The air was hot, muggy, and absolutely still. Insects buzzed throughout the air, dancing along the treetops, and there seemed to be no shelter from them. There was a broad pond that stretched out some distance, still and green with algae. On one side, there was the corner of some long-forgotten structure, hewn from dark stone and surrounded by tall trees. The centuries had taken their toll; roots snaked their way through and around it, crumbled stone marking their progress.
It was his, and his alone.
Sister would come by frequently, and bring things with her. Books for him to read, transcribed into the written tongue he could understand. She'd bring small treats for him to taste, music for him to listen to, and they'd spend some time talking. She told him of the world, and he would listen, utterly entranced. He began to read more and more, ever curious, his appetite insatiable.
However, when he wasn't reading or with Sister, he was learning in his own way.
There was nowhere he could not go, nothing he could not reach; the world was his walking grounds. He'd roved across deserts, wandered the Serengeti, bounded across the Tibetan Plateau, and explored the Amazon. Once, he went to the boreal forests, where his breath turned to snow, and simply sat in the shade of a bent conifer tree, absorbing the silence, staring across the snowy wastes that had never felt a human footprint.
There was no natural force on Earth that could hurt him. If he so felt, he could leap into the ocean, and dive to the deepest grottoes and trenches, unperturbed by the crushing pressures, and see the strange creatures crawling over the diatomaceous ooze. He'd climbed mountains, letting the wind howl past his face as he stood on their peaks, and watched the aurora as he gently floated in the frigid seas of the Arctic.
Once, he had even leapt to the Moon. It had been a harrowing experience, due to his lack of knowledge of celestial mechanics; if Sister hadn't given him the right nudge, he could have sailed past it, drifting forever.
The sight of the blue and green world hanging over the silver plains, however, had been worth the dangers.
Despite all of his globetrotting, however, he always returned to the same spot, his little corner of the universe. Oftentimes, he would wade into the warm water of the pond and simply sit there, listening to the buzz of the jungle around him. The animals did not fear him, after some time, and he would watch as they came to the pond to drink. If he stretched out his palm and sat at the edge, then they would occasionally brush against it, especially the deer.
He found it fascinating, watching their black wet noses twitch as they sniffed his hand. Occasionally, he'd dare to gently pet them, marveling at the feel of their fur, but they would often run away after that, only returning the next day. The birds were less fearful; they'd found his hand to be a good place to perch. He would sometimes mimic their songs, and hold almost a conversation with them.
The most interesting visitor by far, however, was the leopard.
He'd been reading at the edge of the pool when it first came to the watering hole. He heard its breath first, almost whisper silent, then the gentle pattering of soft paws. Looking up from his book, he watched as it slowly walked towards the bank of the pond, and he found himself mesmerized by its beauty. The beautiful golden fur, the way its spots rippled as lithe muscle shifted underneath; it was like a walking artwork.
There was no fear in its step as it came near. It was lord of all it surveyed, with none to rival it. For a moment, it stared at him, and he stared back; tawny eyes gazing into blood-red ones. His breath caught, and he turned as still as a statue, anxiously awaiting what would happen next.
There was a moment of hesitation, then the leopard crouched down to drink from the watering hole, drinking lightly for a few moments.
It left as quickly as it had come, disappearing back into the thick underbrush, its thirst satisfied. Kon stared at where it'd been, then let out a long sigh he didn't know he was holding.
For the next three days, the leopard returned to the watering hole to drink, then disappeared. He did not fret; from the books Sister had given him, he knew that such creatures were constantly roving, never settling for long in their vast territories.
Though he was not concerned, the leopard's departure gave him something to consider. Perhaps, he though, it was time for him to move on as well.
S
"I'm glad you're finally heading out," said Sister. "I knew you would come around to it eventually."
He twiddled his thumbs, waiting as she poured the tea. They'd sat down at the edge of the pool, using a flat outcropping of rock to lay out the pot and cups. The strong aroma of earl grey helped to calm his nerves, and he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, letting it soothe him.
"Part of me wishes to stay here, and avoid their judging eyes," he said, taking a cup. He sipped it, and sighed. "All they know of me is a beast; why would they treat me any different?"
"I think you're exaggerating it," Sister replied. "I've told them just how gentle you are, Kon. Sure, a lot of people might not have listened, but not all of them. Besides, there wasn't that much footage of the whole incident; a lot of people don't know what you look like."
Kon scratched his jagged beard. "But what if one who knows what I look like takes a photo, and alerts the others?"
Sister sighed, then produced something from her belt. "I had a feeling you were going to ask that, so I brought this."
"What is it?"
"It's a spool of carbon nanotube wire thinner than a human hair. If you press this button, it'll freeze, and become sharp enough to cut through just about anything. It should be able to take care of your horns and spikes, so give it a try."
