Yshomatsu was an ancient monk who had mastered many arts. One such art caused his body to never age a day beyond twenty-six. He was part of an underground organization that secretly controlled the world. One of the reasons their organization had succeeded in their goal to control everything was the discovery of the mystical dream world. It was a dimension no one truly understood, but it allowed the monks to have meetings and deliver messages without worry of getting caught.
After many years of using the dream world for their own ambitions, a few monks went missing. In search of answers, the order had turned to one of their own who had isolated himself for many decades to work on his research. Yshomatsu was that person, called upon in a time of need.
Reluctant to put his research on hold, Yshomatsu had only agreed because of a twisted dream that had occurred the night before being asked. In this dream he had become the victim of a Succubus, yet had somehow still managed to save the missing monks.
Yshomatsu left his bedroom with concern written on his face. In his dream he had turned into a dragon in order to defeat the Succubus. The Dragon form was a spell he had been working on for years. Perhaps it only works in the dream, he thought. Maybe this was why his real world projects had failed in the past. He made his way to his extensive library, filled with many books gathered over decades.
In his dream he had gone after the monks blind and unprepared, rushing into a fight with a demon that he hadn't been ready for. Maybe it was a sign that nothing could prepare him for what was to come. Yshomatsu vaguely remembered a book he had found over one hundred years ago, a treatise on demons. He was on a quest to find it.
After a few hours of searching he came to the leather bound book he was seeking. Flipping through the pages describing mighty demons he finally came to the section covering demons that were physically weak. The first demon listed in the section was the Succubus. Bold writing at the top stated, "Though the Succubus is one of the weakest demons known to man, she is also perhaps the most dangerous." It went on to detail how the Succubus never needs to fight due to the fact that no mortal can resist her charms.
A sick feeling filled his gut. His dream made sense now, given how easy it was to fall under the Succubus' spell. Determined to find a way to defeat her quickly, he kept reading.
The pages were filled with details of how the demon feeds on the human soul through sexual acts. It even showed pictures which, unbeknownst to Yshomatsu, combined with the memory of his dream was causing a reaction within his robes. Reaching down he began to touch himself while staring at a portrait of the Succubus' face.
A few moments went by before a moan escaped his mouth as he realized what he was doing. Yshomatsu shook his head to clear his thoughts. He worried how easily this creature might tempt him, for it attacked a man's weakest, most vulnerable side. He continued to read. The book detailed that once a Succubus haunts someone, the only way to purge it is to summon and banish it. Something felt fishy about this part: the book didn't go into much detail regarding the banishing. It focused on the summoning, and in the back of Yshomatsu's mind a sense of a trap formed.
Hoping it wouldn't come to that, Yshomatsu put the book aside. He was determined to practice a few more offensive and binding spells before entering the Dream World. Yshomatsu's laboratory was filled with the sounds of warfare, pieces of dummies scattered all over the room. His body spun in the air, and his staff moved so quickly it appeared as though a shield was formed around Yshomatsu. Martial arts mixed with spells gave Yshomatsu the tools he would need to fight the demon from his dream.
Many hours later he slept, and began his journey to the old cave in his dream. Yshomatsu traveled at night to avoid the many soldiers and battles being fought in the area. A small cloth was wrapped tightly around his eyes, forcing him to reach out with his other senses. This was a skill the monks used to prevent their eyes from playing tricks on them in the dark.
The world was being molded slowly into the Order's ideal creation. Once they placed their own within the highest seats of governments it was only a matter of time before everything was under their control. Yshomatsu believed that peace would be the result, at least for a few years, many if they were lucky. Only time would tell however, if those placed in power would be corrupted by it.
He traveled through the dry waste land where his ancient cave resided beyond; it had been a lush jungle before years of bloodshed laid waste to everything. The giant trees had been plundered to fuel the fires of war, and on the far edge marked the end of the known world. Monstrous mountain ranges made the area never fully explored due to their steep slopes and sharp rocky surface. Within those mountains Yshomatsu discovered a well hidden cavern system. For a little more than a decade he had called it home, before finding his current resident in the isolated Grand Canyon created in a massive earth quake a few years ago.
Suddenly he felt another's presence. Crouching low, Yshomatsu hid mere moments before a Knight's patrol strode into the area.
