Chapter 6: A Warrior's Path

Late morning

His head hurt. Badly.

Zhou Tai groaned, stirring from the divan, and rose, brushing aside the blanket that had been carefully draped over him. He glanced to his left, and noticed that his armour and his undergarments had been discarded and laid aside. He felt fresh and clean in his nudity. Who had taken off all his armour and clothes, and who had cleaned him up? He rubbed his eye, his index finger trailing along his scar. His muscles felt sore but invigorated, as if he had returned from a glorious, hour-long battle. He placed a hand on his broad chest. His heartbeat was fine. Just what had happened?

He looked down at his stomach. Although every portion of his aching body refused his command to leave the divan, he could not deny that the wound was no more. His body had, in fact, closed up completely, leaving nothing more than a horrendous scar. He now possessed another mark of battle, although this was no mere cut from an enemy blade. It was something inflicted by the sinister creature called "Yoma." Furthermore, it was a peculiar shape – it resembled a symbol, as if someone had carved it into him. It resembled the character for "Heaven." But why…

"Oh!" A soft cry shocked him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Cynthia outside his tent, covering her eyes with a frantic hand. She was still decked in her peculiar soldier's uniform, and judging from the colour on her pale face; she looked like she had not slept at all. "I'm so sorry," she called, mortified. "I didn't know you were awake."

"You were the one who undressed me?" he blurted, sensing her agitation.

Her face suddenly changed colour, flushing crimson. "Yes," she stammered, shuffling her feet and looking out at him between her fingers.

"And… you bathed me, too?"

"Yes," she squeaked, barely able to move her reddening lips.

She did all this while I was unconscious? he thought awkwardly. She must be hardy… but of course. She was one of those warriors who had come to repulse those Yoma! He obligingly covered his bare lower body with the blanket he had pushed away. He offered the flustered Cynthia a small smile, not oblivious to the fact that she could not resist stealing a peek at his broad, muscular chest and shoulders. "Thank you," he acknowledged quietly.

She looked nervous indeed, almost amusingly so. "I hope you're feeling better?" she asked, smiling shyly at his courteous attempt to conceal his privates.

I… I saw it all. I had to see it all; I had no choice... After the ritual that had taken several agonizing hours, he had fallen into a deep sleep that neither she nor Flora could awaken him from. That cumbersome armour had to be removed if he was to sleep in peace, without any nightmares of Yoma or demons from the Isles! And the grime, blood and sweat that had remained on his weakened body after the fracas…

To her relief, his words were mild and composed. "… I am awake. That is enough. I thank you again for saving my life. I made a wise choice in listening to you, when my compatriots would not."

"There is something I must tell you." She lowered her head, unable to look into his deep eyes, or even glance at his long black hair. "Forgive me for pushing this on you when you've barely recovered. But to hold back this information any later would be insulting you." She took a deep breath. "You're alive because Master Zhuge performed a ritual that united a Yoma's flesh with your wound, mending it completely. Now… your body is partly constituted by that of a Yoma's."

He blinked at the revelation, suppressing his amazement. He had already expected to die, after all. But it was one of those fiends that had given him back his life? And it was Master Zhuge who had conducted one of his magic rituals to pull him back from the netherworld? He stared down at his scar. He could indeed recall the pain that had wracked his abdomen throughout the early morning, as he lay wheezing, clammy and trembling. But now that she mentioned it… something had indeed changed. He could feel it pulsing in his veins. Something new. Something inhuman.

Something that was not… him.

Cynthia hurried over to his half-naked form, her eyes apologetic. "Do you see this mark on your stomach? Every half-human, half-Yoma possesses a different pattern. But to this day I'm still not sure how our scars are determined." She looked up at him, giving him a damp towel to wipe his face with. "The flesh and blood of a Yoma gives one amplified power, speed, and endurance, but you'll retain the rational faculties of a human being. That is the secret of our strength. You can even reach supernatural powers by using Yoki, a Yoma's life-force, to unleash powers unimaginable to normal humans."

"Like chi?" he muttered, slightly incredulous. Now that she mentioned it, his body did feel strange… as if nothing could wound it permanently anymore. It was as if his wound was a blessing in disguise…

She shook her head, tempering his tentative optimism. "But because a Yoma's flesh and blood is foreign matter, with its use comes the danger of a state called 'Awakening', which means an individual's use of Yoki that exceeds eighty percent. In that state… a human being loses his humanity and becomes a terrifying genus of demon called an Awakened Being. There is nothing to be found in this terrible state, only the desire for human flesh."

He suddenly felt cold. "How will a silver-eyed warrior know her limits above this… eighty percent?"

"They can only familiarize themselves with the Yoki within them. For one who does not know his limits, it's all too easy to Awaken, and especially if such an Awakening feels… pleasurable. In my homeland, men have remained unable to resist this pleasure, often surrendering to their Awakening completely." She gazed sadly at him. "That's… the risk we've chosen to take to save your life."

His eyes clouded over. "I see…" he traced the large scar that remained. "So… you have given me a demon's body in the faith that I will not succumb to its seduction."

"Oh, please forgive us. Master Zhuge said there was no other way."

Zhou Tai was speechless. He simply lowered his head, avoiding her gaze. He did not know what to think. How should he have reacted? Should he have snorted in her face incredulously? Or should he have reacted in anger, denying her benevolence, accuse her of trying to turn him into one of them? Part of him simply wished to dismiss her, to leave him alone with his confused, tumultuous thoughts. Yet he knew, deep down, that such a kind and courageous woman spoke the truth.

His calloused hand trembled, unsure, uncertain… and afraid.

"I am now… part monster?" he muttered, unable to conceal this terrible fear.

Cynthia moved closer and laid her fingers comfortingly on him, stilling his shuddering somewhat. "I'm so sorry," came her regretful voice, her hands moving to cup his face. He did not have the energy to pull away as their gazes met. "Oh, my God. Your eyes… they're now silver, too."