Chapter 8-244: The Problems with Outsiders, Part One (1/2)

He was considered a samurai by his people, but in truth he was a Dragon Warrior, a student of the martial ways of chi, and a follower of the Light-Sparkling-Water School, which had risen to become the foremost school of the sword in Darwin. His hand was on the hilt of his Katana Oil-Cutter, staring at the flames rising on the walls of the Heaven-Breaking Dojo, blazing up from the shattered and fallen buildings within, burning upon the fallen doors blown from their hinges, and allowing a clear and unobstructed view of the carnage within.

He had seen the magic leveling the place, the potency and fury of the flames that had raged to consume it all, and he had seen something more.

He had seen Holy power!

He was what the Harsistes were calling a Faux Seven, and was more than spiritually sensitive enough to identify Sacred energies he had seen wielded many times by those empowered by Harse and Aru, Amana and Flora, and even Heavenbound Warlocks.

There was no mistaking such energies, and such powers could not be wielded by just anyone. Some very powerful force aligned with Heaven had moved to act against the Heaven-Breaking Dojo.

His elite guard, also all Powered like himself, were prepared to run into the compound and see who they could save, but he held them back as he waited in front of the falling doors, staring at the show of carnage within.

Dead. They were all dead...

Most of the younger students were nothing but ashen smears on the ground, their weapons seared and half-melted next to them. The corpses of the senior students, the true Cultivators, still remained, their bodies half-burned, often bearing wounds that looked like they’d been hit by explosive bullets or something, and their pale faces wide in disbelief, anger, or shock that this could happen to them.

Something about all the corpses he could see being Cultivators made his skin crawl.

There was motion.

Gunmen behind him brought their rifles up as the tall man walked out of the burning ruin of the dojo, two corpses on his shoulders, smoldering, and tossed them unceremoniously to the ground.

Pale and smooth white skin. Both of them were Cultivators. Kentai’s skin crawled.

None of his children had been born Powered, of course. The only way such a thing was possible was if your mate was not human, and your children half-breeds inheriting the magic of their non-human parent. She had eagerly signed on for Cultivation lessons, and proven extremely talented, coming from a background where martial skill was prized and having been taught basic ki techniques since she was a child.

She was in here, somewhere, among the dead that had been burned by the fires of Heaven.

Burned by the fires of Heaven...

He swallowed despite himself.

The Fires of Heaven did not burn Good men...

He had made hard decisions in his life, and knew that he was no saint. His advisor Inkai, a Priest of Imprus who considered him the local king and so rightful ruler of this place, had told him his soul was a cool blue, the color of order, of discipline, and control.

That was not a color of Heaven, but he also knew that the true Fires of Heaven would not burn him like that!

All of them burned, consumed, destroyed by the Fires of Heaven! By Sacred flames!

What... what did that mean? The people who had undertaken lessons here were all finely vetted for their loyalty and patriotism! What did it mean when Sacred fires killed them all?

What did it mean about his daughter?

His stomach was twisting as he stared at the distant figure walking back into the flames, and then a towering pillar of fire punched down through the Haze above, slamming into the middle of the burning dojo with horrifying power and a searing feeling of purity and moral outrage, like the sun coming to the tainted and unclean Earth to scour it clean.

Despite themselves, many of the men behind found themselves going to their knees, witnessing such a resoundingly Hallowed magic descending from Above, and even Kentai himself found himself wavering in the face of such wrath.

The pitiful fires blazing in the ruins there were literally blasted away and extinguished by the divine flames, blown out like candles before a forest fire. The entire center of the building was instantly vaporized, burned to less than ash.

He found himself walking into the grounds, followed silently by his guards, watching to see what was going to happen here.

The tall man from before materialized up from shadows at the edge of a pit burned into the ground, a figure in a red dress slung over his shoulder, limp and helpless, pale of skin and dark of hair.

“Akari...”

His daughter’s red robe was seared, as was her hair and patches of her pale skin.

Pale skin. When did her skin become the white of a Cultivator? His hand creaked upon the hilt of his Blade, and his chi was disjointed as it swirled around him, trying to remain calm.

Someone else shot up into the air from the depths of the pit, followed by a series of glowing Disks... with people sprawled upon them.

Young people. Children...

His hackles started to rise as the woman there glided to the ground, and the half-dozen Disks came down with her next to the man, who unceremoniously dropped the woman on his shoulder to her knees next to him, jolting her back to consciousness as he held her up effortlessly by her hair... and a hand burning with Sacred flame, ready to be unleashed.