Stellium Bonus Chapter -Countdown

In the vast mountain ranges of China as the seconds ticked lower and lower, a man’s body propelled itself upwards at great speed through the water. Bubbles of air gushed and popped on the surface in a flurry. The man soon followed and erupted in a tremendous splashing noise. He sent spray, ripples, and waves all around that lapped the edges of the tree lined pool. As deep gasps punctuated the nearly otherwise silent night, the man felt his lungs begin to refill with air. He struggled for a moment to get his breathing under control, as the innate fear of drowning was still upon him.

Order returning to his insides, he trod water for a moment, legs working in synchronisation, as a mechanical beeping replaced the noise of exertion. Swimming over to the side he shut off the source of the noise, a stopwatch that had been measuring his efforts. It was a digital face covered in waterproof black rubber. The man still didn't feel good enough because he couldn't get himself past the two-minute mark, having reached a plateau earlier this year.

He lay back in the hot spring, looking high above him as serenity returned to the night. His head just below the surface of the water, he directed himself towards the centre where the greatest source of warmth permeated from the Earth's crust. Calm currents diffused from the man's body as he swam and lapped against the smoothened but still roughly hewn rocks that created an edge around the embracing pool. There was very little around to be heard at this late hour; the man preferred it this way. With living in a small society, it was guaranteed that everyone knew your business and wanted to talk to you about it. This was why waiting until the others went to sleep was key to him getting some peace finally.

But there was something at the back of his mind that he couldn't shake. As he had been submerged in the calmness of the water, he was convinced he had seen a light above him through the darkness. He’d brought a lantern with him, so knew it couldn't have been this. This was also what had brought him up from his training. But there was nothing when he returned to the world above. He had again let himself get distracted and this had caused the sense that he was going to perish. His survival instincts had kicked in as he swallowed the rest of the air he was preciously conserving, and his body threw him upwards to continue existing.

Listing lazily, he looked at the forested area that surrounded him. Apart from a trailing path there were trees around him on all sides, they grew so densely you would be hard pressed to see very far. In the haze of this his flickering lantern cast its glow, burning cheerfully. He watched it for a moment and believed he was right by what he had seen next – snowflakes. Small, white, and carefully dancing, drawing him in as they fell, settling down through the lamplight onto the grass. There had been a warning earlier by the National Meteorological Centre of heavy snowfall.

He was reasonably sure there was nothing to worry about. Glancing upwards towards the heavens he saw through the jagged edges of stone half a mile above him where pale moonlight just managed to provide a small glimpse into the outside world. The shaft above him wasn’t wide enough to allow for any type of torrential weather. At most, they would get continued flurries like the one he could see falling now. The storm clouds would have to settle with the exterior rocks for the bulk of their wrath.

Being inside a mountain offered peacefulness from the elements and security from the everyone else. The interior of his home was shaped like an upside-down funnel. It had been excavated years ago to facilitate their undisclosed settlement away from prying eyes. It was just one of the vast expanses of peaks in the Kunlun Mountain range on the pinnacle of the uninhabited part of western Tibet called the Ngari Prefecture. A perfect hideaway from everyone who wasn’t privy to either their lifestyle or their mission.

The man staring skyward with interest at the falling snow was called Xing Hu. Of Chinese nationality himself, he had strong features and a healthy tuft of black hair which currently lay plastered to his head. His body was wiry through extensive training. He looked down as steam from the hot spring skated across the water's surface. He could just see his red swimming shorts through the liquid and vapour. The mountain was carved downwards just far enough for the geothermal energy to warm the water and ground sufficiently without being a danger to the residents. They often got weather like this in the region, so were grateful for the natural underfloor heating.

The snow that was falling along the pathway was turning to water droplets, sinking beneath the soil to quench the trees. Even though it wasn’t cold enough here for it to settle, his own upper body was starting to cool. The bottom half of him was still sunken beneath the water, so kept the rest of the chill from reaching him. Swimming over to the side, creating more ripples in his wake, he raised himself out of the water onto one of the surrounding rocks. He made a large sloshing noise that rang through the enclosure.

He allowed the water to drain off him onto the smooth stone. Some of the overflow trickled back silently into the hot spring. Picking up a plain white towel, he draped it over his shoulders. What had happened earlier was still bothering him. He was convinced there had been the slight glow of a light through the depths of the water. Given the evidence, though, he allayed this as a disturbance of his mind, putting it down to something which had been plaguing him in the last few days. Picking up his lantern and stopwatch, he started off down the pathway to his home. Patting himself down with the towel in his free hand, he took one last look behind him for good measure, leaving behind the translucent pool of liquid. Darkness and silence had returned.

