The Final Desperation

The sun rose and fell again, signaling the end of another day. Yet, in the dead of night, a foreboding flicker pierced through the veil of darkness. Embers flickered in the distance, accompanied by the acrid odor of smoke. Something was burning, and the flames were only growing larger.

Ij'gne approached the scene with a dazed look in his eyes, his mind barely registering the bitter fumes coating his throat. Soft crackles filled his ears, and ash clogged his nostrils, intensifying the sinking feeling in his heart. Yet, try as they might, these tangible sensations couldn't replace the joyful emotions Ij'gne had lost.

In the day he was gone, the village, along with all its inhabitants, had burned to the ground. This included his childhood sweetheart that he'd worked so hard to protect. Yet, what drove him crazy were the sword cuts along their remains. Someone had attacked the defenseless group and slaughtered everyone, leaving Ij'gne alone once more.

"Why?" he numbly asked after a long pause, his eyes sunken into his sockets and his knees giving out. "Why did it have to be like this?"

 

---

 

The following morning, a robed man rode into the area and dismounted. Looking around, he spotted Ij'gne, who was mechanically dragging bodies aside for burial. His eyes resembled those of a dead fish, and his face was stoic as if it had lost all ability to express emotion. The man pitied Ij'gne, who looked no older than twenty—a young age for someone of his strength. It must have been tragic for him to find his home in this state.

"Hey! Are you okay?" the man asked, running to Ij'gne.

Ij'gne looked over with vacant eyes and stiffly shook his head. "Why did they do this?" he asked, still unresponsive to his surroundings.

"I... I... Haaaaahhhhh," the man let out a heavy sigh, unsure how to comfort Ij'gne. So he said the only thing that might help the young man in this situation. "It was the barbarians. They were the ones who did this."

Light returned to Ij'gne's eyes and transformed into a volatile glare. "How do you know this?" he demanded, his voice growling like an active volcano ready to explode. Yet, despite this, his face remained as stoic as before, permanently frozen in callousness.

"You're not the only one who's experienced this tragedy. They've been doing this for years: invading and slaughtering everyone in a village. We've been doing our best to hold them off, but there are always some that slip through the net."

Ij'gne clenched his fist and huffed his breath. His fist shook like an electric buzzer, and he bit his lip, eventually drawing blood. It took Ij'gne a few minutes to calm down enough to ask, "Where are they?!? Tell me! I want revenge."

The man shook his head. "Sorry, I can't do that. You're too weak, even as one of the Lord's chosen ones. You would only be heading to your death if you went."

"Then train me! Make me strong enough so that I can get revenge!" Ij'gne grabbed the man's collar, his eyes bloodshot and desperate for approval.

"That's not a problem. Finish your burial first. They've suffered enough and deserve to rest."

Ij'gne released his hold and returned to his activities, only this time, with livelier movements. As this was happening, the man reflected on his actions and their consequences. 'I hope I made the right choice and that he doesn’t become obsessed with revenge. It’s already destructive enough to others, let alone to oneself.'

Once Ij'gne finished, the man asked him about his choice one last time. "Are you sure you want to do this? You won't be able to back out once we start."

"I'm sure. I've lost everything already. The only thing left is to make them pay."

The man inwardly sighed at this worrisome response but said nothing else about the issue. Ij'gne had made his choice and it would be inconsiderate of him to intervene.

"Then get on," he said, pointing at his mount.

 

---

 

The two of them traveled for a few days and approached an expansive forest filled with green shrubbery. A few plump rabbits could be seen munching on the berries dangling from the bushes scattered along their path. In the past, Ij'gne would have hunted one of these tasty-looking critters in a heartbeat, but recent events had thoroughly ruined his mood.

Looking past the greenery, Ij'gne saw the faint outline of a giant tree in the distance. It was a familiar sight, resembling the illustrations he had seen in the ancient ruins. This realization made him stop and recall the voice that had changed his fate.

“Is it the same one, or does it just look that way from a distance?” Ij'gne wondered.

"That's the world tree," the man explained, noticing Ij'gne's gaze. "It protects our world and ensures our prosperity. In return, we fend off the barbarians who seek to destroy it and serve its every need as loyal attendants. It's also the one that answered your call."

"Why do the barbarians want to destroy the tree? What do they have to gain from it?" This part stood out to Ij'gne since they seemed to have no reason to do so—unless there was more to the story than he had been told.

"Because they believe the tree will destroy the world. That it's a parasite siphoning the very life of its host. How preposterous!" The man lost his composure for the first time since they'd met, gritting his teeth so hard that Ij'gne could hear the sound from the side. It was evident that he felt strongly about this topic. "Just admit it if you covet our land so much. What's the point in making up these absurd lies to slander our Lord?"

Ij'gne ignored the man's outburst and continued walking. "That's fine as well. I can get my revenge and serve my benefactor at the same time. There's no reason not to join you."

The man caught up to him and patted Ij'gne's shoulder. "Don't be like this. The Lord is benevolent. You don't have to fight if you don't want to. All he would ask of you is your continued faith and devotion."