Kon nimbly took hold of it, extending out some of the wire, then pressed the button. When he ran one of his knuckle spikes under it, there was some resistance, then the spike came clean off. Already it was regrowing, but it would be some time before it was at full length once more.
"It works," he replied.
Sister smiled. "See, that'll keep suspicious eyes off you. This country has lots of people that look different, more than any other place in the world. You'll be fine out there, Kon. Trust me."
Kon looked down at the tool in his hands, then sighed.
"Very well."
S
Sister let him go forward on his own time, while she continued to help others around the world. It was for the best, he supposed; she could only open the doors for him, not make him walk through them.
One day after receiving the gifts, he made his decision.
The horns and knuckle spikes were easy to remove, though the rest were more difficult. Nonetheless, he managed to trim all of his protrusions down to nubs, only suffering a cut once or twice in the process. When he went to study his reflection in the watering hole, he was startled by the change in appearance; he looked almost like a giant man, though with grey skin and red eyes.
It was the closest he'd ever get to human, he thought more with more than a little sorrow.
There was no need to prepare for his trek to civilization; he had no worldly possessions, save for the cutting tool and a large robe Sister had given him. He did not require a map to find his way, not when he could hear the sounds of people talking from miles away, and so he simply walked in a straight line towards the town. When he could brave even the fiercest of rivers, or the steepest hills, there was no need for detours.
Before night had fallen, he'd arrived at the outskirts. Many of the houses he saw were ramshackle compared to the ones in Sister's home city, and more brightly colored, with walls of blue and orange. The streets were rather narrow, and were often in the shade of trees with broad leaves, much like the ones around his old resting spot.
The sun had not set, and so there were people milling about in the streets, dressed in a variety of garments, and he tried his best not to stare at them. Some had dark skin, others had lighter skin; there were older men, with deep wrinkles around their eyes and white in their hair; there were young girls as well, with smooth skin and dark eyes, whose would laugh and chat with one another.
Aside from a few glances, and perhaps a double-take, none of them seemed to react terribly to his presence. A wave of relief washed over him as he strolled through the streets, and he could feel his shoulders sagging as they lost their tension.
The streets were packed with cars closer to the town center, and it was difficult to traverse the sidewalks without accidentally bumping people. It was only then that they seemed nervous, only to have looks on surprise on their faces when he mumbled apologies to them.
It wasn't long before he saw the first of the people Sister had described. Standing in one of the street corners was a squat figure, with dark orange skin and four pairs of arms, each one slimmer and more delicate than those of normal humans. His hands were moving swiftly over a number of chilled pans, pouring cream mixed with fruit onto them, then constantly dicing and flattening it until it became ice cream.
Most of the ones with powers were like this, Sister had told him. Most did not set out to fight crime, or instigate it, but simply sought employment, using their abilities to enhance or create occupations.
He passed the man by, sparing only a glance as he continued down the street. He almost wanted to stop, to talk, but he decided against it. Partly because there was still more of the city to see, and partly because he feared what the others would say.
The sun finally dipped beneath the horizon, and night fell over the city. The crowds of people dispersed, returning to their homes or to work, and he could hear the sounds of nature once more. It soothed him, and he could feel the tension of his sojourn sublimate away as he listened to the calls of birds.
Now, however, he could sense the fear of the few that were still in the streets. As he continued down the pathways, staring in awe at all the signs and buildings, they would distance themselves from him, giving distrustful glances. Did they fear him because he was a stranger, he wondered, or would they still have feared him if they knew his name?
But the world did know his name, he thought bitterly. Or, at least, the only name they cared about. Would that ever change? Or would the world only know him as Doomsday, the Beast of the Long Halloween?
He felt his heart sink at the thought, and he decided to turn back for now, to return to the little corner of the world that was his, and his only. As he decided to circle back, however, he found his gaze drawn upwards, to the looming mountain in the distance. The mountain, he saw, now seemed to have a twinkling line curled around it, looping upwards to the summit, like a ribbon of sapphires.
It was wholly unlike anything he'd seen before. Was it natural, like the great gouts of fire and ash he'd seen rise from a mountain, or was it the works of Man? He wanted to ask someone, while the curiosity gnawed at him, but the trepidation held him in place. Perhaps he would simply ask Sister, when they met again.
Whatever it was, he thought, it was beautiful. His mind wandered, imagining explanations that he objectively knew would be nonsensical. He'd like to think some giant hand had woven a shining necklace, made from the ocean itself, and tied it around the mountain, like one of those Christmas trees Sister had spoken of. Or, perhaps, it was fireflies going up the mountain, returning to their ancestral summit as a salmon returned to the stream of its birth.
He found himself standing on the pathway for some time, staring up at the mountain, almost dreaming.
Then the sound of a scuffle nearby drew him back to reality, and he turned away, searching for where the fight could be.
