Ascendant Gates of Qaelang,

Runner clan,

Like spears in the clouds, the grandest architecture of Qaelang city came into view. Bristling with ballistae and harbouring an ancient weapon each, the High Towers were more than the final defence of Qaelang. They were its spirit.

Rumoured to be older than the city in which they stood vigilant. Their elegant but sturdy architecture lent credence to this, as the High Towers weathered many a lightning strike with the utmost ease. Relics from the age of miracles and home to the Tower Lords.

Trudging along the winding Ascendant road, the boys swapped their bundle of grass between the two of them again. The burden growing as the road climbed. The press of the crowd had long since abated into a more organised march of sorts and the grasping humidity of the moors remained below.

Up here, the boys contested against the chilling bite of the high winds, grateful for every lick of sun upon their backs.

Whilst its great height served as its best protection, so too was it a nightmare getting down and back up again. But someone had to go out and collect the necessary raw materials for the city’s many needs. It just so happened that peasants were best suited for this task.

With 8 million souls on a bad year, it could easily jump to 9 when food was made plentiful and peasantry reminded of their duty to breed at the point of the sword.

Nearing the last bend in the road, Culus gave thanks for the blessedly uneventful trip. Apart from a deafening boom a while back, which had flattened them both and left their ears ringing. Whilst it had affected hundreds of others, some worse than them, it turned out to be just two powerful Cultivators racing each other down the mountain.

It was not uncommon for someone to have their skull crushed in as Cultivators raced each other. Thankfully the large roadside Ki lanterns were reinforced and the more civilised of Cultivators prefered leaping from them for a speedy descent.

As they had climbed the Ascendant road, they had left behind the din of battle. Replacing it with the soft murmur of chatter and gentle choir of running water. Its song trickling out near and far, as the many terraced rice paddies channelled their overflow smoothly along bamboo spouts out onto the next terrace below.

A heroic feat of architecture from Qaelang, and majestic in its uniform simplicity. These rice fields stretched out lengthwise on each side of the mountain city, climbing east, west and south. Like giant steps, each measuring the height of a man.

Clothed in garb plain enough as the boys, but featuring an addition of straw hat and a reed coat. These fields were tended to by indentured servants of the Noble Houses. The shallow pools being fed a rich harvest of peat from the moors below.

It was within these paddies, that the wonders of Ki advancements came into being. Capable of yielding a monthly crop capable of feeding Qaelangs burgeoning population and judged by the Emperor himself should the yield falter.

Wrapping himself up tighter against the chilling winds Culus caught the first glimpse of a pillar of flame. It climbed high into the sky and suddenly was blotted out as a huge beast fell upon it. Its roars easily audible, startling the peasantry with gasps and shouts of exclamation. Both boys looked to each other, sharing the same thought.

“Last Thorn?”

“Yes please,” replied Davi nodding eagerly.

Rushing off to the side of the road, it was a frequented area for sight gazers and by far the most luxurious of the Thorns. The Pinnacles Heart.

Aside from the harmonic sounds of running water, there were other sources of music to enjoy, each livelier and rowdier the lower one went. The Inns along the winding road served for the weary traveller, a hearty meal and strong drink. But so too as traders and smugglers of exotic goods, brought in by the Hunters Guild.

Each a domed wall sanctuary of their own, decorated with colourful beast core lanterns in an ocean of terraced rice fields. One could always be guaranteed to find a strong cup Soju, a flavoursome ‘best not ask what’ meal and an extravagant ‘you should have seen it tale’.

As much as the boys loved these inns, they had never been allowed through the gates before and had long since given up trying. The walls far too high, the penalty for trespass even higher.

And so they stood outside, gathered with the other scrupulous peasants.

“Surprisingly empty,” said a cheerful Davi. “I would have thought most of the city would be out here.”

Culus frowned looking around, the only people standing here were the ones who had come out of the swamps. He could smell them.

“It is odd,” he agreed. “This is the least crowded I’ve ever seen it, but I’m not complaining. This is great.”

“Wow!” Davi laughed. “Our fearless leader, satisfied to sit back for once as ants hurl fire and lay waste to giant Beasts.”

“Mongrel. I should boot you back down the mountain, but I worry you’d come back with an even fatter lip.”