Xing Hu’s body was perfectly sculpted for a man of his age. The only thing anyone would notice as a temporary flaw was a large bruise along his left side. This was his comeuppance for losing a sparring match the other day. His partner at the time had managed to catch him off guard and delivered a massive blow to his side which knocked him off his feet. Only wearing thin orange robes meant they had little protection against any injuries. He took solace in the fact that before his own downfall in the match he had mostly had the upper hand. He was particularly proud of delivering a foot sweep to unbalance his opponent and strike a chest blow whilst he was still in the process of falling to knock him further back. The problem he’d found was that his foe got back up whilst he was in the process of celebrating a premature victory.

For most of his life Xing Hu had belonged to an order of people at the Shaolin Buddhist temple that was secreted away in the mountains. The monks here were peaceful and only trained in martial arts as a form of training and knowledge rather than combat. They were one of the surviving remnants of an ancient past the world had since forgotten. The stunning truth of Earth’s history now endured through them, and all the deadly horrors that followed with their knowledge. As silent guardians they watched from afar, knowing that true evil would eventually find a way to return to the lands. It was their duty to be prepared to confront it.

The society revered three sacred beasts, the tiger, the ox, and the dragon. They organised their disciples into houses, each based on one of these animals. Xing Hu belonged to the Dragon House. Though they all studied martial arts, each division’s techniques were built around the house’s namesake. His own was believed to be the most powerful due to the creature their style of martial arts was based upon. Following his abject defeat at the hands of a Tiger House resident, however, this was clearly not the case.

The tiger and dragon styles of martial arts were officially recognised in China. The style of the ox was one which had been developed by the group, so it was not known to anyone apart from the students here. There were never more than eighteen people housed at the temple at once. A small society, there were five students per house - each were assigned a ‘shifu’, or teacher, who made up the rest. In a world of their own they were free to train in peaceful tranquillity, free of the tumultuous nature of the rest of mankind.

Everyone here was treated as equals. They found purpose in their lives through friendship and duty. The only time students ventured out from their retreat was once per month, when it was necessary to resupply. Only two were chosen to go on a rotational basis, so it meant the isolation lasted months at a time. Understanding each other as brothers and sisters this undoubtedly left people frustrated after a prolonged period. They craved the thirst of an adrenaline rush, something their daily routine couldn’t quench. It would end in a battle royale involving everyone there, even the shifu. Because the students were all on par with each other there wasn’t a single person who didn’t end up with some bumps and bruises. The release of frustration left them renewed with higher morale and more tightly knit comrades.

A person didn’t choose to come here; they were recruited to serve the cause. Xing Hu had been approached by his now shifu following a victory at a regional martial arts competition. All that were accepted into the society since its creation were said to have certain character traits that made them different from a normal person. People denoted to the Dragon House were said to have a strong heart with dormant power waiting to be released. Students of Tiger House were said to be fast as lightning, fearsome if angered. Lastly, in Ox House, a person was depicted as having unaccountable strength coupled with a strong mind to make them formidable opponents.

As Xing Hu approached the temple, he listened to his bare feet slapping lightly on the stone pathway. With the snow continuing to fall lightly on him, he began to ponder over what had been concerning him recently. As part of their training, meditation was a required practice to hone discipline and focus. Through this medium, it was said that a person could sometimes gain visions. Although the exact meaning was not always clear, Xing Hu had received one and it was beginning to consume his daily life. He could only have described it as profoundly ominous. His instinct was that something terrible was about to happen. He’d not really let his guard drop since that day, feeling constantly on edge.

The vision had shown him a world on fire. Although he’d never been to any of the places, he recognised cities such as London and Paris by their famous landmarks. These landmarks were toppled and disintegrated. People fled for safety and their lives in the thousands as destruction ensued. They were pursued and claimed by creatures that were the stuff of nightmares. It ended with a view of the Earth hanging in space, a darkness slowly enveloped it. Light was extinguished from the world by country then by continent under a blanket of black fog, until it was impossible to distinguish any colour underneath.

Xing Hu had chosen not to share the vision with his shifu for fear of the answer he might receive regarding the meaning. There was also the shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t have been believed. Tomaru was a strict but understanding man. Xing Hu didn’t feel like crossing the bridge of challenging him until he had his own explanation. His attention had diverted to research the books contained in the library here and establish what he could before approaching Tomaru. He hoped for a logical answer rather than an apocalyptic one. His efforts up until this point had been a fruitless attempt. He headed there now to try once again.

