Immortal Paladin

[POV: Da Wei]

When I opened my eyes and finally roused myself from my distraction, I found myself seated before the Supreme Heart.

For some reason, I had expected to see that familiar smug expression plastered across his face. Perhaps it was because the bastard seemed incapable of taking anything seriously unless it directly involved him. Yet the expression I found waiting for me was completely different.

He was serious.

So serious, in fact, that for a moment, I wondered if I had mistaken the person sitting across from me.

Athena’s voice rang throughout the void.

“Behold, the final dusk approaches, when the long night shall yield unto the dawn. The threads of fate that have intertwined your paths shall soon reach their final knot, and the contest between the Supreme Heart and the Supreme Bearer shall approach its ordained conclusion. As the arbiter entrusted with witnessing this struggle, I shall offer but one blessing to both of you: may fortune favor the triumphant, and may grace embrace the one who falls.”

The conclusion of this contest was almost upon us.

I glanced around.

The ‘party’ surrounding us had long since grown stale. The dancers no longer appealed to my senses, their graceful movements becoming nothing more than repetitive shadows in my peripheral vision. The music that had once sounded grand now seemed hollow, its melody failing to stir even the slightest emotion within me.

Perhaps that was because I knew what was coming.

Or perhaps it was because, after everything I had seen, there was no celebration capable of making this moment feel like anything other than the prelude to a massacre.

I turned my attention toward the platform beneath me.

We floated within the endless vacuum of space, surrounded by stars that seemed no more substantial than scattered grains of dust. Far below, the arena began to change. Mountains vanished. Rivers dried up. Forests dissolved into nothingness. The scenery that had once been a recorded reality of the past was stripped away piece by piece until there was nothing left.

Then something else took its place.

A world.

It was incredibly small compared to the vastness of the Greater Universe, yet from where I stood, I could see its oceans, its lands, its clouds, and the faint glow of civilization scattered across its surface.

Athena raised her hand.

“For this concluding battle, the battlefield shall no longer be a mere reflection of that which has already passed. The stage beneath your feet shall instead be a living world, untouched by the Dao of Cultivation. Its mortals know neither the mysteries of qi nor the heights of the Immortal Path. They are ignorant of the heavens above them, and thus remain pure in their simplicity.”

Her voice carried through the void.

“For this grand occasion, the arena has been transformed into a genuine world. Unlike the preceding terrains, which were but recorded realities of bygone ages, this world was plucked directly from the Greater Asura Realm itself. It is a token bestowed by my master, the Supreme Fate, so that this final contest may possess the weight and excitement befitting its conclusion.”

My eyes narrowed.

I released my Divine Sense.

It descended toward the world below like an invisible tide.

And then I felt them.

People.

Real people.

Their heartbeats, their thoughts, their emotions, their hopes, and their fears. I could sense families gathered beneath their roofs, children sleeping peacefully in their beds, travelers crossing roads, merchants haggling over worthless scraps of metal, and soldiers standing watch over borders whose importance they could never have understood.

They were not remnants of history nor phantoms recreated from some ancient record.

They were alive.

If they died here, their deaths would carry a far more definitive consequence than those of the recorded realities we had witnessed before.

Supreme Heart suddenly spoke.

“Isn’t it disgusting?”

I looked toward him.

“That is how much of a wretch the Supreme Beings are. So unfeeling, so utterly devoid of humanity. My old friend, Death, got off lightly. In his neglect, he merely allowed his domain to fester and suffer beneath its own weight. The rest of that lot are no better.”

His gaze remained fixed upon the mortal world below.

“I can slander them until the end of time, but there is no need. It is easier for you to see their depravity with your own eyes. Like right now. The Supreme Fate looks upon this lesser world and sees nothing more than an amusement. And the asura he sent here to arbitrate on his behalf?”

He glanced toward Athena.

“Nothing more than another toy for him to play with.”

Athena remained silent for several breaths.