There, in an alleyway not too distant. He hurried over to the corner, and peered around to find a pair of men kicking at another man on the ground. They were barking something at him, but his knowledge of Sinhala was rather faint; he couldn't make out what they were saying. However, a wallet and phone were lying nearby, and he quickly connected the dots.
He made his decision quickly, almost instinctually. He stepped into the alleyway, straightening as he cleared his throat.
"Stop," he said.
The two men jumped at his voice, then looked over to glare his way. One of them pulled out a gun from his pants, and pointed it menacingly at him. The other, however, pulled out no weapon, but simply raised a glowing fist. A parahuman, Kon realized.
"Ammata hukapan," the man with the gun sneered. "Vikaraya."
"Stop," Kon repeated, then, "Do not hurt him."
He took a step forward, and the man fired.
Kon almost snorted at the absurdity of it. He might not have been as swift as Sister, but even to him the bullet seemed move through the air like it was molasses, so slow that he could've simply stepped to the side. Instead, however, he decided for a more effective demonstration. Raising an outstretched hand, he caught the bullet in his palm, feeling the impact like someone had thrown a pebble. Holding his hand up for the men to see, he let it drop to the ground, still steaming.
"I said..." He crossed over to them in a blur, snatching the man's gun away and crushing it like the toy it was. "Do not hurt the man."
The two would-be-muggers backed away, fear evident in their eyes. The parahuman seemed to weigh the pros and cons of trying to fight, then bolted, his friend following quickly after, screaming into the night.
It felt wrong, seeing that, even if they perhaps deserved it. He brushed aside the thought, then turned his attention back to the injured man lying on the ground.
The man was now slowly getting up, coughing as he held a hand over his ribs. Kon stepped over, trying to ignore the look of panic in the man's eyes, and offered his hand.
"Are you alright?"
The man stared for a moment, then took Kon's hand, letting himself get pulled up like a kitten. His eyes were still wide, though Kon could see that the fear had faded.
"T-thank you," the man said. "I was a fool... thought I could scare them off..."
"They are the ones to blame," Kon replied, simply.
The man scooped up his valuables with shaking hands. "You saved my life, er..."
"Kon."
"Kon. Is there anything you need? Food?"
"No." Kon, paused, then, "Though I wish to ask a question."
The man nodded with a slight jitter. "O-of course."
"Those lights on the mountain... what are they?"
The man blinked. "The lights? You don't know?"
"I am not from around here."
"I-I see. They're torches carried by the pilgrims."
"Pilgrims?"
The man nodded again. "Y-yes. All Buddhists try to walk the steps to the footprint, at least once a year."
"I see," Kon murmured. "Thank you. Do you need me to make sure you get home safely?"
"N-no; I live close by. Thank you, Kon."
The man hurried off, and Kon started the trek back to his little slice of the world, occasionally stopping to glance at the mountain in the distance.
S
It wasn't long before he returned, neatly folding his robe and jumping into the pool with a splash. Letting out a long sigh, he let himself sink to the bottom, and gazed at the Moon through the water, thinking deeply.
The world of humans was both awe-inspiring, and terrifying, blended into something he could not put to words. He'd been shot at, and yet, at the same time, he'd saved a man's life. The gratitude in the man's voice left a warm feeling in his chest, and a smile on his face. It had felt good, helping someone else, especially when he'd known what it was like to be the one that needed help.
Perhaps, he thought, it would be good to return to the city, and see who else could use his assistance. And at the same time, he was still curious about the mountain itself.
Yes, he would return.
S
Over the next week, he made himself known in the city, which he found was called Ratnapura. His knowledge of Sinhala grew in this time, as he began to interact more and more with the people he took upon himself to help.
Much of it was simple things, small tasks that would take only a moment. He'd pull a man's car out of a ditch in the morning, then go on to help an old woman cross a busy street by the afternoon, and find a boy's missing pet in the evening. He supported ladders for shopkeepers trying to paint over some graffiti, and pulled people out of a car accident.
There were few crimes when he was in the city. If he'd been a keen reader of newspapers, or more in tune with social climates, he would have realized it was not a coincidence. Still, he kept on the lookout as he walked the streets, and saved a few people from unpleasant situations.
At the same time, he tried to learn more of Sri Pada. The closer he was to the base of the mountain, the more shaven-headed men he saw in saffron robes, walking the streets in bare feet, clay bowls in their hands. Many passerby put small amounts of food into the bowls, and he wondered briefly if they were homeless, only to dismiss it.
Were these the Buddhists the man had spoken about? He did not know, and he was hesitant to make presumptions. He could enter one of the city's libraries and read about them there, if it weren't for the fact he couldn't fit through the doorways.
Thankfully, there was another way.
S
"What's a Buddhist?" he asked one day.
Sister paused in the middle of stirring the tea leaves. "Where did you hear about them?"
