God Obliterating Vajra [Esoteric Dark Fantasy]

Now onto matters of forgotten

Of the stars and the vertical cosmos

Of the planets and of the stars and the

galaxies, black holes, and supernovas.

And how that is reflected in our bodies:

the veins and capillaries, the blood

that rushes like dark matter. The cells

that emit light like sidereal dust.

Never forget: we are one and the same

with the universe, fragments of the same

expansion from the single point,

the latest fluctuation in beginningless time

On The Universe Extrinsic and Intrinsic by Poet-Engineer Seng Rimidjo

Commotion gripped Giant Stone Monastery.

Abbot Wairojashra sat. In the lotus-meditation position.

Before him, amidst the pond in the middle of the Monastery, was the water-buffalo headed form of WERAK MATIYON, the Destroyer of Death. In his two-armed form, wreathed in wisdom fires, which denoted a non-violent arrival.

Abbot Wairojashra held contemplative silence. His hands folded before them in a mudra of protection and reverrence.

WERAK MATIYON spoke: "I AM COME."

Wairojashra responded: "Greetings and great welcomes to the great Death Destroyer. Homage to the Jewels of the Awakened."

All the monks trembled as they watched. But... this trembling was both in fear and in sheer wonder. And in sheer awe. To be blessed by an apparition of the Awakened... surely their practice is blessed!

"HOMAGE! MAY ALL THY MINDSTREAMS BE BLESSED. LET IT BE KNOWN, UPON THE WISDOM FIRES OF MY TRANSCENDENCE, AND UPON THE GNOSIS OF MY PREVIOUS INCARNATIONS. THE HELL WITCH'S MINDSTREAM HAS BEEN TAKEN BY THE GREAT HELL KING, AND NOW SHE LIVES IN HIS ARGENT NINE-ROOFED PAGODA. UPON HER DEATH, A SINGLE DEATH-WISH: TO PROTECT THEY WHO DANCED AGAINST THE HEAVENS, AND TO KILL HER FATHER, ALTAI GOZON."

Abbot Wairojashra held their peace. They wondered, but held all the same. Yiwaritala and Ampun Sagara knelt side by side, watching the procession. They led the others in performing prostrations to WERAK MATIYON.

Yet despite holding their peace, the Abbot could not help but be vexed. "I wish the newly passed Mindstream well. May they attain Awakening in the next life. However... we are Monks. We cannot break our precepts. We must wield the thunderbolt of pacifism." It was true. Despite the Monks practicing Blade Devil and other Martial Arts and Magick Arts, they only used it to defend themselves. They could never use it to assault others, instigate violence, or enact this violence.

"ALTAI GOZON HAS TARNISHED THE LAW. AND PARTICIPATES IN ONGOING GENOCIDE. HER WISH FOR HER FATHER TO DIE IS ALIGNED WITH THE TENETS OF COMPASSIONATE ENLIGHTENED KILLING. YE MUST EMPLOY THY CONNECTIONS. FIND THOSE WILLING TO HELP THE HEAVEN DANCER SLAY THE ADMIRAL. CONVERGE UPON THAT HALLOWED CITY OF ANCIENTS—WEGR, THE SWORD OF BLACK-LIGHT."

Abbot Wairojashra bowed low. "These monks will engage in Omniscient Killing."

"EMBODY THE PERFECTLY UNSURPASSABLE AND LUMINOUS MIND OF COMPASSIONATE VIOLENCE. UNTIL ALL THE HELLS ARE EMPTY."

"Until all beings are free."

"REACH. VIOLENCE."

Abbot Wairojashra walked quick. Threw their robes and sash over their shoulder. Yiwaritala walked beside him. They traveled up the temple-monastery grounds and onto his office. "What must we do, Master?"

Yiwaritala would be remiss and lying to say that Akazha's death—the Hellwitch WAS Akazha, right?—did not trouble them. What had killed her? Who would do such a thing?

"Make some calls, disciple," said the Abbot. "It will not be too difficult. I know some people that will be able to help us in our task."

"Will we be leaving the Monastery?"

The Abbot looked down. Then, they stopped right before walking through the doors of their office. The Abbot turned around. "However, whosoever does leave will have the blessing of the Awakened Ones."

Yiwaritala set his jaw. He nodded. "And WERAK MATIYON said..."

The Abbot turned around and opened the door. "Yes. To go to the Ancient City of Wegr. Otherwise known as Blacklight City. Let us make some calls."