Then she calmly replied, “Lord Heart. I may not speak on behalf of the Supreme Fate, regarding His image. However, I ask that you refrain from making disparaging remarks concerning his eminence.”

The Supreme Heart smirked.

“See what I tell you?”

“So what?” I asked.

My voice came out harsher than I intended.

“Does that make you better?”

His smirk vanished.

I stared straight into his eyes.

“No. Fuck you, it doesn’t.”

The words escaped before I could stop them. I took a deep breath, and then another. I forced myself to calm down. The Supreme Heart had a talent for making me want to punch him even when he was making a perfectly valid argument.

Besides, there was something more important that demanded my attention. I lowered my gaze toward the crystal vial resting within my hand. Inside was a small amount of ash.

Through my Ophanim, I peered into it.

My vision penetrated the substance, moving beyond the ashes themselves and reaching into the memories that clung to them. The burned remains gradually reversed their state beneath my gaze.

Ash became paper. The scorched fragments reunited. The blackened edges smoothed themselves over. Ink returned to the page. And then I saw Nongmin. He was standing inside his bedroom.

I had seen him countless times before, but something about this memory felt different.

He sat before a table with an inkstone placed beside him, slowly moving his brush across a sheet of paper. His movements were steady, yet his eyes were gaunt. There was exhaustion etched deeply into his face, the kind that no amount of sleep could ever remedy, despite his immortality.

His hand trembled only briefly, yet I noticed it.

Nongmin lowered his brush and stared at the words he had written for a long while, and then he continued.

”David, my old friend, I am sorry.”

The words were simple.

The meaning behind them was not.

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”You may wonder why I have chosen to leave these words behind in such a manner. Perhaps you will curse me for it. Perhaps you will laugh and call me a coward. If so, then I shall accept it all.

”You know that I cast away my True Name long ago.

”I did not do so for the sake of mystery, nor was it some profound pursuit of the Dao that compelled me to erase the mark by which Heaven and Earth might recognize me. The reason was far more shameful.

”I was afraid.

”Paranoia took root within my heart, and once it had taken root, I could no longer distinguish between caution and madness.

”The mighty existences that reside beyond the Hollowed World were already reason enough for any sensible being to conceal himself. Yet even those beings were not the true reason I resorted to such extreme measures.

”I did it because I wished to escape from the Supreme Heart.”

My expression darkened. Nongmin had always been cautious. Perhaps excessively so. But I had never realized just how deeply that fear had burrowed into him. His letter continued.

”You know of the Hollow Star.

”You know that I erased my memories of it, severing even my own connection to that artifact so that its whereabouts might remain hidden. I did not merely conceal the Hollow Star from others. I concealed it from myself.

”At the time, perhaps you thought that was madness.

”You would not have been entirely wrong.

”But I did the same thing to myself.

”I erased portions of my own existence. Memories, instincts, fragments of thought, and even certain emotions that I believed might allow another existence to trace me back to what I once was.

”I did not merely wish to become unrecognizable to the heavens.

”I wished to become unrecognizable even to myself.”

I fell silent.

That idea was not unfamiliar to me.

Nongmin had accumulated too many memories from alternate realities. I knew enough about him to understand the problem. When countless versions of one’s life were piled into a single mind, the boundary between reality and possibility would inevitably begin to erode.

With an insufficient vessel, there was only so much one could bear. Forgetting parts of oneself might very well have been the safest way to remain sane. I had assumed that was all there was to it.

A desperate measure and a means of survival.

Yet as my eyes continued down the page, I realized I had been wrong.

There had been another intention behind Nongmin’s actions.

Something far more terrifying.

”David, if you are reading this, then the precautions I took have failed.

”Or perhaps they succeeded too well.

”There is something I have only recently begun to understand. It concerns the memories I discarded, the identities I abandoned, and the reason I was so desperately determined to become a stranger even to myself.

”I spent countless years believing that I had forgotten something.

”Now I fear that I deliberately made myself forget.”