"I heard a man speak of them, saying that they go up the mountain at least once a year. Do you know what they are?"
Sister set her spoon down, letting the leaves steep. Sighing, she clasped her hands in front of her, and rested them upon her knees.
"Well, in essence, a Buddhist is a follower of Buddhism, much like how a Christian follows Christianity, or a Muslim follows Islam."
"What are those three?"
"Hoo boy," Sister murmured. "Well, they're... religions."
Kon blinked. "And what are those?"
"A religion is a set of beliefs and philosophies, often set by religious texts. They... well, they try to explain why we're here, or what it means to be us. They try to establish what is good, and what is bad, and why things are the way they are."
"Are any right?"
Sister coughed. "That's... that's probably one of the most contested statements in human history. Putting lightly, everyone has different opinions. People always interpret religion in different ways, and follow the texts to certain extents. Some even disagree over elements of their texts, or argue with other religions. Some don't follow any specific religion. Some don't follow religion, period, and even outright hate it."
"What about you?"
"I'm not answering that question, Kon, because I'll know it'll bias your perception."
Kon frowned. "Can you then tell me about Buddhism?"
"Fine," Sister sighed, pouring the tea. "It started more than two thousand years ago, in India. The founder of it was Siddhartha Gautama, who was actually born a prince. The records and legends vary, mind you, but it's said that his upbringing was sheltered, until one day he went out into the city and learned about death."
"What did he learn about?"
Sister frowned. "Well, how all things die one day."
"They do? Even if they are not killed?"
"Well, yeah. Everyone dies, Kon."
Kon paused, thinking. "Me?"
"Yes."
"You?"
Sister paused in the middle of putting down her tea, and it seemed that her gaze was elsewhere.
"Yes, I'll die one day, too," she said softly.
She put her tea down, and continued. "So, Gautama renounced his privileged life, and strove to find enlightenment. He tried being a severe ascetic, but ended up fainting and nearly drowning in a river. It's said that afterwards, he sat himself under a tree, and vowed to not leave until he found enlightenment."
"What happened?"
"Well, according to Buddhists... he found it." Sister got up, sighing. "Hold on for a moment."
She disappeared in a gust of wind, only to return mere seconds later with a veritable mountain of volumes of text, printed in the natural language he understood.
"Here are the sacred texts of the world's major religions, and some supplementary materials that explains their philosophies, sects, and criticisms," she said. "The Bible, the Torah, the Quran, the Pali Canon, the Vedas, and so on."
Kon took the hundreds of volumes, and put them down. He opened one up at random, flipping through the densely-packed pages, and set it back down.
"Please don't make me regret giving you these," Sister said. "Read them, critique them, resonate with them; whatever floats your boat. But just remember to keep an open mind, and don't rush into any decisions you might regret."
"Thank you," said Kon. "I will start reading these immediately."
"Okay." Sister turned to leave, and paused. "Oh, by the way: if you ever meet someone who thinks of me in a religious context, don't believe them."
Kon nodded. "Understood."
"Good." With that, Sister left, and he began to read.
S
It was dizzying, the sheer amount of material there was to read. Even with his inhuman speed, it took him an entire day to read all of the texts, and another day to digest it all. Images and words swam through his mind, of the world being created over and over and over, each time different. Mud being scraped from the bottom of an eternal ocean, and put on the shell of a great turtle. A primordial being stretching out, pushing against chaos, then producing the world from his body as he rested. Darkness, then light.
It all left him in a daze, staring at a leaf floating on the pool for hours. Slowly, but surely, he began to sort it all out.
Once he did, he slowly rose to his feet, grabbed his robe, and started walking.
S
He found himself staring at the first step, frozen in apprehension.
It'd been difficult, finding his way to one of the many starting points for the pilgrimage. There were few people milling about the area; the pilgrimage season had only began, and many were still concerned by the weather. It was not a concern to him, but that didn't push him to make the first step, either.
"You said that you weren't planning on actually going up," a voice some distance behind him said in English, accusatory.
"I did no such thing," another voice replied, a soft gravel.
"Well, I'm not going to carry you up there; it'd be deleterious to your health."
"I'm nearly ninety-three; that's already deleterious to my health!"
Kon turned to look at the conversation, and found that it was between a middle-aged Sinhalese man, and an incredibly old Caucasian in a wheelchair. The old man was wearing a set of glasses, and had a thick blanket draped over him, despite the heat.
"I'm not doing it," the Sinhalese man said, shaking his head. "I'm your caretaker, not your enabler."
"Enabler," the old man scoffed. "It's not like I'm going down to the seedy part of Columbo; I just want to go up the mountain one last time."
Kon approached slowly, curious about the conversation. When he was some distance away, he cleared his throat, drawing both of their attentions. Surprisingly enough, the old man didn't seem perturbed by the presence of an eight-foot-tall mountain of muscle, though the caretaker was a bit wary.
