Infamous Goose
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3:17 Burning
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 09:29:14 +0000 UTCMorgan watched the world closely. Most specifically, it was watching the immortal elemental girl and her lover, a karae, both of whom so finely tread the line between becoming devil cultivators and remaining on the side of the “righteous.” It was what made their doctrine so successful; and how they managed to amass enough followers to truly begin challenging the status quo of the Physical Realm.
They were destined to fail. They were too eager, not patient enough to build up a force to actually challenge the Celestial Palace. Even Morgan, who didn't pay much mind to the pointless lives of mortals, could see that.
Yet as they spouted such lies as how the Great One was cruel and capricious, going to far as to actually attempt to rebel against Them, Morgan found itself hating them even more than everything else. Rebel against the Great One? A foolish, hopeless notion. But…perhaps Morgan could use them. It had built its first army out of fools like these, who did not see the bigger picture. Perhaps they could, somehow, be used to further the Great One’s growth. Morgan rested its head on its paws.
Now that Thyia had evolved into a different sort of god, it was woefully lacking in subordinates. Even the dark angels that inhabited the Hidden Realm were only so useful, and the Aracheon were more a curiosity than anything. Its most useful subordinates were the Dimensional Creators, and only because they helped shape the Hidden Realm.
“Morgan,” the voice that interrupted its silence was both too loud and entirely unwelcome, and Morgan scowled as it looked up at the speaker. Alexander, the fool dragon, poked his head through a little hole in the side of the wall that Morgan used as a gateway to the Void and silence. How he had managed to find that hole, or even enter it, was beyond it.
“What do you want?” it snapped, not looking up.
“I have come to speak to you about Father.” This did catch Morgan’s attention, but only slightly.
“I am not hear to listen to your petty concerns.” Morgan spat, spider-like legs tapping against the ground. Echoes of time resounded with each tap of its legs upon the ground, space rippling alongside it. Divinity was just within reach, but it would not debase itself by becoming a mere god like the Great One had. Until this damnable catastrophe happened, They had been on the right track to evolving back into who and what They had been before, but now it had all stalled.
It hated everything for that.
Morgan’s scowl deepened as Alexander did not take the hint, and remained floating just above it. It had half a mind to just toss him out with a burst of spacial compression, but restrained itself.
“Last time I visited you were not so opposed to my idea.” Alexander complained, and Morgan rolled its eyes.
“Last time I was in an amenable mood. In hindsight it was a foolish plan. Helping the star god to ascend? He’s proven more worthless than I could have imagined; how long has it been, and he has yet to move the stars into their correct places? The Great One could have done it in a moment.” Morgan growled. “No, I will not be listening – “
“That is my concern.” Alexander interrupted. Morgan bared its teeth and stood, its tail stilling as it turned to fully face the insolent dragon, dark miasma seeping from its fur, looking down from above as if he was superior. How dare he interrupt? How dare he presume? “Father has been pushing us to evolve and change, and thereby neglecting His own advancement. Or so I have come to believe.”
“They have always neglected Their own growth in favor of you bunch of brats.” Morgan snapped, though it still relaxed its guard slightly. “…what else did you notice.”
Alexander explained, and Morgan listened thoughtfully, its scowl slowly easing its way into a thoughtful frown. The gods were beginning to be able to handle tasks on their own. The Great One was needed less and less on construction matters, and was starting to take even more of a back-seat on running the Realms. On the surface it seemed like someone who was preparing their children for their own death; in fact, Morgan could see its original concern in that the Great One might sacrifice Themselves to save Their children in these actions.
However its instincts told it differently. The Great One was a self-sacrificial idiot, who would indeed sacrifice Themself for Their children. But They were not the type to willingly lie down and die, either, which is what Alexander’s concern seemed to come from.
This felt like something different. Morgan would have to confront the Great One about this.
“Leave me.” Morgan said after Alexander had finished. The dragon narrowed his eyes at it, though Morgan had already turned its back and laid back down, observing the chaos of the war in the Physical Realm. So much negative emotional energy was being created through this conflict, energy that it was siphoning off, collecting for its own purposes and for the sake of the Great One. Another great use of the Dimensional Creators, who could suck that energy up without its direct supervision or action.
