Weakness buryoku book 8, p.1
Weakness (Buryoku Book 8), page 1
Weakness
Buryoku
Book Eight
Aaron Oster
For my baby sister. Happy birthday and congratulations!
Prologue
Weakness drifted all around, silvery Essence leaking from the bodies of the recently deceased. It was easy to tell which of the corpses had been killed more recently, as the clouds of Essence seemed to collect more densely around their bodies.
The scent of iron hung thick in the air, the metallic tang of blood tickling the inside of Doragon’s nose as he carelessly stepped through the corpse-littered scene of yet another battle. Wars like these were common in Garasu. It was the only way to survive – the only way to thrive – and for Doragon, being second-best had never been enough.
“Good job, kid,” Rolla said, giving him a hearty slap on the back.
From someone as powerful as the old, grizzled bear of a Beast, the blow would have splattered anyone below Red-Belt to bloody pieces. However, Doragon was made of tougher stuff. He simply let out a light grunt, half-eyeing the man that had been his mentor over the last hundred or so years.
He had surpassed Rolla in his advancement nearly twenty years ago, but the Beast’s advice and cunning were still invaluable to their cause.
“Thanks, old man,” Doragon replied, trying to hide how pleased he was.
This battle had not been an easy one. Anyone who’d seen both sides beforehand would have cautioned them from even trying to take on the Kotoba clan, especially with their numbers relative to Doragon’s side. However, thanks to some clever strategy and good timing, they’d won in the end.
“You were a bit reckless out there,” Rolla said. “You should have stuck closer to your squad. I saw half a dozen times when you were cut off. You could have been killed.”
“With my level of power?” Doragon snorted. “Unlikely.”
“You’re not the only Core Black-Belt out here,” Rolla said. “And, if I may remind you, you have yet to reach Eternal. Your Soulcore is strong but still undeveloped.”
“There was no one here who was my match,” Doragon replied. “Besides, the Kotoba clan only had one Eternal, and I could have beaten her with one arm tied behind my back.”
“Lucky for you, you didn’t have to find out how wrong you are,” Rolla said, hiding a grin.
A rousing cheer went up from across the battlefield and Doragon felt his mood immediately sour as he saw what had caused the commotion.
“Of course they’re cheering for her,” he snarled.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Rolla said, his eyes also trained across the battlefield to the young-looking woman with a Belt colored black and orange, shining like a miniature sun. At one of the hanging ends sat two slashes of blue, so deep and pure that they put the sky itself to shame.
She was beautiful, even by the standards of one who’d had their body remade five times. Standing nearly nine feet tall – which was slightly shorter than the average citizen of Garasu – she had smooth, delicate features. Her skin was an almost alabaster-white, and she had large, expressive eyes with silver irises and slitted pupils. These stood out even more, as the sclera surrounding them was pure black.
A coal-colored bushy tail flicked back and forth behind her, extending from a hole in the back of her flowing white robes. From her long, stark-white hair, poked a pair of small horns that somehow enhanced her otherworldly beauty.
Doragon was blind to this woman’s beauty, of course, and he felt his lip curl up in obvious jealousy.
“Ugh,” he said, making a gagging sound. “Why does she have to be so perfect? And why is everyone praising her? This was my idea! My plans got us here, and it was my strategy that won the battle for us.”
“Correction,” Rolla said as the cheering intensified. “It was her strength that won the battle. She forced the Kotoba Eternal to ascend in sheer terror, shattered the enemy’s confidence, and singlehandedly saved over a thousand of our clan members. I think it’s pretty safe to say that your contributions were negligible when compared with hers.”
“I’m contemplating ascending right now if it’ll mean not having to deal with this,” Doragon muttered.
“No, you won’t,” Rolla replied. “No one with any brains would ascend before reaching Eternal. Besides, you like this world too much to leave.”
“Oh, great, here she comes,” Doragon mumbled as the woman spotted him and flashed him a wide grin. “Quick, hide me,” he said, trying to dodge behind the larger man.
“Dorie,” the woman said, appearing at his side and wrapping him in a crushing hug. “We won!”
Rolla’s snort at the embarrassing nickname did not help his mood. Doragon felt his cheeks color as the woman squeezed tighter, and everyone turned to look their way.
“I told you not to call me that,” he snapped, trying to shove her off.
“Aww! Don’t be such a sourpuss, Dorie,” the woman said, only squeezing him tighter.
Doragon felt his ribs beginning to strain under the force of her grip and had to reinforce himself with power from his Soulcore.
“Please stop,” he muttered. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“I won’t let go until you hug me back,” the woman said.
Doragon knew she was telling the truth. If he didn’t comply, she would continue hugging him, which would only embarrass him further and strain his body, as she would continuously tighten her grip on him. Reluctantly, he returned the hug.
“There. Happy now?” he snarled.
“Very,” the woman said, finally releasing him.
She then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, dodging back as he swiped at her and laughing all the while.
“Damn you, Hoshi!” he roared, throwing himself at his sister and trying to strangle her.
She just dodged out of the way, her tail flicking him right under his nose and her tinkling laughter echoing across the battlefield.
