Extra Chapter 2 - Fumi (Patreon)

"Run, damn it! She's gaining on us!" The Imperial Legionnaire sprinted at full speed, shedding his armor as he went, trying to escape the certain death following him. He pushed through the soldiers in front of him.

The first wave of the assault had been crushed and if not for the inexorable tide of soldiers continuing to pour into the Xulatar Forest, the Legion would have been routed. The entire frontline had been decimated by a handful of warriors.

The dreaded Soju tribe rarely left their mountain citadel. Only an invasion such as this could pull their attention away from their reinforcement of the mighty fortress they called home. And only a foe this dire would warrant their best warriors joining the front lines.

As it was, The Imperial Legion had never known defeat; and ever since The Holy Wall opened and let these humans into The Krekyo Dominion…they had continued to maintain that record.

Until now, it appeared, as the fleeing soldier was cut down. A beast of a Gori - the tall, brutish, pointy-eared, and haughty warrior brought an enormous cleaver across a whole row of soldiers. He laughed off the wounds and seemed to revel in the bloodshed.

This was the true power of a Soju berserker; one who derived power from the pain they suffered. Often, they would fall in combat, but the toll they inflicted was devastating.

He roared and leaped up to a tree branch, using it as a vault to propel himself into the shield formation, crashing down like a meteor and shattering shield, bone, and armor alike. He howled out a battle cry as he smashed left and right.

Within seconds, over thirty were slain and panic set in among the rank and file.

But there was someone else there with him, a woman, an Ogo.

Deep, tanned brown skin, ruby red hair, and darting green eyes that searched for the next target.

She was his shadow; hidden by the blood and gore but performing a graceful dance all her own. The only Ogo warrior within the whole of the Krekyo Dominion - Fumi Medrana Soju, the Maven of the Blade. She who reformed the Great Clan after it was shattered. The Deathless swordswoman.

Their Overlord.

She dashed through the lines of soldiers; a shadow of death that dashed between the rows dealing death with every strike. She carved her path through the Imperials, jumping to the branches above and disappearing as the forces began to surround her.

The leaves shook as she ran across the large boughs; evading the spear points that were stabbing up to her. She had a wild, manic grin and was laughing in pure joy. She was in her element; the blood rushing through her and feeling every heartbeat through her whole body.

The blood splatters that made such beautiful marks upon the surroundings, and the fear in the eyes of her enemies, was exhilarating.

She leaped down into an opening, sheathing her katana before drawing it with blinding speed and spinning in a tight circle - a pirouette of death as she shouted, "Spatial Sever!"

Reality split as she infused her Affinity for spatial magic into a technique refined for over twenty years. The shockwave passed through the soldiers, and they were left standing, shocked…but only for a moment, before their bisected knees gave out from under them.

Screams and wails of pain surrounded Fumi as she craned her head backward, laughing into the sky as the bloodlust took over. She had just dealt critical blows to over a thousand men who would soon bleed out.

But she felt a presence approach her. Turning and taking up a seigan no kamae stance, she readied to face the new challenger.

A tall man with cropped, spiky brown hair and dressed in light leather armor approached. The design was Imperial in nature but more detailed with ornate filigree. He raised a long, thin sword and pointed it at her, speaking in her language.

"You. Face me."

Fumi grinned and slowly moved forward, "You speak Gori. Know you face the Maven of the Blade."

The man grinned and advanced in profile stance and a light stab that Fumi easily deflected. She swung back in retaliation, but the thin blade flicked in front of her vision and parried her blow. She followed up with a fierce fusillade of flourishing slashes that the man danced away from or deflected with a flick of his wrist.

Fumi felt her anger growing and continued her relentless assault; not tiring for even an instant, and every strike exactly precise enough to kill a man - but this human in light armor was faster than she could have imagined.

He weaved between her strikes and scored touches of his own. His blade did not cut deep, but she felt the lethargy of blood loss began to build. She backed away, sucking in the air as this titan backed off.

"You mock me? Come! I cannot die." Fumi raised her blade once more.

"Interesting. The Gods did not tell me of a deathless warrior. Very well, I'll put it to the test. Understand though, I hold your skill in the highest regard." He advanced and unleashed a flurry of slashes that Fumi barely blocked.

