Some Yin Yang Bull

You have no power over me, spirit. I have only one weakness and nobody, but Azazel, has the knowledge of what it is.”


Something felt odd. That might sound weird coming from a ghost without his own head, but the stimuli started erupting since I galloped away from Salem.

The world knew now that I existed and not someone to be fucked with, which with the Buddha’s death is now ought to be universal knowledge. The sensation I am feeling seems to be coming from that very revelation, but only in origin. Four different gods of death wanted me to kill Buddha, and it was very amusing watching his face when I impaled him. Even telling me to find peace in sign language before I decapitated him on live television felt empowering.

Sometimes I like to act on temptation before thinking the whole way through. I do not conduct such recklessness often, but I do enjoy treating myself. Now, this stimuli in my gut was telling me maybe I should have thought it through.

Why would those gods wanted me of all people to kill Buddha? I was curious why I would be linked to his demise, but any answer they could have given me would have been cast aside anyway. Now looking back with talking to those prophets, they avoided speaking of the explanation, implying that I will find out on my own.

Such a vague answer, but my bloodlust overpowered the rationale within me and savored the thought of murdering Buddha. I cannot possibly think of any being that can overpower me through Siddhartha’s death. He had a spirit rival representing everything he was not, but there is that whole yin yang balance bullshit. Still, anybody could have killed him if they wanted to do it. Even among those Legend pacificists. Anyone of them, hypothetically, could had done the job well. Why me?

Now, I must away to Sleepy Hollow and contact Azazel for the other Myths. I breathed in the dawn of Spring, the season of rebirth. Fuck. I had no problem with Spring, but you can only feel so many vibrations in the ground and air from beings humping each other until you want to stuff their mouths with their own genitals.

Now that I think about it, I do not remember the last time I had sex. I went on some escapades with a few Jane Does, but that was not purely recreational.

Nameless sputtered and came to a halt.

I rubbed the side of his neck and his thoughts came into my consciousness.

Something is coming.

If it was those prophets again, I will most certainly demand answers this time.

“You do not need to use sign language horseman,” came a deep timbre voice. “I can hear your thoughts and communicate all the same.”

Show yourself if you value your life.

A man walked from behind an oak tree. He was dressed casually but his mustache gave a fu man chu vibe without necessarily filling the requirements. Something about him felt familiar. Nameless gave the sight I needed to observe, but I can feel the vibrations radiating from him as he walked and breathed.

“You perform your duties well, Horseman.”

And who are you, may I ask? I would like to know before I fuck up your epitaph.

“I am your biggest investor,” the man said. “You helped rid me of a pestilence of a student and also my rival.”

I thought for a moment. I killed many students so that did not narrow down the margin. Rival was the only key word I needed to hear.

You are the one the Easterners call Mara.

“I am.”

As far as I know, you are not a god, only a mere spirit. Since only a god can kill me, I will have no problem wiping you out like I did Buddha.

I stepped off Nameless and unsheathed my sword.

“I can give you answers,” Mara said.

I need no answers. I stepped towards him, readying my weapon.

“You do not worry about how much power I have over you?”

You have no power over me, spirit. I have only one weakness and nobody, but Azazel, has the knowledge of what it is.

I readied my blade but before I could swipe, Mara held out a skull in front of him. I dropped my sword and felt an icy chill crawl over my spine.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Mara laughed. “Like Buddha, I have the power to teleport anywhere.”

I sneered. What do you want from me?

“I wish to continue investing in your potential,” Mara grinned. “You will see me from time to time. You will bring much success to our efforts, as well the perfect rival for the futurity of our spiritual nature.”

I will do no such thing. I picked up my weapon and sheathed it. I do not know what you have invested in me; power, magic, spiritual voodoo, whatever the fuck you did. I am purely independent, and I do not know where you found my head, but I assure whatever deal with Azazel you made will be undone.

Mara vanished in an instant. “Heed my warning, specter of the hollow,” his voice demonically echoed from behind me. “There will be a new Buddha in the next Winter’s Moon, and they will be more spiritually enlightened than Siddhartha ever was. The clock is ticking, Horseman, and if you wish to survive for your personal gains, you will accept my teachings.”

Mara’s presence disappeared. I turned towards Nameless and he sputtered a neigh.

I agreed with my friend. I brushed his mane and mounted my saddle again. I searched around with both my senses and Nameless’ vision, confirming that Mara was truly gone.

The words he spoke to me echoed through my head, almost as if it were the vocal waves of the hunting bat bringing news from their prey.

The world is far too insane now and it is fucking ridiculous. Again, coming from a ghost without their own head. Which is now in possession of the Buddha’s rival.

And just like that, I possessed a motive to kill that goat spawn, Azazel.

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