"Good luck!" she waved, then disappeared into the illusory trunk, behind multiple layers of talismans.
Hand on his sword and body ready for battle, Axl stepped forward. This wasn't an impartment, after all, but a trial, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he had to step out of the rift swinging.
He found himself before a placid, orange lake beneath a pink sky, the water peaceful and unmoving. All around the lake were simple houses, the details of their construction unclear, as if shrouded in an even mist. Even right behind him, the empty buildings seemed shrouded in fog, faint shadows of people roaming about like idle ghosts. In the gaps in the distance, the simple village cut off into a sheer pink wall like the sky, as if the entire area was under a dome barely a kilometer in diameter.
Recognizing the lake was the real purpose of why he was brought here, Axl stepped onto the long, narrow walkway that led to the circular platform at the lake's center. As he walked, he noticed the water emanated a faint mist that pooled on his ankles, a poison that slowly seeped into his skin.
He stopped, wondering if he should make a serum against it, but as he tried to take some of it into [Gastric Cauldron], he realized the spiritual organ was sealed off. Surprised, he tested [Mana Shroud], but it was also inactive. He could still feel them in his mind, but it was as if an impenetrable wall were erected between him and them. The protection of [Mind-Soul Bulwark] had also been unmade, his soul now an unprotected marble at the center of his chest.
His armor and sword were also gone, together with his dimensional pouch, replaced with a simple blue robe, like the ones he occasionally saw in vids that people used to wear in their private showers.
At first alarmed by his missing stuff, he figured it was just a part of the trial, that he had to deal with it without external resources. This was a concern, since a lot of his additional power was from his Skills and spiritual organ, boosted by his damn good sword and armor, the trial becoming that more challenging. Suddenly, the 95% expected casualty rate he dismissed off-hand felt much more worrying.
Still, the poison boring into him at the ankles was easily dealt with by just his passive Endurance keeping it out and Vitality undoing the damage. So he continued, the choice being made and the rift closed behind him.
However, as he walked further and further in, the mist became denser, rising to his shins, then knees, the poison's potency rising as well. Soon, he had to slow down to let his body deal with the assault, and by the time he reached the edge of the center platform, he had to focus his will on boosting his Vitality and Endurance to keep his body in peak condition.
Stepping onto the neat circle of smoothed stone, the mist disappeared entirely, and a notification appeared.
>>Challenge Rift: Reklerian Fathoms meditation tower of a lesser Seeping Hyacinth
>>Update: Entrance requirements met, descend into the tower while cycling its poison, and step forward at the floor of your final imbuement.
>>Reward: Proportional to floor reached, boosted by Geas of the Weak.
Glad for the instructions, he noticed there was now an open pool in the middle of the platform, the water within translucent, only slightly tinged orange. He could see a tower below, pointing downwards into the murky depths, as if built underwater from a massive base, inconsistent with what he could see on the lake's surface.
A figure suddenly appeared next to him, wearing a similar robe to his, but colored a bright orange that matched the lake's water. He was a bald elf with brown skin, eyes closed, a slight smile on his face. Axl tensed instinctively, raising his hands into fists, but felt no threat from the figure's calm face, his hands gently clasped into each other at his gut.
"Welcome to our tower," the elf bowed. "I am a forgotten remnant of my fallen people, tasked with operating this trial at the behest of the Heavens. I sense you may not know how to cycle. Perhaps you would like some instruction before engaging in the trial?"
"Uhhh, sure." Axl relaxed. If this guy was working for the Deep System, it made it less likely he'd turn on him for some reason.
"One normally cycles through breath, using the nostrils or mouth, as best befits one's body plan and lineage. In your case, I suggest imbibing with your gills. As the Hyacinth's tears enter your body, they should be evenly spread throughout using the force of your will, preferably via any open meridians, nodal points, or body plan-relevant pathways. Allowing for concentration or pooling would cause damage without refinement, and likely cause death before a floor's completion and a chance to exit the trial."
"What if I don't have any meridians or nodes?" Axl asked, growing increasingly wary of his odds.
The elf bowed again, smiling politely. “Simply will it throughout your body using imagery as you see fit, such as a mist spreading within, or water filling a bowl. However, focusing on the effects directly is more efficient, but difficult without a guiding system, such as a meridian-based cycling technique, yet I recommend should be attempted first, should your concentration prove adequate."