With the mountain being so high up it made the air still and thin. It made training tougher, but not so much that an oxygen mask was required. Over time some birds and other animals had been introduced to the forest, which were all gratefully fed by the doting students. He heard them rustling in the trees as the night wore on. The forest began to thin. Staring at the pathway in the lamplight he still used it as a guide to take him to the temple.

He passed through an archway. It was painted red and decorated with gold along the top. This was the entrance marker for the hallowed grounds he was proud to call home. In pristine condition, it never saw any signs of rust, nor would it ever. The temple loomed ahead of him, the silhouette growing larger with every step he took. A large two-tiered building that sat in the shadow of the mountain wall, Xing Hu was always reminded of an Erlenmeyer flask whenever he thought about this little community of his. To a giant high above they would have resembled an ant farm.

The temple itself was a wooden and stone structure. It was the same stone that had once stood in its place, having been smoothed and shaped into walls. The wood came from the forest generations ago. The majority was a soft grey colour with a creamy brown for the wood effects. Ornate stone pots decorated the perimeter. Plants were struggling to sprout in them with the earliness of the year. This was where everyone slept, ate, and relaxed.

A second building stood away from the temple. A three-storey pagoda of similar design housed their training and meditation areas. On the top floor was the library, complete with the archives of the Shaolin. The last structure was a secondary gateway, decorated like the first, it stood in front of the curved mountain. Like its counterpart this one never showed signs of ageing or rust. Everyone here knew the particular purpose for this doorway.

Xing Hu finished drying himself off before he entered the temple with the purpose of changing. He wanted to get a few more hours in at the library before everyone else rose for the day. Lack of sleep from the vision was undoubtedly starting to affect his concentration. He felt the bruise along his side as it ached and thought back to the fight. Even if he had been celebrating too early, he would normally have countered with ease. Vladimir Novák was a tough Czechoslovakian albino. He was thickly set with muscles. Xing Hu normally had the advantage of speed, but not last time.

Placing the lantern down, he slid the wooden screen door across slowly to prevent the usual rattle. He would need to do the next part from memory in the dark. A few feet from the entrance were the stairs which he climbed to the next level. He stepped carefully, trying not to let the wood creak under foot. Six rooms were located on the first floor, all of them living quarters. Three for the students of each house and a room each for the shifu. The shifu dormitories faced their respective houses along the corridor. The door to Dragon House was right at the end.

Faced with another rattling door to get in, he only opened this one so far as he could slide in with his lithe body. Five futons lay about the room with no ordering, four currently occupied. There was no gender separation here, although the girls did demand privacy when it came to changing and bathing. They all slept softly, not knowing one of their own was creeping around in the dead of night. He stepped through them carefully. It would be all too easy to trip over a stray limb.

The walls were mainly bare apart from a small window which let in some feeble light. It was only just enough to see by. He knew where everything should be in the room, but the people in it were unpredictable. The roof held a chandelier of extinguished candles. A wardrobe occupied most of the left-hand wall. It was divided equally with five doors along it. Xing Hu crossed over to his door, which like everything else tonight seemed determined to creak. He wondered if it was an omen that he shouldn’t carry on and should instead return to bed like the rest of his comrades.

With the images stuck in his mind, he knew he must continue his research. He noticed Yuuta’s arm was overhanging. If he hadn’t noticed, he had risked hitting him after swinging the door fully open. Inside was a set of plain clothes and three orange-coloured uniforms, each was decorated front and back with the Dragon House emblem. Numerous personal belongings littered his space. He knew where they all were, even though he couldn’t see them. They were all the worldly possessions he had thought to bring with him when he was recruited aged eighteen.

A good luck charm that his little brother had made for him upon the announcement he was leaving, and a locket that his mother had gifted him. It contained a photograph of his parents on their wedding day. His father had died before Xing Hu had left the family home. Pinned to the inside of the door was a photo of a girl with long black hair. He often wondered if he would ever see her again, and if his mother had given him the locket to tempt him back home at times of loneliness. A lot of time had passed since then.

He chose to put on his plain clothes, the ones he used for supply runs when his turn came around. It was the middle of the night, so he doubted he would be chastised for not wearing his formal uniform. He stripped down and placed the sodden items in the wardrobe, intending to dry them property later. He kept the stopwatch with him. Changing into old jeans with holes in them, a red polo neck t-shirt and tatty trainers he closed the door, ready to attempt his exit.

