Chapter 35: Trial of Chains (Part 2)

  The guardian's first step shakes the arena floor.

  The sound is deep and resonant, like grinding tectonic plates.

  “Move!" Hynnal's voice cuts through the shock, sharp and commanding.

  The word barely registers before instinct takes over. I'm already moving, Gorvash matches my stride as the chain between us pulls taut then slackens in rhythm with our desperate flight.

  Behind us, the guardian's sword descends where we'd been standing moments before. The blade crashes into the sand with enough force to crater the ground, sending up a plume of white particles that hangs in the air like fog.

  "How we fight…?!" Gorvash roars as we sprint along the arena's edge.

  Another guardian cuts off his words, stepping directly into our path. This one wields a massive war hammer, raising it overhead with grinding, inevitable slowness.

  We split directions on pure instinct. The chain jerks, yanking both of us sideways as the hammer falls. The impact where we would have been sends tremors through the stone beneath our feet.

  The chain. This damned chain limits everything.

  If I go left, Gorvash gets pulled left. If he dodges right, I'm dragged along whether I'm ready or not. We're not two fighters anymore but some clumsy, two-headed creature learning to walk for the first time.

  "Move together!" I shout at Gorvash, but coordinating mid-combat while chained is like trying to dance with someone you've never met while wolves circle you both.

  Across the arena, chaos unfolds in every direction.

  Kor'ik and the Bog Goblin have abandoned any pretense of fighting. The Frogman's longer legs carry him in panicked leaps while the small creature scrambles behind, their chain whipping wildly between them. A guardian pursues with that same terrible slowness, each step closing the distance through sheer inexorability.

  The Silent Frogman tries to fight with his characteristic discipline, but the Stalker's erratic moves destroy any rhythm. When the Frogman's powerful legs try to use his weights as wrecking balls, instead he's yanked off-balance by his partner's desperate dodging.

  Even Hynnal struggles. The pack leader's saber flashes in precise arcs, seeking joints and weak points in the guardian's stone construction. But his chained partner keeps stumbling and dragging Hynnal's timing off. What should be devastating blows become glancing strikes.

  The other Gnoll pair tries something different. They sprint in opposite directions, attempting to maximize the distance between them. The chain starts stretching, the ethereal links growing thin and translucent as they strain.

  Then it flares red.

  Both Gnolls drop to their knees as if struck by lightning, convulsing as crimson energy courses through their bodies. The symbols on their chests burn with that same malevolent glow we saw before.

  They scramble back together, gasping, the chain returning to its ghostly green color only when they're close enough to touch.

  The trial won't let us separate. We're forced to fight as pairs whether we want to or not.

  ____________________________________________________________________________

  A guardian closes on us, this one wielding twin blades that look absurdly small in its massive stone hands. But the edges are blunt, thick slabs rather than proper weapons. All their armaments are carved from the same material as their bodies.

  Gorvash charges to meet it, and I have no choice but to follow, the chain pulling me along.

  "Hit the joints!" I call out, remembering basic physics. Every moving construct must have weak points where different pieces meet.

  Gorvash slashes at the guardian's knee with all his strength. His claws, backed by his evolved strength, should at least chip the stone. Instead, they screech across the surface with a sound that sets my teeth on edge, leaving barely visible scratches.

  The guardian's counter-strike comes slowly enough that I see it forming, telegraphed by the way its weight shifts. But slow doesn't mean weak.

  The stone blade sweeps horizontally at chest height. We both drop, the chain tangling between our legs as we hit the sand. The blade passes overhead close enough that I feel the air displacement.

  Rolling apart takes precious seconds with the chain restricting our movements. By the time we're back on our feet, the guardian is already positioning for another strike.

  "Can't hurt it!" Gorvash's frustration echoes my own. His thick scales might absorb impacts better than most, but even he can't withstand a blow from these solid stone monstrosities.

  I watch the guardian's movements, looking for patterns, weaknesses, anything. But there's nothing. No flesh to pierce, no blood to drain or some vulnerable spot. Just animated stone following some ancient directive to kill.

  The scientific part of me can almost admire this construction. The guardian's joints are seamless, as if the entire body was carved from a single massive block then somehow granted the ability to move.

  Magic, obviously. Always this world's elusive magic. One I can’t even begin to comprehend or counter.

  Another guardian approaches from our left. We're being corralled, herded like prey.

  "Back to back!" I shout, and Gorvash understands immediately.

  We press against each other, the chain forming a short loop between our chests. This way we can at least see threats from all angles, even if we still can't effectively fight them.

  The guardians close in with that same grinding inevitability. One step. Two steps. The spectral audience's cheering reaches a fever pitch, that alien pressure in my chest building to almost unbearable levels.

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  A flash of movement catches my eye. The Silent Frogman, finally finding a moment of coordination with the Stalker, launches a precise strike at a guardian's face. Those solid weights carry enough force to stagger the stone construct backward.

  Right into another guardian's path.

  The two stone beings collide with a sound like a rockslide. Cracks spider-web across one guardian's shoulder where the other's weapon caught it during the impact.

  That's it. That's the answer.

  "We can't break them," I say urgently to Gorvash, "but they can break each other!"

  Understanding dawns in his copper eyes. "Use them as weapons."

  "Exactly. We just need to…"

  A guardian's hammer descends toward Gorvash's head. He dives forward, the chain yanking me along. We roll across the sand, coming up in a tangle of limbs and ethereal links.

