Infamous Goose
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3:25 The Sword Maker
🕑 Added 2025-10-12 08:14:25 +0000 UTCThe Rival took a deep breath, and walked into church.
No one paid him any mind, as if they had no idea how monumental a moment this was for him. He hadn’t willingly been to church in years, yet now here he was, standing in the largest temple in the entirety of Manu Ti. His cultivation surged beneath his skin, roaring like the tidal wave he had turned it into in response to the raw power that permeated the thick, marble walls. Millennia of immortals frequenting the place tended to have that effect on the world, their qi seeping into the stones. Solana chirped as she sat on his shoulder, radiating heat, looking about imperiously despite being a tiny, little bird, Immortal or not.
There were pitifully few people inside.
Most were Immortals, and old, sitting on wooden pews and looking up at the large, stained-glass windows that depicted the dawn of creation. Statera, in her flowing purple robes, creating souls and the Big Four…four of her children he had yet to meet. Two ten-foot tall statues stood on either side of the altar, holding out their hands in a benevolent fashion, one depicting the female form, one depicting the male form. And wasn’t that a bit of a trip to have realized – half of the time, the woman he’d been chasing was a man!
Not that he cared much. In all his many reincarnations, he’d been just about everything. Including that one time he’d been a sentient sword. Maybe he should try that again sometime, it’d been really weird, but maybe the second time would be better…?
His feet carried him forward slowly, to the very front of the church where he sat in one of the pews. Soft music drifted through the air from some unseen source, an Immortal, an Avian man with brilliant, parrot-like plumage, giving him a quick look before going back to praying.
The Rival cleared his throat, and bent his head. Gods, how long had it been since the last time he’d legitimately prayed? He clasped his hands together, held his intent in his heart, and began.
Yo, Statera, what’s up? How’s it going? Had a question for you. Did that count as a prayer? He hoped so.
Ding!
{[You do realize you don’t have to pray to contact me, right?]}
The box flashed before the Rival’s eyes, closed as they were, and he mentally gasped in mock outrage.
This is a big moment for me! I’m actually praying here, while you’re off playing with your girlfriend!
He could practically hear Statera’s sigh, and he chuckled to himself.
Ding!
{[I just…what do you want?]}
No denial. His smirk was insufferable, he knew from experience, but he hesitated upon teasing her about it more. Chasing after her when they were both mere mortals was one thing, especially since he’d known she wouldn’t actually fall for him. Chasing after her when she was going to remain immortal and eternal, and he was bound to leave her was entirely another. She was fun. He did like her, and he was a natural flirt. But that was…cruel, especially if she did end up falling for him romantically. Alala represented a far more stable relationship. He bit back his retort, saving it for another day, and asked his actual question.
I wanted to know if you were a blacksmith in a past life.
{[Guessing now?]}
Confirming some theories and narrowing down time frames for your lives. The creation myth of the – what, Sword That Does Not Cut? – is a minor myth but a fairly important detail. It implies a certain approach to the warrior mentality and the creation of weapons; more importantly, it implies a certain style of creation, which I imagine is important for an Origin Deity.
The silence that followed was deafening.
{[Yes, I was a blacksmith.]}
The Rival smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a little slip of paper. On it, it listed what he knew.
1. The Yellow Emperor (Male, 26-2700’s BCE, Emperor, China)
2. Jochebed (Female, 1300’s BCE, Slave/Mother of Moses, Egypt)
3. ??
4. ??
5. ??
6. ??
7. Sylvia MacCleod (Female, Psychologist, 2000’s AD, Britain)
8. Catherine (Female, Starship Captain, 2200’s AD, USA – Greater Allied Nations)
Clues: Approach to creation – virtue, calm, serene, humble, beauty?, balance, gentleness, kindness – a surprising lack of discord between gods. Hints at managing a lot of greater groups of people before, and quite often, soothing clashing personalities.
Blacksmith. Cave dwellings? Religion. Bridges! Art?
