What is a body?

  Strange to contemplate, strange indeed, a body is a body, and what is a body but a vessel for the soul? Everything has a soul, and everything has a body, and the body is the face of a soul to physicality.

  Does that make sense?

  Of course it does, of course, how could it not?

  A body can change.

  It’s only natural, nothing stays the same after all, if you visited the same forest for years and years you’d never find the same sight, and isn’t that just a shame? Everything is so fleeting, and can change so very quickly.

  Right sword lady?

  Sword lady doesn’t seem to care for her internal dialogue, which is rude, bringing her claymore down in a series of strikes that Tantra blocks easily enough. She’s not using soul Qi, that’s reserved for the big bads, but she still gets a good amount of power from mundane world Qi, especially lately.

  Courtesy of the brain damage.

  So, a body.

  How do you describe a body?

  It is a thing of muscle, sinew, bones, and organs, acting as the vessel by which the soul expresses itself, at least that‘s what makes the most sense to Tantra. There's plenty of conjecture on the subject, silly philosophers of all kinds trying to make the world make sense in their own special ways, but all they really do is make things ever so complicated for a sane person to understand.

  She’s heard a few of the street rants, they’re all stupidly confusing, why compare the body to an egg? In which reality does that simplify anything? If you break the body open would the soul come out like a yolk, ready for consumption?

  So stupid.

  She reciprocates the sword lady’s strikes with plenty of her own, killing any trying to interrupt the duel, and there are plenty, it’s a warzone afterall. Sword lady’s got a good deal of skill and either dodges or blocks all the blows, which is honestly impressive since Tantra’s moving quite a lot faster than her. That’s how it’s been going with the battlefields Synthia sends her to, she overloads her body with Qi and ends up comatose for a few dozen minutes and immobile for a few hours, only to be sent to another.

  She hasn’t had time to clean herself, so she’s covered in a lot of blood under these robes.

  Why is she fighting again?

  She doesn’t know, but it helps Synthia somehow.

  That’s enough for her really.

  Etra’s here, somewhere, engaged in her own duel.

  It’s kind of funny how those still happen even in warzones, though only sometimes, and usually there are a few that don’t respect the sanctity of the duel.

  You know, bitch ass bitches.

  They’re usually pretty weak though, why is that?

  Are strength and respect in a relationship? That would be pretty funny, though she’s not sure she’d respect a duel if one of her friends was at risk of dying, reputation and honor be damned.

  Bah, contemplating this shit is pointless, her time fighting on the front lines is obviously better spent musing on the metaphysical.

  That’s a piece to this puzzle that’s always ignored, like the bastard child of a noble, and that’s the core.

  Add the core to the discussion and things quickly become ridiculously convoluted. People used to think cores were the tether that connects the body and soul, but then some immortal decided to shatter that theory by stating that animals don’t have cores, yet their souls connection is perfectly fine.

  Which begs the question of how the core fits in the equation of body and soul. It’s like a mix of both, or something, she doesn’t really know but it’s always the interpretation she and most others have rolled with, and its purpose is to store Qi. Simple right? Right.

  Then what are meridians?

  Yeah shit gets weird when you actually start to think about it.

  Sword lady cuts a line across Tantra’s chest, adding to her many wounds and letting blood fly. The pain isn’t really a surprise anymore, Tantra’s not some sort of martial savant, so getting injured is practically expected when she gets into a fight.

  That being said she really could use a healer, she has a lot of wounds marking her body, too many to be healthy really. Is there a healthy amount of wounds to have? Maybe, who knows, she’s not a healer.

  Now Tantra’s just being silly.

  She chuckles a bit and that clearly offended sword lady as her expression darkens and she swings her blade with renewed vigor. Ah shit, she offended her, the laugh wasn’t even meant for the woman! Fuck, that’s honestly really embarrasing. The shame of that social faux pas is almost enough to let her strike Tantra again, but Tantra doesn’t like pain very much so she gets out of the way like the expert cultivator she is.

  Then there’s Qi.

  Breath in enough of it at once and even a human starts to mutate, morphing in a myriad of ways depending on the specific concepts, Tantra assumes that’s why it’s necessary to filter the concepts out when filling the core with world Qi. Strangely enough, soul Qi doesn’t affect the body even when enlightened with a concept, otherwise integration and foundation would just be the same path.

