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Chapter 116: Entering the Dao Vision
🕑 Added 2023-02-22 17:36:00 +0000 UTCJack made himself comfortable. He patted the floor before he sat, straightened his pants, shook his upper body once. There was great urgency, yes; but a few seconds of calmness before the storm could mean the world.
Beside him, Brock gave him a supportive pat on the back. Jack nodded. He closed his eyes, and the world changed around him.
It was finally time to explore his new Dao Vision.
The spotless starship walls gave way to a desert. Jack suddenly found himself in an overcast world, hovering high over a field of broken bodies. Blood and weapons littered the barren dirt. Jack himself was only a ghost, lacking a material form.
He had seen this before. He knew where to look—who the main character was.
His eyes reached a big-bodied human standing alone in the field of battle. He was bare-chested, with wide shoulders and bulging muscles. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he stood straight like a ramrod. Three long, gray lines were tattooed on the right side of his chest, like a wound left over by an animal’s claws.
He did not look like a kind person. His long gray hair fluttered in the bloody breeze, while his gray eyes were harsh and narrowed into slits. His skin was bronze. His face was hard. In Jack’s eyes, this man resembled a merciless, brutal master.
Gedritch, Level ??? (C-Grade)
Faction: Iron Fist Empire (C-Grade)
Title: Leviathan Slayer
Facing him was a fortress. Colossal dark walls stretched three hundred feet into the air and many miles on either side. Squinting at their top, Jack could make out a host of people preparing to defend. They sported all sorts of weapons, as well as magic. With a few random scans, he confirmed that they were also gedritch, the same human-like species as the bare-chested man, and they were all in the E-Grade.
He also spotted dozens of figures assembled into battle formations, flying over the walls—immortals.
A single woman stood on the wall ledge. She was clad in golden plate armor from head to toe, and she radiated bright power. She was also at the C-Grade—though the fact that she stood on the town walls indicated she was weaker than the bare-chested man.
In contrast, the man stood completely alone, facing down a fortress of immortals.
“We are willing to pledge our allegiance, Baron Longform,” the woman shouted. Her voice echoed to the nearby mountains, easily reaching everyone’s ears. “Promise the safety of our descendants and disciples, and we will swear a soul oath here and now. We will serve the empire without a word of protest.”
The bare-chested man shook his head. “Once a traitor, always a traitor,” he replied. His voice was deep and harsh, sharp enough to cut through stone, and that wasn’t a metaphor. The walls and ground shook. The E-Grade defenders atop the walls screamed before a wide curtain of golden light spread over the entire length of the wall, shielding them. Jack was glad he had no body in this vision.
The woman’s eyes were hard now.
“Very well,” she responded commandingly. Her entire body erupted with a column of golden light that reached all the way to the sky, splitting the dense clouds, and ethereal wings spread from her back. “Then, let the emperor’s dog die here.”
Thundering shouts came from the immortals in the sky, joined by the still-reeling E-Grade defenders on the walls. Jack couldn’t see behind them, but he thought he heard many more voices rising from inside the fortress—either civilians or back-up forces.
He prepared himself. The main part was coming.
The bare-chested man smiled grimly. He did not move a muscle. Suddenly, a wave rolled out of him.
It was invisible and formless. Jack only sensed it when it washed over him, and he was instantly flooded with unease. The man’s form had changed, but not visibly. He had somehow gotten sharper, stronger, more intimidating; like he was a bomb of violence ready to explode. Like a killer, a tyrant, a monster, a devil.
A fiend.
An aura of palpable violence spread in all directions, drowning the town in fear. Screams rose all over. The immortals in the air dropped like flies. Only a few were able to resist, but they were unable to advance on the man.
Jack felt true terror grip his heart. This man would grab him and tear him limb from limb, bringing unimaginable pain. There was nothing he could do to resist, only despair.
He lost all power. His Dao was suppressed, his soul shivered, and he couldn’t stop shaking. If not for the protection of the System letting him experience this vision, he was sure he would have crumbled on the spot.
Jack could not see beyond the wall, but he sensed that people were dying in droves, their souls and wills crushed beyond redemption, overwhelmed by terror.
And the more people that fell, the stronger the bare-chested man grew. He fed on their death until his body overflowed with power, and the black-and-red aura around him grew so thick that it seemed to form horns over his head and leathery black wings on his back.
This all happened in an instant. The woman’s golden light did nothing to stop this aura. A second later, her face contorted in fury and despair. She charged forward, screaming, “Have you no honor?! No shame?!” at the top of her lungs, so hard it tore her throat and shook the heavens.
A lance of pure light materialized in her hand, filling the entire world with heat. The man clenched his fist and stepped forward. Then, abruptly, the vision cut off. It had shown what it wanted. The rest of the battle did not concern it.
Jack’s eyes snapped open. He realized he was sweating.
“Damn…” he muttered. “I’d forgotten how terrible it was.”
This was the Dao Vision he’d acquired after upgrading his class. There were a few key differences and one similarity compared to his first, the one with the bald, caped man.
The similarity were that both visions showcased the same level of power. Both the bald man and the bare-chested man were at the C-Grade. Idly, Jack wondered who of the two was stronger. Logically, it should be the bare-chested man, since he had appeared at a later Dao Vision—but even his terror failed to overshadow the bald man’s sense of unfathomable power.
