"When the angels descended upon the world, led by the Dragonslayer Mikhanja, and with all the gods fighting underneat the banner of the Exalted Host, the human cities had no recourse. The great ogre kings—sometimes known as yakshas, others known as yakkas—traveled to create a Pact with the dragons and the avians to fight alongside the human armies and their mystics and immortals. The greatest of the ogre kings was Ragsamattha Ulinarakotewittho, who could grow a million times his size. When he was slain by the angel Zifanja, he offered his body to the human peasant and rebel leaderAtotong Buniye to wield. And so became the first of the war machines known as the Ogre Machines. Nowadays, we like to call the Ogre Machines by another name—Giant Suits."

From Folktales of the Seraphic Wars: The Shared Fantasy of the Utter Islands

The captain of the ogre war machine bellowed into a large conch trumpet. Signaling the nearing of the ogre war machine to Wegr.

The conductor yelled from atop the walking machine—"Wegr! Wegr! That's the City of Blacklight! Blacklight City! Wegr!"

The war machine actually did not only have Blacklight City as its stop. It would continue on to walk, walk, walk into the archipelago known as the End of the World. There, great mystics and sorcerers, cultivators and martial artists and warlords, do battle in a land unreached by either Capitalist or Communist forces. A land of true anarchy, where the most powerful create communes of either peace or warmongering. It was a place once could escape to. Some even say that if one hopped the islands far enough, one would reach the World's Heart.

But that is a tale for the superstitious.

Raxri rose to their feet. They had managed to rest up now, though they did not have much of that either. They sat with their eyes unwilling to blink. Their hair, a riot of vermillion orchids. They managed to clean themself as well, provided soap and water by Atrami and Feng. They had been shown the bathroom where they could wash themselves—a relatively clean bathroom, all things considered.

They wore now just a loose shirt and a loose sarong. The only things they had left. The clothes made Raxri think of Sintra Kennin. O, Sintra. I hope you are okay...

They rose to their feet and walked out into the sides of the war machine, where they had made multiple platforms for people to look out into the city as the warstrider bounded over the sea. There, with the winds whipping at their shirts and cloths, Raxri saw Wegr.

It looked like a glinting black stone in the middle of the city. It did not look like it grew out of the tectonic plates of the earth. Rather it looked like... it was hurled down by some wrathful seraph to subjugate the earth with a fierce piercing weapon. If this truly was the case or was truly what happened, Raxri was not sure. At this point, they would not be surprised.

Raxri leaned into the wind. It whipped their hair, a tattered banner. I am so tired. The thought was a stone in their gut. No weapon. No shield. No armor. The talismans on their arms were just ink now. Faded scars. Their cheeks were hollowed graves. Their eyes, sinkholes. The exhaustion was a physical weight, bending their spine.

Anyone could see it: this was a person worn down to the core. And yet.

And yet, and yet,and yet. They were beautiful, even so. A kind of beauty that disarmed you. It was a weapon. A tiger's grace in the shoulders, a supermodel's sharp cheekbones. A face that could be a warrior's or a saint's.

From some contexts Raxri looked like a beautiful woman, with proportions of a supermodel one would see on Sorehnese or Munian streets—that is to say, overly slim, skinny, somewhat broad, striking square face shape. In other contexts, Raxri moved with the broad-shouldered gait of a male tiger. Ready to pounce, ready to strike. They were not feminine at all but only feminine in the thin veneer of that sense. Even now, even as they leaned over the railings of the ogre machine, their posture said something more masculine than feminine.

Duality is humans finding patterns where there are none, after all. For their own survival. It is not too surprising. Humans create damnation for themselves, after all. The majority of human suffering is caused by humanity—the minority is caused by the universe. This is why Cessation and Rebirth are not separate. This is why Enlightenment is the Royal Road.

But that is a matter for another time.

Raxri sighed. The salt in the sea frizzed their hair up. They had to squint to be able to see Wegr more clearly. Other than it being built on black stone thrown by the gods, it looked like it had multiple wooden—or was that... pearl? Coral?—structures jutting out of the rock. Spires and pagodas. Interlocking to create a semi-cosmopolitan living space.

A city. Raxri had never been to a city before. Or, they were sure they had been to a city before in their past life. Whatever that was. They wondered how different the city would be from Imos Town.