Halfway across, a grunt emitted from Majeh as he turned noisily on his futon. Xing Hu watched in horror, glancing around nervously at everyone. It appeared to have gone unnoticed - no one stirred. He hurriedly moved across the rest of the room, closing the door behind him. It didn’t creak this time, which he took as a good sign now he was set on his intentions. Nearly leaping down the stairs as the rush of fear invigorated him, he once more felt ready to act.

Outside again he took a deep breath of the cool night air, liking how it felt. Relief washed over him that he had not yet been discovered, although he knew it was inevitable if his performance continued to slip. If he fell asleep during meditation later today, then Tomaru would no doubt have his meals taken away from him for such an insult. Picking his lantern up, he hopped down from the temple stairs onto the soft ground, heading left to the pagoda. Snowflakes still drifted down in a constant shower.

The pagoda, in comparison to the temple, had heavy steel doors. Decorated with pinheads around the edges, the head of a large bird either side held the ring-shaped door handles. Pulling one of them open he heard the forest trees rustling and instinctively spun around, jumping into a defensive stance. Eyes darting around hastily, he realised his mistake, sighing to himself. It must have been one of the animals. This paranoia had to end soon. He entered the pagoda.

Before him was a large dojo that took over the whole ground floor. This was used for meditation and unarmed combat. It was mirrored on the next level. The main difference between the two was that the upstairs one had weapons cases lining the walls. A spiral stone staircase wound upwards in the corner of the room. The stone had been worn away through centuries of use, the steps curved underfoot.

Reaching the top of the staircase he stepped out again onto another wooden floor. This room was vastly different to the two downstairs. A quarter of the floor was sectioned off, with a door leading to a second room. The first was filled to the brim with bookcases piled high with many old texts. Several sturdy wooden tables and chairs were scattered around. The shifu believed in training the mind as well as the body, so encouraged the students to read as much as they could. With no television or internet, it was one of the few forms of entertainment available.

The other room contained even more archives. These included a lot of first-hand information about historical events and how they played out at the time. This was constantly sealed off because of what else was contained in there. A student could only get in with the permission of their shifu. This was a rarity, and even then they were to be supervised at all times. The temptations contained within warranted it. Xing Hu had not earned a look inside in the years he had been at the temple. With his frequent visits, he often wondered about what was behind the door.

Xing Hu started to ignite some candles contained in iron brackets along the wall and table lanterns. The light in the room began to grow steadily. The candles needed replacing; they had long since burned down to form waxy icicles. With the library now sufficiently illuminated, he dug through the texts on the shelves. He picked up a stack of twelve and teetered with them over to the closest table, nearly dropping them. Sitting down, he pulled a book from the stack towards him. The title didn’t inspire him. He knew the writer as being a deluded philosopher from another part of China. Xing Hu set himself up for a rough ride of inaccurate dates and implausible accounts. Before he forgot, he set an alarm on his stopwatch to make sure he went back to the temple in time to get at least some sort of rest.

An hour or more passed. Xing Hu wanted to bash his head against the table after reading this drivel for so long. Sleep deprived and bored, he felt his eyes beginning to droop. He was beginning to lose the last bit of concentration he could muster. What he was reading wasn’t going in any longer. He’d read the last line five times. Sleep prevailed and took him. The book at least made a decent pillow.

How much time had passed, Xing Hu couldn’t be certain of. He was however sure about the sound of a crash that had woken him. The metal on wood gave a dull clunking noise, along with something made of glass smashing. Rising quickly and to attention, he nearly knocked over the table lantern. He looked around and silence had returned. Jumping out of his seat he prepared himself for something unseen to leap out at him.

“Who’s there?” He spoke in Chinese and then the same in English. Every resident at the temple spoke English as a common language, so he expected a response from his friends. Still no answer. Things don’t just move on their own. He knew he’d not left anything precariously perched, so it was nothing he had done. A part of him had a grievous thought. What if someone from the outside world was in here with him?

He stepped forward slowly, keeping his guard up in a ready stance. The lanterns were throwing eerie shadows around the room. It hadn’t bothered him before, but now he knew something dangerous could be just around the corner. If someone had managed to penetrate their defences, they would know he was here too. He’d ensured that much by calling out. The action left him feeling foolish; in his surprise he’d acted impulsively. They might have even walked past him while he was sleeping. The rational part of his mind said he had no proof of someone else being there, yet the feeling in his gut knew he should have let his shifu know about the vision earlier.