“Oi, Bastard I might be, but mongrel I am not. See this blond hair, this pedigreed tan…”

Culus rolled his eyes at Davi’s grand delusions. The fact that there was a hint of truth to the ribbing they gave each other just made it better, nothing like a good salt rubbing in an open wound. That being said theirs was a personal humour and built on years of trust. If anyone else tried to have a go, it would not be well received.

On the neck of the mountain and mouth of the City, both boys were awarded a grand view of all the Beast lands. The bite of wind was audibly worse as it whistled angrily against the heavenly obstructions.

The shimmering edge of the horizon as far as the eyes could reach, of green fields and blue waters that kissed the light with ripples. It was the most deceitful beauty one could imagine.

It was here Qaelang City stood proud atop the edge of a broken world, defiant and disciplined. Surrounded by the open ocean on one front and the Dead moors on the other, there was only marsh and mangroves for hunting and resource gathering. Extending East and South for as far as the eye could see, none having cause to venture forth and see beyond.

In times past, the brave and foolhardy had done just that, seeking whatever it was that adventurers sought. Their actions giving rise to the marshlands namesake.

West was Tretick forest and the Hunters Guild, not that the two ever went near each other. A massive spiked wall of trees cut into giant caltrops separating the two as no one fancied having their heads ripped off and a seed shoved down into their exposed cores.

More Monster and less tree, this was how Treticks grew. The sheer enormity of the forest a grisly notion, as nothing ever came out of the ever-growing forest. It was left to the Hunters Guild to burn and keep it back, lest it take them whole.

Fancying themselves free men, beholden to no House Lord. Theirs was mostly criminals and paupers that had been forced to flee the City for an uglier chance of survival.

The fine Nobles never ventured into Moors and so the guild became a law unto themselves, with only the Hunts Marshal to have the final say over disputes. The animal fats they smeared on themselves to keep the insect life at bay along with their poor dress code ensured the City Watch never let them back in again.

It was said you could smell a Hunter before you could see him and that this was their only courtesy, as it afforded one the chance to look away. The sight of them even more loathly to behold.

North… North was the Gap, and the less said about it, the better.

Cutting straight through the massive mangrove forest that stretched out into the ocean for miles. It marked the edge of the world, for nothing but an endless ocean and monsters within, existed beyond.

Simply referred to as the Gap and feared by all. Its watery depths harboured an ancient creature rumoured to be as old as the city itself and thought of as the first Emperors pet.

None trespassed on these waters and lived to tell of it. Home to the Under Taker, it was now considered to be the Taker's very own pet.

Dramatic artworks depicted the final days of man, with the mythical creature rising from its depths. Scaling Qaelangs northern cliff edge with its many siphoning limbs, and laying waste to the last city of Man. Its watery depths were a constant source of terror in the recesses of every sane mind and cheap Haiku.

Given their distance, the battle had been silent and for all the hours they had climbed they had seen little of it. But what little they saw in those final moments terrified them both.

How could the Watch face up against such overwhelming numbers and fearsome foes and still come out victorious?

At one point Culus had heard a whisper of the Shogun being smacked away but that was quickly put to rest. They were all just specs in the distance, smaller now than ants even, but even he had heard the cheers as the Kaiju had turned around and fled.

“Come Davi, we can’t stay long.”

Culus winced as he saw tiny figures breaking off and charging into the Tretick forest.

“We have to drop that off and then be on our way to meet the other Nest Leaders.”

“Can I come too this time?”

“I’m sorry Davi, you know you can’t. Besides Juri would be furious.”

“Ugh, I hate that guy.”

“Whoa, easy buddy. That guy’s the next Runner clan leader after me.”

“Oh please don’t play the peacemaker with me, its so fake. I know you Culus.”

Culus sighed turning Davi around and marching him towards the gate, an odd sight since Davi was far broader than Culus.

“Most good manners are fake Davi, but good manners always help keep the peace.”

“Don’t practise them on me Cul, besides he makes no effort to hide his loathing of you.”

Dropping the conversation entirely, Culus walked on in silence. Not liking where it was going. A year-old disaster, but one he had led.

Not his fault, Davi. I would hate me too. Still do.

