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Wukong felt like he was drowning in a cold, unforgiving black sea. Or at least he thought he felt like it, for someone able to breathe underwater he had no previous experience with the sensation.
But this heaviness in his lungs, the way each breath offered no relief as the world dimmed around him, this was surely what drowning felt like.
Was this still the memory scroll? Why was it so hard to move his body, why was it so hard just to form a thought?
Something grabbed him. A monster? No, a hand.
With a violent yank, he was pulled back to the surface and to fresh air. He tried to take in a much needed breath, only to vomit the ink he’d been stuck under.
“Easy now,” a deep, soft voice said gently, “Deep breaths, slowly.”
His fur bristled, standing on edge with fear. He knew that voice .
Slowly he looked up as he caught his breath, eyes widened in horror as he saw the god standing before him.
Erlang pulled down his hood, looking down at the Monkey King with an oddly calm expression.
Even though they were equal in battle, Wukong had quickly learned a harsh lesson as to why nobody dared anger the warrior god. His subjects had paid the price for their king’s arrogance once before.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt your friends.” Erlang assured, “I only had to teach you that lesson once. Unless, you want to prove me wrong?
“ No! ” Wukong frantically answered, bowing his head to the god, “No. I learned.”
There was a soft chuckle above him as the warrior circled him, hands clasped behind his back, “Good. Very good.”
Calling it a dangerous game felt too lighthearted. This was a fucking minefield. One wrong word, one wrong gesture, and a bomb would explode and charred limbs would fly everywhere.
There was a beat of silence before Erland spoke again, “What’s wrong, why aren’t you speaking? Have the centuries made you shy? Is it your stage fright?” there was a teasing edge in his voice, a blade against the monkey’s throat.
Wukong swallowed nervously, “W-where… am I…?” saying each word was like pulling teeth, slow and painful. He was barely able to keep himself on his hands and knees, body heavy with fatigue.
“It’s your plaque.” he said, nudging over two pieces of wood with his foot.
Wukong stared in horror at the broken piece of the scroll bearing his name, before screaming out in pain as he felt like the very fabric of his being was being torn apart.
“Honestly, I thought one would have died if their plaque was destroyed,” he hummed in thought, unbothered by the other’s cries of agony, “And yet you sit before me, discombobulated but alive. It’s an interesting turn of events.”
As the pain subsided, he prepared his next question, vaguely aware that it was a dangerous one, “What… what are you planning?”
Erlang tilted his head at him, “Doing what I always do,” he said, “Fixing your messes.”
Wukong squinted at him in confusion before letting out a pained scream as another wave of deep torment shook his body. He’d had bones broken, been burned in a furnace, been flayed and skinned, but all of that was nothing compared to this new torture.
“Here,” the warrior knelt down, picking up the broken pieces and holding them together. A bright golden seal formed in the crack, making it whole once more.
Wukong panted in relief, still trembling as his body refused to stop shaking.
“Better?”
He nodded thankfully before looking up, “I… what did I do…? If this is about the havoc in heaven-”
“I’m not referring to your little rebellion,” he said, gently holding the other’s chin, “You’ve more than redeemed yourself for that. I’m talking about this latest stunt of yours.”
“I don’t… know what you’re talking about.”
“You do,” Erlang’s eyes flashed a deep red, “I’m talking about the boy.”
The Monkey King’s chest tightened, anxiety wrapping its fingers around his throat and choking him.
“Being a mentor can be a wonderful and rewarding thing,” he said as he let go of the other and stood, “A being of chaos such as yourself should have never taken on such a delicate task.”
Wukong glared, “I would never hurt MK.” he said.
“Oh, I know you wouldn’t,” he was unphased by the king’s anger, “But has anything good come of this? A mentor should lift his students, and you’ve only burdened yours.”
His face fell into a look of pathetic confusion, “I… what…?”
“That boy has suffered for your past mistakes, hasn’t he?” he moved to stand behind him, “The Demon Bull King, the Spider Queen, the Lady Bone Demon. He had to take them all on and fix what you couldn’t.”
Wukong’s eyes widened in horror at the realization, “I…” he tried to swallow the lump growing in his throat, “I never meant… I never wanted…”
Erland placed a gentle comforting hand on his shoulder, “Why would you choose to become someone’s mentor, Great Sage?”
Suddenly, he didn’t know why he had become MK’s teacher anymore. Erlang was right, there was always some sort of fallout, some bigger threat always looming over MK ever since he picked up that staff.
“Was losing him not enough?” Erlang pressed (Wukong cringed at the mention of his master, the ache in his heart flaring), “Did you think yourself worthy? Did you think you could make amends with this mortal boy?”
Wukong looked into the distance at nothing in particular as his eyes brimmed with hot tears.
Erlang leaned forward, smile unwavering as he whispered into the other’s ear, “You are not worthy.”
“I am not worthy…” Wukong echoed as golden cracks took shape on his face and body.
“You are broken.”
“I am broken…” he admitted as they spread to cover him.
“You are no god, Sun Wukong.” he said as his third eye opened, “You are merely a weapon. And you have doomed that boy with your impulsivity.”
Wukong lowered his head as his eyes turned red, fur darkening into the hue of burnt wood, “I’m sorry…” he whispered, voice cracking.
Erlang let go and circled back in front of the monkey. As their eyes met they glowed deep crimson in unison, the hue of fire and blood.
“You failed. But there is no shame in that.” he smiled kindly, “I will handle your successor from now on. He deserves a proper mentor, after all.”
Wukong nodded. It had been too much to take on, a foolish endeavor.
Erlang held up the plaque, summoning the ink to consume the other once more, “Rest now, my weapon. You’ll need your strength for when I put you to good use.”
“Yes…” he slurred as exhaustion overcame him, sinking into the ink. This time it was welcoming, like a warm blanket. Everything would be fixed. Erlang would so kindly fix everything. He was so grateful to the god.
As he let himself fall back into darkness, the last thing he saw before shutting his eyes was Erlang’s soft smile.
Azure looked up as the door to the throne room opened, narrowing his eyes as the warrior god walked in, “Well?”
“There is no need to worry,” he said, holding up the repaired plaque, “Sun Wukong survives. He just needs to rest and regain his strength.”
The emperor breathed a sigh of relief, “Good.”
“In the meantime,” Erlang said, “I would like to discuss my position as your advisor.”
Peng and Yellow-Tusk immediately glared at the god, stepping forward with their hands on their weapons, “He already has us,” the bird hissed, “What makes you think he’d need you?”
“Do you think the rest of the gods will bow to Azure so easily? That a title is all it takes?” he asked matter-of-factly, “Someone needs to bridge the gap between the old era and the new.”
“And that someone is you?” Azure asked as he rested his chin in his hand.
He smiled and bowed his head, “I am at your command, your highness.”
He held a hand to his chin in thought, before nodding, “Very well, Erlang.” he says, “But let me be clear. You have your place, but I have the throne.”
“Of course, your highness.” he gave a deep bow, before turning and leaving the room.
Once back in his quarters, Erlang sat by the window and looked out at the dawn of the new day.
He watched it for a moment, before smiling down at the wood plank in his hand, “Now that all the pieces are in place, you and I will usher in a wondrous new age.” he said as he held it up in the light, admiring the glow of gold, “Thank you, Sun Wukong. You truly are the most perfect weapon one could ask for.”