His trainers made a soft noise on the wooden floor as he stepped, muffled by built-up dust. Feeling his heartbeat pounding in his ribcage, he noticed his breath had increased too. He remembered his training and calmed himself. If something was happening, he didn’t want to panic any further. He looked carefully along the rows of books. Hidden in darkness, he scrutinised for anything that appeared out of place. Would someone break in here to simply steal a book? It wasn’t like there was anything else of value here.

Just as he was about to examine the floor for any sign of footprints, he noticed something which made him ever more apprehensive. The room containing the archives, the very secrets the Shaolin were sworn to protect, was unlocked. Xing Hu’s suspicions were confirmed in one fell swoop. The door wasn’t fully open, but he could still see candlelight spilling onto the floor outside. Dust particles floated through the air, dancing on an unseen breeze. His hair, since dried, was now starting to dampen with sweat.

The light in the room teased him forward slowly. A door normally locked tight with untold mysteries inside was within his grasp. Remembering the intruder, he approached cautiously. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the door was splintered where it had been forced open. The iron lock was hanging lopsided, now only supported by a single pin. He should have gone to alert the others, but his feet disobeyed him and led him further forward. He placed a hand on the door, wondering if his presence was still unknown or if someone was waiting to strike.

Unable to ignore the call, he pushed it open, praying the hinges would be silent. He took quick stock of his surroundings. There were bookcases lining the two side walls. Different to the ones in the library, top to bottom were carved into hexagonal holes. Tightly wound scroll paper filled them, frayed edges hanging out of the ends. Towards the end of the room there were shelves lined with strange devices. Above this was a stained-glass window overlooking the side of the mountain. He couldn’t tell what it was a picture of, but the rich colours were coming to life by the light of a three-pronged candelabra. 

In front of all this was what appeared to be a type of altar. It was composed of stone and resembled a pedestal. Glancing downwards, a variety of shapes were drawn around it on the floor. He didn’t recognise any of the symbols. There were arrows, circles, what appeared to be numbers and some that were no more than blotches. This was all surrounded by two large circles. The pedestal was at the centre of it all.

Remnants of some type of brass instrument was on the floor. It appeared bent out of shape with smashed glass around it. Evidently it was the source of the noise that had woken him. More concerning was the cause – a person stood behind the pedestal with their back to the door. A clear armful of haphazardly held scrolls taken from the bookcases was in their possession. They were busying themselves to stop them from dropping.

Breaking into a temple full of monks trained in martial arts wasn’t a good idea. Xing Hu had the feeling the person intended to be alone and he’d spoiled these plans by roaming about in the middle of the night. The door he’d been holding onto creaked mercilessly. The person behind the pedestal stopped moving as if frozen in place. Xing Hu could tell from the body type that it was a man. The height and build were a dead giveaway, even if they were wearing a cloak covering their features. His presence now known, there wasn’t much more point pretending he wasn’t there.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The room remained silent until the stranger uttered something under his breath. All the lights in the room extinguished at once. He’d not even moved a muscle. It was impossible from where he was to have blown out the lights of the candelabra. The only light source now came from the room behind Xing Hu. Before he could properly react to what had happened, the man spoke again. Xing Hu drew himself into a defensive stance, expecting the man to rush past him. Everything the man needed was in this room though.

When he spoke again Xing Hu didn’t recognise the language. It wasn’t English, Chinese or any other foreign tongue he had a vague grasp over. The words he spat out appeared to be some sort of demand. Before his eyes could become accustomed to the renewed darkness, the room was illuminated like never before. A brilliant green glow erupted from where the pedestal stood. It appeared to come from the stone itself, the symbols on the floor giving off the same light.

The stranger turned to face the pedestal and Xing Hu. The man’s face was covered with a grey cloak hood. All he could make out of his features was a matted brown beard. His hands extended towards the pedestal. Xing Hu had no idea what was going to happen, but he wanted to stop it. Launching himself at the stranger, the light shone brighter. He stopped in his tracks to protect his eyes. It was so blinding now he needed to cover his whole face with his hands.

A wind had crept up in the enclosed space which whipped and soared around him. The stranger was laughing excitedly and then - nothing. The gusts which had so quickly appeared had faltered, the light was gone. Silence returned. Xing Hu slowly opened his eyes, seeing spots. He still tried to hold himself ready for an attack. As he refocussed, he saw that the man was gone, along with the pedestal. The alarm in the other room began to beep as the time on his stopwatch expired. He ran as fast as he could to alert the rest of the temple.