279: Guardian Ranking (Patreon)

After standing in line for an hour for a ration of stale slop, Vir and the others were shepherded outside the walls.

Ash rained from the sky, and distant rumbling of thunder kept the landscape from ever becoming truly quiet. Dark clouds replaced the perpetual sunset of the demon realm, making for a depressing twilight.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought you all the way out here,” the Chitran Overseer barked, his raspy voice amplified by a magical tablet. The demon stood on a wooden platform he’d forced the Gargan prisoners to haul.

Indeed, several of the prisoners had been glancing around skittishly, eyeing the dark forms of Ash Beasts that loomed in the distance. Outside the confines of the wall, the monsters were ubiquitous, the danger ever-present.

“Are we to fight Ash Beasts, then?” someone muttered, prompting a round of hushed murmuring.

“Nonsense. They wouldn’t be that crazy. Would they?”

“What are you scared of? See those guards? There’s nothing to worry about.”

Balagra snorted. “The guards aren’t there to protect you.” He motioning with his chin to the thirty-odd Chitran who ringed the group. “They’re there to keep you from acting up.”

The Overseer allowed the whispers to continue for a moment. The grin on his face told Vir that the scarred Kothi relished every moment.

“Expecting organized duels, were you?” the Overseer thundered. “Perhaps single-elimination tournaments? As if we’d waste precious time and resources overseeing you sorry excuses. No, what we do here is far more efficient. ”

“At least he’s having fun,” Balagra muttered.

Vir wondered if the Overseer added those barbs just to watch the prisoners squirm.

“You will participate in a free-for-all!” the Overseer cried. “Fists, magic—anything goes. We have temporarily reduced your prana collars’ restrictions. Your prana will be available, but limited. Use whatever means you have at your disposal. There is only one rule. You kill someone, you die too. And don’t even think of harming a guard. Those collars do more than merely suppress your prana. A single command from us, and you’ll be missing a head. Got it? Good.”

Vir wondered if that was true, or just a tactic to scare the prisoners. He also wondered how quickly the collars must activate to give the guards such a sense of confidence. There were far more prisoners than guards, and with the number of tattoos Vir spied, he was sure his fellow inmates could wreak some mayhem, even prana-restricted as they were.

The Overseer continued before any objections could be raised. “Now, we aren’t cruel here. As I said before—perform well, and you will be rewarded. Armor, weapons, shelter. And yes, even the protection of our garrison’s walls. There is something else, however. Something all of you will benefit from. Guardian ranking.”

The murmurs hushed, and Vir furrowed his brow.

Guardian rank? It was the first he’d heard of such a thing.

“Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. Guardian ranks are only bestowed to Warrior Callings. Out here, everyone is a Warrior. At least, while you’re on the wall. We use it for gauging your potential, which in turn determines what roles you’ll take. Should you ever earn your freedom, that rank will persist. I don’t need to tell you how beneficial that is, do I?”

The Overseer looked around. “Thought so. Those still standing after a half hour has passed will automatically earn the rank of Porcelain. Fight well, and you might even make Bronze or Steel. Porcelain gets you an iron weapon of your choice. Bronze gets you armor, and Steel? Well, steel gets you better of both, and a tent to put over your head while you sleep. How’s that for a reward, eh?”

The murmurs erupted again, and this time, there was excitement in their voices.

Balagra, however, was not among them.

“They’re corrupting the bloody system,” he spat. “Guardians are so named because they protect the realm. They fight Ash Beasts, their ranks determined by the tier of beast killed. To earn a rank by fighting ourselves… Make no mistake. This is nothing short of blasphemy.”

While this Guardian system resembled the Balar Ranks of the Human Realm, Vir questioned how similar the two truly were, and whether this system suffered the same issues that plagued the Balar Scale.

Both attempted to quantify the caliber of a Warrior, though if Balagra was right, the Guardian Scale ranked Ash Beasts, and determined the level of a Warrior based on that. It sounded more robust to Vir than the number-based system the Humans used, though while he wanted to know more, he couldn’t simply ask about a system everyone knew about without raising suspicion.

“I take it you’re a ranked Guardian, as well?” Vir asked.

Balagra grunted. “Steel.”

“My apologies for the obvious question, but I’m not a Warrior Calling,” Vir said, sensing his opportunity. “What tier of beast does that correspond to?”

If Balagra thought the question odd, he didn’t show it. “Tier Four. I’ve taken down an Ash Wolf on my own, though I admit it was a close thing. Still, there is a vast chasm between myself and someone of Silver rank. Let alone Gold and Seric. Those might as well be living legends.”

Vir cocked a brow. Downing an Ash Wolf was no mean feat. They were fast, vicious, and intelligent. A lethal combination that made them far more dangerous than other physically superior beasts. Especially within the Ash, where their capabilities were multiplied several-fold.

