Chapter Text
Human mortals and others alike had always been such peculiar creatures.
Whether it be in their constantly changing and hypocritical ways of thinking to their drive to live the life they want to achieve to the fullest, intelligent species like humans developed quickly. From an evolution and historical viewpoint, humans and the like advanced within a blink of an eye.
In fact, Morax had nothing against the speed of their development, unlike the other wandering gods in this world who had mixed impressions (though the mixed impressions were well warranted). In some ways, it was useful, especially when it came to recording, preserving, and sharing history. In addition, humans and the like were able to process information quickly, allowing for Morax to complete his duties in a shorter amount of time.
This only applied when mortals held their contracts, however.
Morax eyed the individual who was standing before him with a nonchalant gaze, the other staring directly back with no fear or doubt in his eyes. He had seen many individuals who had glared at him with both no fear and no doubt, but none had stood the test of time like this one.
The other bore tattered clothes, with blood dripping from his wounds as it dried and caked against his skin in the bleak, harsh sunlight. The grip on his weapon, bestowed with the powers of hydro, was tight and firm, his position still strong and upright. Morax truly hadn’t seen an individual like him in a long, long while.
Left foot. Right foot. Back straight. Right arm raised. A strong kick against the earth and the mortal shot towards him with experienced speed.
Their weapons clashed loudly against each other, the earth crackling underneath as it screamed against the intense pressure from above. But the state of the earth was ignored, as well as all poor mortals who got swept into their tide, as the two continued to move with and against the other.
Right swing. Dodge to the left. Upright stab. Roll to the side.
A rain of stone pillars were pulled from the broken earth and raised high, striking with intense ferocity that caused tremors that could be felt for kilometres. And yet, somehow, this finicky mortal had dodged all of them with steps that moved fluidly with the shape of his legs and body.
A strong, fluid style of movement, despite its rough exterior. An odd sense of sensuality and rugged charm.
It matched its owner well.
A well-placed stone pillar blocked the view of the incoming mortal as Morax readied his spear, shifting his body in alignment to the pillar to hide his movements. With a swift kick to sweep the mortal’s legs in surprise, the spear stabbed into the pillar, breaking the top half cleanly in one move.
He clicked his tongue. The mortal in front of him was breathing harshly as his eyes never strayed from his own. A thin, fresh wound graced the mortal’s neck, adding to the blossoming red dyeing his clothes. It was unknown how much he bled at this point.
The mortal grinned as he readjusted his position. He had lost his weapon at some point, but that didn’t matter as the bottom half of the pillar still supported his weight.
“I’ll win next time.” is all this damned mortal says. Morax thinks that’s the only thing that’ll ever come out of this man’s mouth as he pulls out his partially embedded spear from the pillar, freeing the mortal from his confines.
However, he already expected this type of continuous response. After all, their established contract of sparring on specific days would allow them to see their differences in strength, gait, and intelligence.
The mortal’s drive to continuously improve on his fighting skills was something that Morax had to admire, akin to his adepti brethren. Despite winning in all their battles so far, Morax had never been disappointed. In fact, he had been looking forward to their battles simply to see what else this mortal had in store for next time.
The mortal tags along as they move to another location, one where they can refresh themselves. Guizhong doesn’t disappoint, having already prepared some food and tea while she tinkered away with her blueprints.
The two gods didn’t necessarily have to eat, but the mortal would constantly rave about the importance of sharing a meal and nurturing relationships with beings other than fellow gods and adepti. Morax would beg to differ, but Guizhong was very much into this idea. With such a statement, an extra bowl and chopsticks were always set aside just for the mortal himself whenever he came to visit.
After having cleaned up, they sat down for the meal. The mortal’s mouth seemed to never close unless he was swallowing food, chatting with the gods as if there was no difference in social or hierarchical standing, like close friends telling how their day went.
If it were any other mortal, they wouldn’t have even reached the point of Morax allowing them to walk side by side with him, much less sharing a meal with Guizhong (not with him around, anyway).
“Hold your chopsticks better.” Morax chides the mortal. His sloppy handiwork, never mind the mess around his bowl, never fails to tick him off. The mortal responds by giving an apologetic smile and chuckle.
“If we had a meal before we fought, my hands wouldn’t be shaking as much.” was one of the excuses he would use constantly, such as now. Morax glanced at his firm and still hands, saying nothing.
“This is why you shouldn’t fight so hard.” Guizhong chimes in, giving Morax a stern look. “If you’re going to scold him for his poor hold on chopsticks, you should teach him yourself. You can’t expect him to magically learn on his own.”
“Hey! I’m working on it.” the mortal states back, bringing the chopsticks up into the air to show his hold. “I can learn by example.”
“You’re doing a poor job if that’s the case.” Morax sighed as he paid the mortal no more attention, opting to focus on his meal and ignoring the loud complaints.
“Fine,” the mortal huffs, “I admit it. I’m not very good at holding chopsticks, ever since I was a kid. Despite being a native, it’s the one area that I can’t seem to master.”
“So,” the mortal quips, leaning in with sparkling eyes, “Morax, you should teach me.”
Morax gave him a sideline glance as he sipped his tea. The sparkle in the mortal’s eyes, which were a deep, deep blue and profound with life, revealed his burning desire to learn and be closer to the other. The flame which existed inside his eyes, and subsequently his soul, burned bright, despite all the troubles he had endured so far. Morax had wondered how that flame was maintained, and then wondered further on how the mortal could have such deep blue eyes (most if not all mortals living under their domain were not born with such eyes).
The teacup was placed back onto the table with a light tap, Morax’s lips pressed into a firm line. In spite of one of the mortal’s weaknesses in something as small as holding chopsticks, there was already a feeling of expectation welling up inside Morax’s mind. If the mortal could master the use of chopsticks through his direction, what else could this mortal strive to learn with him?
But Morax did not have the luxury of time to teach the mortal such a basic skill. He had to fulfill his duties as the God of Geo, the God of War, and any other title the humans and their like had named him. He had ongoing contracts, some with pressing deadlines, others with greater importance. He was already being generous by sparing an hour to battle against this mortal every few months.
“I’ll consider it.” Morax replied as he poured himself another cup of tea.