As they approached the gate, Culus’s broody mood was pelted with the sound of running feet, lots of running. The space before them quickly began to open up, allowing them to stroll freely without bumping into anyone and also see ahead.

Glancing at each other in concern, both gutter rats sensed trouble ahead. Striking them as odd that the space would free up just before the main city gate.

They almost bumped into the group in front of them, which went deathly quiet and abruptly slowed. Having ceased their grumbles about heavy loads and ungrateful wives, Culus was almost grateful for the relief. Instead, his alarm spiked when he realised that quietness extended all around.

Not a soul in all the moving crowd spoke, as more and more people ran.

Pausing and straining to see ahead, Culus tensed as the area in front of them hastily opened. The group in front experiencing a sudden burst of energy and charging off ahead. Their absence revealed the full splendour of the Ascendant Gate archway before the boys and the horror below it.

“Culus.” Davi hissed in alarm.

The bodies lay undisturbed by the fleeing peasantry, lying where they had fallen. Some slumped over, as if they had simply sat down against the wall and fallen asleep. It was the others that told a more damning truth, lying on their backs with arms raised in defense and contorted, faces frozen in horror.

Not a one had their weapons drawn.

“I see it, buddy.” He hissed right back.

“Culus I don’t want to go in there.”

As soon as he said those words Culus had a jolt of a flashback.

Whether it was because he had just been brooding over it, or the way the bodies lay. Culus knew immediately that familiar faces would be waiting for him within. Either way, this was something he had been running away from for over a year now.

The worst of it was this time he had no choice. If he wanted to get home, he had to go forward like all the other peasants.

To be surrounded by death again.

Sensing Culus’s hesitancy, Davi exclaimed in shock.

“Oh Giver Culus, I’m sorry. I forgot, I…”

“Davi, stop it” Culus whispered, unable to look away from the gate. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I know buddy, but I am.”

Culus swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes glistening. He nodded his head vigorously but remained stuck. It wasn’t until he felt Davi place a hand on his back and push him onwards, that he began to move. Moving at the pace Davi set.

“We just walk like everyone else.”

The boys marched on, approaching the picturesque scene of slaughter.

Culus looked away as he approached those vacant accusing eyes, but not fast enough for the face to meld into the ghost of another. A familiar face with a familiar accusatory stare.

Lying on both sides of the tunnel, if he closed his eyes he risked being run over by someone or worse, stepping on someone. He couldn’t escape their looks, even though most of their faces were covered. Each quickly melded into a haunted face from the year past.

The proximity of the bodies, the pile of death, the way they lay strewn about. Everything was too familiar and they called out to him.

He flinched as he saw them begin to rise, squeezing Davi’s arm hard as they turned and stared at him expectantly.

“It wasn’t your fault, Culus. Nobody knows what happened, but we know it wasn’t your fault.”

He’s not frightened. Culus is never frightened. This… this is just shock.

Davi dragged him on quicker. He could have hollered for all the good it would do, but Culus was not beside him. The boy walked a graveyard far removed from comfort. His face wet as he walked beside his broken brothers for the first time in a year.

Without his helmet on, a dead guard appeared to be the same age as Davi. The wall behind his resting place was greyed out with his shadow silhouetted within. The ghosts within the archway walked beside him in silence as peasants ran past clamouring for divine protection.

For each and every person that flat out ran past the bodies. For everyone who pointedly looked away. Culus felt something gnaw at his guilt. He felt their pitiful desperation to escape as quick as possible, lest they get wrapped up in its consequences.

Each and every little effort to ignore them bothered him more and more. The softest of flicks on his soul coming in harder as he realised he had done the very same for over a year.

The guilt he felt, swapped out for anger at each fleeing coreless person. He wanted to yell out at them, but what could he say that wouldn’t make him more of the hypocrite he felt himself to be.

In the end, all he could do was acknowledge them, his ghosts. As he fumbled to stand straighter, he felt them straighten too. As his footing became more sure, he felt his crew step in line with him too. As he walked with fragile strengthing resolve, he felt their confidence rise too.

Finally, he felt their smiling faces on his back and in silence, he marched a final journey beside them. Culus’s face ran wet.

A number of peasants lay strewn about further down the tunnel. Caught up in whatever had happened here, face down in their own sick. It was towards the end of the massive gate and entrance to Qaelang city, that Culus noted the finely armoured Cultivator and stopped still.