My fingers tightened around the crystal vial.

The handwriting became increasingly uneven.

”I have searched through the fragments of my memories. I have searched through the remnants of the lives that should have belonged to me. I have examined the alternate worlds, the divergent paths, and the possibilities that should never have existed.

”And I found a contradiction.

”There is no beginning.”

I frowned.

”Every memory I possess leads to another memory. Every identity leads to another identity. Every version of myself appears to have originated from someone before him.

”Yet when I continue searching backward, there is nothing.

”No first Nongmin.

”No original self.

”No beginning from which the rest of me could have descended.

”At first, I believed this was merely another consequence of the countless realities I had witnessed.

”Then I remembered something you once told me over tea.

”You said that the most frightening prison was not one that prevented a person from leaving.

”It was one that convinced him there had never been anywhere else to go.”

My heart sank.

I continued reading.

”David, I finally understand why I was so afraid.

”I was never running from the Supreme Heart because I feared that he would find me.

”I was running because I feared that he would remember me.”

My eyes widened.

The next line had been written so heavily that the tip of the brush had nearly torn through the paper.

”I believe I am my own father.”

The final sentence followed beneath it.

”I believe I am the Supreme Heart.”

…

..

.

[POV: Nongmin]

A Supreme Being was an existence shrouded in mysteries beyond the comprehension of Heaven and Earth. Their authority had long surpassed the confines of common reason. One could not know the limits of their power, for even the Supreme Being in question would eventually cease asking what was impossible for them. To beings who stood above causality itself, impossibility gradually became a forgotten concept.

Nongmin’s brush hovered above the paper.

The ink gathered at its tip before another line slowly appeared.

”The memories I awakened were so unspeakable and so dastardly that I could not even begin to comprehend where any of this truly ended, nor where it first began.

”The truth does not resemble a straight road. It is a serpent devouring its own tail, a river that flows into its own source, a cause born from its own consequence.

”I doubt even the Supreme Heart—the one I have come to believe was my father—ever understood how I was conceived.

”Perhaps he searched for the answer as desperately as I have now, while memories of the past occur to me.

”Perhaps he chose ignorance over madness, showing his superior wisdom to mine.

”Or perhaps there never was an answer to begin with and I was just deluding myself.

”That secret shall remain buried within my heart.

”Not because I do not trust you, David, but because there exist truths that become more dangerous the moment they are spoken aloud. To know them is to invite them. To remember them is to acknowledge them. Some mysteries are predators, and memory is the scent that draws them near.

”If you are reading this letter, then we have already arrived at the point of no return.

”The choices before us shall no longer permit retreat.

”I have already found the path I must walk, no matter how ruinous its end may be.

”And I believe... you shall find yours.”

Nongmin set the brush aside.

For a long while, he remained seated in silence, his weary eyes lingering upon the finished letter as though trying to engrave every stroke into his memory one final time. Eventually, he released a slow breath.

A tiny flame bloomed at his fingertip.

The fire consumed the paper without smoke or light. The carefully written characters blackened before collapsing into delicate gray ash, preserving nothing of their former appearance.

Once the flames faded, Nongmin carefully gathered every speck of ash into a crystal vial. He sealed it with meticulous care before quietly leaving his room.

Outside, Ke Zhen stood waiting.

Without a word, Nongmin placed the vial into his hands.

”When the time is right,” Nongmin said, his voice carrying an unusual solemnity, ”deliver this to the Holy Emperor.”

Ke Zhen glanced at the tiny vial before nodding.

”I understand.”

Neither man said another word.

Some farewells required no embellishment.

...

Back in the present, Nongmin stood atop a lonely mountain peak.

The wind brushed against his robes as he overlooked the transformed battlefield.

Calling it a pocket realm no longer felt appropriate.

The arena had undergone such a tremendous metamorphosis that it had become a genuine world unto itself. Endless mountain ranges stretched beyond the horizon. Oceans shimmered beneath drifting clouds. Rivers carved through fertile plains where cities and villages prospered, their inhabitants blissfully unaware that their homeland had become the stage upon which immortals would decide the fate of countless worlds.

