Chapter 25: Emperor and Spirits

John; no, Kalsang stood at the highest tower of his grand palace, his piercing gaze fixed upon the horizon where the final kingdom stood, a stubborn ember refusing to be snuffed out by the winds of his empire.

The air around him shimmered, thick with raw energy, the very Chi of the world bending and twisting in response to his will. The sky itself seemed to pulse with his presence, an extension of his command, a living testament to what he had become.

With over three centuries having gone by, the man who had once been John Wick was long gone, swallowed by the tides of time and reshaped by Amon's delicate manipulations. Hatred had been carved into his very essence, a hatred that had burned away doubt, fear, and even his past self.

He had forged this empire not through mere conquest, but through something far greater; faith. His people worshiped him not just as their leader but as their god, an immortal ruler who commanded the wind, the earth, and even the very life-force within their veins.

But Chi was now more than just life-force to him. It was no longer merely the foundation of bending—it was the element, his element. He no longer needed to shape wind or lightning or fire. He could bend the very essence of existence, manipulating the energy that flowed within all living beings, twisting it, suppressing it, ripping it from their bodies with nothing but a thought. He had transcended the limitations of mere elemental bending and grasped something far more profound.

With a mere flick of his fingers, he could extinguish the spark of life in those who defied him. With a mere whisper of intent, he could flood his warriors with strength beyond mortal limits.

Behind him, the two men knelt in perfect unison. The airbender, clad in yellow robes with a crimson overcoat, thumped his fist against his chest with solemn reverence, "Emperor Kalsang, the preparations are complete. The air-force only awaits your orders."

Beside him, a non-bender draped in muted grey and black did the same, "Emperor, the army is ready as well!"

Kalsang did not answer immediately. Instead, he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he reached out; not with his hands, but with something greater. The entire world breathed with him. The Chi of thousands of soldiers, of countless lives sworn to his will, surged through his consciousness.

He could feel their strength, their fear, their unwavering devotion. And then, beyond them, he felt the city that defied him. He felt their fear. Their desperate resistance. The fools still clung to hope, but hope could be severed like any other thread.

He opened his eyes, and they burned with an unholy light.

"Good," he said at last, his voice calm, yet carrying the weight of an inescapable fate, "We end this tonight."

The two warriors bowed lower, their hearts hammering in their chests. They had seen their emperor fight before. They had seen what happened to those who opposed him. The world outside this last stronghold had already been reshaped in his image.

This final kingdom would be no different.

With a flick of his wrist, the torches around the palace flared to life, the flames dancing unnaturally, bending in response to his will. The skies above darkened, clouds gathering unnaturally fast as if even the heavens themselves bowed before him.

But he did not move them with wind or fire. He pulled at the Chi within the storm, within the earth, within the very bones of the world, shaping it as a sculptor shapes clay.

Kalsang strode past his kneeling generals, each one bowing their heads in silent reverence as he moved toward the towering balcony that overlooked the vast expanse of his empire. The wind stirred at his presence, rippling through banners dyed in crimson and gold, carrying the whispers of a thousand victories.

Below, countless soldiers stood in disciplined ranks, their eyes fixed upon the figure above them; their emperor, their god.

He raised his hand, and at once, the air howled in response. Like phantoms in the storm, the airbenders lifted into the sky in perfect unison, a silent testament to the power he had forged from nothing. The non-benders stood their ground, fists clenched, awaiting his word.

"They call me a tyrant," Kalsang began, his voice carried not by mere sound, but by the very breath of the world itself, "They whisper that I know only war, that I show no mercy, that I do not accept surrender."

He let the words linger, watching as the accusation settled into the hearts of his soldiers, feeding the fire already burning in their chests. Then, he took a deep breath, his gaze sharp as a blade, and his voice cracked like thunder over the battlefield.

"They are right!"

The soldiers stiffened, eyes blazing with fervour.

"I do not offer mercy, because I have seen what mercy brings; weakness, betrayal, decay! I do not accept surrender, because surrender is a lie, a coward's plea to live long enough to strike you in the back! I do not hesitate, because hesitation is the root of failure, and failure is death!"

He lifted higher into the air, the wind swirling around him in a storm of power, his silhouette wreathed in a pale blue glow, "I am your Emperor, and I demand nothing from you that I have not given myself! I have suffered! I have bled! I have crushed nations beneath my heel not for my own glory, but for our survival! And now, the last embers of defiance smoulder in that city's walls, believing they can withstand the tide of our might."