Their hand reached for Puksa. Found nothing. The Fulminating Dark had taken it. They were naked. More than naked. No lamellar. No armor. No talismans—even their talismans had all been ripped away from them! They had nothing but the knowledge of their martial arts. They still had Vajra Boxing and Adamant Sword and Monsoon Dancing... but that was it. Will that be enough to carry them through whatever they might face?

They looked over their shoulder. Akazha's corpse, wrapped up in a tight banana leaf. Then, also wrapped in a leather sheathe. The leather sheathe came from a white carabao, and upon the skin were sigils and mantras to appease any lingering ghosts as well as to make sure that the ghost stays preserved. "This is our only one on board," Atrami had said. "We'll give it to you now." When Raxri rejected the kindness, Atrami only shook his head. "It is our code as Physickers to help the closest one we can to the utmost of our ability. We do not want to be breaking our Oath."

And so Raxri had no choice but to take it.

Before the body they had lit incense. It only felt right.

Alone. Again.

Right, Raxri thought, looking up again at the spires that pierced above Wegr. The Ultramystic. I can go there. I can find answers there. Their last resort.

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Looking at that spire... Raxri knew that the world was never going to be the same.

"You admiring the view?" asked Atrami. They walked beside Raxri and leaned back onto the railing. Atrami stood so much taller than Raxri, they just realized. Raxri had to look up to see his face—that soft-sharp look that no doubt melted all women and men.

"Right. Yes. Or perhaps... more of contemplating it?"

"You've never been to Wegr, right?"

Raxri shook their head. "I... lost all my memory, until very recently. And all my cultivations. I... do not know anything in this world."

"I see," said Atrami. They looked like they wanted to hold Raxri. But they held back. "Then you should at least endeavor to stay safe. That should be your priority."

"It is," said Raxri, nodding. They looked back at Wegr. "But where I am plunging into... that requires me to be unsafe. And I will need the determination and volition to weather it."

"You will," said Atrami. "We'll be parting soon, then."

Raxri turned and raised an eyebrow. "You will not be climbing to Wegr?"

He shook his head. "Feng and I are heading to this place—Ritual Battle Isle. A vaunted place for warriors."

Raxri tilted their head in wonder. "Ritual Battle... Isle?"

Atrami nodded, slightly pouting. "So named because ancient warriors and soldiers would sail there to perform ritual deathmatches. Anyway, it's where the Final Tournament is held. We've been commissioned by the commune there—Haritinggan—to work as physickers for those attending the tournament."

"I see. When will the tournament be?"

Atrami said: "In a few months, I would think. It happens annually, so we might be there for a while." He smirked. "Why? Are you planning on joining?"

Raxri looked very seriously at the sea. "If there will be strong opponents... it might be worth it to go. So that I can measure if my cultivation will be enough."

Atrami bit his lip. "I'm not sure if that will be quite the best idea. The Final Tournament is a deathmatch. It is very rare for us to be able to bring someone back from the dead."

Raxri's thoughts wandered to Akazha. They used their mental noose—their meditational noose—to rein their thoughts back into the current situation. "Physickers are not miracleworkers, then?"

"Well, we are the closest one to miracleworkers," said Atrami, shrugging. "But trying to save someone from the brink of death is a metaphysical impossibility. At least, from what we've studied so far. When someone died, their Mindstream is immediately divorced from them. Immediatel, in that final rattling gasp—the air that escapes a killed body is the sound of the nuclear Mindstream dispersing from one's body, to recongregate somewhere else according to the karmic weight that it has accrued."

Raxri nodded. Somehow, despite being deprived of sleep and beaten to an inch of death, they were somewhat understanding what Atrami was saying. Though, of course, only in the layman's sense of things. "So each atom has a karmic weight?"

Atrami nodded. "That is karma, after all. The lighter the atom, the greater the chance that they ascend to one of the higher paths. Either Demigod or God."

"I see. Is that why we have no memory of our past lives when we are rebirthed?"

Atrami nodded again. Proud of Raxri—just a bit. "Yes, that is the reason why. And why it requires a specialized adept, mystic, or advanced wizard to be able to peer into your past lives. And why the farther the past life, the harder. Because those atoms have gone through other past lives."

"Intriguing. These are the things taught to you in school?"

Atrami nodded. "Though, I've never been the bookish type. I failed most of my exams. Feng was the genius at it. Medical Metaphysics. Written by Monks and ancient Physickers."