“That’s… quite impressive,” Vir said, genuinely meaning it. He wondered where he’d rank, were he allowed to go all out.  Balagra, however, took his words another way.

“Stay close, and I’ll protect you as best I can.”

“Thanks,” Vir said, deciding not to correct the misunderstanding. Balagra would find out soon enough, anyway. “I wonder how many Gold and Seric demons there are?”

“Fewer than you’d think,” Balagra replied. “Even Cirayus the Ravagar was said to only rank Gold, and I know of only a handful who boast that rank, though none are his equal in strength.”

That came as a surprise to Vir. He’d thought Cirayus would undoubtedly be at the top. Balagra’s next words clarified that, though.

“I doubt there will ever be a Seric ranked Guardian. Not until the Akh Nara returns, and even then… Not all of his incarnations attained that rank. After all, there are few demons who could put down a Wyrm.”

“The Akh Nara, huh?” Vir said wistfully. “I wonder if he’ll ever return.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Balagra said, before turning away. Whether because he tired of the conversation or for some other reason, Vir wasn’t able to ascertain.

I guess that makes me Gold, Vir thought. While he technically had defeated a Wyrm, it was weakened, and even then, only with Ashani’s help.

Typical Cirayus, Vir thought. The demon had never once informed him about this Guardian System, nor of his own high rank in it. Cirayus cared little for designations—he’d forgotten his own Balar Rank, after all. No, Cirayus only cared about combat and improvement. Titles served him no purpose.

Vir looked around at his fellow demons. Truthfully, he’d hoped for more time to come up with a plan of action. His goal with infiltrating the Boundary Warriors was to lay the groundwork for an eventual overthrow of the Chitran Garrisons in preparation for a rebellion.

With the garrisons out of commission, the Gargan Warriors in uprising, and the rebels of Samar Patag sewing chaos, the Chitran would have their hands full dealing with fires on multiple fronts.

Vir would then lead the Boundary Warriors back to Samar Patag, lay siege, and infiltrate the city alone, disposing of its leadership in what—he hoped—would be a bloodless coup.

At least, that was the plan, and Vir knew well that plans rarely ever went the way he wanted.

To that end, he needed to make an impression with the Gargans here, but the challenge was far greater than the one he faced in Samar Patag. He couldn’t simply don a mask and masquerade with impunity. The Warriors here were both more numerous and more capable than those at Samar Patag. The Garrison was much smaller, and too much moving around would invariably attract unwanted attention.

No, Vir had to rouse the Gargans, building their spirit and gaining their loyalty… all while avoiding the notice of the Chitran.

“With all that said!” the Overseer shouted. “Should you perform poorly, or, Vera-forbid, if you’re among the earliest to get knocked out, you will be punished. Mark my words. You do not want to be punished. So you’d better give it your all! The fight begins now! You have half an hour. May the best among you win.”

Vir pursed his lips. This would be bloody, brutal, and exceedingly tricky.

— —

Mayhem broke out in an instant.

Vir wasn’t sure what he’d expected. That the prisoners would collectively revolt against the guards, that they’d refuse to fight one another, or that they’d organize matches of their own.

Reality was far more grim. Magic of all affinities flew in every direction, and demons sank into each other like packs of rabid wolves, hurling kicks, punches, and even biting each other.

A dozen fights among pairs or groups of three or four broke out, devolving into what Vir imagined a battlefield must look like. At least on a battlefield, there was some sense of direction, some sense of purpose. Here, there was only chaos.

Some fought bravely, while others scampered away. Yet others preyed on those who couldn’t fight, avoiding the stronger combatants.

Vir saw a demon fall—unconscious—only to have his head trampled by another, shattering his nose.

Stray magic hit unsuspecting demons, who were in turn taken down by others. A few strayed Vir’s way, but Prana Armor kept him safe, allowing him to ignore it. Since no one present could actually see prana, he succeeded in avoiding any attention.

That was, until a blow came his way. Almost subconsciously, Vir grabbed the arm, tripped his assailant, and sent him to the ground.

Alone, such an attack posed no threat to him anymore. When combined with the Warrior Chakra, however, it became an attack he could no longer ignore.

Without Chakra, Vir doubted there was a single demon present who could pose him any real harm. Yet again, reality was not so kind, and Chakra-laden mind attacks and physical strikes filled the battlefield, turning it very lethal for Vir.

An icicle hurled for Vir, but he dodged, taking down another demon.

“Thought you weren’t a Warrior?” Balagra huffed, having just driven away a group of nearby demons. He was in his half-naga form, and a cloud of silver prana hung about him. His legs had disappeared, replaced by a serpent’s tail, which he used both to strangle and whack his opponents—often sending them flying. Even if it didn’t, the chakra he imbued in them forced them to defend.