"I would be willing to carry you up the mountain," he said, carefully measuring his words. English was a third language, at best.
"Sir, he looks like that cr-" the caretaker said, only for the old man to raise a gnarled fist.
"You certainly seem like a strong young lad," the old man said, leaning back a little in his wheelchair. "Tell me, are you here on pilgrimage?"
Kon paused, then replied, "I am not sure."
"An interesting answer. I take it you have never walked up the steps, then?"
Kon nodded.
"I have, many years ago, and I wish to do it again." At that, the old man shot a glare at the caretaker. "Would you take me up there for a modest payment?"
"I do not need money, and I have no want for it," Kon replied. "I will simply bring you up there to be of assistance."
The old man nodded in approval. "Very good, then. What is your name, Samaritan?"
"Kon."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Kon. My name is Arthur, though some insist on adding the Sir."
The caretaker shook his head. "Sir, this is a stranger, and one of the vikaraya as well."
Arthur sighed. "I have a feeling he's trustworthy enough, old friend. I shall be back soon enough."
"At least take some more blankets," the caretaker said.
"There will be some being sold at one of the resting spots. I'll take one then, instead of roasting on the trip up." Arthur gestured at Kon. "Now then, good lad, if you would mind carrying the chair..."
Kon nodded, then scooped Arthur up in one arm, supporting the wheelchair against his chest. It was a secure position that wouldn't jostle, ensuring a smooth ascent up the mountain. He stared back at the first step, still feeling a moment of hesitancy.
"Up we go," Arthur said.
Kon took a deep breath, and climbed the step.
S
Arthur, Kon found, was quite the insightful figure. As he carried the old man up the narrow mountain steps, surrounded by misty forest on each side, he listened to various topics the man spoke of, from computers to politics. Arthur, apparently, was a prolific author, and was more than willing to share his experiences with Kon on the walk up.
"...and that's how Scion killed the science fiction genre, or at least made it dormant. A shame, really; just as we were on the cusp of achieving so many things, we started looking back down again. Parahumans and Endbringers are unhealthy for the imagination, it seems."
Kon frowned. "It seems that your fellow writers were not so easily brought down."
"No, far from it. Isaac and Robert kept up their writings until they passed, and I dare say they made some of their finest works in that time. Sadly, however, they've been tossed to the dustbin of history, all because some people can suddenly fly after a bad day."
"You do not seem fond of parahumans."
"For the most part, no. So many of them turn to crime, and it seems to have killed men's faith in logic and scientific reasoning. Do you know how many arguments I've had with anti-intellectuals, who simply refuted my works because of the fact that the Simurgh exists?"
"Many, I presume."
Arthur nodded. "Many. Of course, not all of these 'capes' are bad. One was even kind enough to cure my post-polio syndrome, though I still ended up in a wheelchair on the basis of 'being old'. And there's those that try to improve this little blue world."
"Like Superwoman?"
"Oh, she's not like the rest, not by any degree. We can't explain why the others exist, can we?" Arthur let out a wry smile. "For all of my life, I've been hoping to meet alien life. I've written countless novels, and many more papers about it, discussing what it might be like to have a chat with our celestial neighbours. And right at the end of my life, I finally do, and it's in the form of a fifteen year old girl."
"And a Martian," Kon added.
"Oh, that always throws me for a loop. I wrote a few stories that had Martians in them, then I stopped when the Mariner photos came, and now I've suddenly been forced to accept that Burroughs and Bradbury were right all along. It's too much for an old man like me. I used to be better at rolling with the punches, back when space exploration was just beginning. I still remember the arguments we had, back and forth, about the lunar surface. Some said it would be nothing but dust, pulling you down and trapping you, while some said unforgiving rock. And what did we get? Good honest dirt."
Kon thought back to when he'd felt the lunar regolith under his feet, and nodded in agreement.
They stopped at a small rest area, where Arthur draped himself in more blankets, and they sat for a short while on a stone bench. A rain drizzle began to come down, and Kon grabbed a broad leaf to cover the old man at his side.
"I must say, she and the Martian may have resurrected science fiction," Arthur continued. "The sky seems open again, if that NASA launch coming up means anything. I've actually been working on something for a few months, most likely my last novel. The wealth of Kryptonian texts has been giving me some beautiful inspiration, I feel."
Kon scratched his face absentmindedly. "It is beautiful."
"I'm sure she's showed you some," Arthur said.
At that moment, Kon felt his heart freeze. He glanced over, only to see no malice in the old man's eyes.
"Don't act so surprised," said Arthur. "I watch TV. I must say, getting rid of the spikes was a nice touch, but it's not completely effective."
"You know who I am?"
A nod. "I didn't say at first, since I knew it would scare you off."
