Ori surveyed the scene from a terrace dozens of yards above. Five infernal demons and a red-skinned Imp dragged a human by the scalp, not even bothering to restrain him in chains or bindings. The victim's clothes were black suit trousers and a single polished office shoe, paired with a torn and soiled shirt.
"He's from my realm?" Ori whispered.
‘If you can understand him in your own tongue, I suspect so,’ Freya replied.
Ori nodded silently, observing the poor man's pleas for mercy. Every muscle in his body ached with tension as if screaming at him to either flee or do something. But he knew that any attempt to help would likely result in his own death.
As the demons tortured the human, Ori felt anger simmering inside him, directed not only at the demons but also at his own cowardice. He felt paralyzed and impudence, unable to take any action against the brutality unfolding before him. He watched in horror as the Imp gestured with a wave from his hands, the human's eyeballs liquefied and poured out of his sockets.
Ori wanted to scream, but fear stole his breath and froze thoughts. The demons and their captive vanished, and he realised it was his time to move. Wasting no more time, he descended the switchbacks along the cliffside, making his way down to the entrance of the trial.
Behind him was a large rocky balcony that overlooked the ravine and the streams of lava pouring and bubbling in the distance. The stink of sulphur and ash filled the air, adding to the dark red, infernal atmosphere.
‘Are you certain your plan will work?’ Freya asked as Ori glanced at the two guards standing outside the entrance to the trial.
"Should do," Ori sighed as he returned to cover.
He considered his options: his desperate need to slip past the guarded doors and into the Crucible, the chance for strength beyond, the anger simmering in his gut, and the ticking clock of Freya’s dwindling lifespan. His plan to enter, if it could be called that, was to set up an ambush rather than launch a valiant, wand-toting charge. He’d already spent two charges from his mortal wand of force, and judged one charge to be enough to knock someone off their feet, hopefully.
With the four wands of force, each having between ten and thirty charges, he could theoretically shove a normal person off their feet, and, if timed and positioned precisely, off a cliff towards a lake of lava, at least forty times.
He kicked off a lump of rock, small enough to throw but large enough to make a noticeable disturbance, and then threw it like a fastball across the cavern. The sound as it clattered off the distant wall, caught the attention of the demon guards and Ori was spotted not long after.
He ducked back towards the edge of the terrace, as he heard grunts and the shuffling of feet. One of the infernal guards had charged towards Ori with a flail in hand. Ori braced himself against the terrace wall, raised hands each wielding a Mortal Wand of Force, facing the demon. Time seemed to skip and in an instant, the demon appeared before him with an iron flail made out of chained Morningstars primed to brain his cranium.
The demon suddenly sailed over the ravine's edge, spinning end over end while screaming in rage. Ori realised the other demon had witnessed all of this from the entrance, mouth agape as his friend fell into the abyss before a demonic rage overtook his countenance.
Ori fired another pulse of force at this new assailant from range, but the demon slashed it with his sword before lunging to plunge the weapon into Ori's chest. Ori deflected the blade with a rapid pulse of force causing the thrust to miss his heart and slide between his ribs instead. He screamed before blood bubbled in his lungs. He could scarcely think through the shock and pain that seemed, somehow, unnatural despite the situation, and barely had the presence of mind to raise both wands towards the demon, stabbing forwards to expend ten charges of mortal force from each hand at point blank range.
The air between them compressed in a whomp, as Ori was shoved further back into the wall, his vision flashing as the back of his skull smacked the rock he had braced against. Meanwhile, the demon swordsman went sailing in a wide parabola off the edge of the terrace, taking his bloodied sword along with him.
Ori searched for the Ivory wand within the bundle still tied to his belt, his wound pulsing in time with his screaming heart, lungs flooding with blood while his fingers suddenly turned into sausages. Despite feeling in better shape than he could remember only minutes ago, he was now closer to death than at any moment in his life. The edges of his vision darkened as he willed what he had hoped was the right wand to heal his injuries and also, apparently, as informed by the arrogant Will residing within, dispel the lingering death curse robbing his vitality.