The municipality of Zanmetia was a quaint one. Idyllic, some might even say. A perfectly planned town layout. All measured in the cosmic perfections of the square, like a mandala. A river running through the middle of the town. In the center of the town, the Community Center, where a pagoda to the spirits stayed. Should there be any deliberation for the betterment of the municipality, it will have to go through everyone involved, including the spirits that live within the rice paddies, the trees, the houses, the winds that pass by here, as well as the ghosts that have turned this into their abode, and then, of course, Zanmetia himself, the tutelary deity of the municipality.

To the north and south of the Community Pagoda were rice paddies. The riverwater used as irrigation. To the east, bananas and other plantains. To the west, chocolate trees. Both used for exports.

To the northeast, southeast, northwest, and southwest, residential districts. Beautiful houses built in their chosen architecture, each having their own backyard, barn, and personal garden. Here, everyone lived somewhere. Each house was built accordingly to the International Geomantic and Architectural Standards—or the IGAS—that was established by the World Commune during the First World Revolution and the Decades of Carnage.

In a circle around the Community Center were the community services. A blacksmith. A bakery. A food house. A butcher. A general store. A kopitiam. A teahouse. Several pavilions for resting, luxury, and community events. A church to The Father, a mosque to the Uncreated, three temples to three different Gods, one pagoda to the Awakened.

And then, of course, a clinic.

This clinic was made almost entirely of a porcelain-alloy. A mix of adobe plated with beautiful porcelain. This porcelain had, inscribed within its painting, disinfectant inscriptions to make sure both phsyical and spiritual viruses, diseases, and poisons would not cling to the clinic. This was a piece of technology that had become much more common during the Decades of Carnage, when the World Commune mandated it to create safer health spaces for everyone.

Doctor Myu Fan removed her gloves as she finished checking the child's condition. The child had been infected with Jinsat's Disease—a rare congenital disease that forced children to grow more eyes around their body. Unfortunately, these eyes quickly die out, becoming rotting parts of their body. Worse—the child cannot see through these eyes. Some Physickers debate that it is used by sorcerers to spy through another person's body. But most of that is conjecture at this point.

There is a cure. Multiple months of vaccinations and antibiotics. And then, a surgery conducted by a High Physicker and a Necrosurgeon.

"All right. Everything seems to be in order, Bayating." She took a step back. The boy looked in such good health otherwise. They had covered up the eye-growths with bandages and healing silks. To make sure they don't get infected. "Go ahead and go home to your mother, now. Okay?"

Bayating nodded. He stepped down from the medical bed and ran out of the door. She sighed and pushed her glasses up to her forehead.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

A moment of silence. Finally.

The porcelain walls—pure white, pocked occasionally with splotches of dragon blues and azure phoenixes—made the silence louder. Myu Fan massaged her temples. She stretched her neck. She wanted to get out of here, now. She was so tired. She wanted to retreat to the hill-house that they had been given by Zanmetia's municipal mayor and sleep. Or perhaps enjoy some hot coffee.

She looked at her watch. It was still the thirteenth hour. Just a bit past the zenith of the sun. Just a bit after lunch. Why did she feel so groggy, so sleepy? Was it something she ate?

Myu Fan sighed. She rubbed at her eyes. I wonder what customer I'm receiving next.

Someone knocked on the door. Myu Fan looked at it. Did not even fix her posture. "Yes?" she called out. "Who is it?"

The door swung open. A girl walked in—perhaps no older than 25. Short of hair, Amatsunese features—thick eyebrows, hooded eyes. But her nose was straight and short, instead of the usual hooked or high nose. Her hooded eyes were also shorter than the usual. She looked as if she had Selorongian blood on her. An Amatsu-Selorongian would not have been strange at all, especially considering the time that Amatsu colonized Selorong thoroughly.

She wore the gray robes of a Junior Physicker—right before becoming a fully fledged, licensed Physicker. Hers was form-fitting, however, with a high neck and a gray skirt that reached her knees. Tight leggings that reached her feet. Heeled doll shoes. Her hair kept back with a white headband, inscribed with mantras. Around her neck, a necklace of a Staked Yenja.

"Hi doc," she said, beaming. She was taller than Myu Fan, too. She was definitely around 170cm. Myu Fan was no taller than 160. Though the heeled doll shoes might have inflated Mijja's height.

Myu Fan managed a smile. I hope this is not another customer so quickly. "Hi Mijja," Doctor Myu Fan asked, nodding. "Have you eaten?" Mijja was a source of little joy in Myu Fan's life, even as it became difficult to be a Physicker in the hinterlands. Though she was slightly delayed in her magomedickal training, she was still able to catch up. And now she worked as a resident apprentice, working with Myu Fan to get experience.