“Does one need to be a Warrior Calling if they wish to protect themselves?” Vir shot back.

Balagra grunted and cracked a smile. “Fair enough. What do you say we watch each others’ backs? I could use someone capable beside me.”

Vir returned the Naga’s smile. He’d been planning to ask the same, after all. “Fine by me. But only if you can control your magic so it doesn’t harm me.”

Vir had been observing the demon fight, and what he’d seen had left him confused. Balagra’s tattoo functioned quite differently than anything he’d envisioned.

“That, at least, is no issue,” Balagra chuckled as he pummeled another demon nearby. The demon tripped and fell… and then his skin started to bubble. The demon screamed and ran.

“I thought the Panav specialized in the healing arts?” Vir asked. Balagra’s magic had created something of a moat around himself, with demons quickly attacking before retreating around whatever it was that burned off their skin.

“I’m unsurprised you haven’t heard of Corruption,” Balagra said casually, even while he fought. “Among the Panav Bloodline Arts, it is by far the rarest. And not looked upon with any fondness by my people, I’m afraid.”

Vir wanted nothing more than to ask Balagra all about what led him to choose such a tattoo, but it would have to wait until later. Unlike Balagra, Vir possessed no physical Chakra defenses, and even the mental ones required him to open his Foundation Chakra to counter.

The issue was that no Chakra could be left open indefinitely, and Vir had only recently opened his. He had to exercise extreme caution about when and how long he left it open. Too late, and he’d succumb to an illusion, leaving him vulnerable. Too early, and he may not have enough concentration left to defend against the next attack.

This was combat on another level than what he was used to. There was the physical plane, with strikes, dodges, and parries. The prana plane, with bloodline arts and prana-infused attacks, and finally the Chakra plane, with its metaphysical elements.

Combat in the demon realm—true combat, among masters—seemed to be in another league when compared to human fighting.

Making matters worse, the weaklings had all been weeded out. Either from being knocked unconscious, or by pretending they were.

Those that remained were strong, and Vir was elated to count the gray demon and the kothi he’d scouted among their number. Either they were proficient at combat, or they were extremely good at running away from danger. Both were valuable traits in their own right.

“Let’s avoid those two, if we can,” Vir said, pointing to each in turn.

Balagra shrugged his agreement, and they continued to fight, quickly falling into a rhythm. Balagra’s Corruption field kept enemies at bay, moving as they did. The courageous ones who attempted to penetrate were met with Vir’s grappling techniques, which had them pinned and writhing on the ground.

Luckily, there seemed to be none among them who could imbue their ranged prana attacks with chakra.

Together, they proved to be a near-unstoppable force. Teamwork, it seemed, was the last thing on most prisoners’ minds, and with Balagra’s training, they brought demons down wherever they went.

True to his word, Balagra ensured Vir was never harmed, and Vir couldn’t help but be amazed by the demon’s level of control.

The free-for-all had gone surprisingly well, and only five minutes remained. Vir was starting to suspect they’d all make it out of this unscathed… when the inevitable happened.

Vir scanned the battlefield, his eyes coming to rest on the gray demon he’d scouted—the one who’d visibly reacted to the family the slavers had nearly turned into slaves—fighting some fifty paces away. He watched as the four-armed red demon behind him flared his tatto—prana building.

It built… and it kept on building. Worse—the red demon’s expression was warped into a mask of rage so fierce it was almost feral.

Vir knew then that there would be no escape from such a blow. Whatever grudge this demon held was personal, and whatever magic he was about to unleash would be lethal.

With that realization came another—that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Vir would have to Blink there to make it in time. A movement art so powerful that it’d ordinarily be impossible here in the demon realm would raise questions. Questions Vir would be entirely incapable of answering.

And yet, Vir couldn’t let that demon die. It may only have been a hunch. Vir might very well be wrong. But he didn’t think that gray demon was a bad person.

And so, Vir disappeared. Carrying the momentum of Blink, he smashed his elbow into the four-armed demon’s back.

The poor fool didn’t even realize what had hit him. His target spun, but he saw nothing. Vir Blinked back to Balagra’s side. Hoping the demon wouldn’t have noticed his absence.

Balagra’s eyes narrowed, and Vir silently cursed.

“It seems you’ve been holding out,” Balagra said softly.

“And that concludes our combat evaluation!” the Overseer’s cheery voice boomed. “Those of you conscious enough to hear my words, good work! As for the rest of you, well… Not so much, I suppose.”

The magic that had been hurling back and forth halted abruptly, and Chitran guards flooded in to break up any lingering fights.

“Return to your berths,” the Overseer said. “We’ll have your results tomorrow. Until then, enjoy your free time.”

The Chitran leveled his gaze on Vir and smiled, but it failed to reach his eyes.

“No, not you. You are coming with us.”