The Nomad leader, whose face was a patchwork of ritualistic scarring, was named Kael. She and her two guards watched King Felix and Knight-Captain Rhea with unrelenting suspicion.
"We do not trust the Flow-Curse," Kael repeated, her voice low and steady. "The Original Loud One poisoned our land with his vanity and his Focus. If you are different, prove it with suffering that your magic cannot erase."
Kael pointed to a dark, massive iron boulder resting near the watering hole. It was shaped not into a perfect sphere or a sleek cube, but into a hideous, geometrically imperfect mass of crude metal.
"That is the Burden of the Un-Aesthetic," Kael announced. "It is an ancient forge stone, intentionally shaped to repel balance and focus. It weighs three times what a man should carry. If you use your Flow magic to lighten it, you fail. If you drop it, you fail. You will carry it for one full day, walking this path of stillness. Prove that your will, not your magic, is strong."
Felix looked at the iron mass. In his Flow-charged armor, the task would be a minor display of strength. But here, in the Flow-Stagnation Zone, he was functionally a normal man, still recovering from the magical sickness and the emotional trauma of the archives.
"I will do it," Felix agreed, shedding his remaining gear. He stepped up to the massive, ugly stone.
He wrapped his arms around the rough, uneven surface, his back already protesting. With a terrible groan of physical effort, he lifted the Burden of the Un-Aesthetic onto his shoulders.
The sheer, physical effort was agonizing. The geometrically imperfect shape of the stone pressed into his collarbone at sharp, painful angles. Every muscle fiber screamed. He felt the blood vessels in his eyes strain.
[SYSTEM WARNING: PHYSICAL ENDURANCE TEST INITIATED. DF CONSUMPTION IS IMPOSSIBLE. STAMINA DRAIN: CRITICAL.]
Rhea stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "Let me help him, Kael. This is unnecessary cruelty."
Kael stopped her with a raised hand. "If he is truly a King of focus, he must focus on his flesh, not his spirit. If he cannot endure the true weight of being human, he is worthless to us."
Felix began to walk. Every step was a profound act of humility. He realized his entire reign had been built on aesthetic ease—on the beautiful simplicity of the Flow making every task possible. Now, he was reduced to grunting, aching survival.
As the sun crawled across the sky, Felix's exhaustion was absolute. He stumbled. The Burden nearly slipped, but he locked his muscles, his face contorted in a mask of pure, un-aesthetic pain.
He focused not on aesthetic beauty, but on a single, ugly, painful fact: The Original King Felix I would never have done this. The Original King would have used magic to cheat, or simply forced a servant to carry it. This act of raw, unglamorous struggle was the final separation from the cruel legacy of his namesake.
He focused on the words of the confession: He created the perfect weapon of revenge. If he survived this, he would have a chance to prove the prophecy wrong.
As the evening approached, Felix collapsed to his knees, but he did not drop the stone. He held the massive, ugly relic suspended on his shoulders, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Kael approached him, her iron axe lowered. The expression on her face had shifted from cold contempt to grudging respect.
"You are broken, Loud One," Kael observed. "But you did not cheat with your spirit-magic. You carried the Ugly."
Felix managed a raspy reply. "I am not the King of my predecessor. I am... the King who carries the weight of his predecessor."
Kael nodded slowly. "We accept your truth. The Flow is a curse we have fought for centuries. You have shown us that the man is separate from the magic."
She ordered her guards to relieve Felix of the Burden.
"We will help you, Still One," Kael said, using a new, respectful title. "We hold the ancient, un-aesthetic knowledge that predates the Flow-Seeker's Madness. We know how to stop the war you created, for we know the price of Flow-Cursed betrayal."