Reforged from Ruin [Eldritch Xianxia Cultivation]

They reach the Cathedral's center, and face the statue there.

Atop a podium, designed as if cracked open and frozen in place, is a figure which seems vaguely humanoid. Its body is distorted, shifted in ways her eyes can't quite follow, and it makes the parts of it that seem familiar, well-aligned, all the more alien as they dig, dig, dig. The frame, its face buried entirely into the marble and alabaster of the plinth up to the back of the head, pulls and tugs and roils, the artistry of the sculpting making it seem like it's moving while still.

Lu Karai kneels before the statue, and makes that same hand-sequence that he did when they entered the church. She watches, memorizing the motions, even as multiple eyes track the pillars all around. There's so much to see, here, so very much to witness. The pillars crawl with formulae like poetry, carved into the veins of the stones and bone, and they connect, somehow, weaving in and through the congregation. The ever-surgeries, the vivisections of the dead all along the pews, echoes, somehow, echoing back, lighting up elements and words and words of the poems.

"The Burrowing Saint," Bishop Lu Karai says, his voice low and reverent.

"I assume they did more than just dig?"

He chuckles, keeping his face pointed down. "Don't let the Earth-Turners hear you ask that. 'To dig is the sacred act of all beings, to reshape the world and through the reshaping, make place for the living and the dead'. They take their digging very seriously."

"And yet…"

"And yet. I, personally, would claim that the digging was incidental, rather than quintessential. If their sacrifice had come by the act of eating, of fighting, of farming, then they would be named as such. The Saint took upon themselves a task that no other would, and performed it, evermore. During some of the first plague years, there were more bodies than graves, and more dead cities than there were gravediggers. Those few who were buried, rather than burned, were done so in mass graves. Hundreds of the dead, packed into chambers of dirt no larger than a house, thousands packed into pits only just deep enough to place earth atop them.

"The Saint went, from town to town, city to city, digging. Always, always digging. A hundred graves, then a thousand, then millions, and when they had finished, when every body left atop the earth had a place beneath it, they dug further. They tunneled through the earth, overturning the sites of death and decay, burrowing down, down, down until they found the bodies stacked like cordwood, mulched like feed for the worms, and pulled them out and apart. They are still there, still digging. They will not stop until there is a grave for every body… and, some say, a body for every grave."

"That's quite a story."

"Indeed! And such, their Sainthood. Who they were, made into fuel for the digging. A beautiful thing, their devotion. Their sacrifice. This city was the first one they visited, according to the scripture, and thus here was their church consecrated. One of many Saints, but much more popular than most. It is not every Saint that gets canonized from something so banal, especially when it is purely in the service of others."

Raika nods, itching idly at the stump of her left arm. "Maybe they just liked digging."

The Bishop turns his head to her, just slightly. Without anything organic to read, he's not exactly easy to understand, but the way he unfreezes, the quiet of the movement-

"Not being rude. It means a lot, to help others by doing something you love. It's just… a different sort of sacrifice."

The bones clack as a laugh pours from them, respectful but with a hint of mirth. "Perhaps so! You would lay some claim to experience on that front, Raika the Bloody?"

"Raika the Bloody, Burnt and Broken. And yes."

"Perhaps we shall see a church to you here, someday. You certainly carry enough Death in you to imply an affinity that the Church would enjoy."

She tilts her head, ready to ask what he means by that, but he shifts his weight, ever so slightly, bones clicking smoothly against each other. "Come along, then. The others are waiting, and we have much to discuss, I should think."

His hand reaches down to the perfectly smooth stone at the foot of the statue, and with a dip of his hand and a pulse of that strange aura he and the other Death-wielders possess, he scoops the ground.

It breaks, cracking easily, as if no more than the surface of an egg, and he cups his hand, removing a clump of stone, rock and, beneath that, soil. It trickles from between his fingers, metacarpals shifting apart and letting dirt rain from out of his palm.

"Blessed be the Dig."

And the ground falls away.

The earth collapses, as if into a sinkhole, unveiling black steps that lead down into the soft, dark earth.

"Come along then, Reverend. The others are eager to make your acquaintance, and I am almost as eager to hear what it is you're looking to tell us."

He walks down the steps, and she follows behind him, down into the grave.

They walk down for almost an hour before anything changes. The stairs go down in a spiral, keeping them directly beneath the statue and the Cathedral, but there is no illumination whatsoever in the tunnel. In barely ten steps, she can't see her hand in front of her face, and moments after that, she starts to experience the flickering, the dancing of shadows on her eyelids. Her senses, as well as the squirming of the worms under her skin, help her to navigate the perfect darkness, but it feels like something… more. It's not just darkness, not just the lack of light sources- she's not sure she can even feel the stairs beneath her feet. After walking for long enough, only the impulse she's sending down to her feet allows her to feel any movement at all, and even that feels vague.

And then it gets darker.

She blinks, trying to understand- but the Bishop is there, now. She can see him, somehow, outlined in shadow that's darker than black- and he reaches out a hand, and pushes against the blackness before them.

It swings open like a door, revealing a chamber beyond.