He was holding back this whole time? Fumi thought as he cut the tendons on her hand with two flicks of his blade.

Her sword fell from her limp grip as she stared at the victor.

"My name is Alamayn. You deserve to know who bested you."

Fumi spat at him, "Do it. I'll come back. I'll kill you."

He grinned, "You're welcome to try."

His sword stabbed forward and into her throat as she collapsed to her knees, feeling her life gush away as darkness took her once more.

Time passed and Fumi woke; chained to a prison cell. As had happened before her vision was the first thing to return. She glanced down and confirmed once more that her wounds had healed.

Why did the Gods curse me…just let me die...let me be with them.

This had been the twelfth time she had died. It always started the same - she could see her body below her as she began to rise towards the skies, feeling at peace and free. But a tether kept her from leaving. She would return and there would be silence and darkness - floating silently in nothingness until she woke again.

"Ahh. I'll tell The Tactician you're awake." A guard that Fumi hadn't noticed at first due to the pattern on his attire left the cell she was in front of. She pulled on the manacles at her wrists and ankles.

They aren't budging. She hung her head low and felt shame wash over her. She failed her clan. Death would be the honorable thing to do. But she could not kill herself. She had tried before. It always failed.

For the third time in her adult life, Fumi shed tears. To be captured meant exile should the affront be discovered. If she ever returned home, honor dictated she report what happened. It would be inescapable – much like the eternal life she was punished with.

The sound of boots on stone roused her from her grief at the impending loss of honor and home.

"You weren't lying. You don't die, do you?" The same brown-haired man stood in front of the cells. "Fumi Medrana Soju."

"...Alamayn," Fumi muttered, feeling disgraced at losing to a mere human.

He curtly nodded, "I am the tactician who commands The Imperial Legions. You were a worthy opponent; were I not blessed by Terra and Lux I surely would have perished against you."

"...What do you want?"

"Nothing. I can't release you - you're too dangerous. Men are demanding your head, but I doubt that would kill you, either. Instead, I've arranged something…more pleasant." He described a spell that would put her to sleep, a dreamless, peaceful slumber.

Fumi looked up with dismay, "...Forever?"

Alamayn shook his head, "No. I may not be long-lived like Ogo or Gori, but I can ensure my will is done once I've passed. After we have solidified our control…I'll release you. And if not me, then whoever follows in my position."

He held his fist to his chest, "I swear it on all the Gods and my life."

Fumi nodded slowly, "...Get it over with."

Alamayn unlocked the door to the cell and another man holding a staff walked towards her, muttering words under his breath as the world faded to black.

Consciousness came once more. Fumi choked as liquid filled her lungs. Panic filled her mind - she had never drowned before and instinctively she tried to move but found herself chained within some type of tomb with a clear lid.

A man stood over her - covered in bones and wearing a strange coat. She tried to scream for help as the liquid continued to fill her lungs.

"Oh, poor thing. Don't worry, this is only a taste of the suffering you'll endure." He licked his lips as she felt a sense of vertigo overtake her - the coffin rotating as the glass fell away, shattering under her and releasing the voluminous, viscous liquid.

She coughed and sucked in air, slowly evacuating her lungs. Her throat was on fire and yet she felt parched at the same time.

"All done? Good."

The coffin rotated upwards, and she got a good look at the man and the room. She was underground in some type of cavern as a torch illuminated the room. T

he human was handsome - extremely handsome - firm musculature and jawline, light skin, a dashing smile that barely veiled his glee, and a crop of black hair.

But what stood out the most were the spikes of bone that jutted from his shoulders and collarbone, making a gorget of sorts to protect his neck.

"...What do you want?" Fumi asked weakly in her language.

"Ahh. I should have figured you don't speak the Common tongue," he replied in his language.

Fumi switched to Common as well, "...I understand."

"Excellent!" He slapped his hands together and rubbed them, "You were quite expensive, my dear. But a worthwhile subject."

"...Where is Alamayn?"

The man looked at her, shocked, "Dead over three hundred years…Poor thing. He must have promised you freedom once the tumult died down."