He chased her around for a few minutes, not really expecting to catch her – she’d always been too quick for him, even when they’d been children – before finally giving up and stomping away. He would beat her one day, and then it would be him they were cheering for.
“Are you sure?” Doragon asked, his red eyes boring into the messenger, who suddenly looked very nervous.
“It’s only a rumor I’ve heard, but the disappearances from around camp would suggest that it has to be one.”
Doragon waved a hand, dismissing the trembling youth and leaned back against the plump cushion, his mind racing. They’d remained here ever since the battle, which was now four days past. They were planning on leaving in the morning to head home, recuperate, and plan for the next one. However, if what the messenger said was true, then he may have just stumbled into a golden opportunity.
One that will finally allow me to surpass Hoshi, he thought, getting to his feet.
He would need to be careful when slipping out of camp, as someone with his power couldn’t simply wander around without being noticed. It took him over two hours to prepare, wrapping himself in dozens of suppression scripts and constructs that would lock the power in a certain area within its bounds.
He knew it would only be temporary, but it should hopefully be enough for him to take care of what he needed.
Doragon slipped from his tent near midnight, appearing only as a silent shadow slithering through the slumbering camp. It took him over an hour to reach the battlefield. The corpses were still here – they hadn’t bothered cleaning them up – and that was likely what had attracted it.
He moved to the very center of the battlefield, then threw his arms wide, sending dozens of constructs streaking off in every direction. They buried themselves at the perimeters, sealing all power off at their borders. Then, he sat and began cycling. The Weakness Essence had faded here, but there was still plenty around.
Cycling Essence this weak barely did anything for him these days, but it was still a soothing practice, and one that he needed now. If this creature was what he thought it was, then a target like him would be far too tempting to give up, especially when he’d come out here all on his own.
Doragon remained as he was, silently cycling as the moon began traveling toward the horizon. It was still an hour to dawn when he sensed the creature’s arrival. His eyes flashed open, and there, standing just ten yards away, was the monster he’d come out here to face.
“I’ve never seen one of your kind in the flesh,” Doragon said. “Though I’ve heard the stories, of course.”
The creature before him stood some twelve feet tall, though it appeared to be only around ten, as it stood hunched over. It was frighteningly thin, its body covered in rusted plates of armor and scraps of cloth. Its feet were bare, showing long, leaf-shaped scales colored a bright crimson. They were tipped with ivory talons that tore into the ground as they curled inward.
Its hands were similarly bare, scaled like its feet but containing shorter claws. A shaggy mane of matted hair fell down its back, and a pair of twisted wings – ones that obviously didn’t work – bugled from within that mane. Its facial features were hidden by a grotesque mask, one that this monster would only remove when it came time to feed.
“I always wondered what an Oni would look like without that mask on,” Doragon said, getting to his feet and Cycling his Soulcore. “I think I’ll rip it off before I kill you.”
A rattling hiss came from within the mask, followed by a hoarse voice, one that sounded like death itself.
“Beast, your fle sh will nourish my soul and sate my endless hunger!”
Doragon knew what this thing was and how it would think. Oni were Spirits born of spite and hatred. They had an endless hunger to devour and destroy, one instilled into their very souls when they were created. From his studies, he knew there weren’t very many left, especially after the great disaster that had split the continents.
He hadn’t been around back then, but he knew enough about that time and its remnants in this world to know how to deal with this thing.
Silver light formed over his fists, so dense that it appeared solid. As Rolla had so kindly pointed out, he hadn’t yet earned the title of Eternal. Still, he had enough techniques to take this thing down.
The Oni let out a roar that shook the very air, and the battle began. Doragon channeled his Path of the Snaking Dragon, a massive creature of spiraling silver bursting from his fist as he struck forward.
The air around the technique warped as space itself trembled. He’d imbued the technique with his will and the flames of flickering blue that danced within his Soulcore, and it carried enough power to turn an entire mountain range to dust.
The Oni flashed forward, its own power exploding from within. Creatures of this nature all carried the same base Path, one of Fire. However, they all had different branching Paths, so Doragon wasn’t really sure what to expect.
A roar erupted from within the mask as it leaped into the air, massive waves of burning rings blasting out in a hundred-yard radius. Doragon’s hands wove once more, and as the dragon crashed into the Projected technique, he summoned the image of a dragon over himself.
Silver scales glittered all around him, shielding him from the blast. Still, the power of the Oni’s attack tore his forged dragon to pieces, before slamming into his armor. Doragon projected his will, pitting it against the Oni’s as the monster infused its attack with sunlight, burning the absorbed fiery power and fusing it with its technique.
Doragon was driven back through the battlefield, the area around him turning to boiling stone as the ground melted beneath the onslaught. Still, he weathered the attack and struck back, pulling all of the Weakness in the area together and forming it into a powerful technique. The power of Soulcore flowed out, forming a new dragon, this one longer and slimmer than the last.
It lashed about, spinning in dizzying patterns as it surrounded the Oni, lances of light blasting from the technique’s sides and seeking to destroy.