"Where did you study again?"

"Pasangmiya University, in Sakanggan. The Charnel Isles. It's only around 21st in the inter-archipelagic ranking system, but I've had the best teachers there."

"What is the best University then?" asked Raxri, suddenly curious.

"Hm. I suppose that would have to be Sagaravajra University, in Selorong."

"Sagara... vajra?"

"It means 'God-King Indesctructible and Irresistible Thunderbolt' University. Sagaravajra was the name of a revolutionary peasant-wizard who slew the Central Yavinian Guild's High Wizard Yowan Blake. Yowan Blake was someone who led the Central Yavinian Guild on the conquest of the Southern Islands. Sometime during... I think it was 11427? Yeah, around that time."

"The Central Yavinian Guild...?"

"Wow, Raxri. Talking to you feels like a reviewer for the licensure exams all over again!" Atrami laughed. Raxri bowed and apologized, but Atrami waved his hands. "No, no, don't worry. No harm done here, it was a mere jest. The Central Yavinian Guild is the major colonizing arm of the Ressen-Nalenjese Republic. Ah, but they don't want to call it their colonizing arm. It's their business arm. But only until a hundred years ago it was its colonization arm. And it continues to commit violence to this day, so..."

Raxri looked out to the sea. Their hair whipped to and fro. "Ressen-Nalenji... there is so much more I have to learn."

"Pemi was just the beginning, Raxri," said Atrami, nodding. "But take it a day at a time. The world is already dead anyway." He chuckled.

Raxri managed a smile at that. What a nice fellow to speak with—so optimistic even in the face of post-apocalypse. "Thank you, Atrami. You and Feng have been much too kind. It is truly auspicious that we have seen each other during this travel."

"Ah, don't worry about it," said Atrami. He turned around and leaned on the balcony. "Least you could do for me is stay alive. For as long as you can."

A thought popped into Raxri's head as they watcehd Atrami stare at the sea. "That does make me wonder. What rationale must you have had to help us?"

"No rationale," said Atrami. He shrugged. "It was simply our code. Any opportunity for us to practice is a good opportunity. Keep that in mind."

Raxri nodded sagely. "I understand. To follow your duty..." What is my duty?

"Yes. Mostly. It's what keeps us sane. But that's what humans are good at doing. Surviving through distraction. Or through purpose. Though I suppose that is some form of distraction in and of itself." Atrami shook his head. "Sorry for taking your quiet time. I'll have to return to Feng for now. Please, do enjoy the sea breeze for a bit longer. And try not to drown in your thoughts. That was the vibe you gave off when I approached you. And as a Physicker, I know how people look like when they're drowning in their own mind."

Raxri gave him a smile. Atrami couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you, Atrami. You have been very kind. May your days be beautiful."

"And so may yours." They performed the Heart Reverences to each other.

With a sigh, Raxri pushed themselves off the balcony as the war machine approached Wegr. There was singular port there that was made tall enough so that the war machine did not need to kneel down for people to disembark. Unfortunately, it did mean disembarking passengers had to hike up to the top—to the shoulders of the war machine—to get off.

Raxri positioned Akazha onto their back. They were made solid by some preservation magicks cast by Feng so that Akazha did not flip flop about. They stayed perfectly still in a semi-fetus position. This made it exceedingly easy to carry Akazha. Or perhaps Raxri was just that strong, now? Or perhaps the corpsehood of Akazha made her lose any muscle or weight that would've made her too heavy to carry?

Atrami stopped them at the stairs. He pressed a phoenix-headed vial into Raxri's hand. The glass was cold.

"Take it," he said. "If you are wounded beyond belief. It rewinds time."

Raxri turned the vial. It caught the light, a relic from a dead empire. "What is it?"

"A Soma Elixir. I made it." Atrami's voice was soft. "My only one. Don't worry. I have more."

Raxri smiled again and nodded. "Thank you again, Atrami. Feng."

And with that, Raxri turned around and climbed the stairs. Up to the shoulder of the war machine. Over to the solid and sturdy magicked jade gangplank. And finally, onto the solid stone of Wegr island.

The moment Raxri stepped onto Wegr, they immediately felt an electromagnetic shock run through them. But it did no damage. And it was nothing more than a vibration.

What was that?

But no time for wondering now. Raxri faced the ogreport and walked into the city.

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