Wielder of Names 5-96
Chapter: 5
Blade of Want
Kill Six Billion Demons will be going on a short hiatus while I ready the material for print. We’ll return Tuesday the 12th of July with a regular update schedule and the end of Wielder of Names.
Blade of Want
Kill Six Billion Demons will be going on a short hiatus while I ready the material for print. We’ll return Tuesday the 12th of July with a regular update schedule and the end of Wielder of Names.
Even the corpse on the tree is like “oh shit that was sick”
The two-limbed stand, but one appendage is not what one would expect! Humorous juxtaposition.
cleanse this world in
the forge of chaos
And in so doing, she has now killed Mottom, for she shall eat of the fruit no more.
Maybe so, but maybe for the better. When you need to eat fruit grown with maiden’s blood while pretending a sword isn’t dangling over your head… that’s just existing, not living.
And the FIRST ACT of DIVINITY was DIVISION: To CUT out of WANT and DESIRE
Formed now a flame more beautiful and consuming than the soul, more radiant than glory- the Heir, Alice-Un, wields the flame of want- the flame that brings change! Glory be to the Heir! Glory be to YISUN!
SHE DID IT. SHE DID THE THING.
Yer a wizzard, Al-YSUN.
Ne, yer a King, a King o’ Creation, Alice-UN.
I’m not a King of Creation! I’m just Alice!
……..
all hail Alice-Un, Godslayer.
One demon down, 5,999,999,999 to go! 😀
Even the girl with the slit throat looks surprised.
I think she’s done something we haven’t seen anyone, other than the gods and demigods in the background stories do. Magic without an incantation!
Damn! Dont u just hate it when u chuck u godly glowing spare and then the thing ur throwing it at creates a hole right were your throwing ur spear and it just sails straight through
The flames of royalty truly it is mighty. I now know why my prime brothers that were smote dead rest eternal and the those that lived driven to madness.
Four years ago, I stared pale-faced into the incandescent eye of an omnicidal dragon. Its voice was a vengeful earthquake, and just hearing it speak your name removed any doubt that it was both capable and intent on splitting the world forty-three ways. Even if I somehow live one hundred years, that voice will haunt my dreams.
And yet, I can’t imagine it compares to the sound the Blade of Want makes as it cuts all possibility.
It’s more of a wooshing noise.
Go forth and kill six billion more trees!
Oof! Right in the wood-dick!
Not really difficult, seeing as he was about 60% timber phallus.
Only 5,999,999,999 more to go
Great might travels far; the sun heats the air and becomes the wind.
let us count the leaves as they settle.
If my calculation is correct, if young Alice-Un were to kill one demon each second, it would take her 190 years 94 days 10 hours 40 minutes to complete her task.
She’d better pick up the pace.
I suspect that this number will increase quite significantly once this palace hits the ground. Though I doubt our heroine will make a habit of this.
And mind you, she is likely immortal. Old Zoss held up quite well for his reign.
*Clears throat*
195.06866417 years, to be 9 degrees of magnitude more precise.
We are hoping for one of those “buy one, take 111” deals that is so common in hells.
Is it just me or did Alice-UN change shape? In panel 4, she suddenly looks a lot sharper and more angular in places, such as the jaw, fingers, knees, ears etc, which were previously rounded. Fruit wearing off? Or the assumption of a more kingly semblance? Something else entirely?
So falls. So rises.
One down…
000,000,000,001 *DING!*
Technically if you hover your mouse over the image it’s “1/6,000,000,000”
but semantics.
Similar weapons and philosophy
“Rama said slowly, “The ocean is arrogant, Lakshmana. It seems that in this age of the world, the pacific way of sama is ineffectual. Even the Lords of the elements have regard only for violence, and honor is to be had only from fear. Varuna does not understand my gentleness, or he should have stood before us by now. But since he seems to believe I am a weakling, whose prayers are not worth hearing, I will change my method.
“Bring me my bow, Lakshmana. Let us see what Varuna does when I make vapor of his waters with my astras, and all his fish lie heaving on an arid bed of sand. The vanaras will walk on dry land to Lank, where my Sita waits in anguish for me.”
Quietly, Lakshaman fetched the bow and quiver. Rama stood forth on that shore like the fire at the end of the yugas. He folded his hands briefly to the ocean. Assuming the archer’s stance, alidha, he fitted arrow after arrow to his bow, and they flashed whistling at the waves.
The sky grew dark as twilight. Thunder echoed in the darkness, and supernaturally vivid lightning divided the sky in jagged gashes. Rama’s shafts of light and flames flew hissing into the waves risen like giant shields to meet them. His arrows pierced the waves as common barbs do flesh. In amazement, in fear, Lakshmana and the vanaras heard the ocean screaming above the roar of its tide, in a cavernous voice. They heard Rama roar like an angry god. They heard the report of his bowstring, again and again.
The earth shook. They sky was agitated and waves rose like mountains in the stricken sea, tall as Mandara or Kailasa. The monkeys lost their nerve at the awesome violence; most of them fled screaming up Mahendra. Rama stood like a flame himself on the shore. The ocean howled back at him in pain and fury. But the arrows raged from his hands, a river of fire in spate. Whales, sea serpents, and schools of brilliant fish leaped above the seething water in terror. But they could not escape; all the ocean burned. Hilly flames danced beneath its surface, in the belly of the Lord of waves.
A shocked Lakshmana fell at his brother’s feet and clutched his hand. He cried, “Abandon this wrath, Rama! Return to the peaceful paths of our fathers. You can win this war without laying waste the sea.”
From the dark sea there rose a great lament, and a hundred heavenly voices cried to the prince of light, “Rama, do not dry up the ancient sea.”
But Rama heard neither his brother nor the supernal ones. He snatched his hand from Lakshmana, and the river of flames flowed again from his bow. In a terrible voice that was hardly his, gentle Rama roared, “Varuna! I will make a desert of you and the vanaras shall cross into Lanka over your dry corpse.”
He paused his prodigious archery, then cried again, “I will consume you and the Patalas below you. All your denizens, fish, and whale, shark and timmingala, will lie rotting under the sun.”
Then, standing like a burning rock upon the tempestuous beach, Rama invoked the brahmastra. It seemed earth and sky would crack open when he chanted the mantra to summon that weapon into his hands. The twilight of the world turned to a night of dread. The sun and moon strayed dizziliy from their orbits. At midmorning, stars twinkled down clearly on the earth. A thousand meteors scorched down into the hissing water. All the slow and stable elements seemed ready to come undone, at the very quick of themselves, where the grace of creation held them bound in time. Chaos verged on the world.
Gale winds from the sea uprooted knotted old trees and blew them about like wisps of straw. Streaks of lightning fell out of the heavens, their rutilant whiplashes seeming to begin in the stars. Woven into the roar of the storm rang the piteous cries of the beasts of the earth, among them Sugriva’s vanaras. Lions and tigers whimpered like frightened cats, and great bears wept for fear in their caves. The weaker, gentler animals were in an absolute frenzy. They dashed about blindly, shrieking, but found no refuge from Rama’s ubiquitous rage.
As Lakshmana watched in disbelief, the ocean receded from the shore; like a whipped cur the sea fled from Rama’s fury. A yojana of dry seabed lay exposed, its pale expanse strewn with the piteous carcasses of its creatures. Dolphin and shark, great whale, whale-eating giant squid, and floundering fish of every hue and size all lay gasping their last on the desert of Rama’s anger.”
-The Ramayana