The Oni tapped into its own power, the ground cracking and shattering beneath its will. Burning flames shot from the earth, ripping into his technique and blasting it to pieces. However, Doragon had already expected this to happen and had used the technique as a distraction to close with the monster.
“Break,” he roared, throwing a punch at the monster’s mask.
A dragon’s fist formed over his in the same instant, the technique extending to cover the Oni’s entire body. His commandment had been infused into his own technique, which was far easier than trying to affect the Oni directly. The claws slammed into the monster, and the creature exploded into motes of red light.
Doragon growled, whirling in place and launching a ball of blazing, silver fire from an open dragon’s mouth that formed over his other hand.
“Burn,” the Oni hissed as another wave of power blasted from its mask.
It washed over Doragon, destroying his own technique and slamming into him. He worked directly against it, pitting the will of his Imprint against the ancient Spirit’s. Doragon – who’d fully been expecting to win an exchange like this – was therefore surprised when the Oni’s will overpowered his, and for the first time, blood was drawn.
The Oni cackled as blood sprayed from Doragon’s shoulder. Doragon retaliated, causing the Oni to send chains of blazing red, snaring his arms and legs. Doragon shattered them, and a blazing sphere of silver fire exploded against the Oni’s mask, ripping a small chunk from its side.
Doragon only had time to smile before the Spirit got revenge, a blazing red fist the size of a small house slamming into him and cratering the ground below.
By this point, it was plain for Doragon to see that he’d underestimated this creature. It was clearly on the level of an Eternal, and as Rolla had pointed out, he was not. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t win. It would only mean expending more power.
With a roar, Doragon tore the veil from his Core, tapping into the full might of his Soulcore and triggering his Full-body technique. A dragon of pure silver, hundreds of feet long, twisted into the sky around him, carrying his smaller form along for the ride.
From within this dragon, he could control its movements and be shielded from outside forces. Still, it wasn’t enough. He infused the power of the negatively charged lightning in his Core, causing the technique to become as solid as if it were a living, breathing creature.
Of course, using something of this magnitude was bound to get attention, but Doragon didn’t care. He needed to win – quickly.
The technique roared down toward the Oni, but it seemed the Spirit had a counter to his attack. A forged hand, over a hundred feet across, caught the diving dragon, halting it in its tracks. Doragon had only an instant to be shocked, before an explosion of power from the Oni tore into his technique.
The Spirit’s Full-body technique formed, and when it did, it did so in an instant. A towering titan of forged Soulcore energy stood before him. The creature stood over two-hundred yards in height and resembled an armored warrior out of an ancient tale. Its face was covered in the same mask as the Oni, and clawed, demonic hands and legs were on full display.
The silver dragon coiled around it, bringing its massive head to face the monster. The two glared at one another, the dragon’s teeth bared and bright lights blazing within the eyeholes of the Oni’s mask.
“Dorie! What do you think you’re doing?”
Doragon flinched, expecting an attack, but the Oni seemed just as surprised as he was. Together, they looked down to see the small form of his sister glaring up at him.
“Stay out of my way,” Doragon yelled, then resumed his attack, throwing himself at the Oni.
The Oni’s hand shot up, catching the dragon once more, and then brought the flat of its palm down on the serpentine back. The force of the blow carried to the ground, shattering stone and ripping up the earth for hundreds of yards in all directions. Doragon was rattled within the technique, but it held.
The serpentine body of the dragon coiled, wrapping around the Oni and trying to pull its arms back. Fire exploded from the Oni’s mask, blasting into the head of the dragon and tearing it apart. Doragon screamed as pain lanced through his head, but he struck back, even through the needles forcing their way into his brain.
A halo of silver fire closed around one of the Oni’s hands – the constructed version, anyway – shearing it clean off at the elbow. The Oni struck back, a blow that ruptured the earth and sent molten stone spewing over a thousand feet into the air. Doragon retaliated, with a lance made of silver fire nearly a hundred feet long.
It blasted from his hand within the construct, spearing the Oni through its heart. The construct fuzzed for a moment, then the massive hand closed on the dragon’s body, reforming in the blink of an eye. Dorgan’s dragon was torn in half, the man spinning free.
He snarled, using the power of his Soulcore to remain airborne, and threw his arms out wide. Blood coated his lips, but fire burned in his crimson eyes.
“Enough!”
The word echoed like the final proclamation of a vengeful god, causing everything to freeze.
Doragon was locked into place, his body unwilling to move. The Oni, similarly, was frozen, though it started to immediately fight to break loose. Out of the corner of his eye, Doragon saw Hoshi take to the air, her hair billowing in the breeze kicked up by the power of her Path.
Darkness flickered around her, outlined in white and tearing at the air.
“You’ve hurt my brother enough,” Hoshi said, her voice deadly calm.
She gestured upward, even as the Oni broke free, lines of red standing out all along its body as it triggered its Conqueror technique. The Spirit was just a hair too slow. A spear the size of a mountain flashed down from the sky. It was a solid black, outlined in white and blazing with so much power that it warped reality and cracked the air around it.