Mijja was no older than twenty three at this point. Five years of her life dedicated to working the medickal magicks. She was dedicated at least—this much Myu Fan knew. And Mijja had a lust for adventure. She grew up in Selorong, in the Knightsward District too, because her father was a Samurai for the Amatsunese Colony. But she finished her studies in Sangsueng University in Hokou, the technological capital of the world. She was knowledgeable, though she did not finish with the highest honors of her University. She was knowledgeble all the same.

So it always surprised Myu Fan that she volunteered to do work here, in the End of the World. Without all the comforts and benefits that the Cities had. The brightest and largest Points of Light in this world of the Whorl.

"Yes. Here." She smiled handed Myu Fan a rice cake and a cup of coffee. She was cute, like a doll. Or an idol. Her short round eyes—no doubt from her Dangese heritage—mixed strongly with her Amatusnese heritage. "I know you haven't eaten today."

Myu Fan smiled. "How considerate of you. Thank you."

"It's nothing. Ah, and a Monk from Giant Stone Monastery wanted me to... relay a message?"

Myu Fan raised an eyebrow. Do they need me, once again? "What is it?"

"They said that the devotee of Dak Emmara Senje, the Witch, has been taken by the Death God." She said this with the perfect beaming innocence of an intern just doing her job. "And that if you could, the God has told them that the Hell Witch has one final Death-Wish. Says: "To protect the Heaven Dancer and to help them slay Altai Gozon."

Myu Fan raised an eyebrow. "The Gran Admiral of Selorong...?" Myu Fan's mouth quirked up. Things were starting to become interesting. Too interesting.

And yet.

"Hell Witch? Has Akazha been... slain?"

Mijja nodded. "At least, that's what I've been told. I've never met Akazha myself, just that she was the witch of the Westwoods." She was munching on a cookie now. She looked like an Amatsunese doe, as she read her palm leaf missive. "That's what is written upon the palm leaf missive, Doc."

Myu Fan sighed and leaned back. "Interesting. So they need someone to go over there, huh?" She tapped her chin. "Raxri Uttara... was with Akazha after all." There was a sadness that skewered her face. "O, how sad. She was one of the prettier ones. My type, besides."

Mijja rolled her eyes. She continued: "Says you need to find the Heaven Dancer in Wegr, the City of Blacklight."

"Wegr." She thought about it. "There's a skyship that goes directly to Wegr from Kubang, you know. On the skyship port there. Only takes an hour, too."

Mijja nodded. Blinked. "I am aware. I've been there before."

Myu Fan looked down on her hands. She wondered for a moment if she could afford to leave here, now. She was oathbound by the Gods to finish her stay here, in Zanmetia. One too many AWOLs would do that to you. But she hated being locked to a single place!

"You are oathbound, Doc," said Mijja. Matter-of-factly. Myu Fan smirked. Half-annoyed, half-amused. Mijja wasn't stupid. She wasn't saying these things blindly and innocently. She was saying these things to remind Myu Fan that she was not just obligated to stay here, but cursed. The gods and the spirits would rain holy retribution should she choose to leave.

With a sigh, Myu Fan leaned back on her chair. "I cannot ignore the cries of help of my past beloveds," she said. "So. I grant ye, Mijja, leave, upon the Mantra of Peisajakuru and Zanmetia. Carry thy Physicker's Work in the field of Blacklight Town. To heal and sustain Raxri Uttara and their friends. To accomplish the Hell Witch's Death Wish."

"What?!" Mijja shuddered. She looked absolutely flabbergasted. A hammer struck her face and it opened wide. "D-Doctor Myu Fan I—"

Myu Fan raised her finger. "Accomplish! Accomplish this task. And you will be granted the Empowerment of the Physicker, consummate."

That stopped Mijja in her tracks. Finally, a chance to become a Physicker! "Without passing the International Board Exams?"

"One year licensure," said Myu Fan. "And then you must take it."

"You can do that?"

Myu Fan nodded. "Yes." She picked up a strip of palm leaf paper and inscribed something upon it. Then, she held it up and said: "Here. Proof and evidence."

"Whoa." Mijja's eyes sparkled. "For real...?"

"Do this for me and return, safely."

Will this be safe? thought Myu Fan. Am I... sending this child hurtling to her doom? Ah, youth. But no place is safe here now, in Post-Calamity. And she seems game for all kinds of danger. She needs the experience, as someone raised in relative luxury as a petit-bourgeoisie. Mean justifications from the medically-dubious Physicker.

It did not matter. No one is perfect in this world. Everyone is always trying to grasp the knife by its blade.

"I will," said Mijja, bowing.