Jack shook his head and let the thought go. It was like seeing two mountains from below and wondering which was taller. Perhaps, when he was stronger, he would understand.
Besides the power level, the two visions were different in everything else.
The bald man had taught Jack the Dao of the Fist, along with a hint of a skill that he transformed into Meteor Punch. The bare-chested man’s vision seemed entirely dedicated to the aura he used. It was a Dao Skill of extremely high caliber, and one that Jack couldn’t wait to get his hands on.
Feeding on the enemies’ terror and death. How cool was that?
Another difference was that this more recent vision gave a lot of context. Jack now knew that the Iron Fist Empire existed—or used to exist—and was a C-Grade faction at the time of the vision. He knew the bare-chested man’s identity—Baron Longform—and the circumstances surrounding the battle.
Was there a reason for these differences, or were all Dao Visions random? Were there different kinds? And, if so, which was better? A vision focused on the Dao, or one focused on a skill? Or was the skill just a stepping stone to a Dao Root?
The third and final difference was the intimacy of the vision. When the bald man punched, Jack was only a watcher. When the bare-chested man unleashed his aura, Jack was affected. He felt it deep in his soul. He experienced the terror of violence that the aura brought. Perhaps the nature of the Dao Vision had shielded him from the aura’s full effects—even immortals had fallen like flies—but he had still experienced it himself.
Presumably, that would make understanding it easier. But it would also make watching the vision harder. The aura was a deeply unpleasant feeling, like sinking into a nightmare you had no control over.
Jack wouldn’t be stopped by mere fear. But he wouldn’t rush into the vision more than necessary, either. Not unless he had to.
Let’s see, he considered, closing his eyes to concentrate. He tried to remember the feeling of the aura. Terror. Violence. Like being held down by a butcher you cannot overpower, like being trapped between a hungry lion’s jaws. Being at the mercy of someone else. Running from a nightmare, but no matter how hard you try, you remain at the same spot, and the monster approaches from behind.
And then what?
He came up short.
Man, I wish I had a coffee.
The Dao had a hint of magic in it. It transformed feelings, thoughts, and emotions into reality. Jack’s Dao of the Fist was the physical incarnation of his resolve to fight, his belief in his power, his determination to survive and triumph, his love for violence. By simply channeling those thoughts, Jack gained access to the power of the Dao of the Fist, which he then utilized by staying true to its path.
In a way, pursuing the Dao was a long process of understanding the world, understanding yourself, then angling yourself to look at the world through a specific perspective.
Dao Skills, in turn, were an application of one’s Dao, a particular train of thoughts and emotions that resonated with the Dao. They were like miniature Dao Roots.
Jack’s Meteor Punch was an explosion of power and violence, his determination to break the enemy. The Iron Fist Style was a Dao Skill that encompassed all physical components of his Dao.
Therefore, to comprehend what the Dao Vision was trying to teach him, he needed more than just a superficial understanding. It was extreme terror in the enemy leading to increased power for the wielder, yes. But how, exactly, did that work? What triggers were pulled in their minds?
Jack decided to break it into two parts. Part one was projecting his intention to unleash violence and causing terror so extreme that the weaker enemies died outright. Part two was harnessing that terror for himself.
It feels…evil, somehow, Jack realized. Fiendlike. There was a love for violence hidden deep in his soul. It was part of his Dao. Now, this new skill struck a chord close to that, which Jack usually kept hidden. He felt apprehensive.
But why? I am neither ashamed or afraid. I am simply myself.
There was no space for doubts in the path of the fist.
Jack dived into the first part of the vision. It actually felt like the easy part, because he could already do something similar.
More than once during the tournament, he had released an air of brutality around him. It was when he really wanted to beat up someone, like when he fought Shard Presht after realizing how fucked up things were, or when he decided to murder Rufus Emberheart.
Shard Presht had flinched, and the spectators had seemed terrified both times. Even Rufus Emberheart’s final mistake could be attributed to his fear, which was partly a result of Jack’s unwavering determination to kill him or die trying.
In other words, this skill would be great for eliminating a large number of weaker opponents or weakening strong ones. Being able to activate it at will would certainly come in handy.
In fact, people didn’t need the Dao to achieve this. When someone was enraged, the minds of everyone in the vicinity rang with alarm bells. It was a survival instinct developed through evolution.
Is the skill building on top of that? Jack wondered. Hmm. How, exactly, do people broadcast their rage? Tense bodies? Wide eyes? Gnashed teeth? Shouting?
No. Those are mundane things. They can maybe lead me to a skill, but not a Dao skill. I need something deeper.
Is it the feeling? Do I need to embrace my intent to maul the enemy?
Okay. Let’s take another look at the vision.
Jack’s world faded away—
“Jared,” a voice came from the ceiling. “Jared. Are you there?”
Jack opened his eyes, letting the vision dissipate before it could begin. He sighed. “Yes, Captain?”
Dordok couldn’t hear him—though he could, if he wanted to. He also didn’t need a speaker to reach Jack. He just didn’t spread his senses to this room to respect Jack’s personal space.
“Well, I hope you can hear me. Come to my cabin. We have to talk.”
Comments
Valerios
Nope. Typo -- and fixed!
ElJako98
Is the Captain supposed to know his name is Jack?