“But – “
“I said leave me!” Morgan snapped. “Bother the others with your concerns. I will do what I will.” Alexander was silent for a long moment and, in that silence, Morgan started to wonder if it had broken the dragon with its seemingly dismissive response.
"Just know that if you do anything drastic in the Physical Realm, I will mobilize my children. The dragons of the Four Realms will not take meddling lightly." He warned. Morgan snarled, but Alexander was already leaving, and soon it was left alone with its thoughts and the sounds of its Hidden Realm once again.
Sounds echoed to it. Whispers from the Realms. The banging of energy as it was condensed into crystals. It licked its teeth, thoughts whirling in its mind as both fear and excitement set its blood to pounding through its veins. The Great One was no fool, for all that They tried to play it. They never left Themself with no escape plan, even in the darkest of hours. Morgan would know. As much as it wished They would let go of Their past, it would begrudgingly admit to itself that those past lives of Theirs gave some insight into Their capabilities.
It would just have to confront Them about it, once They came out of Their meditations. But first, it was time to get some new minions…so long as they could find their way here.
***
The Rival would be the first to admit that war was not his favorite thing in the universe. Painful things were always painful, and sad things were sad. War tended to be both. This universe was no exception, and playing search-and-rescue in a bombed city sucked in every sense of the word. Even if he wasn’t technically one of the ones digging people and corpses out of the rubble.
What had once been the central palace of the planet’s main government office, home of the governor and however many thousands of servants and cultivators, was now a crater that poured black smoke into the sky. The surrounding city had not been spared either. Whatever had been in the bomb had caused black fires to jump onto the surrounding buildings, fires that, no matter how much the local cultivators tried to put out, refused to be tamed. It was raging out of control and, even worse, would occasionally spit out meteors of black flame that would spread the fire faster and farther.
The Rival was not part of the squad closest to the crater.
He was part of the squad protecting the medical centers that had been put up on the outskirts of the city, just on the inside of the thick walls. The screams of the injured and fearful echoed out from the tents, the scent of blood thick in the air. Healers scrambled back and forth, most of them locals, while the Rival’s squad helped carry supplies or other things. Where they were, they hadn't even set up tents yet, the injured laid out in rows in the shade of the wall.
He, of course, couldn’t help but make a couple jokes here and there, even as he did his job.
“Hey, old timer. I heard you might need a hand?” He asked the old man with one arm missing, setting a box of medicinal plants on the ground next to him, just beside the healer who worked on staunching the bleeding. He coughed out a laugh, the frail old man wiggling his eyebrows and baring blackened, ash-covered teeth. The Rival could sense qi from him. Once upon a time, he might have been powerful. Now he was just old.
“Don’t worry your little head about it. I’m all right now,” he said, waving his remaining, right hand. The Rival laughed while the healer, a young man with blonde hair and sea-green eyes, scowled at the both of them.
“That one was out on a limb. Really had to reach for that one.” The Rival said quickly, before the healer could speak. The old man hacked out a laugh, a bit of blood spilling out from between his teeth, and that was enough for the healer to finally snap.
“I’m going to have to ask you to not bother my patient while I am tending to him.” His tone was calm and focused, barely hiding the true fury in the undercurrent of his voice. The Rival held up his hands in surrender as the healer bent down to continue healing the old man, green energy flowing from his palms. If there was one group of people he actually feared, it was healers – they usually weren’t the cutesy, “I just want to help heal people!” people that so often plagued whatever media a universe had. No. Healers were mean and spiteful and hated no one more than those who made them do their job. And the Rival didn’t blame them one bit for that…not least of all because he was often one of the ones they hated for that very same reason.
“If you’re not busy, go over there and get me some qi pills.” The healer said as the Rival started to turn away. He paused, look about to make sure no one else needed his help – everyone needed help, there were at least a hundred patients all lined up to have something fixed on them in this area alone – with only ten healers between everyone, but he figured since he was asked so nicely…
By the time he returned with the qi pills not but a few moments later the healer was shaking his head and moving to stand.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.” He said softly, putting his hands together in a prayer. “The fires burned your dantian. Your cultivation is fading away.”