Shit, unlucky already, he thought as he tried to stay out of sight. With his thoughts distracting him, he hadn't noticed the Knight's presence ahead of time like he should have.
"Spread out men," the Knight called out. He could have sworn he had seen movement within the shadows. The Knight's men unsheathed their blades while fanning out in a wider formation. Yshomatsu calmed his breathing. He wouldn't fight unless he had to, but these men weren't going to stop him from his rescue mission.
The Knight's horse stomped upon the ground, eager to be on the move again. A storm was forming overhead, rain slowly starting to fall, making the ground slick. The men drew closer to Yshomatsu, who remained motionless. Once they passed by him he began to slowly move on. But a lone stone under his foot gave way once he moved.
The stone echoed as it clashed with gravity, just loud enough for the closest soldier to hear it. Having no other choice Yshomatsu acted. The Knight watched in horror as, moving as if a blur painted on the horizon, Yshomatsu knocked out his men one after the other until all that remained were the Knight and his startled horse.
Yshomatsu slowly approached the Knight, staff tucked under his armpit.
"I don't know who you are but I can't let you pass," the Knight yelled.
Yshomatsu's hood had been blown off by the storm's wind, revealing his blindfold. Lightning struck, providing the Knight with a clear view of the man before him. He was shocked to see that a blindfolded man had defeated his entire squad. The man didn't stop slowly moving forward.
"Very well," the Knight said as he grabbed his sword and kicked his horse to drive it forward.
Yshomatsu rolled to his left at the last possible moment, avoiding the downward thrust of the Knight's blade. Swinging his staff backwards once he was back on his feet he smacked it into the horses' back legs, causing them to buckle and lower the horse's hindquarters to the ground. The Knight slid off and rolled in the mud as his horse ran away, more frightened than hurt.
The Knight rose to his feet and turned towards the monk who was now spinning his staff in a figure eight formation. The Knight couldn't fathom how a blinded man could move so quickly. Pushing all thoughts to the back of his mind the Knight charged forward, his armor creating loud noises that easily gave away his position.
Yshomatsu dodged swing after swing of the Knight's sword until finally one came too close. The very tip cut into the side of Yshomatsu's forehead, slashing the blindfold on its way. Yshomatsu stumbled back from the blow, eyes blinking fast trying to adjust to the slight but noticeable light difference. His body reacted which caused his eyes to glow bright green as he returned to a defensive stance.
The Knight was blinded by the man's bright eyes, throwing off his next attack. Yshomatsu used this time to strike a blow to the Knight's upper chest, followed by a low cut behind his knees, sending the Knight down into the mud, coughing for air. The many years of combining Martial arts with magic had molded the Monk's body into the perfect weapon; able to perform acts like second nature that others could only dream of.
By the time the Knight recovered the strange man was long gone. In the distance his men began to wake up. Each would suffer a headache for the rest of the night. The Knight couldn't get the seared image of the man's bright eyes out of his mind. He headed in the direction the man was heading, determined to confront him again. The Knight sent one of his footmen to retrieve reinforcements and meet him at the nearby town.
When daylight came Yshomatsu stopped at a local village inn. Needing shelter, he also hoped to avoid being found again by the Knight by staying in a room and keeping to himself. He could only assume the Knight would be out searching for him after losing so quickly last night. He paid for a room in the back of the inn. The innkeeper had looked at his dirty robes but didn't say anything. Upon entering the room he gazed around, it was small. It would do fine he thought, keep a low profile and slip away when the sun sets.
He sat down on the room's small bed and addressed his wound. Luckily, it wasn't deep. While resting he would focus his body to quicken the cut's healing, it would take a lot of concentration. He relaxed back on the bed; his staff leaned against the wall nearby. Controlling his breathing he focused his mind on the injury. He could feel his body as it began to obey his will; the area around his wound throbbed and slowly closed.
Bang...
bang. He jolted up to his feet, someone was at the door. Could it be the Knight he wondered to himself. He reached for his staff, but the close quarters of the inn's room would make the staff useless he thought before he threw it on the bed. He would have to rely on hand to hand combat in this fight. The wound stung, bringing back the memory of the sharp blade in a flash, he wasn't given enough time to heal it. The person knocked again.