  What are the paths?

  Are they just ways to get literally and spiritually beefy with Qi and will?

  Her wills pretty fucking strong for her advancement she imagines, considering how she always toes the edge when compressing her soul. Takes a while for it to expand back to its normal state, and at first Tantra thought it did nothing, convinced by Rakan’s advice that the path was useless.

  But after years of doing it…she has nothing to compare it to, but her soul seems denser. She doesn’t know what that does, other than letting her condense further before she starts to hear the whispers.

  Ah the whispers, they get a little louder each time and she doesn’t really know what they are, but she tries her best to avoid them. Something tells her listening would be a very bad idea indeed, and she’s learned to trust instinct on matters of the soul, mostly from books and less so experience but still.

  Tantra goes to strike at the sword lady again and-

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  A hand of grand proportions simply stops her swing, shocking Tantra’s muscles and joints. She looks up to see a giant of crimson hair and crimson eyes regarding her with a kind of…skepticism?

  “That’s enough,” Resai says, “she’s already dead.”

  Hmmm?

  Tantra looks down to see the very pulped corpse of the sword lady.

  “So she is,” Tantra nods.

  Then she passes out.

  -

  Crushing a skull with one hand isn’t all that difficult for Resai.

  It’s a risky maneuver to be sure, but it serves its purpose to intimidate well enough, even in the middle of a battlefield. The ones who saw avoid her, and the rest follow suit, under the assumption that there’s a good reason she should be left alone.

  There are a few idiots, but she just uses them as a demonstration to not be stupid. She could participate in this fight, but she’s not in the mood, she’s already fought a lot and ate her fill, it wouldn’t do to be a glutton.

  Especially since these chumps are hardly worth it.

  So instead she just kneels over the unconscious body of the smart one from the graveyard, she’s gotten a dao, and from how her soul’s changing it’s surely a delectable one. But that isn’t really what’s captured her attention.

  What interests her is the girl's face, or more accurately, about a quarter of her face.

  It’s covered in some kind of parasite in the shape of roots, digging in and out of her skull as it pulsates, just a little. The movement’s so miniscule you’d need Resai’s eyes to see it, but it’s there. Clearly, whatever this thing is is the product of some kind of technique, but she’s neither heard nor seen one like this before. Techniques don’t have lives of their own, that’s impossible, yet she watches as the roots of barbs drain the girl of blood to feed itself.

  Interesting, interesting, she’s not a scholar, but this little discovery changes a lot about her understanding of techniques. Who did this to her? She’d really like to meet them, if only for a little chat.

  -

  Lucidity comes in waves,

  It’s always just after a fight where she really gets to think coherently, and it lasts just a little longer each time, but a few minutes isn’t all that long to begin with. She knows why, of course she knows, how could she not? She just has to turn her remaining eye a little to the right and she can see the roots digging into her skull, it never stops being distressing, but she’s learned to ride the panic like a wave.

  Surely a proper healer could care for this?

  Surely.

  She always wakes up on the same cot, staring at the same roof, waiting for mobility so she can get back into the fight. She knows what she’s doing is stupid, but she needs to find her friends, and what better beacon is there than popularity? Her and Etra don’t have dedicated battlefields, they switch between so everyone knows that their new little hero is fighting alongside them.

  It’s kinda surreal to be regarded so highly, and a little embarrassing, but she’ll take advantage of whatever she can. Synthia doesn’t look well, not at all, clearly harbouring more than a little guilt for using Tantra like this.

  Tantra lets out a long sigh, frankly done with the noblewoman’s bullshit.

  “Synthia,” Tantra says, “please tell me you’re not still brooding”

  “Of course I am,” Synthia grumbles, “I’m delivering fancy speeches around the slums while you and Etra are risking your lives. Look at the amount of wounds you’ve got! You shouldn’t even be alive at this point, yet you’re going to go out there once you’ve recovered anyway.”

  “Please, don’t underestimate a cultivator's constitution, we can survive ridiculous amounts of damage. Besides, this shit’s my choice, and I do what I fucking want, so you feeling all guilty about it is honestly just insulting.”