It's a cave, as far as she can tell. The dirt and stones are uneven, like a natural formation, but there are hints, here and there, of earth that's been overturned. There are tracks like fingers, dug into soft tissue, outlined by the darkest of black, as if light and shadow are inverted.

And there are seats. Some of them little alcoves, some of them smaller caves in and of themselves, and even more of them simply platforms of dirt, spread throughout the space. There are nearly a hundred of them, filling the space, and in each of them, a corpse.

Three of them, she recognizes: Bishop Gloriana, sanctified and ensconced within an armor of gold and glass, smoke whispering out from her sleeves and edges: Bishop Seo En-Hyun, almost as tall as she is standing while sitting, all thirteen of his skulls tracking her movements with their eyes: Bishop Valdir, his skin alabaster and his eyes, his teeth, his very essence, crimson.

The rest, however, are alien to her, each of them nearly identical. They seem like mortal bodies, preserved through Qi and chemicals, dead, seemingly, through almost any means- stabbings, bludgeonings, old age, even hints of poison.

And yet- they all have faces. They all have eyes, or at least one eye a piece.

As one, they swivel to face her.

"Greetings, honored clergy. I, Bishop Lu Karai, present to you our esteemed guest, visitor to our lands, representative of the Pack, introduced to us by the Apex known as Many-Mouths. Caretaker of the Blessed Mortal, Breaker of the Wall, and Controlled Replicator- Raika, The Bloody, The Burnt, The Broken."

He bows to one side, turning his body to give the others a better view of her. She, in turn, waves her hand, bowing only her head.

Disrespectful, perhaps- but she's not here to be subservient. She was introduced as a foreign dignitary, and as, if not an equal, then at least as someone worthy of respect.

She's not here to play politics. She'll have to, but there's only so much she can handle. Two bodies dealing with it exclusively? Ugh.

And besides- they're super weird about Jin. Better they learn to respect her distance. A couple little challenges work better than appeasement for that, at least now.

One of the corpses, the one sitting in the largest cavern, the darkest one, inclines its head, ever so slightly.

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

"Be welcome here, Raika The Broken. We are here, and we listen."

She has to stop herself from flinching, as the words echo and rumble in the dark.

Truespeak. Musical and bestial at once.

"I wasn't aware I'd be meeting with such an audience so soon," she says, stepping in toward the center of the room. "Assumed I'd have to jump through hoops to get anyone to listen to me, never mind get center-stage amongst so many."

"We are not so still or so silent as the dead often seem," rumbles the thirteen heads of Bishop Seo En-Hyun. "The changes of the world are myriad, and we watch, and we listen. This grandfather could not miss the breaking of the Wall!"

"And the fresh carnage spilled across dead sands could not avoid our notice," hisses Valdir. "Many of our lesser artists have experienced a flood of shades and blood, and Yin spirits are at their peak. With the convergence…"

The other corpses nod, or simply shift their bodies, ever-so-slightly.

"Indeed," one of them intones. "The Cold Sun and the End Beyond are… loud, in this time. We are the Fallen, but there is always further down to fall. It would only harm us to remain static."

"And yet, I have heard that you have only just begun to mobilize towards the breach."

The skeleton in glass and gold scoffs. "It is no mean feat, summoning an army from out of the grave. Those few fragments we have prepared, we have sent to your Wall. It will take years still until all those blessed by the Church move to action, and years further before the heretics are placed into proper form."

"Heretics?"

Lu Karai "coughs" behind her, politely. "Not all accept the Church's word as gospel, despite being protected by its faith. Those dead too long before being blessed, or who do not pray, are often put to work to further the aims of the Kingdom. Many of our cities hold whole infrastructures of the dead- to remold them for war is no simple task."

"We don't have that much time."

Silence in the chamber.

"Clarify."

Raika breathes in, long and slow, and then back out. The act seems to perturb some of the corpses, who sway backwards ever so slightly from the breath, as if unfamiliar with it.

"You've mentioned that the Cold Sun has been… louder than normal. I, myself, have met with it twice in barely two years, spoken to it by a sort of wraith-amalgam, and I wouldn't call myself a proper churchgoer. I think… I think that I know why."

"Because the world is dying."

She blinks, turning to the corpse who spoke. It's one of the hundred or so, its rank or identity impossible for her to determine, but the others turn their heads toward it at its words.

"The world is dying, and the End is here. The Cold Sun cannot hold it back forever. The Emperor's arrogance would have it believe that it can control the life and death of all that is, but it cannot. We know, and we see."

"The Cold Sun IS the End!" another voice proclaims, its own Truespeak somehow… jarring against the first speaker. "They are one and the same! To say otherwise-"

"Perhaps we can save the discussion on doctrine for another day," Bishop Lu Karai interrupts, his own voice carrying an edge that isn't quite Truespeak, but echoes nonetheless. "It would not do to waste precious words, when their weight is finite. The world is dying, this we know, and as the Clergy of the Fallen Kingdom, our role is clear."

As one, more than a hundred voices rise up and whisper, like music notes born from tearing atoms-

"What Lies Dead May Never Die, What Once Lived Can Once More Rise."