"And you're not afraid."
Arthur folded his wrinkled hands. "Kon, let me tell you a little anecdote. Have you ever gone diving?"
"Yes."
"A wonderful experience, I feel. I actually came to this country for the diving opportunities. Once, when I was a healthier lad, I had one of the most memorable encounters with a creature called the manta."
"I have never heard of it."
"It is also called the devilfish, due to the placement of some fins. In popular culture, many thought of it as a repugnant creature just by name and appearance alone, but when I watched one swim gracefully by, I saw that it was one of the most gentle and majestic creatures in the ocean."
Kon fell silent for a moment. "And I am like the manta."
"As someone who's written about alien contact for decades, I know not to judge another sentient being just because of their appearance. If you were the beast that everyone else thinks, then why wouldn't there be reports of you wreaking havoc, or fighting others? I can tell that you're just like everyone else, trying to find your place in the world."
The rain stopped. Kon got up, gently lifted Arthur, and started walking up the steps once more.
S
The monastery at the summit was fairly small, compared to some of its brethren down below. There was a shrine in the center, and a ring of huts around it, offering protection from the elements. There was a considerable line snaking into the shrine, all wishing to see the Buddha's footprint, the namesake of the mountain itself. A few monks milled around, occasionally answering the questions of curious tourists.
After they'd briefly seen the footprint, Arthur had him go over to a small bell nearby, worn with age. Grasping the rope with a wrinkled hand, he rang it twice, the sharp sound carrying down the slope.
"You are supposed to ring it for every ascent you've made," he explained. "Go on; give it a go."
Kon gently took the bell, and rang it once. He liked the sound it made.
Once that was done, they sat at the benches, along with the growing crowd. When Kon asked why they were doing so, he was simply answered with a "You'll see". And so, he waited, playing with his thumbs.
"I wrote a story about this place," Arthur mused. "I changed the names around, but it was very much the same. From here, an engineer created the world's first space elevator, the most efficient way to carry man to the heavens. Well, if you wait here and watch at the right time, the heavens come to the mountain."
Right on cue, the first glimmers of sunlight danced over the clouds below them. Slowly, Kon watched as the shadow of the mountain sharpened, becoming a perfect black triangle over the country, then slowly gave way.
"I'm glad to have seen it, one last time," Arthur said. "Now, let's get back down."
S
The descent was quicker than the long walk up. There was less talking than before, too, though Arthur would occasionally mention the process of adapting an idea of his to film, and the difficulties therein.
Finally, they returned to the base of the mountain. Kon gently placed the wheelchair down, and began rolling him.
"You know, you might be more like us than you think."
Kon blinked in confusion, and Arthur took that as a sign to continue.
"One of the most compelling stories I had ever read, and which inspired my writings about the future of Man, was a work by a certain Olaf Stapledon. In it, he detailed -with some rough science, mind you- the history of Man over two billion years and eighteen species."
"What of it?"
"Well, it's no doubt that man's descendants in the far future would be quite different from us, just as we are different from the apes of Olduvai, but in an even more pronounced manner, due to the ability to shape biology itself. Perhaps it's just me being an old man, but I feel it would be more likely if an advanced human species were to develop like the world of your origin, than an alien species that happens to look just like men."
The came into view of the caretaker. Kon slowed down, to better hear what the author had to say.
"I once wrote that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. After all, what would a Cro Magnon think of a laptop computer?"
"That it is something of the gods."
"More or less. Now, another writer added a corollary to that: any sufficiently advanced individual is indistinguishable from God."
Kon stopped, letting the caretaker approach.
"And seeing your sister soar the skies, it has me wondering. Perhaps it's as Voltaire once said, come to fruition. We could not find God, and so we created Her."
The caretaker took hold of the wheelchair, and began pushing Arthur away, but not before the old man shook Kon's hand and said, "Goodbye, young lad."
Kon watched the two go, then turned to look at the mountain once more.
Then, he ran back up the steps.
S
He was back at the summit in half an hour. There was a monk sweeping the floors near the shrine, and he made a beeline right for the young man. Many of the pilgrims backed away, as if afraid he would bring the entire monastery down with his thunderous footsteps.
To the monk's credit, there was no fear in his eyes when the massive grey figure with red eyes approached, and said in a rumbling voice, "I wish to join your order."
S
As he was only a month old, he was made a samanera, a novice. As such, he was only allowed to take the initial vows, and to follow the Ten Precepts. His robe was taken, and he was given one of saffron color, larger than usual, after being taught how to wear it. There was no hair upon his head, but they allowed him to keep his special razor, as to remove the crystalline spines.
Aside from the razor, his only worldly possessions were his robes, and a begging bowl he made from clay.