"And why should I care?" Ij'gne asked, causing the man to choke back his next sentence. The journey then fell into an awkward silence, with the man constantly lamenting Ij'gne's poor manners.

As they neared the world tree, they entered a rural settlement dotted with wooden houses, each topped with a thatched straw roof. Ij'gne’s eyes were immediately drawn to a large scar running up the side of the world tree, gouging out a substantial portion of its trunk.

Darkened by festering moss and decay, the wound contrasted sharply with the surrounding bark. Many species of fungi sprouted within this area, releasing a funky odor that permeated even to the outskirts where Ij'gne stood.

Above the scar, the branches drooped, their leaves wilted and dry from a lack of nourishment and water, marking the onset of decay. This single injury had compromised the entire side of the tree, leaving it noticeably weakened and vulnerable to infections.

"A few months ago, an unbelievably powerful warrior invaded our domain. That wound was the price we paid to keep him here," a voice suddenly sounded behind them. Turning around, they saw an elderly man with well-toned muscles walking toward them.

"Reverend Zarasu," the guide said, placing his palms together and bowing.

"Rise, Priest Sudan," the reverend replied, holding up his wrinkled palm.

Once the formalities were settled, Zarasu turned to Ij'gne and continued his account. "The warrior wielded twin daggers—the same pair that's in your possession. I hope you can live up to their former glory and show the Lord how much you've changed."

With that bombshell of a revelation, Zarasu put his hands behind his back and somberly walked off. Ij'gne stared at Zarasu as he departed, countless questions racing through his mind. When Zarasu finally disappeared from view, Ij'gne turned to the priest and asked his most pressing questions. "Who is that, and why does he look so sad?"

"Reverend Zarasu is the oldest high priest serving the Lord. He's been around for a long time and has a close relationship with many people, including our youngest high priest, whom Zarasu regarded as a son. Don’t take that battle lightly. It was more tragic than the reverend let on. Three against one, four if we include our Lord, and we still almost lost."

The priest held a moment of silence for the casualties of the event before guiding Ij'gne to an empty hut. "This will be your place from now on. Take care of it, as you won't get another one unless a calamity strikes."

The priest gave Ij'gne a few minutes to settle in before leading him to an open field where a group of preteens were practicing punching exercises. "This is the training area where you'll learn our martial arts. Make sure to be here by dawn tomorrow."

Afterward, Sudan showed Ij'gne more important places, including the dining hall, the wells where they draw water, the bakery that supplies the settlement with food, the sick house, which is the equivalent of a makeshift hospital, and the storage room where they keep their excess grains. It was everything Ij'gne needed to know to live here.

"Enjoy the peace while you can," Sudan advised as the tour ended. "You won't have much free time afterward."

'Free time? Why would I care about that? I’ll gladly give that up if it means I can get stronger even a moment faster.'

 

---

 

The following morning, as dawn broke across the horizon, Joten, the instructor, arrived to find a man drenched in sweat running around the vicinity. It took a moment for Joten to recognize Ij'gne, the new trainee under his watch.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Joten shouted, sprinting toward him.

"Training," Ij'gne replied bluntly, barely pausing his morning exercises. He continued pushing his muscles to their limits, each step driven by sheer determination. No matter how exhausted he felt, he forced himself to press on, excavating every bit of hidden strength within his core.

After a while, as the other students began to arrive, Ij'gne finally collapsed, his body rendered numb and immobile.

"You! How long have you been doing this?" Joten demanded, his voice tinged with concern as he knelt beside the exhausted trainee.

"I...Haven't...Stopped," Ij'gne answered between gasps of air.

"What?! That doesn't answer—" Joten abruptly stopped mid-sentence as an alarming possibility came to him. "You didn't happen to start yesterday, did you?"

"When...Else?" Ij'gne tried pushing himself up, but his trembling arms refused to exert the proper force. "Give me a moment. I'll start the morning routine once I stand up."

"No, you won't! You will rest until I'm ready to guide everyone. Do you hear me? Otherwise, I'm not teaching you anything." Joten forced Ij'gne to give up his efforts and take a much-needed break.

"Alright, get running," Joten hollered at the curious onlookers before dragging Ij'gne aside.

"Look, just because you're a chosen one with the lord's blessings doesn't mean you can abuse your body like that," Joten lectured Ij'gne. "You need to learn about proper work-rest balance, or you will ruin yourself."

"Okay," Ij'gne agreed reluctantly, prompting Joten to sigh in distress.

'What a troublesome student you've granted me, my lord.'

Joten led his group through their standard warm-ups before gathering everyone in a circle. By this time, Ij'gne had recovered enough to stand up and hobble over to join them.

"Alright, everyone. I'll start with the basics since we have a new student today," Joten announced, taking a battle stance with one palm pointed down and away from him, while the other hand tucked close to his side.

"The martial art I am teaching is called Elemental Emulation. It was created by Reverend Zarasu, who referenced the elements in nature. Over the years, he refined it countless times and ultimately divided the art into four inspirations. Each inspiration represents a different element and its corresponding characteristics. The first inspiration is Water Inspiration: Divergent Stream."