‘Ori!’ Freya shouted in his mind.
Ori expended a larger chunk of the wand's Mana to heal his mortal wound and clear the curse. He collapsed in a red puddle, panting in delayed panic and relief. Despite the risks, he had been reasonably confident in his plan, especially after working out the specifics with Freya. However, that had still been far too close.
A single charge of a Mortal Wand of Force he had found out, was indeed too weak to harm an Awakened, especially those who had focused on physical attributes like demons. With a single charge, Ori could have hoped for nothing more than a shove equivalent to a shoulder check against one of the ugly brutes. However, Freya came up with a solution. It was possible to expend multiple charges at once but at the expense of greatly reduced efficiency. For example, expending five charges at once would only grant the effect of three simultaneous pulses of force. With two wands wielded in both hands, that was six, which should have been enough to knock back at least one of those demons. But wielding two wands at once came with its own risks, such as magical backlash and the dazed effect he had felt while holding the stave back in the armoury. Looking back at the brief battle, he was certain that the distraction and fragmented nature of the exchange were due in part to the high stat requirements of dual-wielding two magical artefacts, even if those were only at the mortal rank.
In the end, Ori reflected on just how quick it had all been. There had been no long drawn-out battle, no ebb and flow with very little in the way of parry and riposte. In the end, all he could remember was the screaming and blood.
"Do you think they're dead?" Ori said, risking a glance down into the molten abyss.
'Yes,' Freya said as she made a rare appearance outside of his skull and floated beyond the edge. 'I received their Peritia in acknowledgement of their defeat, along with more Peritia from a minor accolade you received.'
"Yeah?" Ori said, staring into the lava as he tried to get his breathing under control. “You know what it was?”
‘I don’t, not without a ritual I no longer have the Mana for.’
“And I’d need to be Awakened for me to find out on my own?” Ori sighed. Freya’s guilty silence was the only response. "Could fighting enough of them infernals get you to evolve?" and allow himself to awaken Ori added silently.
'For Awakened, those demons were relatively high level. However, it would take hundreds, perhaps thousands to gain enough Peritia through combat,' Freya replied.
"But Nascent demons would give more?" Ori whispered.
'Yes, but Nascent Demons are as to Awakened as those Awakened Demons were to you, so if you think your little trick would work again, expect to be disappointed.'
Ori could only grunt as he moved out of the small pool of blood-soaked ground and removed the leather armour that had proved absolutely useless in the last exchange. It was covered in blood, too heavy and restrictive in an environment still far too hot.
“Right, so this is it, ain’t it? The opportunity? The Crucible?”
They were outside the stone doors Ori had seen a prisoner dragged through. After reaching the armoury, it had become the target of the second part of Freya’s plan. Ori did not truly understand the details, but he did know one thing: a chance to become strong lay inside. Apprehension tightened his grip on the wand of Force.
“Yes.”
“So how do we enter?”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“I—you’ll have to go alone,” Freya said.
“Wait, you’re not coming?” Ori asked.
“I’m devolved. Lesser. My soul is on the verge of fraying. I wouldn’t…”
“So what? Can’t you just dive in and piggyback in my skull like always?”
“It wouldn’t work. The artefact spirit… Ori, please.” Freya’s voice steadied. “Even if I could enter with you, I would not survive the trial in my current state.”
Ori was not a fool. A small part of him could not help but wonder whether she was trying to ditch him, leaving him behind as the dead weight he felt he was. But his rational mind knew she wanted to live, and still needed his Peritia to evolve and restore her lifespan. With that thought came a dawning realisation.
During their descent towards the Crucible, they had spoken about its history and original purpose, and about its most common current use by demons as a crude instrument of torture for mortals under their yoke. Yet despite her extensive explanations, Freya had failed to mention one small but vital detail.
“How long will this trial take?” Ori asked, his voice turning cold.
Freya remained silent, her unique chromatic scale pulsing with colour as she hovered in the dry, hot air. When the V of Ori’s furrowed brows deepened, he asked again, his voice a low growl. “Freya. How long?”