He extended a single hand forward, fingers curling into a fist, "They will learn their mistake. Before the sun rises, there will be nothing left of them but dust and whispers!"

A deafening roar erupted from his army, a sound like a living beast rising from the depths, shaking the very earth beneath them. The airbenders soared forward in a deadly gale. The foot soldiers charged like an unrelenting tide.

And above them all, Kalsang watched, expression unreadable, as his empire moved to consume another city whole, the last city.

…

​In the ever-shifting expanse of the Spirit World, where the sky bled hues of violet and indigo and the very air shimmered with unseen energies, Amon strode with unshaken purpose. The mist curled at his feet like living tendrils, parting before him and sealing his path behind.

Then, the air grew heavy. The shifting landscape stilled. A presence; no many, descended upon him. Before him stood an assembly of ancient spirits, each a being of vast knowledge and unfathomable power.

At the forefront loomed Wan Shi Tong, the Great Knowledge Spirit. His golden eyes, deep as the abyss of time itself, peered at Amon with a cold and piercing intellect. His massive wings, dark as the void between stars, were half-spread; a silent omen of his discontent.

To his right, Koh the Face Stealer coiled in an almost lazy manner, his enormous centipede-like body curling upon itself. Faces flickered across his grotesque visage, shifting between expressions of sorrow, fury, and amusement. His voice, a whisper laced with venom, slid through the silence.

On Wan Shi Tong's left, standing eerily still, was The Mother of Faces. Her three faces; one of a young girl, one of a wise woman, and one of an aged crone, shifted in an endless cycle, never settling. She did not speak yet, merely watched with unreadable wisdom, as if seeing through every layer of Amon's soul.

And beyond them all, coiling through the shadows, was something far older, far darker; Father Glowworm. His form undulated like liquid shadow, his many eyes glowing faintly, burning with hunger. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, rumbling whisper, slithering into Amon's mind rather than his ears, "You meddle, little one. You twist the river of fate, thinking yourself its master."

Wan Shi Tong's wings twitched, "The balance of time and space is not a plaything for mortals. You are but a flickering ember in a storm."

Amon tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice smooth, unshaken, "Balance? You speak of balance, yet you allow stagnation to fester. You watch from the safety of your domain while the world falls to ruin. You call yourselves guardians, but you are merely complacent spectators."

Koh let out a low, amused chitter, "Ohhh… such arrogance. Such conviction. How deliciously naive." His face shifted into that of a weeping woman, "I have seen many like you before. So certain of their path… until they were not."

Amon scoffed, dismissing the spirit's games, "I do not seek your approval, nor do I fear your threats. I merely do what is necessary."

The Mother of Faces finally spoke, her three voices layering over each other in eerie harmony, You twist the essence of things, bending truth into fiction, shaping souls as one shapes clay. Do you believe yourself a god?"

Amon exhaled slowly, as if indulging a child's question, "A god? No! Merely… an architect. Unlike you, I do not hesitate to build anew when the old has failed. Only then will I be able to leave this accursed world."

Father Glowworm shifted, his form seeming to ripple between existence and shadow, "You think yourself above fate? That you may shape it as you will? No matter how many threads you weave, no matter how many lives you sculpt to your desire, balance will return."

Wan Shi Tong's feathers bristled slightly, his tone an undeniable decree, "The Avatar will act. Raava's incarnation will not allow this to continue."

Amon's chuckle was low, almost pitying, "First you send desperate souls to me, and then you cry unfair when I use them? Hypocrisy aside, you place your hopes in a child who does not yet understand the game he plays. Let Raava come, let her try. She will find that not all tides may be turned."

Without waiting for a reply, Amon turned, his form dissolving into the mist. The spirits watched in silence as the shifting world swallowed him whole, their expressions unreadable.

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[AN: How was this chapter? I really liked it, especially the spech given by Kalsang. It took me quite some time to get the right balance, which I shy this chapter and the previous one were late. Also I had to do some research about the spirits before writing the second half.

Apparantly in the original world the spirits do not interact too often. In fact, Koh and the mother of faces had not met since they split at the beginning of time. I intend to change things a little in this universe, as clearly visible by Amon existing.

Why he had here and how it has affected the spirit world will slowly be revealed, but I think many of you will have already gotten the point. Anyways, stay tuned for a war unlike anything. The Empire vs the Fire nation!]