A figure descended soundlessly from the heavens.

The undead assassin hovered several feet above the summit, his lifeless eyes surveying the horizon.

”I’ve scouted the area from the highest point I could reach,” he reported. ”There doesn’t appear to be any limit to the height of the sky, contrary to how pocket realms usually function. From what I observed, the battlefield encompasses the entire continent. The land is populated, and I identified numerous settlements whose infrastructure suggests the existence of several organized nations.”

The wolf beastkin folded his muscular arms.

”We should subjugate them,” he proposed. ”Even weaklings have their uses when gathered in sufficient numbers.”

The demonic woman laughed loudly.

”Ha! I can’t even sense the slightest trace of cultivation from any of them. They’re too weak to serve as cannon fodder.” She sneered before adding mockingly, ”Besides, I’ve heard the Holy Emperor is a noble fool. Give him an enemy with a tearful past, and he’d probably resurrect them before the corpse even cools. I imagine earning his wrath will only motivate our counterparts.”

Nongmin’s expression remained unchanged. Only the faint tightening of his fingers betrayed the irritation rising within him. David had always possessed an infuriating tendency to forgive. Whether that made him noble or foolish depended entirely upon who was judging him.

The Sword Emperor calmly interrupted before the conversation could deteriorate further.

”It is not the Holy Emperor whom we shall be facing. It is his subjects. I am inclined to believe our efforts are better spent ignoring the mortals altogether.”

The two-faced asura chuckled.

”Even so, they possess value.”

One face smiled pleasantly, while the other grinned with unmistakable malice.

”Whether as bargaining chips, a replenishable labor force, or souls to fuel our designs, they remain a resource. To disregard an available resource simply because it is weak would be wasteful.”

He slowly turned both faces toward Nongmin.

”What do you think... Leader?”

The title dripped with unmistakable sarcasm.

Nongmin met both pairs of eyes without flinching. He still found it difficult to believe they had accepted this arrangement so readily. Then again, he had been the one who restored them to life, and the Supreme Heart himself had granted him absolute authority over them for the duration of this contest.

Whether they respected him was irrelevant.

They would obey.

That alone was enough.

There was little point pretending they were companions. They were dangerous individuals, each driven by their own ambitions and capable of betrayal should the opportunity present itself. Every command he issued had to account for their personalities just as much as the objective itself.

The Heavenly Eye was no longer in his possession.

Although his artifacts allowed him to imitate portions of its prophetic abilities, they remained imperfect substitutes. They could reveal possibilities, but not certainty.

Even so, he did not hesitate.

”You.”

He pointed toward the two-faced asura before shifting his gaze to the demonic woman.

”The two of you will locate the continent’s greatest state power and bring it under our control. Whether through diplomacy, coercion, or conquest is your decision. I care only about the result.”

Both merely smiled.

Nongmin continued.

”Wolf.”

The beastkin straightened.

”Sword Emperor.”

The swordsman nodded.

”Undead.”

The assassin silently awaited further orders.

”The three of you will begin tracking the Holy Emperor’s champions immediately. Determine their movements, identify their commander, and report everything. Avoid unnecessary engagements unless success is guaranteed.”

The undead assassin vanished into mist before the final word had even left Nongmin’s mouth. The wolf beastkin cracked his neck and leaped from the mountain. The Sword Emperor offered a respectful nod before following after them.

Soon, only Nongmin remained. He looked toward the distant horizon, where countless possibilities converged into an uncertain future.

As for himself, there were preparations only he could make. After all, he had known David for longer than anyone else. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that David never surrendered. Even when Heaven itself pronounced defeat, he would somehow claw victory from the jaws of despair.

Miracles had an annoying habit of appearing wherever the Holy Emperor stood.

Nongmin intended to ensure that, this time, even a miracle would not be enough.