Alright we'll talk more later, I gotta start training." Malcolm said as he exited the mindscape and came back to reality.
The river water swished against the bank of its creation. The thick canopy hanging above seemed to almost wave down at Malcolm. Perhaps this was the jungle's way of greeting, but Malcolm didn't bother to see it.
Instead he raised both hands up into fists and took a boxing stance. His right fist was glued just beneath his cheek while the left one was held out a few inches. He bent his knees slightly as he moved his right foot back.
His body was facing the river as he punched.
Whoosh!
He threw out a left jab fast enough that the wind generated cut a small path through nearly half of the small river. Perhaps Moses would be approving if he saw the scene.
Whoosh!
Malcolm threw another jab that caused the river to ripple and split in half fully for a moment.
Malcolm walked up to a large 60 meter tall tree and cocked back his left fist.
Bam!
A full power punch ripped through the entire bottom section of the tree as it soon fell to the ground. Splinters were sprayed all over Malcolm but none could stick him anywhere.
Malcolm looked up at another equally large tree before bending his legs down. After a moment of preparation he leapt up at such a speed that he almost instantly passed through the canopy and now was over 80 meters into the sky.
"Oh-shit," he cursed as he looked down at the ground that never seemed so distant as it was now.
Shortly after he crashed against the ground headfirst into a patch of dirt like an ostrich.
"Damn, still nothing," a muffled murmur escaped Malcolm as he rose up above the dirt and shook his head.
"Hmm your fighting skills need some polish but the foundation is present." Malcolm ignored the comment from the pathieite while continuously throwing various jabs, straights, uppercuts, and lowkicks.
As an hour slowly passed by, Malcolm's strikes were thrown out with less frequency than initially.
A right jab was thrown that produced a gentle stream of wind. A right kick made contact with the stump of a tree and only left a deep imprint.
Malcolm stepped back and looked at the imprint for a minute before looking up at the sky.
Bright blue the heavens were to the naked eyes down below. The defiled soil may yet hold secrets that mortal men will never know. Yet what one can and should always know is that in the passing of victory or defeat, life moves on with or without you. What once was may not be tomorrow. How one carries the weight of yesterday is all that matters.
The heart within still felt heavy but the will had now been tempered by mortal combat. And that will may be the only thing left to carry the withering inner heart.
Malcolm cocked a fist back with light shining off his eyes and punched.
Bam!
A strong air current blasted through the canopy far away into the sky.
Bam!
Another followed, then another and another and another.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The punches were thrown consecutively without pause. The swishing of the wind traveled with every blow, almost guiding each and every punch.
A corrosive river of black rose up through the back of his mind to show scenes of his fights at the hamlet. This made his onyx face take an even darker shade of black. Yet this didn't stop his barrage of punches from gaining momentum.
"Enemies. You need enemies brother. Think about it, with your anger and my hunger we could make a wonderful duo. Our power will grow at an unprecedented rate among these human mystics." An almost jittery and playful voice rang in Malcolm's mind.
This one unlike the other one was new, but quickly did it to become a point of mixed emotions.
"I gotta kill people though," Malcolm said dryly as he continued the onslaught of punches
"Killing is natural in the course of life. You humans kill to survive so do we, we're no different you and I brother."
Malcolm paused his next punch for a moment before continuing. The main difference was that Malcolm started mixing in kicks as he started to bring his senses inward. Blocking the outside world around him while he focused on his body only.
"You kill to eat, I kill to survive," Malcolm responded.
"But what's the difference really? The way I see it those two things might as well be one."
Malcolm scrunched his eyebrows down to the point veins popped up on his forehead.
"How old are you bro?"
"A week," the pathieite replied swiftly and with a touch of pride in its voice.
Malcolm now had a deadpan look on his face while punching and kicking in the jungle.
Over the course of another hour Malcolm blocked out reality and focused only on his bodily motions. Everything else became distant and hazy like the promise land in those young eyes. The self is what ultimately remained, and even then that to which should have been recognizable was now as alien as the creature that laid next to his inner heart.
Malcolm shook away the dark thoughts and kept moving his body, or perhaps more appropriately their body.
While on the matter of thoughts Shanti himself was currently juggling hundreds of different thoughts simultaneously in his mindscape.