The Rival tapped his chin, reviewing what he could remember of Earth’s history. He hadn’t paid much attention to history books back then, having not been very interested, but he’d learned a lot in the afterlife. He also had a timeframe for her lives; about five thousand years. They probably weren’t all evenly spaced, but if he did the math right…
“Ok, got it, thanks.” He pocketed the page and stood, stretching, feeling his back pop. He had a few more deductions to make before he was ready to truly start making guesses, but that narrowed it down. Sylvia had a knack for being part of things that were fairly important; even as a psychologist, she’d tended to many, many valuable minds in the early half of the twenty first century. He was pretty sure the First had been one of them, even. And there were only so many famous blacksmiths he could think of off the top of his head. If he had to guess, that life was going to be her fourth or fifth, somewhere in the early 1000-1500’s.
Ding!
{[Now what are you going to do?]}
“Thanks for the help, Statera. Now, I think I’m going to take one of your heavenly tribulations.” He slapped his knees as he stood, groaning like the old man he was despite his young body feeling full of vitality, and nodded to one of the priests, who merely raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to their duties, purple robes swaying with each movement. The Rival studied him for a moment; the man was a Karmic Immortal, a corona of golden light radiating from him. Maybe he could ask him for advice…?
Solana pecked the side of his head. “Ow! Hey! Don’t be rude.”
“Don’t take Heavenly Tribulations lightly, young apprentice.” Solana chided, speaking through her qi. The Rival rolled his eyes; she loved calling herself his master, and constantly gave him cultivation advice…not all of which was bad.
Taking the full brunt of a heavenly tribulation just because she could was pretty metal, after all. But he had a theory to try out, which meant he would be doing the same.
***
The Rival stood in the middle of a meadow, far outside of Manu Ti. There were a few people around – apparently the Mad Scientist’s caution of him had inspired the Celestial Empress to regard him as a person of interest, and had therefore assigned him guards – but ultimately they didn’t matter. They wouldn’t get anything out of this breakthrough of his, while he might learn just a bit more about Statera Luotian.
He breathed out, letting his cultivation surge forward, breaking through to the next stage. The thin barrier that separated the lower realms shattered like glass, and the process began, his qi condensing and improving in quality exponentially.
Power flowed through him, raw and primal, coursing through his limbs like white-hot venom. His perfect cultivation spurred his growth to impossible heights – and suddenly there was pain.
Fire, red, burning flames that stank of karma, leapt from his very bones, and agony followed.
A scream tore from his mouth as fire roared into the skies, those watching scrambling in a panic. Solana screeched, yet the Rival barely registered her. The pain was unbearable, searing him from inside out and yet – the memories…those were the worst part.
{[Shitshitshit – I didn’t expect it to - hold on, I’ll stop -]}
“DoN’t YOu dAre.” The Rival screamed out, voice cracking, throat raw from heat and his own screams. The coppery tang of blood was burned away almost as soon as it hit his tongue, a billion images from past lives flashing before his eyes even as flames filled his vision. Another bloodcurdling scream tore its way from his mouth, legs collapsing as he crashed to the ground, curling into a fetal position. Everything he had ever done wrong was being paraded before him while his body burned. Every. Single. Thing.
But he knew what he was.
He knew exactly who he fucking was. And that did not necessarily mean a nice person. He had no illusions of that. When you live as long as he had as a mortal, you tend to make some mistakes, and he had to live with that permanently. No refunds, no reincarnations, no convenient memory wipes, just an eidetic memory and eternity to remember.
“This is MINE.” He growled out, forcibly regaining control of his limbs and pushing himself to a sitting position. Solana hovered above him like a protective mother, screaming something through qi, Statera Luotian’s gaze upon him like a heavy blanket. His breathing slowed as his body burned away, his mind and soul determined to see this through to the end.
The flames pulsed, increasing in intensity for a brief moment, burning away his fingers. He grit his teeth as he watching himself kill in war – bombing villages just to eliminate one Virus, hundreds of civilians dead on his order, their glassy eyes staring at him accusingly; more recently, the use of chemical weaponry just to stop one of the First’s stupid plans; stealing, looting, doing drugs; his callous approach to his own body…
An echo of his own face appeared in his mind. A younger him. A more idealistic him. A him who had borne a name different than the Rival. Its lips moved, but he didn’t have to read lips to know what he was telling himself. His back straightened. Another pulse of flame came, burning away his arms and half of his legs, his posture teetering.
