View Full Version : [Fic] Enlightenment of Blood

02-17-2009, 02:50 PM
~The Enlightenment of Blood~
A concise and impromptu autobiography of the Instructor, formerly known as Sangon Odus

To anyone who is curious as to what mental reaction is applicable to the death of a loved one, it is worth mentioning this peculiar fact: it is much easier to watch a loved one die by your hands, than to perhaps watch them die slowly of age or disease. In the case of the latter, you suffer the emotional strains of your beloved slowly slipping away, fighting in futility for a few more years, a pathetic gasp of life made in fear of what death may carry. I find it to be a selfish manner in which to pass from this world, as well as demeaning to the memory of whatever greatness the person might have exhibited in full health. Better to perish at the hands of someone you feel passionately for, and trust, as the person you lived as, without fear or weakness, or pain lingering for what could be an eternity. It is how I wished to end, had my son ever come to realise why I performed a similar courtesy for his dying mother, and once again come to live with me. But he absconded with her lifeless corpse that I had beheaded in her sleep as I drank a toast of Transdosian wine to her memory, and never reappeared. He had most likely made his escape on a freighter and moved far away from Nar Shadaa; of my wife’s body, I cannot be sure. The boy’s shock and grief cannot be blamed; he, like others around him, simply could not comprehend my new lifestyle. It would appear that I was gifted with a solitary talent among my sentient peers for understanding the strength in grasping destiny and making it your own, a slow revelation that came to me over the years following my wife’s death.

During those days, I was in middle age, a merchant by trade, buying and selling my wares to the faceless masses of drones upon drones that infect this galaxy. The more I interacted with them, the more I came to realise their lack of direction, of understanding. They yearned unconsciously and desperately for guidance, teaching, and counsel. I understood, had learned the benefits of releasing the torture of a loved one’s slow pain, and giving them the gift of freedom, where they did not. It fell to me, and my power to give them a less painful way of allowing the cycle of life to turn, to supply them with what they so eagerly sought, unknowingly grasping for my singular wisdom. Soon I had shed my former life for one of enlightenment and pilgrimage, the shadows of Nar Shadaa acting as my companions along the journey to spread what I had learned. The first of my students were, as expected, inhospitable, a trait I was irritated to find never failed to present itself, even as I did them a service and ended the lives of their diseased and dying adored with a sweep of my knife. Luckily, there existed on Nar Shadaa no self-important government or system of police that could burden me with their ignorance and false righteousness, and I was free to continue my work despite the angry and terrified protests of my pupils. I found that I understood more of my own lesson each time I gave my physical lecture, the death of each grateful sentient, ravenous for freedom from their rotting and putrid shell, giving me power, resolve, and enlightenment. I then came to understand that perhaps partaking in the death of another was not enough for those I trained, that to open their eyes to the truth, perhaps I would have to help them become death themselves. Perhaps the glory of their slaughter would give them the sight I wished to impart to them; no, it would absolutely do so…

From that point onward, I held no discrimination in my tutelage, holding a more broadened perspective on the weaknesses and flaws of the stagnant, pitiful beast that was the galaxy. The thrill, the action of mental revolution, was like such a drug as I couldn’t even begin to describe the effects of. I was free, and powerful. The universe shifted and changed with the sweep of my blade, my judgment held the fates of thousands, of millions, in limbo. I basked in the sound of skin being carved, in the sight of pure crimson, blue, green, all colors gushing upon the floor in a pool of essence. I was hungry, eager to teach, but I tempered my ambition with wisdom, kept myself from alerting attention when the mindsets of others were so mistrusting of my work. They all had to die, to see the truth; they all had to become one with death to feel what I felt. The entire galaxy, and every citizen in it, had to die, and I would help them do so, one by one, with the cold vibrating steel of my slender baton, conducting the new age of reform ahead. It was a burden, to be sure, to take up the entire fate of the galaxy as your own, but it would have gone against all of my convictions to do otherwise. Even though I had repudiated most of the hollow morals and ethics that were meaningless to the truth, I was still a man of principle, and so once my lessons were complete, I would destroy myself, and meet my students in the new world we had created together with the simple action of removing ourselves from the infestation of the galaxy.

I became careless, too sure of my talents to remain unseen and unheard. I traveled to other planets, with more diligent governments that flailed about their erroneous institutions and lead their ilk to a path of complacency and ignorance. I wanted to make them see the arrogance of their ways, and help them come to comprehend my truth, the only truth. And so I began teaching them, as well, but they soon discovered my methods and confined me to their stone walls, caging my power and removing my talents with my knife. They asked me how many I had killed before their disgusting kin. Is that what I did? Is that truly what my actions meant? I had come to realise that, no, it wasn’t what I had been doing at all. I had freed my mind of their limited mental constructs, and seen that a death was merely a stepping stone on the path to a better place, a key to unlock the enlightenment of the afterlife, and after shedding the false fear of it, I had been able to do what they could not, and begin to set the galaxy straight. They feared me because I was the next step in sentient evolution, the next leap in the philosophical journey to perfection. I was the Omega to their Alpha, and they could not fathom what wonderful things I wished to give them, and, as always, they were terrified of the unknown.

I pen this letter to you now in the hopes that as you find this, I have achieved my ultimate goal, though premature it may be, by hanging myself in my cell. Do not weep for me, or feel pity for my passing: I have gloriously stepped into the light of knowledge, of understanding, and was brave enough to do so, as I was with the ones I helped achieve it before me. I tell you the story of my life so that someone with the gifts and talents I possess may once again be able to come into this world, and recognize that his work will never be done until all life is forced to see the true beauty of its existence; the true strength it could possess, and harness for its own; the ecstasy of holding the fates in your hands, and twisting them to your will. I wish you well in your journey, as I have failed where perhaps you will not. Carry on the work I leave to this reality, and our cause shall never die. We shall remake the world, one scholar of the dead after another, and when our task is complete, the people of our galaxy will praise us in exalted applause in the afterlife. Enclosed is a device that can scramble the locking mechanism on the door of your cell. I have given you freedom. Give it back to the galaxy.

02-24-2009, 04:50 PM
I have to say this is definitely the most original work, when it comes to form. It looks like a serial killer's diary and has a nice dark, even psychotic feel, with a bit of fanaticism. A very interesting piece indeed. :)

Bee Hoon
02-25-2009, 01:53 AM
OOh, very very good piece! I like your flowing style, as well as your excellent use of your extensive vocabulary. The tone is very convincing, and completely insane in a logical kind of way. Just one thing: it's Nar Shaddaa, not Nar Shadaa. Blame Obsidian to putting two A's and D's :/ All in all, excellent work, and I would vote for this if I voted.

03-01-2009, 10:24 PM
I blame the silly canonical mixups for the misspelling. XP But thank you for the compliments. I was attempting to make the rationality as believable as possible, so you could see where he was coming from, and it would seem realistic to you.

03-04-2009, 11:11 AM
I would say that you achieved your goal nicely. It was chilling to read the way he rationalized what he'd done and what he was about to do.