As a novice, his tasks were simple ones, though his very nature complicated the process. As he did not sleep, he was allowed to meditate or study while the others rested. When the others woke, he would join them in the study of the texts, as well as some monastic debates. He learned impatience in this time, as he was forced to confront differing opinions, and he learned patience.
When he was not engaging in debates, or studying, he was sweeping the monastery floors, and collecting alms in the city when he made his daily descents. As he did not eat, he simply would use it to feed those who needed it more than he did, which caused a short debate in the monastery that ultimately ended in his favor.
Meditation was his preferred activity, or lack thereof. Whenever he had the time, he would sit in the lotus position they had taught him, and used the breathing exercises he'd learned. He'd feel the weight of the air around him, then feel himself fade with the wind. His ears could pick up the falling of a leaf, or the sound of an ant sipping from a drop. He let the sounds flow into him, then flow through him, as he became in tune with his surroundings. He'd spend all day in a state of meditation, undistracted by hunger or sleep.
After his first two weeks, there was a monastic debate regarding him. Though he is an infant in age, some had said, he has the body and mind of a man. He does not need to eat, or sleep; he has no lust for women or men. If his suffering is different from us, can his path be the same?
His suffering is no different from ours, others had replied. He has ego, and want. Dukkha is one of his points of existence; he has frustrations, and fear, and a sense of unbelovedness. As long as he has dukkha, then his path is our path.
The debate continued, and a decision was made. As his mind and body was that of a man's, he was allowed to take the rest of his vows, and become a full bhikku. Now, he participated more in monastic debates, and would study the texts with the other bhikkus more directly. His other duties continued; he continued to collect alms, and swept the monastery floors.
He did not know if he would reach enlightenment, or if it even existed. But he did know that his heart seemed less turbulent, and his concerns faded over time as his cravings were confronted.
S
He sat in his usual spot one day, legs folded in the lotus position as he continued his meditation, and slowly became aware of a change. A shift in the path of the winds, a scent of something different. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and looked.
A woman sat across from him. At first, he thought it was Sister, but she was different. Her skin was darker, her eyes colder. She was also sitting in a lotus position, but she was not there to clear her mind; she was alert, attentive, her eyes constantly scanning and studying. Her clothing was that of a western businesswoman, a fedora over her lap.
"Sister has spoken of people like you," he said simply, his voice a rumble.
"I imagine." A pause, then: "You know why I'm here?"
"No, but you will tell me."
The woman nodded. "Your vows have us concerned."
"My vows simply are; it is you who is making yourself concerned."
A frown. "Has your sister told you that the world will end in a year?"
"No."
"Well, you know now."
"I know nothing. I have only heard what someone has said; that does not change the mountains or the sky."
"Your vague koans are frustrating."
"I'm new at it."
"I'm not here to discuss your philosophy; this entire conversation serves a purpose. When the time comes, will you fight?"
"I do not seek to end lives of my own volition."
"Your vows also tell you to confess to the bhikkus if you dig a hole."
"Do the insults, too, have a purpose?"
"I only seek an answer."
"You seek my words, when you are concerned with my actions. One cannot equal the other in this uncertain situation."
"Then let us deal with more certain situations. Is it ending life of your own volition if you do nothing to stop death?"
"I cannot be faulted for the death of a bird across the world. I can be faulted if I crush a beetle beneath my thumb."
"If a brute of a man chased a woman upon here, and he tried to force himself upon her right at your feet, would you be obliged to act?"
"Of course."
The woman stared, then slowly rose. "You confound my sight, just like your sister and the Martian. But I think I've gotten a sure answer. I will not bother you again."
"That requires for you to have bothered me in the first place."
The woman sighed, then stepped into thin air.
Kon let out a long breath, then closed his eyes once more. But, to his frustration that frustrated him in turn, he found he could not meditate.
S
The woman's words came to his mind once more, two days after.
He was sweeping the monastery floors when he heard it. A faint tremor, growing into a horrible sound, like the earth itself was some great beast that was growling. A ringing sound reached his ears, and he looked to see that the bell was swinging on its own.
His brow furrowed as he looked around, then continued sweeping. Sometimes, the wind could get strong at the summit; it wasn't uncommon for the bell to ring like that.
And yet, he couldn't help but feel that there was something not right.
There was another sound, a steady roar that made him want to cover his ears, and a powerful rumble rolled under his feet. This time, he could see the bell jolt, clanging wildly. The wind didn't come until a few moments later, and it sent dust and leaves flitting through the monastery, doors swinging open and shut.
Something was wrong; he was sure of it.
Quickly, he walked over to one of the edges of the monastery, searching. There was a crowd gathering at the entrance to the monastery, and so he went that way, taking a few steps down the main path.
There were dark storm clouds rolling towards the mountain, but monsoon season was over; this was not natural. As he looked closer, he saw the embers of a great fire, eating away at the trees like a ravenous swarm of locusts.