"Great," Axl muttered, looking at the water with increasing trepidation.
"I assure you, it is still possible to descend well without every conceivable preparation and advantage. This is a trial meant to assist those found worthy of delving into the Fathoms, the risk carefully measured out to allow for the most fitting gains to assist in your path."
Something about how he said the word Fathoms made Axl think he wasn't being metaphorical, reinforced by the message he just received naming the rift's challenge.
"Any other tips?" he asked, looking at the elf, but not expecting much.
"There are a total of nine floors, separated into three stages of challenge. If you find yourself struggling on the third or sixth floor, I recommend leaving the trial then, since the additional challenge in crossing between stages is where most fall to the trial, having overestimated their capabilities."
Axl nodded, glad he asked. "That's actually incredibly useful, thanks."
The elf's smile widened, and he bowed again. "I am here to serve, after all."
"What do you gain from working for the Heavens?" he asked, hoping to pump more information from the helpful elf. "Do you cultivate in the water in exchange for doing this?"
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"I cannot cultivate, as I am only a disembodied spirit, my soul gaining merit with the Heavens in this service before I reenter the cycle of reincarnation. The better those undertaking the trial perform, the more merit I accrue, improving the conditions of my next life. If you make it to the 6th floor, it will pave most of the way to ensuring my next birth is with an F-Grade Lineage."
"Seems like a good deal," Axl replied, even as he was skeptical. It seemed like too good a deal, in fact. But then again, even Terrania managed to get him into a foreign body, so it wasn't inconceivable that the Deep System regularly made deals like this.
"Alas, it is due to my specialized skillset and centuries of cultivation throughout the Reklerian Fathoms. I have seen the very peaks of the E-Grade before falling, my Core brimming with the purest attunement to the Hyacinth Sorrow, six open meridian nodes in a full circuit. Still, my path was cut short by a foolish war I should never have joined. Do not be distracted from your living pursuits by the possibility of death-bound service. They will always be a pale shadow of the heights a cultivator may attain, a single mistake costing everything you have built."
A shadow of sorrow crossed the cultivator's otherwise placid smile, but it was quickly gone. Axl bowed to the elf, briefly sharing the man's sorrow and regret. "May your next life bring you even further heights."
The elf paused, then replied by silently returning the bow, and Axl jumped into the pool before him.
The water settled heavily against his body, and he sat cross-legged, letting the gentle tug of gravity lead him down. In front of him, he saw the massive base of the tower, an imposing construction of simple black stone over a hundred meters across, extending down in even, clearly delineated floors by a simple dividing band. A large window graced the bottom of each floor, clearly where he could choose to exit from when he decided to leave.
The poison was already pressing uncomfortably against his skin, so Axl opened his gills and let the water course through his lungs, the tension dissipating as the poison dissolved into his body. He further willed it to spread evenly, from the tips of his fingers and top of his head down to the bottom of his feet, the damage decreasing dramatically as he spread it out.
The effort to hold the poison in place was negligible, but mounted as his body slowly sank into the water, density increasing. A few minutes later, as he reached the bottom of the first floor, it was starting to barely hurt, and he realized it would be harder to spread out the poison as the pain mounted.
As his body reached the first window, his descent briefly stopped, a walkway of light illuminated before him. He knew that he just needed to take one step, or even touch the walkway, and he would leave, the trial completed. He mentally ignored the offer, and the walkway disappeared, his body continuing its descent.
The second floor found the pain mounting steadily, his attention needing to be fully redoubled on spreading the poison evenly. But still, he passed the second window without stopping. The third floor started to actively damage his body, small ruptures in blood vessels, old wounds opening up, his newly regenerated left arm's skin sizzling as if being roasted.
A plume of blood was being left in his wake as he kept going down, each floor taking longer than the previous one, as if the tower wanted to revel in his mounting pain. But it was nothing compared to the punishment his body had gone through already, and he could tell the wounds could be easily dealt with later.
He passed the third window, bracing himself for more pain, wondering if he'd have a chance to heal before leaving. Moxlin will kill me if I leave badly injured.