“Ah, well, that’s what happens to old men like me. Better I than some poor young sap.” The old man breathed. In the skies above a bird shrieked, so loud even the moaning of patients couldn’t drown it out. The Rival looked up to see a tiny black and red thing darting about in the skies above, and he raised his eyebrows. That was a strong bird. “Ah, don’t worry. I go to join Lady Reika in the Tree, to become one with the Realm. It has been some time coming.” The Rival knew the old man wasn’t talking to him or the healer, especially by the way the old man’s one good arm stretched up to the skies above, one gnarled finger reaching for the bird.
“You believe in Reika, old timer?” The healer asked, pausing for just a moment.
“I am one of the devout, yes.” He wheezed out, the corners of his eyes crinkling up into a smile.
“Then I will offer you a prayer. May you find your rest in peaceful glades.” And with that, he turned away to the patient just behind him.
“Just Reika? Not going to offer a prayer to...” who was the devil of this universe? He’d heard the name Morgan whispered about quite a bit. “what, Morgan? Now’s not the time to be making enemies, and Reika clearly didn’t protect you.” Ok, that last bit was a little harsh. What the hell, brain?
The old man, however, just wheezed out another laugh, while the healer snapped around to glare at him.
“If my faith was so weak as to be broken by mere death, I would not be able to call myself a devout.” The old man said.
“If you’re going to be an asshole, boy, do it elsewhere. Do not deny my patients whatever solace they may find in their final hours.” The healer snapped. And the Rival smiled to himself, pleased. He judged many a person’s character by their response to insults toward their most fervent belief.
He liked the old man. He might've made a good drinking buddy.
At any other time, he would have cracked another joke here. The old man seemed like the type to enjoy it, and at this point he was so desensitized to the dead and dying…
But no, his attention snapped skyward as his instincts screamed, gaze locking onto the great meteor of black flame hurtling toward their position. Panic surged through him – genuine panic! How wonderful! – because he couldn’t die yet, dammit, he hadn’t found Sylvia yet – and he called upon his cultivation. Qi surged. Blood roared through his veins, his heartbeat echoed in his ears as he called upon an ancient technique; only to still his feet at the last moment, billions of years of battle experience telling him to wait.
It was the healer who acted first.
The young blonde leapt into the air with grace, a shield of shimmering green appearing between him and fiery ball of death. The ball of black fire imploded upon contact, most of it ricocheting off of the shield to rain in tiny chunks down all around the medical area. The Rival kept his eyes on the skies, ignoring all the people diving for cover, as he watched the fire for any clumps that might strike him.
His panic may have set the hairs on the back of his neck to standing on end, and his teeth to be bared in an excited grin because it'd been so long since that happened! But that was no excuse to actually panic.
“Get down, you fool!” a squad member hissed at him, tugging on his pants leg – but The Rival ignored him, too, watching a single solitary ember float down to him. The smart thing to do would be to leave it alone. So, naturally, he reached out and touched it. It burned. Not badly, not really painfully, but digging into his flesh, feeding off of…well, not his qi, that remained untouched, but…The Rival closed his eyes and felt what it was doing, the way it inflamed him, driving – fear. That was what it fed off of. Fear.
It sent a shiver of fear and paranoia down his spine, and goosebumps up his arm at the threat of death.
“I wonder,” he mused, and took a deep breath, acknowledging the fear within him then killing it in the same smooth stroke. The ember spluttered, wavered, and, with nothing to feed off of, died altogether. “It sure is nice, being able to turn emotions off an on like that.” Another benefit to qi. And being a billion cajillion years old, or however old he was. But the real question was…
The man that gripped his leg could only watch in horror – or what the Rival assumed was horror, as he enjoyed making people question just what the hell he was doing – as he yanked his leg out of his grip and walked up to the nearest ball of black flame. It burned on the old man’s leg, who watched resigned, then immediate concern, as the Rival promptly stuck his entire hand into the fire.
