
There was no blood, no wound, already seared shut. The old man gasped, spitting blood. The world itself shuddered at the noise that came a moment later, a rolling thunder that sent rae’s hair billowing, and sent cracks through the eyes that surrounded them. It dispelled the fog, the illusions, and everything else.
Rae poured out enough Qi to blot out the sun, and then some. It was terrifying, it was beautiful, and it was freeing. His blood boiled, lightning coursing through his veins, and he felt stronger than ever. His path was the lord of the storms, and he sure felt like a king right now.
“H- How?” Tiger gasped.
“Oh,” Rae said, swinging his spear to the side, splashing off bolts of electricity as though cleaning away blood. “It’s simple, really. My numbers are bigger than yours.”
White Tiger’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You’re on the second step. Maybe the third, right?” He grinned. “I’m on the sixth. My techniques are better. I have more talent, both natural, and thanks to my lovely disciple. My path suits me better. I’m more skilled, more powerful, and more talented than you. But, most of all? I want this.”
“I want to win, so bad. I’m going to cut you down, and then prepare the rest of the fuckers from Zinnic as training dummies for Fio’s friends. You’re dead, Tiger. A dog that didn’t know when to stop. Fucking. Barking.”
At that, Zinnic’s greatest asset grit his teeth. He was a dog?! Fuck that!
He was a tiger! The top of all of Eden! He’d fought Rae in a dozen matches before, and they had always been equal! Where was the old bastard getting this from? What kind of last battle had he had before his retirement?!
No, he would not have this! He would fight, he would bite and chomp and tear, and he would win, damn it! He charged.
Rae smiled, then turned back. “Hey, Fio? Look closely. Let me show you why I have my title.”
I looked at him with wide eyes and nodded.
He stepped forward to meet the tiger.
- - -
What followed next is something I cannot properly describe. It was, in all essence, a conflict between masters. Two prodigies, who had dedicated decades to their weapons. Dedicated thousands of hours, tens of thousands of hours of sweat, blood and tears.
I looked as my master used only one hand, matching the Tiger. He was no faster. No stronger. Nothing.
All he did was meet the old man with pure, brutal technique. A hundred strikes came in a single second, and Rae turned aside each thrust, stopped each line, constantly maintained his threat, forcing the charging Tiger backwards.
His feet shifted, his spear went up, batting aside that of his enemy, and met his throat, gracing it with a tiny, barely visible nick. “Dead,” Rae declared.
White Tiger roared. They battled again. It was wonderful, stunningly beautiful in the way that only absolute mastery could be. A tiger with wings going against a god. My master strode through the sky, his feet stepping on crackling lightning, while his opponent flew on five steps of glowing wings.
Scintillating annihilation passed me by, blowing back my hair as it tore into the distance, just barely deflected by my master. The backside of his spear came down on the Tiger’s nose with a crunch. “Dead,” Rae declared.
Another scream, another fight, another half thousand exchanged in a few meagre seconds. And then, again, as each time before, my master won. His spear stopped just in front of the Tiger’s heart. “Dead,” he declared.
“Dead.”
“Dead.”
“Dead.”
And then, one of those times, the eyes in the sky glowed, and my master frowned. His final attack was knocked aside, in a moment of confusion. White Tiger swung towards his heart. I thought Rae would die, and he just snorted.
In amusement.
A tiny thundercloud spawned there, and when the Tiger touched it, there was another brutal roll of thunder, a titanic explosion. A thousand lightning bolts all at once, tearing apart White tiger’s spear, sinking into his arm and drawing lichtenberg figures of blackened, ruined flesh onto it.
“I fear there is another target my student will learn from, Tiger,” he sighed. “Any last words.”
“Fuck you. Let me talk to the girl,” he said.
Rae looked at Fio, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to?"
Shellshocked, it took me a few moments to reply, but I nodded. “Okay.”
I walked up to him, kneeling, one arm entirely gone, the other mangled and broken. His hair was a mess, and the burns even extended into his face. He was dead, already, for sure. But he looked at me.
“You were strong,” he said. “Clever. You’ll go further than me. You might be a cub but… spread your ruinous wings and soar.” Then he paused. “Ah. I have no right to lecture you. Disregard my words.”
His blood lips turned into a smile. “Let me say my proper final words, then.”
White Tiger, the old man who had fought all his life, braced. He placed his hand onto his thigh, and held his head forward for decapitation. “You were right,” he said. “It’s a shit idea to get buried in a coffin. Burn my remains."
That was all. Rae nodded, and then a lightning bolt crashed down. The Tiger was turned to ash, all at once.
We were quiet for a moment. A long, long moment. Then, I got a little nauseous, and Rae looked at the sky.
“... Right,” he said wistfully. “We aren’t done.” Then, his eyes turned to the ground, flicking across it. “Come, Fio. Let’s shatter that old mirror, too.”
