God Obliterating Vajra [Esoteric Dark Fantasy]

"The truth of Alchemy is that it is nothing but manipulation of Ardor through purely material means. This is why so many Advanced Alchemists, Magochemists, and Transcendental Chemists work on creating elixirs and concoctions. Many Chemists are obligated to work in medicinal fields to be able to contribute to the development of medicine, which is highly dependent on biochemical concoction. To this day, the idea of an Elixir of Immortality, an idea that belongs to the ancient dark ages, persists as a viable end goal for medicine."

From the Broken World Manuscript

The world will never be the same.

Raxri had gotten used to being revealed visions during their sleep and slumber. It was both a curse and a boon, for them. A boon because it gave them unprecedented amounts of prescience and cognition. A curse because they could never, ever understand what these visions wished to tell them. And who could? It was like watching a dream meant for someone else, in reverse chronology.

But now, there was no vision. No dream. No hatred, no anger. No call to action. No violence—or perhaps, this emptiness was the ultimate violence? Whatever it was, it was restful. Fitless. Raxri felt a slumber and rest that they had never felt before, and they flourished. They felt all their wounds close—or if not close, at least numb by a considerable amount. They needed this rest, if it was rest.

Perhaps this was true death?

No. They could still open their eyes.

And so they did.

Pain. Light. Pain again. Everything was just another name for agony. For a brief moment, Raxri felt the closest thing to the Ultimate Reality. Violence.

And then, the light cleared. They could see again when they couldn't before.

A pretty girl with doe eyes and dark hair and fair skin stood over them. Unlike Akazha, this one was shorter than Raxri, though not by a lot. She had big round eyes and a small nose and imperfect teeth, sharp canines, snaggletooth. She wore a hoodie-dress—that was to say, a hoodie so large that the lower half worked as a skirt for her. Then she wore silk socks that reached just above her calves, and wrapped silk shoes.

Raxri tried to move. There was a pain somewhere. "Wh-" beautiful black-porcelain sculpture.

Mijja's dark brown hair felt like down upon her head as she perked up when she saw Raxri's eyes flutter open. She said: "Ultramystic Sutasoma!" She whipped around and ran out of the door.

The area was cold. Colder than Raxri could remember. A low droning hum resonated from somewhere... was that an air conditioner? Raxri was surprised they could even remember what an air conditioner was.

Pale blue curtains blocked out harmful sunlight. Illuminated the room in a warm, half-glow. When Raxri looked up, they saw that there were... medical equipment? A few wires and pipes and tubes stuck into their body. The smell of antiseptic and alcohol. Everything sterilized to reduce the risk of all infection.

Raxri looked down. A white blanket covered them. Kept them comfortably warm against the intense cold of the air conditioner.

They looked down on their body. Scars ran down their muscles, their belly, their chest. Their entire right arm was a beautiful sculpture of black porcelain, softly glinting in the light though not glossy. So much of who they were now gone—their memory, their cultivation, their power, their name, and now their arm. Who were they, anymore? Was this what it was like to lose all sense of self?

Muscle memory kicked in—funny, considering they didn't have any muscles in that region anymore. They found it easy to move their right arm now. It had felt sluggish and leadened when it had a chakra rod impaled through it.

First, their fingers. The interlocking porcelain plates and meshes reticulated. Moved in perfect concert, a beautiful emulation—almost like an act of worship to the human body—of finger movements. Interlacing cylinders of porcelain powered by Raxri's own Ardor flurrying through interlocking meridians. They moved so finely, so quickly, and so naturally that Raxri was scared that his entire body had been replaced with porcelain.

And even then... what would've been different?

They tried to bend their arm by the elbow. Though the porcelain looked like it should be heavy, it must have been mixed with some form of light metal, aluminium or it was even perhaps a mystic alloy. The forearm came up without any added weight. The closest way Raxri could describe the feeling—as they raised their entire arm and moved it about, hearing the pistons and the reticulated plates and wires within move and subtly whirr—was that it felt as though they were wearing a very, very light gauntlet that reached up to their upper bicep.

Instead of weirding Raxri out, they felt kind of relieved. As if a part of them would be permanently protected, now, with this in place...

The door swung open. In walked Ultramystic Sutasoma, wearing a much more relaxed and casual outfit than before—a sundress that reached her knees, some sandals, a white knit cardigan over it. On her face was a soft and kind smile. Though the worry and pain was plain. "Raxri."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Raxri blinked again. Their eyes fluttering like hummingbird wings. They let their porcelain arm fall down. "Ultramystic. I'm... alive?"

Sutasoma nodded. "Yes. I managed to fend off the Five Triumphant Immortals. Those that wanted you, Heaven Dancer. Led by Reyayu Koduka."

The Five Triumphant Immortals... who were they? Raxri knew of no such people, even deep in their subconscious it sparked no flame. But Reyayu Koduka... there was a certain supernova attached to that name. That name was the conflagration of both Creation and Apocalypse. Fiat Lux found in the beginning of the universe and its utmost end.

Reyayu Koduka. The Emperor of Emperors.

And yet... they knew there was nothing they could do against them.

"I... do not even know who they are."

Sutasoma nodded. "The five most powerful Cultivators of this generation. Or at least, from this generation. Immortals of times past are more powerful than them, but those immortals are embroiled deeply into Celestial Bureaucracy."

"I see." Raxri knew they would not be able to handle any more esoteric knowledge at this point for now. So instead they stared up at the sky, sighing. "Where... am I?" Raxri had the distinct feeling that they were no longer in Wegr.

Sutasoma offered a small smile. "You are in Selorong, the wretched, decaying Heart of a Dead World." The Ultramystic glided over to one of the windows and pushed it open. The window closest to Raxri, so they could see.

