How much further can we press into Gaia?
The lower the Magi keep posing the idea of a second barrier—to make our city into two, one part paradise, one part the illusion of it. Even if we had those resources, the simple fact is that Gaia is too large and unknown to make a reliable home. Our engineers estimate it to be larger than Earth, and natural magic is present. Woven into the world.
But who is to say that if we were to tunnel away into another world, we might not find something far worse than what we can imagine there?
Or who’s to say how long it might take for such a thing to find us?
-Magi Orleans, What Lurks In Paradise, (304, 3rd Era)
The next hour was a struggle. Even giving their damnedest to workshop a solution kept coming up empty. At first, with the confidence of Dame Morgana at their backs, they felt like there was some obvious answer to the problem of the slab. But they failed.
Colin tried his best to work out the magic and sort out some kind of spell to complete the glyph on the steel, but ultimately, that was a dead end. Even with his Talent, it didn’t magically bestow him any more knowledge of magic than he already knew. Maybe one day, with his annoying newfound determination to be the ‘most renown mage’, he might piece the mystery of the door together; but not now. Yet he didn’t give up trying, which made it frustrating when someone else took a shot at getting through and he complained the entire time. Lucky for Erec, that made good Fury fuel.
Garin gave up pretty much immediately on forcing the door and confidently patted Erec’s back and said, “You’ve got this,” and spent his time working on the rat affectionately dubbed Squeaky. Through the animal, he slowly put together details on what awaited them on the other side of the door. Seven-Snakes wasn’t alone, but the rat couldn’t get them accurate numbers. It also wasn’t all that big in space on the other side. Useful information, but very time-consuming. Garin had to do a great deal of explaining and bargaining with the animal to get different bits of information, and all of that still did nothing to solve the crux of their problem.
The door. This text is hosted at NovєlFіre.net
Olivia got little further. She threw whatever prayer she had at the door, but it wasn’t designed to get through solid steel, so in the end, so she spent her time helping either Erec or Garin recover from the toll their talents took. Rapidly, though, Olivia questioned Dame Morgana’s decision, and ask why they didn’t send some out to get help.
Which, after multiple failed attempts, everyone except Colin agreed with.
But Dame Morgana didn’t hear it and reiterated her orders. Open the door. That they had the means to get through, and that folding to problems was no way for a Knight to behave. So the pressure mounted; magma boiling under a volcano. Erec tried pushing the door. But it was too heavy. Even with Fury trying to force the thing to move an inch was too much; to where he wondered if he overestimated his Strength or the steel had some kind of weight enhancement magic. Either way, it pissed him off. After each pull of Fury and no progress, he felt a bit of madness settle in.
Seven-Snakes was mocking him on the other side. Dame Morgana’s smiles and meaningless words of encouragement to their struggles pissed him off just as much as the fact his target was right through a slab of steel he was too weak to conquer.
Erec felt like he was going crazy. Despite all of her strangeness, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if Dame Morgana was even flatly wrong about something. It might be impossible to understand, but taking her words on faith after every failure left him shaking was a tall order.
[Do you wish to give up?] VAL asked after two hours of anger and getting nowhere aside from running down to the bottom of his energy. [This is a test of some sort on her behalf, or maybe a form of psychological conditioning. There are better ways to approach this problem, especially given the increased resources involving the rest of your team would bring to the table. We could form an impossible-to-counter-argument for her, perhaps. Hippies have their ideals, but when faced with the cold hard reality of the world, they must bend.]
What did that mean? Leaning against the wall and calling it? Forcing Dame Morgana to reevaluate her choice?
Olivia already had slowly focused more on making sure nobody hurt themselves than taking any more tries at the door. Erec looked over at her. She was pissed and concerned that he was going to destroy himself for nothing. And Garin’s voice was going scratchy as he worked with Squeaky.
Colin kept pacing around the door, snappy and unhelpful to everyone else. Convinced that he’d see a solution if he stared long enough. Trying to find a trick or piece of information they missed that might solve the puzzle. But it wasn’t a puzzle. That’s where the annoying Duchy spawn was completely wrong about this. There wasn’t a riddle to solve or an obvious explanation. There was only the wall, one they had to keep ramming their heads into it to find a way past.