Joten's palms swirled around his body like a raging current, making exaggerated movements with constant shifting of footwork. His torso leaned from side to side, and Joten occasionally brought up his knee for a sharp pivot.

At times, his movements became gentle like a passing stream, only to exert greater force immediately after and cascade into a torrential waterfall. In the end, he released everything in a single-handed shove.

"Water Inspiration specializes in defense and redirecting the opponent's force. The fundamental principle is to use the least amount of effort to achieve the desired result. At higher levels, you can store power from previous strikes and unleash it in one devastating blow. At its peak, you can even redirect your opponent's strength back at them, inflicting heavy injuries without much delay."

Joten took a different stance, raising one fist in front of his neck and the other behind that arm, at the middle of his chest. His body bounced back and forth, continually shifting his center of gravity for an unpredictable opening.

Suddenly, Joten burst forward with a flurry of short strikes, each swing dispersing massive amounts of air. Occasionally, he would strike out with his elbow, pushed by his other hand clutching his fist for maximum impact. Then this would transition into an overhead slam before finishing with a wide hook, like how one would pitch a baseball.

"This is Earth Inspiration: Cataclysmic Eruption. Its goal is to overwhelm your opponent with heavy strikes until they collapse. The key is to keep your arms close to your body so you can rapidly chain your strikes. However, this sacrifices your reach, making you vulnerable to opponents with longer weapons. Ideally, you should use this style only after getting in your opponent's face.

Since such scenarios are rare, especially in the beginning stages, the primary application involves using elbow strikes for knockback and to cover blind spots. To solve this issue, you need to incorporate Water Inspiration's strength preservation into your attacks so you don't have to rely on your torso to generate power.

This is also known as Earth Inspiration's high mastery. If you can perfect this concept, your strikes will retain their power even after repeated hits. When you reach this level, every strike will carry the same force as Water Inspiration's final discharge."

Next, Joten took a horse stance and slowly brought his fist back. He closed his eyes and regulated his breath. Then his arm shot out, releasing a piercing howl as the surrounding air ripped.

"Third form, Fire Inspiration: Sudden Wildfire. This inspiration has no requirements on your stance, but rather on your mentality. You want your strike to be as devastating as possible by channeling all your strength into one concentrated area. When you punch, twist your fist so your knuckles hit the target first. To master this, you need to be able to enter this state at any time, regardless of your surroundings. Rid yourself of all distractions and become as destructive as an inferno. If you can apply this concept with your entire body, then you will have reached perfection."

Joten crouched down with one leg and extended the other one to the side, forming a triangular shape. Joten held this stretch for a few moments before swapping to the other side.

"Finally, we have Wind Inspiration: Gale Tempest. This is also the hardest one to learn because it requires the highest precision. You will fly into a tree if you don't do it correctly."

Joten stood up and leaned forward. In the blink of an eye, he was halfway across the field, unleashing a storm of kicks that left several afterimages in his wake. He then drove his airborne leg down and smoothly transitioned into an upward kick with his opposite leg. In an impressive display of flexibility, this leg soared above Joten's head, nearly aligning with his supporting leg.

He leaped into the air and twisted his body, using his legs to grapple an imaginary opponent and drag them to the ground. A fierce stomp followed, after which he dropped down into a leg sweep. Finally, Joten used the momentum of this circular motion to spring back to his feet and walked back to the group.

"As you can see, this inspiration places a lot of emphasis on your legs. Its main purpose is to propel you at immense speeds, but the kicks are a bonus. Your legs are inherently stronger than your arms, so they can unleash much more force, but this comes at the price of lowered mobility. There's only so much you can do with a single leg.

That's why most practitioners at higher levels only use it for movement, despite how devastating their kicks may be. Their mobility becomes so good that it's not worthwhile for them to sacrifice it for more firepower, especially when they have at least one other inspiration at perfection.

Let me reiterate: high mastery of Wind Inspiration requires the same level of control as perfection in the other inspirations. That's how strict the progression is. And if you do manage to reach the fabled perfection in Wind, you can scale mountains and walls as if they are flat ground. There are almost no obstacles these grandmasters of movement can't overcome."

Ij'gne's heart raced with anticipation at these explanations, and his fist clenched in excitement. Joten looked so powerful when he demonstrated those skills. Was this the strength he would need to fulfill his revenge? 

As if sensing the fiery gaze, Joten turned to look Ij'gne in the eyes. He held this gaze for a moment before turning away like nothing had happened. "Alright, split up into pairs. We're going to practice Fire and Water Inspirations today. New guy, you're with me."

'I guess that solves my partner issue,' Ij'gne thought, following Joten to a shaded corner.

"So, which inspiration do you want to start with?" Joten asked Ij'gne. "Although there's no rule against learning multiple at once, I recommend you choose one to specialize in. You don't want to spread yourself too thin and end up defenseless when you need it most."

Ij'gne agreed with Joten's logic and carefully considered his options. After a few minutes of thinking, he finally voiced his decision. "I choose—"