A face identical to a face that hated him now, rose up and waited for him. An old friend and reason the identical despised him so.

“Culus they’re… they’re all dead.” Davi almost stumbled, unable to pull his gaze from the bodies.

The words spoken in fear shattered the spell he walked under and Culus saw the tunnel without the ghosts for the first time.

Wet blood on the walls spoke to the recency of events here, a putrid stench of bone rot lingering in the air. He knew at once what had come through here and looking at the armoured Cultivator, he saw the ghost appear once more. Waiting.

Here lay the only member of the Watch with a drawn sword, for all the good it had done him.

“Calm Davi, this is no place to panic,” Culus spoke calmly as he began moving again.

Davi, utterly terrified but strong for Culus. Turned up in surprise at the calm collected tone his friend spoke with as if he were a completely different person. Choosing not to question it, he continued on towards the exit, walking beside a calmer Culus.

Whatever Culus had resolved he was glad for it. Even if it was the most wrecked looking resolved he had ever seen. Culus wore a face that looked like it had hit every terrace on the way down the mountain.

A few bumps and scrapes later, shouldering against folk too frightened to do more than shove past one another in their haste to escape, the boys were clear. Free of the gateway of death.

It was only until they stepped out into the light again, did Davi ask if he was ok. Culus had stopped again and was frowning at something over the corpse of a Night Watch. A trail of blood extended behind the body, their arm outstretched and reaching.

“Culus we should check if they…”

“No, don’t touch them,” Culus replied, worlds away as peasants cursed or apologised as they jostled past him in the escape.

“Culus,” Davi panted, “that thing is in the City. It did this, look at their skin.”

He had. He wasn’t sure about the Night Watch, but he had seen the blackened veins on the guard's faces and necks. They swelled grotesquely, almost popping.

“There is always some in the City, Davi. They live in the city. Where do you think Bone flower come from?”

“None like that there aren’t.” Davi protested angrily. “That thing was a Sacred Artist, Culus.”

“Hush,” Culus winced, “don’t even say that.”

It mattered not to him as he looked back at the Cultivator's outstretched hand. Asking of himself; what could a coreless person do, as he stared at the flare just beyond the dead man's reach.

Had he really lived a lie for so long? He had run roofs as Pinnacle Beasts flew overhead, as Lepratic reavers ran amok. How had responsibility and common sense turned into a life of cowardice?

“Giver, why isn’t anyone helping them? Where are the Tower Lords.”

“They don’t come, Davi because they don’t see. Most likely watching the Beast Wave. Whatever happened here, happened beneath the gate and the bodies remain hidden from above.”

Culus turned and frowned at Davi, asking cooly. “Do you really want everyone here to die?”

Davi cringed back from Culus, too cold a response for the scene before him.

“You’ve seen what happens when a Tower Lord gets involved, Davi. This is a job for the Watch and the helpful citizen.”

“Huh?” Davi scowled. “The helpful what?”

But Culus was already moving

“Culus! What are you doing?”

“Shhhh,” Culus hissed angrily.“Why you gotta shout my name?”

“We don’t get involved in matters of the Watch, you’ve said so a hundred times.”

“Times change.”

Davi gasped in shock, making ready to flee as all the other peasants ran faster, crying out in alarm.

“So too must we.”

Culus pulled the string, squawking as he was blinded by the bright red flare that shot up into the sky. Instantly his hand was seared in terrible heat and he could smell his flesh burn as he dropped the bamboo canister. It angled poorly from the scalding heat, but when it exploded high above the gates, it shone brilliantly.

People fled in all directions like a kicked rats nest and when he lowered his dizzy gaze, he almost leapt back. Startled, the ghost in the tunnel stood directly in front of him. Smiling.

That familiar face again, but this time the eyes blinked and it rested a hand on his shoulder.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“Not your fault.”

Davi looked on in stunned disbelief. The alarm was raised and there Culus stood as if waiting to give an explanation to the authorities. This madness was too much.

Holding firmly onto the grass bundle, he ran forward and grabbed a hold of Culus. Turning and fleeing, he almost fell over as he dragged Culus away. Glancing about manically, before turning to look at Culus strangely.

“Yo, who said that?”