Petty people with petty little thoughts. That is how he saw most people. Most wars. Sylvia had been one of the few to defy that belief, mortal though she had been. The elemental woman he’d met, the one who had killed Solana’s friend, flashed into his mind. He had left her to her fate, in the clutches of an evil being. Perhaps he could have saved her. Maybe he should have, maybe that action would have made her rethink her life…his expression soured as another pulse of flame rocked him, Solana screeching in warning as she dive-bombed his burning body.
“No,” his qi told her, radiating up out of his body in firm defiance, even as it was burned away. “This is mine.” My penance.
The elementals called this operation of theirs a war? This weight Statera was applying oppression? He had seen a real war, the horrors of which would drive her insane. Real oppression, the likes of which would break a weak being like her. His eyes snapped open, his memories continuing to play even as he looked past them, through them. The flames pulsed again, and this time he heard it.
Clanging. An echo of a hammer on an anvil. The forge.
The Rival did not resist it. He let himself be taken by the flames, but presented a counter argument to all the bad he had done.
The village had been a mercy kill. Corrupted as they had been, their deaths would have been far slower, far more agonizing, and ended in total annihilation of the soul. Nobility. Honor. Sacrifice. He had made mistakes. But first and foremost was always the same for him. He would honor his oath; to put the good of the multiverse above his own. The flames paused as his good deeds were brought to light. It wasn’t enough to fix what he had done. What he had done would never change, and he would spend his whole life atoning for them, and the mistakes he would make in the future.
But here and now, he was not going to be told he was unworthy by mere flames.
The heat returned with a vengeance, and his body turned to ash.
***
Solana screamed out in fear as the Rival’s entire body was reduced to ash, shouting his name, shouting at her ‘apprentice,’ and I stood, wonder coursing through me. Everyone resisted the flames of the Throat Stage, just as they resisted the lighting that struck at the next stage. Everyone. Either by promoting their good deeds or by just resisting it, it was an ingrained reaction for people to resist the burning of the flames, thereby tempering their bodies, allowing toxins and imperfections to be burned off. The Rival had not. He had accepted it, put his own argument forth not as a shield but as a statement, to earn his right to pass the trial. And now...
I watched as his body began to reform, cell-by-cell, the karmic flames fulfilling their intended purpose and restructuring that which had been burned away as something better, purified and new. From destruction comes creation, a birth from the ashes. Solana watched from the air, shock radiating from her tiny body as the flames that burned away her friend turned golden, tapping into my power to fuel the Rival’s divine transformation.
A perfect body, reforged through fire. The moment his body was fully rebuilt, laying on his back, his breath finding him, Solana landed on his chest with a concerned shriek.
“Karmic flames, Statera? Really? How the hell did you even get them to touch upon my true memories?” he complained through wheezing gasps, sweat beading his brow. “That’s not normal. Not for a deity as young as you. Not even for most universes.” His guard rushed forward to inspect him, shouting words of concern, and I shook my head at him.
That damn fool. Even I hadn’t seen this coming. He sat up slowly, scratching the back of his head, Solana flying off of his body. I could see the spark of inspiration ignite in her; something even the Sun hadn’t been able to do. Even my children stirred at his little example, watching closely as he stood and flexed his muscles. Every fiber, every cell, was now as close to perfect as it could get at his stage of cultivation, imbued with power far beyond mortal ken. Yet he treated it as nothing. Another day in the life, nothing to be concerned about as he summoned another set of clothes and slipped them on.
“Oh, by the way,” he said, ignoring the questions being shot at him from all sides. “Masamune the sword-maker. That was one of your lives. Perfection, honor, serenity. Those are the things your trials promote; the forging of a perfect blade.” I smiled, genuinely impressed. I hadn’t thought he’d paid enough attention to the hints I’d given him in our old universe, much less put it all together here.
At one point in time, I had been the sword-maker. I no longer made weapons, really, but that dedication I had learned during that time did translate to my creations. I wanted to pursue perfection and beauty in a sense that was different than Yueya; perhaps that is why the Four Realms were so small compared to others. I wanted it to be perfect, and slow and steady wins the race.
The Rival smirked up at me and stuck his hands in his pockets as he sauntered away.
And I turned my attention back to Alala, who was playing with a fate strand with her thumb and forefinger.