And he experimented with two things in that brief moment. First, was fear. He called upon the worst of his memories, the deepest of fears that stung his soul, the hatred and anger that twisted through his memories. The First was foremost amongst most of those, and the fire immediately flared skyward.
Only to be stuffed out in that next instant by a burst of joy and happiness, as he recalled all the good times. Families he'd had. Friends. Jokes. Sylvia...heh. The chase! Only, it wasn’t just that one bit of fire. In a radius of thirty feet, every single ember was snuffed out.
“They’re hive-like. Sharing energy between nearby flames. That’s weird.” The Rival noted, pulling his hand up and examining the skin for any blemishes. He had to look his best for Sylvia, at all times. And also because it was hilarious to piss people of while you were around them, and you were just pristine the entire time.
“How did you…” The old man started, but the Rival was already looking away, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Far off, over the worst of the city, was the quasi-immortal. Of the three immortals that travelled on the ship with them, none had remained in this city – instead travelling to other parts of the planet that had been struck by disaster or detonation.
The Rival stroked his chin thoughtfully. He was no expert (who was he kidding, yes he was) but he would guess that this was Immortal fire. Fire that burned off of emotion was incredibly difficult to handle as far as he was aware, at least in this universe, and it was far too difficult to put out with ease. Yet it likewise wasn’t so devastating that it would burn away the entire city in moments, something well within an immortal's capabilities. It was manageable for non-immortal cultivators, but still dangerous...the perfect distraction.
“I wonder…there must be something nearby that they’d be after, if that was the case.” He mused aloud, the bird in the sky screeching once more.
“What…makes you say that?” The old man sighed. “Shouldn’t you get back to work?”
“No. Trust me on this. Whoever’s here is likely going after something that may benefit immortals…I would bet bucks this is a distraction for an even bigger play.” The Rival said, nodding his head and glancing at the old man. He didn’t miss the way color returned to the old man’s face as his cultivation activated, even as his expression soured. Up above the bird shrieked again, and the Rival glanced up to see it shooting off into the distance, fire trailing from its wings.
By the time he looked back down, the old man was gone.
His hesitation lasted for only a moment. This seemed more interesting than being in the military, anyway.
***
The hut Solana had spent the last few dozen years in was burning. As was the willow behind it, the Treant it had been murdered.
And I watched with a grim expression from far, far above as all the players came together. Not because the situation was dire – it was certainly tragic – but because of the senselessness of it all. I understood why it had to happen. I knew that I was putting too much attention down there, rather than on what I should be focusing on. But all the same, I focused on it.
The old man; I knew his name. He was Mar, Priest of Reika, and the savior of Solana. He was older than he was supposed to be, his life sustained through a very specific cultivation technique.
He fled through the forest with only one arm, burning every ounce of energy as he sprinted through the trees, his life fading away like sand in an hourglass as he desperately tried to reach his home and the Treant that resided there – what had started off as a hunch, an ill feeling when the Rival had correctly deduced the nature of the explosions, was now a grim reality as he saw the smoke rise, felt the screams of the forest as their immortal protector perished in flame, and its body burned away.
Solana screeched her warning in the skies above, diving down on flaming wings at the two figures standing before the willow, watching it burn, reveling in their accomplishment. One Treant, dead.
“What the – that’s a damn bird!” the Karae man cursed, ducking as Solana furiously screeched by just above his head, fires burning so hot and bright it left a trail of light behind her. Yet even those flames could not harm an Immortal of that caliber, and he cursed again as she shot out of his immediate reach.
“Must be some kind of pet for the Treant.” The elemental immortal beside him mused – Terra was her name. Solana came screeching by again, this time with talons bared, sharpened and white-hot; only to be stopped midair by a wall of force that quickly morphed into a cage of black energy. Terra’s eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. “It’s nearly Immortal. I wonder what kind of a pet an immortal bird would make?”
“No!” The old man screamed, bursting through the trees. Solana screeched again, burning white hot, hot enough to bend the cage, but not to break it.