  “I am well aware of your self-destructive tendencies when it comes to your friends,” Synthia says dryly, “honestly, you and the rest would probably be out of this city if you just did the smart thing and left me behind.”

  “Not again,” Tantra groans, “can’t we have a conversation about something else in the brief moments I get to be sane.”

  “Very well,” Synthia says, “how’s your head?”

  “Oh, now that’s just low.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to change the subject, I’m simply obliging the request.”

  “No mercy huh?”

  “No,”

  “Well,” Tantra shrugs, “I don’t really remember much when I’m like…whatever that state might be called. It’s mostly just impressions, like, I know I fought a sword lady, and I think that giant from the graveyard was there.”

  “She was,” Synthia says darkly, “examined you for a little while then just…left, Sasei was too much of a coward to grab you while she was there.”

  “Ah, don’t blame him, he’s just a mortal. Even risking himself on that field considering his position is impressive enough,”

  “You’re surprisingly forgiving, you know that?”

  “I just don’t see the point in holding grudges,” Tantra shrugs, “unless they’re a threat to my life of course.”

  “So Rimi was a threat to your life?”

  “That was different.”

  “How so?” Synthia tilts her head, “I get now why you might hate her, but before Doman organized this catastrophe you’d still regard that woman with disdain.”

  “I just don’t like her alright.”

  “Yorin said it might have something to do with her sect,” Synthia says casually.

  Tantra looks away from the woman, she does not like being so easy to read, and her hatred for Rimi was never well founded until recently. It’s…childish, she knows this, but she sees the robes, sees the token, and she can’t really help the rage that rises from the ashes of her grief.

  Luckily for her, Erick chose exactly that time to walk in and interrupt the conversation with a bowl of stew in his hands.

  “Meal time!” he chirps.

  “Damn, they prepared actual stew?” Tantra says.

  “Yep! Though just for you, the rest of us get gruel, even Raizen.”

  “Shouldn’t he have plenty of decent food stashed away somewhere?”

  “It’s to look good,” Synthia shrugs, “sharing meals with peasants is endearing, and makes people less critical of his leadership.”

  “Aren’t you the one leading this?” Erick says confused.

  “She’s the figurehead,” Tantra chuckles, “the ones actually involved in strategy are the gang leaders.”

  “Huh, weird.”

  “You’ll get it,” Tantra says, “you’re a smart boy, and it's not that hard of a concept.”

  “I’m more of a math person,”

  “More knowledge is always more…beneficial?”

  “Sure,” he nods slowly as he starts to feed Tantra the steaming stew.

  It’s okay, not exactly exceptional, but not inedible either, which is miles better than gruel. She doesn’t know what the fuck gruel is made of but…welll it’s gross, like really gross.

  Why are they subjecting themselves to that again?

  Right, food shortages.

  “I’ve been teaching the kids,” Erick says, “since you’re…you know.”

  “Hmmm?”

  Erick looks down sadly, “yeah, that.”

  “Ah don’t worry kiddo! I can think and think, and right now I’m thinking about that stew, gimme more.”

  “Okay,” he chuckles softly.

  “She’s getting better,” Synthia whispers softly, “can maintain conversation for a decent amount of time now.”

  Erick doesn’t dignify that with a response, which is rude, Tantra glares at him with her one eye as she enjoys her meal.

  Erick sighs, “she might not be this way if you let the healer work on her skull.”

  Synthia looks down in shame, which isn’t good, Tantra finally got her to stop thinking about that!

  Erick just had to ruin her efforts, didn’t he?

  “Silly Erick,” Tantra says as she swallows her stew, “Jill isn’t a healer, she’s…something less than a healer? I can tell, yes I can, because I’m smart like that, so having her crack open my skull is a baaaaaaaad idea.”

  Tantra takes enough Qi to strengthen her neck to nod to herself, because that’s important, have to watch the presentation. She doesn’t waste any more though, she got yelled at by just about everyone when she did that, which is just mean.

  Erick gives her a sad look, “sure, master.”

  “Mentor,” Tantra corrects.

  Erick chuckles a little before giving her another spoon of stew.