The thought felt final, a shrouding darkness upon his soul, the world turned unbearably twisted and brutal. He almost lost control over his spreading of the poison, the desperation tangible, before he realized something was wrong. Moxlin had ample chance to kill him already, and didn't.
The thought returned, subtle as a sledgehammer, and Axl realized this was just an effect of the poison. He would've laughed aloud if he could, but he contented himself with redoubling his effort on spreading the poison around, ignoring the idle thoughts that popped in his head.
Moxlin slitting his throat while he slept with her harvesting knife, her mandibles foreign and threatening as they dug into his eyeball, her bursting out of his gut in a bloody explosion. One after another came up and were ignored, the fourth window arriving and passing by.
He braced himself for another stray thought, and it came almost as if on cue. Lilly was my slave, mine to do as I wanted. Even as subtle as an out-of-control rig, it was unnerving to have some of his oldest, deepest concerns bubble up, but seeing it as an attack, something not real, not his, it was easier to ignore.
As the stray thoughts and idle imagery grew more vivid and cruel, it actually grew easier to deal with, the initial shock gone, suddenly easily relegated to a distraction. He was working at his bench, the flow of spreading poison across his body his unitary focus, only the occasional distraction pinching through, ready to be set aside.
He barely noticed as he stopped by the fifth window and decided to pass it by, the thoughts now jumping to his brother, Cas Kaltan, all over the place. Their venomous lies tried to be increasingly disorienting by changing topics and increasing frequency, but it only made them easier to ignore.
Before Axl even noticed, he was at the sixth window, and he honestly took the elf guide's words to heart and wondered about stopping, but found his body was doing quite well. All the small wounds that built up eventually healed, the new ones popping up at a constant rate that his physical Attributes were able to deal with, while his mental ones performed the task of spreading out the poison despite the pain and errant thoughts. It was a bit taxing, but very doable, especially given that this trial would end at some point.
It almost felt like it got easier as he got used to the mental attacks, so after a moment of hesitation, Axl decided to continue. His body descended into the invisible murk of the dense orange water below, no longer seeing the tower in front of him, only a tangible darkness as poison continued to fight against his body.
He stood over Cas Kaltan's body, staring at the shattered faceplate, the bloody mess frozen within by the lunar cold. His heart sank, the loss too overwhelming to comprehend. His attention slipped on the minor task he was supposed to do, the background maintenance worthless in the face of this. She was just there—all five of them walking in a line, her short frame ahead of him a reassurance, her steady leadership his last real comfort.
Then this, standing over her dead body. His armor creaked and struggled as he bent down to her, hands patting her own ruined plate, as if to shake off the lie, the impossibility. He ignored the warnings blaring in his visor, the sense of something tangible eating through his body.
There was nothing to do, her every Mana trigger was busted or unresponsive, so he turned to his own, mechanically escaping into every minor warning console command, then spreading the poison evenly across his body, barely able to focus on the mundane task.
He had to pick up the obelisk now, carry it alone, at least die doing this one last thing for humanity. He couldn't even die alongside her now.
Suddenly, Axl was in front of a stone building, a thick LED strip lighting the way, his lunar armor gone. Eyes widened in shock, he remembered, redoubling the effort of cycling the poison, seeing his body in a rather bad state.
What the hell was that?
It was all so vivid, lost so utterly to the memory. How in every vent in Ost was he supposed to keep cycling poison while going through that again? And this was only the first floor of that type of challenge?
He bent forward to cut his losses, hoping that clearing seven floors out of nine was still pretty decent. But his hand stopped just before he touched the glowing pathway. This was what the giant cow referred to when saying tempering was body, mind, and soul. If the first three floors were about just the body, the next three his mind, these last three would improve his soul.
As much as it hurt to relive the loss of his banner commander, somehow the ache lessened, the memory easier to bear, even as it was fresher in his mind. Maybe he needed this more than he thought, beyond just getting stronger.
Guess I'll take some of my payment in advance right here, Terrania. Sorry for being a bad soldier, but that's what you get when you have to settle for a miner.
He straightened his back again, and slowly his body started to descend, as if the tower was giving him more time to step away, urging him to reconsider. But he simply cycled the poison and continued.