A Thousand Burning Masks

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Do not call me a coward."

He charged at me just as I unsheathed my scalpel. My reflection was clear on the blade's smooth surface.

My scars. The face didn't cover them. But for once, I didn't feel vulnerable.

I had regarded these scars as a curse, the taint of the man who used and humiliated me. Because of them, I hid indoors, shying away from the sun. I loved being a Facechanger because I had hidden underneath other people's faces for so long, and they gave me the illusion that I was perfect.

I didn't need to be perfect. Even the High Immortals weren't perfect. These scars were my past, the battlecry I would scream as I fought against the very thing that branded it on my face. They made me Sarna.

I twirled the scalpel between my fingers, letting it fly and soar. Electricity crackled along the jagged edges of the blade as I swiped it through the air. I lurched forward, cutting a curve in the air toward Wulin. He stepped back and raised his staff to meet my strike. Both weapons collided, spitting sparks as the energies of a High Immortal clashed with the powers of a High Demon.

The world was beneath me, and I was the power that churned the clouds and strew the rain. Staring at my opponent, pain and sorrow crashed toward me. Perhaps, Wulin really wished the best for Erden, but his vision was skewed and distorted, so much so, it shattered his humanity. He wanted to set the people in Erden free, as did I.

He chose the wrong master to bend the knee.

Wulin blasted a ray of concentrated Chaotic energy at me. I blocked it with my scalpel, dispersing the energy into fine sparks. He had framed a group of people who wanted nothing more but to earn an honest living by entertaining people. He had tricked me into believing my friends stood a chance against the Imperials. I shed my consciousness and went against everything Mr. Long had taught me. I became a face-skinning monster who stole the face of a dead girl who did not deserve such a horrible death. I'd sullied and tarnished my consciousness.

I blocked his every blow. Every hit sent a painful jolt up my arm. I ducked and swiped, both of us locked in a deadly dance. We were equal in skill and power.

They are balanced, as neither can cancel out the other.

I didn't have to end his life, but I could make him suffer.

Like how you tortured Biyu. Like how you tortured me. Like how you poisoned the thoughts of Wulin and used him to harm others.

With a scream, I lunged forward and brought the fan down, drawing every bit of energy crackling within me.

I was given the powers of Creation. I would create.

My scalpel struck the ground, cutting it clean open. For a moment, the world was silent. Wulin stared, his staff raised, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Dust motes froze, as did time. Golden light blossomed from the crack.

I leaped back as a hole yawned open, spiraling outward in a perfect circle, obliterating everything in its path. The entire hall quaked, shaking the dragon statues off the pillars, sending them hurtling down into the deep, dark chasm.

Wulin let loose a deranged howl and ran, trying to escape the yawning blackness chasing him beneath.

I rose into the air as the power of creation hummed through me. I was Creation. All things alive were mine. Reaching deep into the ground, I coaxed the roots of old trees to break to the surface, stretching from their deep slumber. I directed them forward. Like snakes leaping upon a rat, the roots twisted themselves around Wulin's ankle, jerking him off balance and dragging him into the ever-growing hole.