Chapter 1: Recalibrating

Bare blades flashed in the midday sun.

The man approached slowly, elegant white robes flowing in the cool breeze. A stone mask covered his face, carved in the likeness of a terrifying yaoguai - a demon from the Eighteen Hells. Only his eyes and mouth were visible, the latter framed by too many teeth.

Even from a distance, Yan could feel the power emanating from him. She knew who he was: A xiake, powerful qi users sworn to uphold their so-called codes of honour. And it was an honour to kill people like her - people with any shred of magic in their veins.

She readied herself, her own blade - a crude, rough hunk of iron forged by some roadside blacksmith - clutched tight in both hands.

The windows and doors of the houses around her were shut tight and the normally bustling street was empty.

The xiake stopped a few paces away. The air hummed with tension.

Almost gently, her opponent lowered the tip of his sword until it pointed directly at her chest. Then, he said, voice silky, “Drop your blade and I promise you a fair trial.”

For a moment, she considered his offer. His voice, buttery and smooth, almost made her want to believe him.

Instead, Yan gritted her teeth and redoubled her grip on her sword. Only a fool would surrender. Better to die in battle than to die at the end of a headsman’s axe.

“Very well,” he replied. Yan could not help but imagine a spark of pity in his eyes.

With no further warning, he lunged.

Sparks flew through the air as Yan brought her blade up just in time to fend off the blow. She was no slouch with the sword but this man moved with supernatural speed.

Already, his blade was slashing in from her right.

She shifted, twisting to meet her opponent. Fine-wrought steel ground against crude iron as their swords met. Following through with her movement, Yan brought her blade around, chopping at his neck.

It sailed clean over his head as he ducked.

His sword flashed forward in a stab.

Yan stumbled back and tried to retaliate with a jab of her own - only to realise that he was already well outside her range.

His sword was held to the side at an angle, blood dripping slowly from the tip.

Her blood.

She had already been wounded. There was a nick in her right shoulder, just deep enough to make her bleed. Yan knew that he had pulled the blade right before it sliced through bone.

It was a warning, one last chance for her to throw down her sword.

Sweat dripped down her forehead. She was outmatched in a fair duel, she knew.

But who said that she had to play fair?

Lifting her blade into the air, Yan could feel a tingling run through her veins. She opened her mouth and a voice not her own spilt forth in a strange, rhythmic chant.

[Drain]

Any powerful spell a mage wished to cast always began with this.

The world shifted. Suddenly, she could feel the life force of all those around her. The xiake, the roadside plants, the people still taking refuge in the surrounding buildings.

Then, she felt them scream. Their life force surged into her slender frame. The hedges that lined the streets withered into ash and Yan could feel those taking refuge choke and die.

The very air itself seemed to distort and the tingling in her veins built up into a powerful roar.

The xiake reeled backwards, gasping. Slicing a pattern into the air, his eyes flared white as he incanted,

Immediately, light pulsated from his body, flowing into an ethereal tidal wave that loomed above the street. It gushed forward, sweeping into a swirling torrent that engulfed the xiake, keeping out the [Drain].

“What have you done?” He shouted, furious. “How many more must you kill?”

In an open field, the [Drain] might have drawn enough mana for a [Fireball].

In a city? It was power untold.

Death untold.

Yan felt a tear trickle down her cheek - and dashed it away, furious.

Voice crackling with energy, she snarled, her voice booming like thunder from the skies above, “That was not my fault!”

Mana poured forth from her body in a wave of blue.

[Telekinesis]

With a guttural cry, the world around her rose, the cobbles flying off the streets, tiles off roofs, entire columns tumbling skywards. It was remarkable how powerful a simple [Telekinesis] spell could be when you had the power of a hundred lives at your command.

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Another tear tumbled down her cheek. And another.

Her opponent bared his teeth and darted towards her, blade aimed directly for her heart. Immediately, the airborne debris flew at him, pummeling into his barrier and keeping him back with sheer mass alone.

She blinked away the water in her eyes and brought her left hand high into the air. Again, she chanted in an otherworldly voice.

[Hellfire Javelin]

Mana flowed out from her upturned hand, coalescing into a huge flaming javelin forged from the fires of hell itself. It still burned, the flames around it a raging inferno.

The xiake’s eyes widened. He leapt into the air and cut a pattern into the fabric of the world, shouting, .

The pattern glowed searing white. Then, they separated into their individual strokes, expanding as they pieced themselves together over his sword to form one thrice the size.

With a howl, Yan flung the javelin at her airborne opponent. He narrowed his eyes and swung his blade.

Piercing through his ethereal shield like a hot knife through butter, the javelin slammed into the sword with concussive force.

A shockwave rippled outwards, blasting the levitating rubble back.

Behind his sword, the xiake grimaced, shaking with effort as he held the javelin at bay.

There was a thunderous crack.

A single fault line began to trace its way down the flat of his blade.

The man’s eyes narrowed in concentration. For a moment more, his blade held.

Then, it shattered.

A thousand pieces of light and steel tumbled through the air.

The javelin sailed right through, piercing the xiake through the shoulder and driving him earthwards. He smashed into the street with a resounding crash, pulverising the stone beneath.