"Good," said Myu Fan. "Though, I am led to believe you do not have much in the way of combat training?"

"I have some," said Mijja, tapping her chin and pouting in thought. "Everyone has combat training nowadays. It's mandatory. I can use the Gun and the Knife... but that's it."

"Huh. Knife Arts for a Physicker does make sense. In any case, here. I might have something just for you." Myu Fan stood and beckoned for Mijja to follow her into her small personal pantry, at the far end of her office.

The pantry itself was mostly stocked with sweets and hardened bread. Pastries and cakes that were bought just the week before. Some as fresh as yesterday—the baker's son that works the bakery down the street was hopelessly infatuated with Myu Fan. Even though she was almost a decade older than him.

Physicker Myu Fan moved all of that aside with one grand sweep of her pure-clothed hand. Then she reached inside a hole, and pulled out a long-barrelled daggergun.

Imagine a keris, with the horizontal blade. Used for slitting throats and performing rituals. But atop the blade was an elongated barrel of a handgun. The keris handle was filled with firedrug. The point where the blade connected to the handle was turned into a revolver barrel.

It was a marvel of weapon design. Not to mention that the barrel mouth of the revolver was shaped into the image of the mouth of a nak. A crested serpent-dragon. And upon its barrel—which, itself, was carved to be shaped like a meditating god—were two encrusted yellow jewels.

"Whoa..." Mijja's eyes sparkled. "Can I...?"

"Knock yourself out," said Myu Fan.

The moment Mijja touched the handle, her hair stood on its end. A low vibration—almost like an electric shock—went through her.

"Silver Tiger Eyes," said Myu Fan. "Encrusted there. Turns any bullet you fire from the gun—as well as the blade—into electrically-attuned armaments. It is called: the Cutting Lightning."

"Whoa...!" Mijja really was truly impressed. She did not think Myu Fan would be privy to such things. She turned it around and around her hands. Impressed as she was.

Myu Fan reached over and gave her the sheath—a special sheathe to be able to cover both its barrel and its blade. Myu Fan took it and slid Cutting Lightning into the sheath. It was a perfect lock. The sheath itself was wooden, engraved with repeating mantras and sacred syllables, encrusted with pyrite, to magickally reinforce its power.

Myu Fan said: "Impressive, isn't it? An old lover gifted it to me. But I never liked him. And he only did it because I would have raised his reputation and prestige." She slumped back to her seat. "Anyway, with that weapon, I want you to go to Blacklight and look for Raxri. That's the Heaven Dancer. And fulfill the Death Wish."

Mijja blinked. "Doc, you truly are kinder than you seem." She nodded sagely.

Myu Fan smiled, though she was caught a bit offguard. "Now, let's not get hasty there. I'm a real piece of shit, is what I'm trying to say." She shrugged. "Ah, but Akazha was a dear friend of mine. And Raxri... is interesting. I want you to send missives to me every month you're with them. And try not to get killed. Always play it safe."

"Of course. I will have that License yet, Physicker Myu Fan!"

"That's the spirit. Though, hanging out with Raxri might... make things dangerous for you. Just remember that you're there to heal them up as things get rough. Okay?" Myu Fan already began to doubt her decision. Should she allow such a young student of hers to go there? It would be like sending a child to a warzone...

Mijja nodded. She did not seem, in the slightest, scared or afraid. "You can count on me, Doc."

Myu Fan loosened up her shoulders. Whatever happens, must happen. Since this was a Death-Wish affirmed and carried out by the very Destroyer of Death itself, no doubt those that follow it will cultivate great merit and, even more importantly, be protected by the Awakened themselves.

"There's a caravan leaving for Kubang tonight. Ask for Sotro to come take your shift, now." Sotro was yet another understudy essentially shadowing Myu Fan for work experience. Sotro was even younger than Mijja, and in truth was more effeminate as well. "You will be looking for Raxri Uttara. You will know them when you see them. You know the nigh invisible coat of flames each Cultivator bears? Raxri is wreathed in it. They will have scarlet eyes for you to see."

Mijja nodded. "Understood. Ah, and don't worry too much about me, doc. You've forgotten that my mother has a business venture there in Wegr."

Myu Fan nodded. She couldn't deny that a small jolt of relief did rush through her with that realization. "I see. Very well. Be on your way. Collect as many elixirs as you need, you hear?"

"Mmhm. See ya, doc!" And with that, Mijja turned around to leave. Much too cute of a girl, much too innocent looking. Myu Fan knew she was anything but, however...

The doctor leaned back and stared at the Nothingness at the Ceiling. O, gods above and below... Give me a sign that this was the tright decision...