A grin spread across his face, "Ah, but none of that matters. You're here, now." He ran a hand along her chin, and she felt chills down her spine as the cold appendage caressed her skin.

"And I have plans for you…rest now, we will start tomorrow." The man turned with a flourish and walked away, extinguishing the torch, and leaving Fumi alone in the darkness.

Her mind raced, He's dead? She was supposed to be freed. Alamayn had promised. And in her culture, words held meaning. All of the Imperials were honorless scum if their highest ranked warrior did not even hold to his words.

She pulled against her bindings to no avail.

She sagged in her restraints and did the only thing she could do - wait.

Time passed. How much time Fumi couldn't say for certain, but the man came back once more as he lit a torch and walked up to her coffin.

"I need you to have more room. Reshape to my will, transmute substance." He passed his hand over her as the coffin fell away and the metal warped and twisted until she was lying prone on a metal table; still chained up.

"Ahh, that's better. Now you'll have room to grow." He held up a small cube and put it on her bare chest, the metal cool to the touch.

"...What are you doing?"

He brushed his hand through her hair, "Forcing you to evolve, my dear."

He grinned as he licked his lips again…as the cube activated.

Purple sparks flew from the device as a black goo came out of it and covered Fumi. And then the worst pain imaginable. Fumi screamed until she went hoarse; her cries echoing in the small room.

The pain was horrifically specific - she felt cuts and scrapes erupt over her whole form. The cuts went deeper and deeper, and deeper…and she felt the cold embrace of death take her once more.

She began to float above her body again, in that liminal state between life and death. She could hear and see everything going on below, wincing as her body began to twitch uncontrollably as the goo receded into the cube.

Her skin erupted in boils, and it cracked open as blood oozed out, forming a carapace. She shuddered as her body desiccated, turning into a withered corpse.

"Tsk…I was told you wouldn't die." He glanced around and sighed, "A few days, then. Maybe you'll come back." He walked away, extinguishing the torch as he left.

Fumi felt the pull back to her body and returned, taking a shallow breath as her body reverted to its default condition - her adult form.

Her race, the Ogo - and their companion race Gori - were exceptionally long-lived, averaging one-thousand-year lifespans. They reached adulthood at around seventy years old, and her body would always revert to that state no matter the condition.

Even when she was torn apart by her enemies nearly a decade ago, her body returned to its perfect shape, and she woke up again. Even when she tried to kill herself, she would return. Even if cut down in war, she would emerge from the battlefield unmarred.

Her inhalation drew the man with the cube back and he grinned, lighting the torch once more. "Oh, so the legends were true. The Maven of the Blade is truly deathless."

He put the cube on her chest again, "Well then, how about another go-round?"

Fumi screamed once more as the pain began.

This same process repeated over and over and over for what felt like an eternity.

Fumi only found respite when she was in that state between life and death.

Over time she was able to stay outside of her body for longer and longer, willing her soul to stay away from the pain that consumed her existence.

Eventually, she grew so proficient that she was able to fool the man with the cube into thinking she had truly died.

He left and sealed the tunnel…and she waited.

Her body was still trapped. Her soul tethered due to her Ability.

She used this time in that liminal state to pray to any God that would listen, her soul crying out for a savior.

Or a final release from her torment.

After waiting, and waiting, and praying for an indeterminable span, she heard a noise. Looking down from her long reverie she saw the wall near her chamber fall away.

Some man with black hair, a slim, silver streak running down the center, black eyes with silver irises, and a wiry, muscular build entered the room.

She returned, and woke again desiccated, waiting for her body to regenerate back to its prime.

She tried to ask for water, but all that came out was a hollow "Wahhh…" Having been so far from her body, it was taking longer than usual to revert to its prime state.

The man looked at her. A rift in space opened next to him as he pulled out a red vial, forcing it down her maw.

She felt a rush of warmth through her body that relaxed her muscles. She felt an immense flow of energy as her body regenerated faster than it ever had before. The liquid was sickeningly sweet and thick as she gasped for air.

She felt a primal instinct rush through her mind, and if not weakened, she would have acted on it.

Kill…

Consume…

Evolve…

The man removed her chains and smiled at her, asking in a calm, friendly, and warm voice; "Are you okay?"

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