Erec felt himself heat up again. Felt that anger that he’d already called on a few times in the last couple of hours. He’d been worried that his body was going to fall apart soon, but that only made Fury more likely to flare up. As if it were a vicious animal, waiting to devour his life.
That Strength was a tool. His tool. That raw power hadn’t been the solution to get the door open. Or had it?
With red coloring his vision, he once more advanced on the door, shoving Colin away so he could face the slab alone. Erec set his hands on the edge and shoved.
Everything. Pour everything into it. If he let Fury consume, then he’d have the power—it’d killed the Stag, and it’d saved him time and time again. His muscles screamed as he pushed with all of his might and the power beyond that; his breath coming out in gasps as he only intensified the pressure he exerted. Desperate to get open the door. His blood boiled, but it wasn’t enough. The anger couldn’t be enough. It didn’t understand; the door wasn’t a challenge to conquer, not an enemy to slay. His Strength was flowing freely in his veins, but wasn’t enough.
At the end of the day, he was just another Knight.
Erec stopped pushing, sweat dripping from his brow—blood flowing from where he’d bit his lip. What was the point?
[Relax, take a breather. With this level of exertion you should get some water and rehydrate.]
It didn’t matter, all of this Strength was for naught. He felt the fire rolling beneath him and, for one of the first times, this raw power wasn’t enough—not enough to fill his goal. Why had he become a Knight?
His mother was past the door. The key to finding her and getting his honors—his vow, his goal, the thing he’d sworn to himself he’d do was so close and yet far away.
The anger rolled through him again. If this was a tool, then he should be able to use it. That Knight swore as much to him, that following his path and discovering what he was meant to be, would lend him the Strength he needed. This damn thing was like that Knight; impenetrable, a barrier on his path he couldn’t force his way through with simple, raw power. He couldn’t kill it. No matter how desperately he needed to get past it. No matter how much his dreams relied on the bastard on the other side.
What was he meant to accomplish with this life? Fury was but a tool; but what good was the tool if he couldn’t use it to fulfill his vow?
Erec screamed in rage—grabbing the axe off his back. His body heaved with anger as breath came in gasps, his veins constricted as his muscles bulged and steamed, as if even the sweat coming off him was burning up. Scorching through him as he let Fury claim him as much as before, diving him into hell and pushing himself to the absolute limit. He could hear the surrounding voices, hear his friends’ nervous questions as he lost sight of anything but this barrier.
Walking the path of Knighthood. What did it mean? He’d made his promise to himself; to find her and get the answers he’d wanted for so long. To drag her back. To have his family complete once more.
Anything. He’d do anything for that; abandon the Kingdom, walk across the desert, and give his life.
The silver fire surged beneath the hell. He pictured that Knight; himself clad in silver armor. A figure untouched by any. More powerful than Erec could ever be, as he was. There hadn’t been hatred in the Knight as he took the blows set forth by Erec. But, he knew, if that man were to engage in a full fight, that hate would surge to the surface as an unstoppable ocean of killing intent. The ability to wield a weapon was the cornerstone of being a Knight; what could a man protect himself if not for his weapon? How might he fulfill his promises and vows?
The silver flames burned out of Erec; circling him and setting his entire body aflame, he let it free and felt it move around him like falling into an ocean.
His instincts sharpened, and the anger found a place to anchor. It was simply what he needed to do to fulfill his vow. The silver fire pulled together from his body—wrapping itself up the shaft of the axe and grew, shaping into the same intricate weapon from when he’d fought the Knight; a weapon fit for him. Not made of metal, but borne into the world on a wave of will and hate.
Erec screamed, everything in him straining to lift the axe coated with a silver fire above his head—he struggle, taking a couple of steps back as his legs shook. Then he threw himself forward, the axe arcing downward right into the slab of steel. Sow twice what I reap.
The edge rent through steel with a bang, a plume of fire shooting outward from where the steel bent to the axe—before it slid all the way through and dug into the ground beneath; the flame sputtered out and Erec was left with his axe, legs wobbling as he stepped backward from the falling doorway. His whole body was in pain as a notification forced its way into view.
Soul (Aspect: Fire): Rank F - Tier 9 → Rank D - Tier 1
His legs gave out as the axe slipped out of his hand; beyond the door, he could hear shouts.
They’d gotten past, but not without alerting the enemy.