Some of the pilgrims were pointing at a point on the horizon, passing around binoculars. He did not need aid to see what was wrong, and despite himself, he felt a pang of fear.
The Behemoth was advancing towards the mountain, glowing like magma as it fought off small swarms of capes. Even from here, he could see the flashes of lightning as it fired at the defenders, scoring more hits than misses. He could hear its roars, unlike the call of any living creature, and it sent shivers down his spine as he realized what its target was.
"We must evacuate the monastery," the oldest bhikku declared. "The pilgrims must take the path away from the fighting, and move swiftly."
Already, they were moving. Kon moved to guide them along, pointing to the pathway that would take the pilgrims away from the beast. Thankfully, it was early in the morning; there were few people making their way up at this point, or at least high enough to be in trouble.
It wasn't long until the bhikkus were guiding the pilgrims down, helping those that were too old or too tired to move swiftly. He himself helped a few down the first sets of steps, then hurried back up to the monastery. Now that the pilgrims and bhikkus had gone, the monastery was like a tomb, utterly lifeless.
A clanging sound reached his ears, and he realized that the main bell of the monastery was ringing now, thanks to the tremors and violent wind. It'd only rung a few times before in the mountain's history, and each time had spelt disaster. Earthquakes, violent tempests, and the like. But now, it was not an act of nature, but an act of malice, the work of a monster.
One did not fight a hurricane, but they could fight a monster.
He considered his vow of avihimsa, to not harm a living thing. As monstrous as it was, was Behemoth alive? Did it fall under the purview of his vow, or would he be free to fight?
The woman's words echoed through his mind. Then, slowly, he pulled off his robe, and left it neatly folded by the shrine.
He walked calmly down the mountain, hands clasped together, his feet gently padding along the stone steps. Already he could feel his spines growing back, the nubs turning to sharp blades and spurs that could cut through nearly anything. Even if it was breaking his vow, he thought, he would do it a thousand times more. He would protect the mountain, the footprint. It would be against his vow, and himself, if he were to let the monster slaughter more people when he could do something about it.
The beast would reckon the day it came to Sri Pada.
And so he crouched down, building up power in his steely muscles, and leapt into the battle.
He landed in a patch of earth near the foothills, a cloud rising around him due to the force of impact. Rising up to his feet, he spared a glance over his shoulder to see Sister's metal lover, injured but alive. Even now, the boy was getting back up, reshaping his remaining mass in blades.
Kon nodded, then turned to the Endbringer, and charged.
Behemoth swung at him with a massive clawed fist, but he simply ducked underneath the blow, then leapt at its chest like a bullet. With nary a grunt, he slammed both fists into the monster's mangled breast, tearing away crystalline flesh with his spiked knuckles. There was a violent shockwave, and the Endbringer flew back, landing hundreds of feet away.
Already it was getting back up, roaring as it did. Lightning crackled from its horns, striking him, but he did not feel the attacks. Instead, he breathed in deeply, and let fire build in his throat.
The Endbringer could do nothing as he fired, a bright red beam blasting right into its torso, boiling away flesh and setting nearby trees on fire. He mourned the breaking of his vows, but persisted, unwilling to let the monster recover.
When the tremors began to rock the earth, he stopped, then charged once again, catching Behemoth in the face with a kick that shook nearby buildings. As the Endbringer flew into the air, Kon blasted it once more with his fiery breath, sending it even farther away. Before it could recover from the landing, he leapt at it once more, and caught it in a tackle.
Behemoth roared as it rose, skin glowing white hot as it turned radioactive. Nearby trees caught fire, and the ground beneath his feet became molten, but Kon ignored the heat, sinking up to his knees in magma as he advanced. Behemoth slammed an obsidian fist down, smashing him into the ground and nearly submerging him completely in magma, but he shoved it off with a grunt.
Leaping back up, he swiped his spikes at its wounded shoulder, severing its arm once more. Behemoth brightened, radioactive enough to turn the topsoil to vapor, but Kon ignored the heat as he grabbed the Endbringer's fallen limb, and used it as a club, striking the monster right in the chest.
That was enough to finally send Behemoth flying into the ocean. Kon leapt after it, landing right by it in the water. Grabbing it by the leg, he began to swim, taking it further and further away from the mountain. Now, he hoped, Sister's friend would be free to help her fight off whatever else could be wreaking havoc.
As he sank deeper and deeper into the waves, he felt a pang of sadness. He had been content to live his days at the mountain, collecting alms and meditating, but this beast had intruded upon his silence, and brought only fire and death. For the sake of others, he'd been forced to break his vows in order to fight this beast.
The sadness was replaced with a firm resolve. Though he wished for the world to know him as Kon, he did not have that same feeling towards this beast, this mindless force of destruction.
It was almost funny, that this bringer of the end would in turn meet its Doomsday.