LORDS OF ZEN

A woman tied up in a lengthy woolen scarf oversaw the large crater beneath her feet, her expression cold and calm. Eyes, which once gleamed with heated determination and azure shimmer turned deep silver and indifferent.

As she put the silver sword back into the scabbard strapped around her waist, she leapt over the giant crater and walked deeper towards the North. With the vortex-like structure of the Gallows, rather than climbing over the mountain, she took a relatively grounded path towards the center, through which she encountered dozens of villages, some of which she burned and some of which she left alone.

Walk the path of snow, her slanted eyes looked left and right, as if constantly alarmed, seeking any signs of movement. The deeper she moved, the harsher the blizzards got, until the slanted snow turned to pure, fist-sized icicles clashing against mountainside rocks and cliffs. Temperatures dropped to the point she had to use Mana to fend them off, and she didn’t dare camp out in the open anymore and would carve out a makeshift cave as the night fell.

Over a year had gone by since Fen’er entered the Gallows. Through it, she had left her footprints across the mountainous rings, leaving behind ash and decay as far as the eye can see. The harsh mountains had stolen her heart, leaving behind a gash of emptiness to forever swallow all her emotions.

Even she herself had noticed the slow, yet apparent, change within her. However, she didn’t fight it; rather, embracing the cold, she had become one with the deep snow dyed crimson red.

“… the old man was right,” she muttered slowly as she excavated a cave at the mountainside and entered. “I probably can’t move any further in at the moment.” she sighed lowly as fire burned out from her fingertips, setting slightly wet wooden branches beneath ablaze. “… looks like it’s time I returned back home. I wonder how everyone is doing?”

A swift gale doused flames afloat as she alertly drew back, reaching for her sword. However, just a moment later, her movements stopped as she spotted a man sitting across from her, smiling gently as he stroked his long, white beard.

“… long time no see.” Fen’er said, snorting, as she sat back down calmly.

“It hasn’t been that long… not in a grand scheme of things, at least,” the man chuckled as he said. “I take it you’ve decided to go back home, no?”

“You have keen ears old man.”

“Or just really good friends,” the man extended his arm, whereupon a white rodent lingered out from his sleeve, nibbling on small bits of cheese atop his palm. “This one’s been with me for over ten years. Cute fella, isn’t he?”

“… it’s true when they say that all old men have gone insane, in one way or another.”

“Ha ha, maybe,” the man laughed, taking out a small wrap of cloth and setting it besides the flame before unwrapping it; within were slices of bread, some meat and a few apples. “Let us eat.”

“… why not.” Fen’er dipped into the bread and meat without pretense, as she hadn’t eaten anything in nearly two days, seeing as the animals were quite a rarity in the depths of Gallows, and those present were far too strong for her to handle on her own. “It’s good.”

“Of course it is; my wife made it.” the man chuckled.

“… poor woman.”

“The last time we met,” the man said, ignoring her probe. “Just as I was leaving, you said something that peaked my interest: that I’ll be your Crucible, no?”

“I have,” Fen’er nodded. “What of it? Afraid, so you came to beg me?”

“Why do you feel like you need to pass through a Crucible?” the man asked in a serious tone, his eyes narrowing. “What is with this fascination of you people with trials and overcoming them? Especially if all walls you feel you need to cross are fabricated in your own mind.”

“… you wouldn’t understand.” she said ambiguously.

“No, I imagine I wouldn’t,” the man said, sighing. “But, believe or not, I was young once too. I haven’t spent all of my days locked up on the world’s third highest peak, randomly appearing before young girls to give them unnecessary lectures.”

“… so you are self-aware, huh?”

“I’ve seen and battled through my fair share of ‘crucibles’,” the man said, a look of reminiscence crossing his features. “Yet, through them I’ve learned nothing but pain and emptiness. I’ve fought in the name of another one’s dream, and in the name of my own, and did splendid heroics I felt were appropriate to etch my name in the annals of history.”

“… your point being?” Fen’er interrupted him impatiently.

“… I have watched you ever since you first ascended the mountain, child,” the man said, a look of sadness flashing through his eyes. “Back then, all I saw was a hopeful, sixteen year old girl. Yet, now, before me sits a detached being, akin to a man yet not quite alike. World doesn’t need any more indifference; rather, it needed that hopeful girl, and that look of desire.”

“What do you know about the world, old man?” Fen’er scoffed, looking away. “Locked up on the ‘third highest peak’ and all.”

“… do you believe in your father’s dream?” startled, Fen’er backed up, reaching for her sword, her eyes wide open.

“… what are you talking about?!”

“Lords of Zen… ah, that brings back memories,” Ion chuckled lightly as he grabbed a piece of meat and began chewing on it. “Back then, they were just a small – yet immensely terrifying – group of people I had once considered my friends. However, the life of a supposed ‘hero’ isn’t always as easy and cheerful as books make it out to be. Through trials of flame and death, we’ve all lost many precious friends and loves, and eventually learned the harsh truth of this world. Back then, twelve had split off, forming an assassin’s union called Lords of Zen. Taking any job – as long as the coin is right – they’re even considered responsible for the death of King Urut the Third, a death which sparked the famous Eastern Great War.”

“…” Fen’er remained silent, slightly shocked as she processed the information she never heard of before.

“The history behind where you were born is rather colorful, child,” Ion continued. “And, whatever you may believe in your heart, your father is not a good man. He never was, and he never will be. He didn’t send you here to practice the arts of sword, or to get better at fighting,” he sighed as he paused for a moment, looking at Fen’er with the eyes of pity. “He’s sent you to become, well, who you’ve become.”