It's not just Truespeak, anymore. They speak as one, their cadence and speech patterns perfectly aligned, and proclaim it to be Truth- and the world listens.

Maybe they all have that Truth, maybe it's an official motto, hell, maybe that much Truespeak saying it as once simply makes it True. Whatever the case, Raika has to suppress the urge to shiver at the feeling of weight that ripples from the words, forcing reality itself to bend in towards them.

"What-" she pauses. Coughs, once, feeling some sort of black phlegm crawl onto her lips, bringing with it the taste of rot.

"What does that mean? You… want the world to End?"

Glorianna laughs, the sound tinny within the phylactery that holds her skull. "A plebian assumption. What luck we have, that such a lackluster understanding of Death hasn't stunted the Blessed Mortal."

"What my Glorianna means to say," Lu Karai interrupts, stepping between her and Raika, "is that Death is not the END. That is, in fact, the foundation of the Church, and of our Kingdom. To Die is to decay, to fall into the cycle of life and death, to be reborn, even. Death holds many mysteries, and even more Truth, and to imply it is the same as cessation is simply incorrect. For the world to Die would be one thing- for it to be allowed to End? Quite another."

"...and the thing behind the moon. That's the End?"

"Or an avatar of it, at least. An extension. A finger of the greater Divine, perhaps. This lowly Bishop does not dare to speculate."

"Then… you already know. That the world is capital-E Ending, and it's the Empire's fault."

"Indeed."

"And we will deal with it."

She quirks an eyebrow at that. "Oh? You will? Alone?"

One of the nondescript corpses turns to look at her, its vacant eyes shining in the un-light. "We do not need the aid of lessers in our pursuit of Truth. We are grateful for the participation of your Pack, but be assured that we shall resolve this matter properly ourselves."

"Your 'Corpse Martyr' doesn't seem to agree. Or am I wrong that it's considered one of the Apexes of the Pack?"

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Absolute silence.

"The Corpse Martyr stands alone."

"Ah. So those aren't your forces at the Breach, then. They're its. Seems a bit disrespectful, taking credit where it isn't due."

This time, the silence is undercut by her synesthesia. The darkness deepens, turns to pitch and black, so deep and so dark that she can see the outline of decay on each and every body in the chamber.

"You Dare-"

"Yes. Often. It's a quintessential trait. You, on the other hand, seem to dare nothing. All your power, all your might, all your supposed wisdom, and yet the Empire has bases practically through your territory. I'd never even heard of you before I breached the wall, and now, apparently, a member of your Church has walked alone into the breach while you sit here in the dark and murmur about the right way to do things."

"Now, Rai Ka, that's not exactly-"

"Hush."

The room goes silent as the corpse in the largest cave speaks.

"You are here as a guest. It is not in your best interest to insult your hosts."

Huh.

Now that's interesting.

Raika's pretty sure that's not true at all, actually, and this dick has no idea what her "best interests" are. And yet… Truespeak. Imposing on reality, perhaps? Do they suffer the same backlash she feels lingering on her tongue, whenever she approaches a lie?

Part of her is tempted, sorely, to throw a brick at glass, to see what shatters if she pushes and take advantage of it. It would be so easy…

But… no. If she were another part of herself, maybe, but she isn't. She is the part of herself in charge of the care and safety of one of her oldest friends and her only martial student, a child in her care. She is limited, here, intentionally so, and it is actually not her job to change the world- her job is to learn, protect her people, and help them advance. That's why she made herself.

So she holds back. She smiles politely. She bows, a tiny bit deeper than before.

"I apologize, honored ones. My journey here has been long, and I meant no insult. You seem well informed already of the crisis of which I came to inform you, and to hear that you are taking action is encouraging as is. Perhaps we could move to more practical matters? I might be of some use in updating you towards the current events along the breach and other sections of the wall, and would be eager to share my insights and experiences with the Cold Sun. It, and what lies beyond it, have been of some interest to me, and of interest to a mutual subject of ours."

"Yes. The Blessed Mortal."

"Tell us of its path."

There it is.

They don't want her. They just couldn't say no to this meeting. She's not an Apex yet, but she's been recognized by one, never mind being the main architect of the breach in the Wall.

But dead though they may be, she can almost smell the heartbeats in the room speeding up at the thought of their "blessed mortal". She's been approaching them as a political entity, as cultivators but weirder, when she needs to approach them as a church. A cult, maybe, but a religious entity nonetheless.

They're interested in her for purely practical reasons, and in Jin for, it would seem, ideological ones.

…She can work with this. It's not exactly a brick through a window, but it's still a way in, a door she can slither through.

And if, in the meantime, she can see some more of how they've transformed their world, the ways they've enchanted and altered reality here, all the better.

Just one problem, though.

She looks out at a room full of corpses, dead beings that radiate power enough to invert light and speak from beyond the grave, and recognizes a room full of dangers. Dangers interested in her- in Jin.

As she narrates some of her early encounters with the Cold Sun, she starts to puzzle out, across a hundred-hundred minds in her subconscious, exactly how she's going to get what she needs, and keep an entire civilization the fuck away from her kid.