He gasped and tried to rise but Yan was already there, her blade pointed at his throat.

Voice trembling with the weight of the mana flowing through her, she sneered, “Are you ready to die?”

He coughed up a wad of bubbling blood. The javelin, still burning, was boiling him up from the inside. Any ordinary man would have been dead by now.

Still, he managed to snarl through gritted teeth, “I am. But are you?”

There was no point in letting him suffer.

She dropped to one knee, raised her sword high in both hands and brought it down, piercing through his heart.

He inhaled sharply, eyes widening.

But still, he refused to die. The qi within him was weakening, however, and she could feel it flowing into her.

Even through all that pain, his lips moved beneath the teeth of his yaoguai mask, “You… You can’t control it, can you? Your - Your [Drain].”

He coughed out more blood. It sizzled as it hit the pavement.

“We know.”

How? How did they know?

A wave of unease rippled through Yan. The mana was still pouring in. There should not be so much.

A stream of crimson had begun to trickle out from the yaoguai’s mouth, pooling onto the streets. Somehow, despite the agony, he reached out.

Touched her arm.

No. He slapped something onto her arm: A magic-casting seal.

“I’ll see you… on the other side,” he choked out. Even through the tiny slots in his mask, she could see his eyes glisten with mirth.

A shiver ran down her spine. This was a trap. But why was there so much mana?

The next moment, she felt it. At the very edges of her [Drain]. A single life force, brighter and more powerful than any she had ever felt.

She scrambled to her feet, tearing madly at the seal. It was futile. There was a reason the users of qi were so adept mage-killers.

Vast amounts of mana were still pouring in and with the seal, there was no outlet, nothing new she could cast to let it out. She felt her entire body quake and tremble as she fought to contain the energy.

But there was too much. Yan felt something within her give way.

Wracked with intense, searing pain, she dropped back down onto one knee as the mana roiled within her body.

Then, everything erupted into blinding light.

***

Yan opened her eyes to a soot-stained ceiling, her body groggy and weak. She felt like she had just been trampled by a hundred war chariots. And at least half of them had decided to come back for seconds.

Her ears rang.

For a moment, she fought to remember what had just happened.

The fight. The xiake. The eruption.

She shot up into a seating position and her head flared in pain. Gasping, she reached for the blade that usually hung by her side - and grasped nothing but cool air and some strange material that was smooth to the touch.

Her eyes darted downwards and she froze.

Where were her clothes?

In place of her usual garb was a tight, full-body garment that ran from her neck all the way down to her ankles. It was stark white and made from the same smooth material she had just felt. Decorative black strips ran up the sides.

Another strip ran down the middle. This looked a little different, though, like many small, interlocking black teeth. There was also a little rectangle attached at the top. If Yan had to guess, pulling it down would get her out of this outfit.

On her feet, she wore a pair of white boots.

Tentatively, she pulled at her new clothes, feeling them stretch. When she let go, the material sprang back into place, conforming to the shape of her body.

For some reason, she knew what it was.

“A bodysuit,” she said aloud. Her voice sounded strange to her ears. Hoarse. She probably needed some water.

Either way, whatever it was called, she could not help but feel a little naked. There was something about the way it clung to her frame that left little to the imagination.

At least she was decent. Somewhat.

More importantly, why could she not remember anything else?

Trying to peer into her past was like wading through fog.

Who was she? What happened before all that fighting? None of that was coming back to her. All she felt was a profound sadness, a longing for something that she had left behind.

She had to remember.

She had to get back.

Cradling her still-pounding head, she slowly got to her feet. At least the ringing in her ears was fading.

Yan glanced around and saw that she was in a chamber filled with smashed metal and fallen scrap. The only thing that still stood was a charred metallic arch in the centre of the room. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a barrel of gunpowder had gone off in here.

As she watched, the entire upper half of the arch began to sag inward.

With a shriek of tortured metal, it crumbled and cascaded onto the ground with a crash, sending metal fragments whizzing through the air.

Instinctively, Yan threw herself aside.

But her body refused to respond with her usual elegance of motion. Instead of diving behind the twisted remains of some unidentifiable contraption, she crashed face-first into the ground.

“Owwww…” Yan groaned in pain, massaging her nose. It felt strange through her gloves and for a moment, she was worried that she might have broken it.

What just happened? That little leap should have been well within her abilities.

Pushing herself up, she gave herself a once-over. Her clothes were still stretchy but there were no wounds.

Her brief sense of relief evaporated quickly.

What was going on?

She glanced over at the fallen arch, noting its hollow construction and the black tubes that now trailed out from within. A few of the latter had been severed in the fall and now sparked menacingly.

Was that where she had come from? But how? The arch did not seem to lead anywhere aside from the back of the chamber.

Yan blinked twice, trying to get rid of some dust that had gotten into her eye.

There was a metallic click, followed by an upbeat chime.

A cheerful, feminine voice began speaking, “Alert! New brainwaves detected. I’m recalibrating!”

Startled, Yan reached for her blade only to remember that it was still missing.

Instead, she curled her hands into fists. She had no idea who this “Recalibrating” was but if it proved hostile, her fists would have to do the trick.