Terra turned, and promptly backhanded the old man. He went tumbling, blood spilling from his mouth as his life force wavered, his soul shaking as it tried to leave his body. Too much time had already passed – he was already half-dead.
“And you must be the protector.” She said slowly. “I recognize your bloodline. There was one just like you that protected a being just like this, back when I was a little girl. Why would you guard our oppressors?” She expected no real answer; the tone of her voice dripping with ridicule.
“W-why…? Why do this? Do you know what you've done?” Mar asked, managing to push himself up to a sitting position. Terra tapped her chin in thought, mocking him.
“Of course I do. I did it because it was fun. Because I refuse to be held under the heel of false gods any longer. Because I will go the way of Dei and reject the heavens, and impose my own will upon the world. Because I am not sheep to be shepherded, or cattle to be led to the slaughter.” She said, punctuating each word with another step toward him. Mar watched her approach, and I saw the decision he made before even he did.
Reika’s religion was all about healing and growth. She, herself, was not a front-line fighter. She had always been more supportive and healing, and the abilities of her truly devout priests reflected that. That is what they cultivated, and he was no different.
“Blasphemy.” He breathed. His goal was not to avenge the Treant, as much as I saw the desire within him. He simply saw his friend, Solana, held within a cage, and saw a being he could actually still help.
Terra felt it just a moment too late, overconfident in her abilities as she was. Mar detonated what remained of his cultivation, pointing the blast at a single point – the connection between Terra and the cage that held Solana. He was not powerful enough to kill an immortal, not weakened as he was, but this? This he could do.
Terra cursed as Solana shot skyward, stumbling backward and shielding her face from the brilliant green light, her cultivation roaring to life, shielding her from the worst of the line of power. Solana screeched out her rage and pain at her friend’s death, a tear welling up in my own eyes as I connected to Mar’s final moments.
It was one filled with pain, and anger, and doubt, and raw fury. But none of those emotions could trump the feeling of raw relief that came with seeing Solana free of her cage, and the tiny bit of satisfaction at managing to best an Immortal with his dying breath. His body turned to dust, all the energy that had comprised it spent and returning to the Realms as his soul slowly started to drift away, toward the Spirit River.
“You FUCK!” Terra screeched, black fire burning from her hands as she lunged at the old man, grabbing ahold of his soul as it ascended into the skies, her black, emotional flames burning into the outer layers of his being, injecting a deepness of fear that would carry over to his next life if it was not cleansed. I tensed, knowing she would not do something as drastic as destroying the man’s truesoul, not that she even could at that level of power, but still not liking what I knew would come next. That was one of the issues with immortals.
They could interact with souls to some degree. And I liked those left well enough alone, unless it was me or mine doing the messing.
“Let’s…not do that.” The Rival’s voice was calm and clear as he stepped out of the woods, looking none the worse for wear despite the long run he’d just endured. The armor he’d been wearing had been torn off, and now a little sword hung loosely in his hands. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared at Terra, gaze never leaving her despite the other immortal standing behind her.
She gave him one glance, scowled, and looked away, already burning Mar’s souls with both hands. Solana screeched, and the Rival’s expression hardened.
“We need to go, Terra,” her husband urged. “Just bring him with us.” She scowled and turned to face the Rival, looking him up and down. She felt no threat from him, a relatively weak cultivator. It would be child’s play to kill him, in her mind.
I somehow doubted that, even despite the cultivation difference. That was what the qi of the Rival was telling me, as it formed shapes within his gut.
“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know anyone by the name of Sylvia, would you? Black hair, green eyes, drop-dead gorgeous?” I resisted the urge to slap my forehead. This was not the time or place, man. “No? Didn’t think so. Darn. Mind letting the old man’s soul go? I liked that one.”
“Mind your tongue.” Terra snapped. “You will be coming with me; we could always use more recruits.”