“Time runs differently in the trial. At least that’s what I’ve come to believe from my dreamwalking,” Freya replied. “For participants, it could be months, perhaps years of subjective time, but on the outside only hours or days may pass. It’s hard to know for sure.”
“Months or years?” Ori exclaimed. He dragged his fingers through his matted hair and clawed at his scalp, vexed. A year doing what, torturing himself? It sounded impossible, insane. How would he survive without food or water? How could he maintain focus, or even his sanity, for that long, subjective time or not?
It took minutes of focused, deep breathing to head off a long-overdue panic attack.
Eventually, memories churned through Ori’s thoughts, each one offering a sharper understanding of his predicament. Freya’s recent lessons on willpower echoed alongside the old tales from her rote knowledge: the price of power, and the heroes who paid it. He recalled sagas of legendary figures and their empires, how even gods had battled Titans, while enigmatic beings like the Librarians and Primordials held sway over Fate. All of it prodded at Ori’s ego, hinting at paths once beyond his reach, perhaps even beyond Freya’s. He could feel that her knowledge was more than information. It was a catalyst that, with enough determination and luck, might unlock the fabric of reality itself.
“So I can spend as long as I have to,” Ori said, voice tight, “and you’ll be here waiting for me when I get back? Because I will be back, Freya.”
'Even though if I died, you’d most likely be able to Awaken once more?'
“Even so,” Ori said.
'Very well. I shall hibernate to conserve strength. I will be weak, but still alive.'
“Good,” Ori said. “Because if you’re not, I’ll be going god-poking.”
Freya scoffed. 'I still don’t believe poking the god and asking it for help would be wise.'
“Well, you wouldn’t get a say in the matter if you weren’t here when I got back, would you?” Ori said. Then, softer, “Maybe you’re right. But when I’m back, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
'Alright, Ori. You should go before someone else comes. Place your hand on the door, and will yourself inside. I’ll be here when you return.'
Ori nodded, then turned away from the sprite and approached the ornate double doors of stone. With a final sigh, he placed his hands against the cold surface, pressed his will forwards and vanished.
Diffuse light allowed Ori to see a small fountain of water. Beneath it was a pictograph showing a person drinking from it, which was straightforward enough, except Ori could feel magic emanating from the fountain, the water, or both. Worse yet, Freya had never mentioned this, and given Ori’s current level of dehydration, placing a drinking fountain with water he couldn't drink would have been a cruel test indeed.
A small part of his mind wondered if the trial had already begun if the first test was to ignore the obvious deception, and then what? He looked around once more but made out no features, only a grey slate stone that was solid and cool to the touch. He spent minutes ensuring no secret doors or passageways existed and even climbed atop the fountain's lip to gain an elevated vantage point to inspect the featureless room.
To his reckoning, it had been two days since his strawberry milkshake, and he was certain that if it weren’t for the Greater Channelling Wand of Light, he would already be dead several times over. Despite the wand's miraculous nature, however, he still needed hydration, and the closest he had come to finding any was the fountain.
He stopped second guessing himself.
The water was clear, cold, and sweet in a way that could have made him drunk from the flavour alone, let alone from the euphoria of a thoroughly quenched thirst. After plunging his face deep into the bowl, he gasped, feeling the cooling sensation flow through him, and with it, a tingling that was disconcerting enough for Ori to reach for his Ivory Wand. The will inside responded with confusion when Ori experimentally tried to diagnose a non-existent malady. He attempted to calm his mind, but the feeling that something wasn't quite right persisted, then and grew. His heart raced, and dizziness eventually forced him to lie supine.
He awoke sometime later, filled with newfound suspicion of magical water fountains and a pressing need to pee. Rather than standing up and finding a place to relieve himself, he stared at the holographic text in a language he didn't recognise but was strangely able to comprehend.
[Mortal Aspirant, welcome to the Twilight Crucible of Mortal Physique, Awakened Mind, and Nascent Soul
[As an unawakened mortal aspirant, you have been granted access to all nine trials of the Crucible.]
"Hello?" Ori croaked. "Can you hear me?"
