Location: The Sealed Space — The Crucible of Ascension — Second Trial — The Ice Field
The ice field had become a slaughterhouse.
Snow monsters roamed the expanse in packs, their massive forms casting long shadows across the crystal surface. Their fists swung in wide, brutal arcs, catching trainees mid-stride, sending them tumbling across the ice. Their spheres of pale blue light fired in rapid succession, each one finding its mark, each one burrowing into flesh and bone.
The screams were constant—a chorus of terror that echoed off the frozen ridges and seemed to come from everywhere at once. Some were cut short, abruptly silenced by a monster's fist or a sphere of pale blue light. Others faded slowly, the sound of someone who had been wounded and was waiting to die.
Elijah skated through the chaos.
His movements were smooth, controlled, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. The monsters were everywhere—to his left, to his right, in front of him, behind him. They moved with a speed that defied their size, their bodies flowing like water, their fists striking like hammers.
"What in the outer and inner lands is going on here?" Wonko's voice was sharp, almost frantic.
"Is the Aetherium Foundry secretly just a farming field for these creatures? And why would the Mysterium clan sacrifice so many potential assets for—"
"Seriously?" Elijah's internal voice was flat, edged with annoyance.
"That's what you're thinking about right now? Instead of letting me focus on dealing with these creatures?"
"I'm trying to understand the larger picture."
"The larger picture can wait."
Elijah's eyes moved across the battlefield, taking in the chaos—the falling trainees, the shrieking monsters, the bodies being absorbed into the creatures' surfaces.
"Right now, I need to survive."
---
A monster lunged at him.
Its fist was massive, its surface jagged with spikes of ice. It swung at his head, aiming to crush his skull like an eggshell. The air around it howled with the force of the blow.
Elijah's body moved.
Not fast. Not slow. Just there. His head tilted—a fraction of an inch, just enough. The fist passed where his face had been, close enough that he could feel the cold emanating from its surface. His hand shot up—not to block, to strike. His palm pressed against the monster's wrist.
Through his perception, he saw the weakness.
Not a flaw in the monster's form—a flaw in its frequency. The flow of concentrated conflux that powered its body was sluggish, uneven. It pooled in certain areas, thinned in others. The weak points were visible to him, like cracks in a dam that was about to break.
"There," he thought.
His fingers curled. His muscles tensed. His Tenryu pulsed—the crimson and amber-gold core in his chest, the orbiting ring around his torso. The energy flowed through his arm, his hand, his fingers.
He pushed.
The monster's wrist shattered.
Not the ice—the frequency. The conflux that held its form together collapsed, and the monster's hand fell to the ice, dissolving into pale blue light. The creature screamed—a sound like rats in a trap, high and thin and desperate, a sound that seemed to come from a thousand throats at once.
It stumbled back, its body flickering, its form unstable.
Elijah followed.
---
His Tenryu was a bean.
Not a bean in the way that beans existed in the world—a spherical containment. A dense, concentrated point of vibrational energy that pulsed in his chest, its surface smooth, its glow steady. It was small compared to the cloud-like conflux of the monsters, but it was contained. Controlled. His.
Through his perception, he saw the bean clearly.
It was not a solid object—it was a vessel. A container for the energy that flowed through his body, the energy that he had gathered from Kokoro, from Shinso, from the fear and devotion of those around him. It pulsed with a steady rhythm, like a second heartbeat, its surface rippling with each pulse.
"The monsters have clouds," he thought.
"I have a bean."
"But a bean can pierce a cloud."
He raised his fist.
The bean pulsed.
He struck.
---
The monster's chest caved in.
Not its physical chest—its frequency. The cloud of conflux that powered its body was scattered, dispersed, broken. The creature's form flickered, its edges becoming soft, its features becoming indistinct. It tried to reform, to pull itself back together, but the damage was too great.
Elijah didn't stop.
His hand shot forward. His fingers closed around the monster's core—the center of its being, the place where the cloud was densest. He pulled.
The monster screamed.
Its body dissolved.
The cloud flowed into Elijah's hand, into his arm, into his chest. It merged with his bean, becoming part of his Tenryu. The bean pulsed—once, twice, three times—and then settled into a steady rhythm.
"That's—"
"That's new."
"That's—"
"That's useful."
Wonko's voice was thoughtful, almost reverent.
"I've seen many things in my time. The rise and fall of empires. The birth and death of gods. But this—"
"What?"
"This is different."
"Different how?"
"The way you're absorbing them. The way you're making their power your own. It's not Sutran. It's not even Mysterium."
"What is it, then?"
"I don't know."
Wonko's voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
"But I suspect it's part of the Mandate. The part that no one has ever understood. The part that—"
"The part that makes me different."
"Yes."
---
Another monster lunged.
This one was larger than the others, its body covered in spikes, its eyes pits of pale blue fire. Its fists were the size of boulders, and each swing sent shockwaves through the ice.
Elijah's body moved.
Not fast. Not slow. Just there. His fist connected with its jaw. Its head snapped back. Its body followed, crashing into the ice, skidding across the surface. The impact sent a shower of ice crystals into the air, glittering in the pale light.
"This is ridiculous," Elijah muttered.
His voice was flat.
"The array transportation. The sealed spaces. Who even designs these things?"
"Actually—"
Wonko sighed.
"—those things weren't made by human hands. They've existed for thousands of years. Whether the ones who built them are still around—that isn't certain."
"What do you mean?"
"Too much history has been altered. The Sutrans who lived long enough are in hiding, thanks to the internal strife among their members. Only they would have the answers you seek, boy."
"But until then—"
"Until then, focus on what's important."
"Yeah, yeah."
Elijah's voice was flat.
"I know. Getting stronger."
"Getting stronger."
---
A monster appeared in front of him.
Larger than the others. Its body was covered in spikes, its eyes were pits of pale blue fire, its fists were the size of boulders. It roared—a sound like grinding ice, like cracking stone, like the end of the world.
Elijah didn't stop.
His body moved—not fast, not slow, just there. His hand shot up. His fingers closed around the monster's core. He pulled.
The monster screamed.
Its body dissolved.
The cloud flowed into Elijah's hand, into his arm, into his chest. It merged with his bean, becoming part of his Tenryu. The bean pulsed—once, twice, three times—and then settled into a steady rhythm.
He lifted the monster's remains.
His arms strained. His muscles screamed. But he held it—a massive, jagged chunk of ice and crystal, its surface still pulsing with pale blue light. The weight of it pressed down on him, threatening to crush him, to bury him beneath its mass.
He tore it apart.
The pieces fell to the ice, dissolving into pale blue light.
---
Darius watched from a distance.
His face was pale. His eyes were wide. His hand—the one that had been broken, the one that was now wrapped in a crude bandage—trembled at his side. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
"That's just mad disrespectful," he muttered.
His voice was low, barely audible.
"That's—"
He shook his head.
"Since you came back alive, you've changed entirely. It doesn't make any sense. Why are you playing lamb to lure us—the real blinded sheep—while hiding the butcher's knife you were always holding?"
His voice rose.
"Why?"
He didn't have an answer.
---