We still had a long way to go, but we were making progress.
***
The time with Alala flew by at record pace. She and I worked on the fate strands, we practiced with the Will of the Realms together, we fought and played and just got to know each other. And I started to truly see how she, Yueya, and Curie were all the same person.
Alala was Yueya, just bolder, more brash, more in the moment. She had her same laugh, her same smile, her same thought processes…even if they focused more on the physical, and were less far-sighted than her artistic self. Alala was Yueya if she had focused on sports and the physical, rather than art and the soul, and vice-versa. She was just as beautiful, just in a different, less radiant way. A more grounded, physical way.
But the time we had together was just too short.
We walked arm-in-arm to the portal, conversing in low tones as her time here drew to a close.
“It’s impossible for me to be jealous of myself.” Alala said. “You’re still looking at it wrong. Yueya and I are the same person; we already know what the other feels and sees. Acting like different people is more for others’ sake, and to help keep us from becoming an echo chamber. Us talking to each other is me talking to myself.” I nodded, patting Alala’s arm as we approached the portal. Through it, I could see the One World, feeling the power radiating from it, sense its impossible vastness…and feel both Gilles and Keilan as they were brought to the portal by Yueya.
Alala patted my arm back.
“Your kids are safe. Honestly, I envy how wonderful your kids are. Maybe someday I can have some, hmm?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows at me. I rolled my eyes and pulled my arm free of her grip, much to her cackling amusement.
“I think we are still a little too early to be talking about children, Alala,” I told her. She chuckled again and waved to Yueya as she appeared, who waved back. Keilan and Gilles looked worn-out and tired, like they had been worked to the bone – I didn’t doubt they had been, from what Alala had told me.
“Come here, Luo,” Yueya said, waving me toward the portal as my kids stepped forward. Alala passed through the portal as they did, and I pushed up beside it, Yueya giving me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “There. Now I’m happy. Alala tells me you had a fruitful time?”
“I hope so.” I said, nodding, my eyes flicking to Alala. She saluted me with a smirk, and I felt a little flush burn my cheeks, to which Yueya slapped my arm playfully.
“Looking at another woman, while I’m right here? Shameless,” she reprimanded, wagging one admonishing finger at me. I pouted.
“Don’t tease me. I was genuinely worried about that.” I whined. She laughed, a tittering sound that rang like bells, and pushed me away from the portal.
“I know. It’s very cute of you. Now git, go talk to your kids. We have more to do.” She said, and the portal snapped shut. Keilan and Gilles glanced at each other.
“Um, Mother,” Keilan started, but I held up a hand, wrapping both of them in a hug.
“Welcome back.” I told them. Keilan stiffly returned the hug while Gilles shifted uncomfortably.
“Thanks, mom,” Keilan whispered, pulling me in tighter while I suppressed tears of relief. Relief that would be short-lived. I could already feel what was going to happen next.
“We have something important to share,” Gilles said slowly, gently prying himself out of my hug. I wiped my eyes and nodded, hearing the roar of a dragon echo in my ears as Sehuyun turned her gaze to me, Mr. Boxes slowly linking our two universes.
“I am sure you do. However, we have something else to do first; it won’t take long, and then you can make your reports. Your brother, Alexander. We need to see him off as he heads to Sehuyun’s universe.”
***
The Rival: Serial Reincarnator. Totally not self-sacrificial. Totally not. Has loads of trauma, too.
Solana: Sol's reincarnation and an Immortal fire-bird. Got inspired by the Rival. Hint hint, nudge nudge.
Alala/Curie/Yueya: The Oshun Trio. More connected than they present themselves to be. Different, but the same.
Keilan: God of Connections. Has something to say. It can wait until Alexander says farewell.
Gilles: Deity of Shadows and one of the Eight Pillars. Exhausted. Knows Elvira will either make him rest, or put him to work.
Comments
Saaski
Go Rival! I do wonder if he’ll come to the conclusion that the First can in fact take responsibility for his own actions as one of the oldest souls in the multiverse. Time he grew up. 😂 Though maybe that’s why they have lasted as long as they have as monkey wrenches. They untimely can count on each other to be there through time. If not constantly, then consistently.