“… you’re bullshitting.” Fen’er muttered lowly.

“The actors were given the script a long time ago, and the play has begun ever since before you were born. Soon, it will be time for the climax of the third arc. I urge you reconsider where your heart belongs. Else, one day, it will be too late.”

“… you’re bullshitting!!” Fen’er exploded in anger. “My father may not be a saint, but everything he’s done he did for the better of our clan! What actors?! What script?! What play?! Stop lying to me!! Who the fuck do you think you are to slander my own blood before me?!”

“… who, heh?” Ion chuckled bitterly as he looked at the fuming Fen’er. “I’m your grandpa, silly child. If I can’t slander my own blood, who else can?”

“…” jaw agape, Fen’er fell back as she looked at the wrinkled face doused in white hair, finding herself in utter shock and disbelief.

“To the world I’m dead, yet here I am,” he continued, smiling. “Hiding in the Gallows’ depths without anyone – not even your father – knowing.”

“… but—you- you died! You died of old age!! There’s even a tomb of yours with mummified body!”

“I’d sure hope so as I had to kill an innocent man for it,” Ion chuckled, sighing as he leaned back. “I shared your father’s ambitions once upon a time—nay, it’s better said he inherited them from me. I had seen the world, and I wished to own it, to make my own laws and spread the glory of lineage far and beyond. In truth, reasons were much more selfish, but it takes far too long for realizations to kick in. Eventually, as I watched your father grew from an innocent, loving child into a cold-blooded man who could massacre a village without batting an eye, I’ve realized what I’ve done.”

“However,” he continued, his eyes shifting back onto Fen’er. “Instead of trying to fix my mistakes and amend my sins, I’ve chosen to run away. That way, my name preserved glory, and my blood would see me as a grand hero. Dangerous is a man wrapped in vain thoughts, Fen’er; so dangerous, in fact, that even madness and insanity fairs better. If you’d like, I can show you the light; the true purpose of both our own blood that runs through us, and what we seek for the future.”

“I—I…” Fen’er stuttered, still unable to recover from shock; yet, for some strange reason, she believed the old man, and had to constantly tell herself it’s a lie just to keep her mind afloat.

“Upon inception, Lords of Zen were just a group of renegades who banded together, seeking to have a better life through any means,” Ion began, seeing her hesitation. “Assassins, mercenaries, heroes, monsters… throughout first few centuries, we were called by all names imaginable. However, time is not everlasting, and original members slowly began dying, one by one, until there was only one left – our Great Ancestor.”

“His blood was ordinary, just like mortal’s, and he was staring at the face of death himself when, one fateful day, he did the unthinkable: traded his freedom, thing he killed countless people to obtain, for a chance at longer life. Do you know what lies beneath that giant castle, swept in eternal darkness, that we call our Holy Grounds, Fen’er? Therein lies a terrifying existence, an existence akin to legendary demons who swallowed the worlds whole.”

“Our Great Ancestor made a pact with it, a solemn vow, and your father – my own son – is about to unshackle its chains and let it loose upon the world.” Ion’s voice grew heavier and deeper the more he spoke, his expression growing evermore serious. “That cannot be allowed Fen’er! Under no circumstance should that terrifying being leave its chasm! It’s been locked there for a good reason!”

“I—this…”

“Young Lord we call it, but it’s anything except that,” Ion sighed, his tense body relaxing slightly. “You’re too young, hence you’ve never had a chance to meet it. The first time my father took me to the castle’s deeps, I wasn’t able to sleep for months and years, and to this very day that face haunts me in my sleep. But, at my core, I’m a coward; and, as I’ve shed out its blood from my own, I’m no longer as strong as I used to be.”

“… ha ha, and you’re saying I am?” Fen’er laughed.

“No,” Ion shook his head. “Not you or anyone from this realm is, at least will not become before the Awakening Ceremony.”

“So… what do you propose I do, huh? Betray my own family on a word of a snow hermit I’ve met twice?”

“You don’t have to take my word for it,” Ion smiled lightly as he spoke. “Once you return home, your father will no doubt teach you all I have, and show you all of it in person. After that, should you choose to remain loyal, I can only say I’ve failed the purpose I gave myself when I fled that place. However, should you choose to trust my words, there are some things you can do. At least, if nothing else, allow me to inform you of them before you go.”

“… just let it loose; you’ve done so with everything else anyway.” Fen’er sighed, finally calming down somewhat.

“Ha ha, good point,” Ion laughed, stroking his beard. “Currently, in this realm, there are six people carrying blood of Outsiders… your task is to locate at least one, and hope they grow strong enough before the Ceremony. They are…”

The blizzard ran rampart outside while the two souls talked over a flickering flame of a campfire. In the far distance, within a dark, black-swallowed castle, a man was descending down a flight of stairs, his hand holding a torch, eyes filled with determination, muscles tensed.

As he reached the bottom, before him opened up a massive hall, reaching nearly a kilometer in height. Towering pillars held up the earth above from crumbling, and sounds of clanking chains echoed out throughout the pitch-black space as the man came to a halt.

“Young Lord,” the man spoke, kneeling down. “All preparations are moving towards their last stages. We should be ready for the Ceremony in less than five years, and at most ten. Forgive our incompetence, for having taken so long.”

“You’ve served me well, Blooded One,” a voice akin to a maddened choir echoed out, half screeching and half roaring, followed by a pair of deeply violet eyes prickling out from the darkness. “You and your blood shall be spared the Requiem; that I vow.”