  As we separate, I see our opportunity. Two guardians converge on our position from opposite sides, their weapons raised in mirror images of destructive intent.

  "When I move, you move!" I tell Gorvash. "Trust me!"

  I sprint directly toward the guardian on our right, the one with the war hammer. Gorvash keeps pace, understanding the plan even if I haven't fully explained it.

  The guardian's hammer rises. I count the seconds, judging the timing.

  Now!

  We split directions at the last possible moment, diving away from each other just as the hammer begins its descent. The war hammer crashes down with devastating force, but strikes only the sand where we'd stood.

  Moving in coordination, we encircled the guardian. The war hammer-wielding construct struggles to keep up, its massive body pivoting with grinding slowness.

  Meanwhile, a second guardian, the one with twin blades, is fighting nearby against the Warrior Gnolls duo.

  We keep moving, forcing the hammer guardian to turn further, positioning it directly between us and its approaching counterpart. The stone construct raises its weapon again, preparing another devastating strike.

  "Now!" I shout. We both drop and roll outward as the hammer descends.

  But this time, the twin-blade guardian is directly into the hammer's path.

  A spectacular collision erupts as the war hammer crashes against its counterpart with a sound like thunder. Where the impact struck ancient stone, cracks spread like spiderweb until they cover the entire torso.

  The twin-blade guardian staggers backward, while these deep fissures spread to his shoulder and arms It teeters for a moment, the cracks widening with each second, before toppling like a felled tree.

  The impact sends up a cloud of white sand and stone fragments.

  Even the hammer-wielding guardian has to plant its feet wide to prevent falling from the backlash of its attack.

  "It worked!" Gorvash triumphantly roars.

  Now we just need to repeat this tactic with the remaining guardians, while making sure no one else dies.

  "Left!" Gorvash's warning comes too late.

  I turn to see Kor'ik's duo careening toward us, the Frogman's panicked leaps completely out of control. The Bog Goblin drags behind, its small legs unable to match the pace.

  Their chain tangles with ours.

  The sudden resistance yanks me sideways. I stumble, my claws scrambling for purchase on the sand. Gorvash tries to compensate, pulling in the opposite direction, but that only makes it worse.

  We all go down in a heap of bodies and glowing chains.

  The Bog Goblin's claws scratch me as he tries to stand through the chaos.

  I try to push myself up, but the chains have formed a complex knot around all four of us. Every movement pulls someone else off balance.

  "Stop moving!" I shout, but the Goblin is beyond reason, thrashing in pure panic.

  A shadow falls across us.

  I look up to see the guardian whose first step had announced this nightmare, with his massive two-handed sword looming overhead.

  The stone construct raises its weapon high. From this angle, the blade even blocks out the ghostly sun, casting us in its shadow.

  Gorvash roars, yanking at the tangled chains with desperate strength. He manages to pull himself partially free, positioning his body between me and the descending blade.

  "No!" I scream, but there's no time.

  The sword falls.

  Gorvash's thick scales are a product of evolution, a hardened defense against this brutal world. They have turned aside blades and claws even resisting impacts that would crush weaker beings.

  Yet they're not enough.

  The stone blade catches him at his crossed arms, the impact driving him sideways and down and I hear the unmistakable sound of something crack.

  But the onslaught doesn't stop with Gorvash.

  A second blow immediately follows through. An horizontal slash that catches me in the ribs.

  The pain is immediate and absolute. Not just broken bones but shattered ones, fragments grinding against each other with every involuntary breath. I can feel my chest cavity collapsing, organs shifting in ways they shouldn't.

  ____________________________________________________________________________

  I'm airborne.

  The realization comes with strange detachment, as if I'm observing someone else's body tumbling through the air. The chain between Gorvash and me pulls taut, the ethereal links glowing brighter as they strain under the sudden tension.

  I hit the sand hard enough to bounce.

  The world narrows to a tunnel. Sound becomes muffled, like I'm underwater and even the ghostly audience's cheering fades to a distant rumble.

  I try to breathe, but my lungs won't inflate properly and blood fills my mouth with its coppery taste. Something vital is broken. Probably several somethings.

  Through my narrowing vision, I see Gorvash struggling to rise. Both his arms hang at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.

  But at least he's moving. He's alive… for now.

  I want to call out to him, to tell him to run, to leave me and survive. The only person to ever call me brother in this godforsaken world.

  But this damn chain connects us not only in life but also in death.

  My regeneration kicks in desperately, trying to repair the catastrophic damage. I can feel it knitting bone and mending torn organs. But it's too slow. Way too slow for injuries this severe.

  The guardian's footsteps shake the ground as it approaches for the finishing blow. Each impact vibrates through my shattered ribs.

  Darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision.

  I'm dying.

  The thought comes with surprising calm. After everything, after the hatching cave, the gladiator pit, after Magba's brutal training and the village, the marsh and even the shadow trial, this is where it ends.

  Killed by a giant animated statue in a pocket dimensional arena, during a trial designed by mysterious people dead for millennia.

  There are many less cool ways to die, I suppose. Being devoured by a lizard is certainly one.

  I'd be laughing if I could still breathe.

  And like this, the world fades to black…

  …

  But I can see something in the darkness.

  Not a light at the end of a tunnel or any comforting vision of an afterlife, but a glowing blue text that writes itself across the void of my consciousness.

  [Conditions are met.]

  [You will now evolve from Minor Lizardman to Lizardman.]