It took another few thousand strokes until he finally saw something, no reflection of the light, at least not the sun, he saw something, as if he was swimming under red water, still constantly being soothed by the endless gooey liquid, a liquid he'd really love to take home with him, if he was to ever have a home again, or even anything he could call as such.
But now he was seeing something, it resembled a cross with a circle in the middle, greyish but filled with light, a kind of ghostly white coming from the middle of what seemed to be a town square, as if burning something, or maybe, as if using magic to simply enlighten the area.
Meanwhile, as Avere was almost down there, Cades was worried, though he wasn't sure what exactly he had to be worried about, courtesy of him mainly consisting of what this entire world was made up off, experiences and Cadon.
Unbeknownst to that Avere had finally reached the light, a flat surface, still unsure about whether or not he was about to fall or struggle while continuously keeping himself afloat in the endless red, something that, now that he thought about it, kind of made him smile, the entire idea being a bit ridiculous and quite funny to him for some reason.
Still, that problem didn't end up arising as he felt himself being pulled through the wall of reflecting liquid as soon as he stretched out his hand, bringing up considerable force, trying to break the wall without having anything to put his hand atop, to rest his feet, to give himself some kind of momentum to end up even scratching the wall.
When he had finally brought out a part of his body, he felt gravity, and instantly, he fell through the liquid, as if it had never been a wall he had to overcome, and started to flail helplessly in the air as he began to fear whatever could possibly happen once he ended up on the ground.
Okay, okay, let's think, was there anything he could do to stop this, he thought.
Cades was useless, the guy hadn't focused enough on the basics and mostly been obsessed with artificing, Arges would probably desire to take the fall, even if that meant death, so Rondel was his biggest hope, no questions asked.
There were many spells inside Rondel's memories and experiences, and he should be able to easily cast most of them, but many required preparation or were btter when used together with Ujotrian alchemy or even artificing, but there were certainly a few spells against such a situation.
First idea that came to mind was blocking the fall and absorbing the damage using multiple shields around his body, an idea he quickly got rid of as the fall was still going on and that would certainly mean he would not end up having enough shields to take care of that huge of a fall.
The second idea was to use wind to break up his fall, but surely that wouldn't end up being enough, it was mainly for slowing down falls, nothing like this much, where he would still fail, even if he ended up being able to cast the complicated spell once or twice.
Lastly, he could have enchanted himself to fall slower, slowed down by both wind and mana, almost automatically from what he was able to discern from that memory that had come to him all this late, the best idea by far from what he could tell.
That spell, called feather's grace had been taught to Rondel during his third year as a hunter, back when he had been twenty-five, already having gone through the two years required to become a certified hunter.
Back then, five years before he had hunted the wyrm, a year after he had read the letter once more, he had been stuck in a canyon, his leader from back then being scared to death, he had spent half a month creating the spell that seemed so simple in retrospectl.
When he had come out of there he had wanted to announce his discovery, but had quickly understood the spell had already been created, just under a different name.
Back then he had wanted to fly up the canyon, just like the feathers, and he had finally succeeded after only slowing his fall down at first, creating a tangible magic circle he could control, just like the wooden mage back on that accursed island who had been using the very same technique, just a bit more refined and a bit more steadfast because she had certainly been a higher rank than she had bene stuck at on that island.
Still, despite Avere discovering he was somehow able to fly, and feeling elated about it, so much so he got lost in the story and forgot he was falling for the tiniest of moments, he wasn't able to save himself anymore, and felt that he was about to become flatter than a piece of paper after being sat on by an elephant carrying it's baby atop it's back.
Well, at least he would be able to smile one last time because of that funny metaphor, he realized.
His stomach, hurting for some reason, as if he had been laughing for an exceedingly long time, having stopped only recently, attempted to convulse and laugh once more, but before he could utter the sound, barely getting the air in his system, almost as if using the laugh to alleviate his pain, finally, in a moment of awareness, realizing that the light had indeed been a ghostly white fire, he hit the ground.
From both inside and outside the death seemed and was instantaneous, a kind of good thing when one thought about it, but he was somehow still alive, suspended not as a body, but having splattered, silver liquid having gone everywhere and now slowly, but surely, returning to the original point.
And the watching Cades almost laughed, knowing that experiences, just as the mind, were difficult to kill.