Imagine the thoughts to be akin to looking up at a black sky filled with white stars. Some floated around aimlessly. Others spun around until they crashed into each other to grow larger and brighter. Yet many if not most of the stars were still in that dark atmosphere.
Shanti sat cross-legged right below these constellations with the still image of the deceased glazed in aged bronze on his face.
A star crashed down into his skull–leaving a milky trail in its travel.
After a moment Shanti frowned slightly as another thought flew into his head.
"No, that's not possible... it shouldn't be," he muttered in a raspy breath.
Soon half a dozen thoughts came tumbling down like a meteor shower to illuminate the mind of this old master.
Yet nothing seemed to come of this enlightenment, or nothing that the old hyena Shanti wanted at least.
"It seems that times maybe changing once more since this mysterious child arrived here. The Terra clan has begun to mobilize while our youngest generation haven't even reached their twenties." The stars flew down with a steady pace as Shanti thought harder.
"The clan heirs and heiresses must be protected. Our warriors can be mobilized if the enemy makes a sudden attack. No! Too long, that bastard Raheem is as cunning as-"
He stopped himself from finishing that sentence. All was silent for a time before he let out a long sigh.
"No, nothing. No one is a better trickster than that dastardly creature. But the Terra king needs to be destroyed before he fully recovers. Hasani is strong, but he is only the son of the father after all." Shanti shook his head in slight disappointment.
"Let's assess this properly. Right now the tribe has one early fifth realm mystic in Hasani, then one middle fifth realm beast in the Apendemak. Move down lower and there are over 75 fourth realm mystics with Mashallah now being a half step away from the fifth realm. Myself being a peak fourth realm mystic along with all of the clan matriarchs and patriarchs.
Hmm lets see, then there are over 5000 third realm mystics. 10000 second realm mystics, and finally over 50000 first realm mystics." Shanti sighed at the current scale of the tribes forces.
"If only so many didn't die in that last war then I would feel good about our future."
Suddenly a large lump of bright golden light appeared infront of Shanti. Its radiance was so immense that the stars around Shanti immediately dispersed.
"Wh-what is this? M-master?!"
Shanti could only sense the world around him by exerting spiritual energy constantly. And what he felt was an energy he had missed for over 20 years. An energy that had appointed him to be one of the two Supreme elders of not just the Ashuwa clan, but the entire tribe's descendents.
Within a quiet meditation chamber Old Shanti walked out with a renewed purpose to his step after the passing of an hour.
The grand halls he wandered through were nearly as old as he was, and yet he could no longer see their glory. The inside of each bronze pillar contained gold leaves that grew from Aureate muscle trees that were imported from a friendly tribe. The palace floor tiles were personally carved and attached to the ground by the ancestor himself. Shanti remember asking his master repeatedly if he could help him. But each and every time for nearly 10 years of the palace's construction, a calm denial was all he and anyone else received.
His dry lips curled up slightly as a tired mutter came out."Better times they were," he sighed with a shake to his head.
If one viewed the world through Shanti's eyes they would see a pitch blackness deep enough to match the void of space. Only by reaching out with spiritual energy could this void take on certain shapes and colors. These shapes and colors created a muted replica of whatever environment Shanti inhabited. No flavor, no texture, no brightness that wasn't surrounded by the void of his missing optics.
Yet it must be said that mysticism left endless possibilities to the able bodied or otherwise. And Shanti in being the latter was no exception to this potential opportunity. In fact he could've said to have benefited from the loss of his eyesight on that most terrible day.
[Mystic Art: Spectrum of Sight] could be said to have given Shanti the greatest abilities in divination since the passing of Essien Ashuwa. Since this art unlike many others had evolved to become close to becoming an innate art.
It still needed Shanti to supply spiritual energy but no handsigns were needed now.
The clacking of his cane filled the silent void as he traveled forward. Occasionally the shapes of people passed along the periphery, offering various greetings and platitudes towards the old man. He said little as he hastened himself ever so slightly.
Finally after a time he stopped at his destination. A large door took shape in his vision, ancient it was was much like the witness that stood before it.
Shanti placed a hand and began rubbing his hand along the door's surface. He sighed with his mouth remaining closed as he gently pushed open the door to enter the room.