“Nah, I’m good. Say, you mentioned Dei earlier, didn’t you? Is that someone you’re looking for? If you help me find Sylvia I’ll help you find him.” The Rival said. Terra rolled her eyes and stepped forward, intent on snagging him by the back of the neck as the distance between them vanished in a blink of an eye – only to pass straight through him, the afterimage he had left behind as he teleported fading away. “Rude.” He said, perching up on a tree now. His cultivation continued to swirl, and suddenly, I knew exactly what he was doing.
The soul of the Treant hovered about him, too powerful to be contained by Terra, and yet…and yet. I sat back. The Rival intended to channel its power. He couldn't challenge an immortal with his current cultivation level, but to channel a Treant's soul? Let it use him as it saw fit? Well now, that was another story altogether.
Now Terra was cautious, her immortal lover coming up behind her with narrowed eyes and wings spread.
“We need to go.” He urged.
“Who are you?” she demanded, ignoring him.
“I go by many names. Some people call me the space cowboy…ah, forget it. I’m not in the mood. I’m the Rival. I like challenging people. It tells me who they are.” The Rival’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you lot?”
“Revolutionaries. We follow the path of Dei.” She said slowly, testing him, trying to figure out just how he had escaped her. None of her words were true, and she knew it. But they sounded nice. That was the sinister thing about causes like theirs; they lured you in with words that sounded nice, and causes that sounded good. “Ours is a righteous cause.”
“I’ve heard of Dei. Isn't he the loser who failed to ascend to immortality?” The Rival drawled, the Treant’s soul coming to rest on his shoulders. I saw the little question pass between them.
Terra’s face colored. “How dare you –“ she cut herself off then, her anger at her so-called idol being insulted freezing in place as she finally, finally caught on to what he was doing.
The Rival smiled. “Don’t you want revenge?” The words weren’t just meant for the Treant. They were also meant for Solana, in the skies above, who screeched out her warcry and demanded her ascent to immortality. The clouds of heaven broke open, a bridge of gold descending from the skies, and Solana took to it like a fish to water.
Many things happened in that next few moments. Terra and her lover lunged at the Rival, the old man's soul freed from her grip. The Treant took over his body, bark forming around his skin and stopping their assassin’s blades. Solana reached all the way across the bridge – feathers torn from her breast and back and wings with the speed she broke through my trials, her cultivation nearly shattered in her single-minded desire to avenge her murdered friend – and absorbed as much qi as she could as her cultivation settled into that of an immortal.
The other three Immortal beings on the planet teleported to their exact location to see what the commotion was all about.
And a portal into the Hidden Realm opened, just beneath the Rival, Terra, and her Karae lover. Toxic miasma poured out, dark angels flooding out of the portal, chains reaching up and dragging both Terra and her lover into the Hidden Realm, Solana chasing after them in a streak of fire.
And the Rival fell with them.
***
Morgan: The Shadow. Plans within plans. Thinks the MC might be up to something good.
Alexander: The Spirit Dragon. Will counter Morgan's plans, if necessary. Thinks Dad is up to no good.
The Rival: Serial Reincarnator. Likes challenging people. Has way too much experience. Also goes by maurice.
Mar: The old man who has been helping Solana. Peaceful.
Solana: She who once was Sol. Definitely going to kill something now.
Terra: Elemental Immortal who is wanting to challenge the heavens. Poor, foolish girl.
Comments
Rina
Its hobby is brooding and hating everyone else who’s not MC. And hiding in the folds of the universe.
Kevin Rule
Morgan isn’t evil incarnate, though he’s the closest thing this universe has to such. At least, so far, these two bastards however, they are evil, but the evil that comes of not understanding. Still, that is the core of evil, failing to grasp/understand/recognize/accept that good has a plan and purpose beyond what they can see, or failing to be willing to be part of it. Selfish defiant and corrupt because of it.
Infamous.Goose
Whoops, completely forgot I named him already
CherMi
In chapter 3:14 Solana's friend is named Old Man Mar, yet here he's Gairo.
Presten
Two utterly despicable people, husband and wife. How fitting that evil incarnate has decided to break them into tools for itself.
Vorquel
Morgan is such an angy pupper. It needs to get a hobby. Not something meaningless, it would never accept that. Just something it can do as a form of meditative cultivation.