And outside, the great city of Selorong... almost five cities built on top of each other. The great Diamond City. The argent behemoth arrayed like fire outside of the room. So called due to it being built upon the great Northeast Jeng Bay, where the glittering blue god-waters stayed pure despite karmic desolatory pollution.

Selorong was not even truly built upon the bay—that portion was Bayside Selorong, once known as Hantuang City. The Greater Metro Selorong—a city of river and rice as its foundation, adobe and hardened clay as a second layer, with bamboo and stone concrete as its third layer, then gold and jewels as its fourth layer. This metropolis stretched from the bay to the upriver mountain bases, where roads and tributary streams connected them to the communes of the great Kij Dakmala.

Across the history of the Utter Islands, it was not a smart idea to erect metropolises and urban capitals upon the bay itself—for bays were the prime sites of piracy and sea raids. Instead, truly great devarajas would craft their metropolises inland, up the river, right where the most number of tributaries fed into. This allowed them access to the rich inland and upriver communities that handled the abundant island minerals, while also being directly connected to the international trade through the sea-river. This sea river, the great Kayangitang River, has had its god slain and is now watched over by Hri Vaizzan, the God of Merchants himself.

Again and again, capital slays Nature. Like a vampire god, it must be slain. Or at least supplanted.

As for the mountain societies, ever since the end of the First World Revolution, the Kij Dakmala was too infused with destructive, negative Breath to be properly colonized by the World Powers. Because, of course, it was destroyed and nuked by thermonuclear magick. It has become what is known as an "Ever-Hinterland" as it is forever truly uninhabitable. What this means is that revolutionary communists, anarchists, and the hinterland societies that have already lived there (including the Ragadians, Nilaans, Sajiwasans, the Isso, the Rayung, the Warung, among others) are completely untouched, and could interact withe veryone else in the world according to their own terms. Thus was the way of a world at the tipping point into Post-Hegemony, after all.

The World Powers—namely the Democratic Republic (that is to say, liberal empire) of the Ressen-Nalenji and the Holy Empire (that is to say, magofascist state) of Amatsu—do not like this arrangement. To have pockets of safety for the revolutionaries, guerrillas, and the commies was to have potential nests and nascent grounds for their downfall. Perhaps this is why there are whisperings and mumblings of them creating the Hyper-Ultima Bomb—the bomb to end all bombs. The greatest weapon that can destroy the final standing heavens and Kij Dakmala itself. "This is to bring about the very Age of Man!" they say.

The communes and societies of the Kij Dakmala only choose to trade with Selorong out of necessity and because of the few remaining comrades there. They understand that Selorong has become swallowed up by the imperialist powers of Amatsu and Ressen-Nalenji, but they know that there are cockroaches of socialists and anarchists that make it worthy to be traded with. And so they do.

This was Selorong, after all. The Wicked and Profane City. The Nest of Devils. The 109th Hell, jutting out from the infernal avernice, like a pillar of the earth. Once ruled by great devarajas and chakravartins, now ruled by four different ideologies fighting over its strategic position as the center of the world.

The city of Selorong was so named due to the abundant silver-diamond colorings of its glass windows, buildings, towers, spires, cathedrals, and temples. Every house was decorated with both gold and diamond jewels, adamantine gems. Selorong was built upon a volcano.

In its Nation-Myth, an ancient hero named Dang Hwan Sururo subjugated the Dragon Serpent within the volcano, which ended up being the tail of Dakmalanaga, the name of the Serpent-Dragon of Infinity that lived within Kij Dakmala itself. Amused at this "heroism", Dakmalanaga killed Dang Hwan Sururo, but Sururo had become Adamantine—a state of Enlightenment right underneath Sainthood, Benevolence, Omniscience, and Violence. He fought and managed to subjugate that head of Dakmalanaga.

This elated Dakmalanaga even more, because She knew She could never die. And so, Dakmalanaga offered to close the volcano, and the abundant treasures of that earth store would be Dang Hwan Sururo's. However, Sururo must make offerings to Dakmalanaga, and also help Dakmalanaga learn the teachings of the Conquering King, of the Omniscients. Elated at this, as Dang Hwan Sururo was a faithful vow-taker and mystic practitioner of the Eternal Law, he agreed. He thus created Kotasururo, which meant "Fort Sururo." Later on, he would have two daughters, who would begin the two matrilineal lines that would eventually become Selo and Rong. And the rest was history.

As for the revolutionary founding story of Selorong, that will be for another time.

Now Selorong is known as the Diamond City due to its abundant stores of diamond. So abundant that diamond and gold were not commodities wanted in Selorong at all. Instead, they wanted the potatoes of northeast Utter Islands, the silver of Jhongxiya, the coffee beans of Eastern Nilatpa, and the sugars of central Nilatpa. This began the great Diamond Trade that now permeated Utter Islands. This was also why Selorong was colonized at least five times. Not only for its diamond trade, but also because of its perfect trading position, and its advantageous position as a staging port for attacking the Heavenly Empire of Shen.

The glinting city glistened in the moonlight. Did you know that diamonds have many different colors? In the night time, the great city of Selorong glistened with a variety of colors, all set against the diamondstone (sometimes known as vajrastone) of its largest buildings, which colored a stark black. The city was a mix of diamondstone and bamboo and hardwood architecture. A perfect fusion of innovation and traditional wisdom.

It stretched even into the sea, where Raxri could see spires and towers, like the hands of a submerged god reaching out to the Flower Moon.

"Whoa."

"Welcome," said Sutasoma, with a sigh, "to the Final Hell."