There was no change in the floating, glowing text that stubbornly persisted at the centre of his vision. Just as his irritation mounted, he felt a pull... his intention to respond to the... something... and then the text vanished.
Ori, growing increasingly accustomed to this magical reality, flexed his will once more, directing it first at the residual tingling he still felt within, at the water he'd drunk earlier, and then outward. With vague thoughts like 'what happened?' 'Where am I?' and 'What's going on?' the same welcome text and foreign language reappeared. Ori slowed his thoughts, shifting from a barrage of questions to an intent focused on the next best inquiry.
‘What is the Crucible?’ Ori asked silently, his thoughts focused on the tingling in his gut.
[The Crucible enhances the future evolutions of an aspirant by awakening unique physiques, expanding mental faculties and rarefying the soul.
To begin, aspirants must first commence the trials wherein they’ll have the chance to earn rare catalysts that aid in the refinement of mind, body and soul. After a maximum of nine attempts, the trial will end and aspirants must step into the Crucible to be refined.]
“Step into the Crucible to be refined… yeah, that sounds ominous as fuck,” Ori muttered, his voice small and dubious.
Some of it matched what he and Freya had discussed, but the specifics left him nonplussed. He had a rough idea that this refining was, in practice, exceptionally effective tools of torture. The words Tocam, Odemid, and Halide were not entirely unfamiliar either. Through Freya’s familiar contract he knew alchemical catalysts fell into nine groups, and the text here named three of the rarest.
Tocams refined the physical, which in this case meant the body.
Odemid aided the refinement of mana and mind.
Halides purified the soul.
On acquisition, half of a catalyst’s strengthening effect would apply automatically to his body, mind, or soul, depending on its aspect, with the second effect granted on completion of the trials.
Freya had been right. This was an incredible opportunity. But with that realisation came a flood of questions he could not yet answer, chief among them: how, exactly, would the refining happen?
Perhaps picking up on one of the unvoiced questions, the artefacts will responded:
[Trials within the Crucible are designed to weigh the worth of an aspirant's resolve against their fate given affinities. Within these trials, challenges of will, endurance, wisdom and creativity will test aspirants and should they be found to be worthy, reward them with catalysts.
The nature of the trials, from their content and design to the rewards, are unique and are dependent on the aspirant.
Catalysts may be found throughout a trial, with some far harder to acquire than others. While it is impossible for aspirants to die within a trial, events that would otherwise be fatal instead return them to the Lifewell, ending one of up to nine trial attempts…]
Despite its initially cryptic nature, the Twilight Crucible's will proved quite informative when posed with the right questions. After nearly an hour, Ori had gained a much clearer understanding of the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead. The most intriguing notion was that each trial was unique for every aspirant. Was it related to their physical attributes, their mindset, or something more esoteric? Regardless of the answer, Ori intended to use this knowledge to his advantage.
Two concerns that had been troubling him were also addressed: the fountain of water, referred to as the Lifewell by the Crucible, sustained not only his thirst but also his hunger and nutritional needs. Moreover, although it was impossible to inquire about the passage of time from the perspective of someone outside the Crucible, the will suggested that time dilation within the Trial meant that dozens of days inside equated to mere hours outside.
Armed with this information and fuelled by excitement, untainted by the life-and-death struggles he had recently endured, Ori posed the final question necessary to proceed:
[To enter the Trial, aspirants must first choose which of the three aspects to refine.]
Freya had strongly advised focusing all his efforts on enhancing his body, or in this case, his physique, as doing so would improve his reflexes, speed, endurance, and durability to the pre-Awakened, mortal limits of his race. This also provided the most straightforward challenges to undergo refinement within.
Ori squeezed his eyes shut. Instead of darkness, he saw the liquefied remains of a demon lord as flesh-eating fungus consumed the monster from within. In another memory; Ori witnessed the sudden disintegration of eyeballs accompanied by soul-wrenching shrieks. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even relax his sphincter enough to empty his bowels.
No.
Simply being the fastest or strongest mortal would not suffice in a world where ruthless monsters with terrible powers could crush him like an ant. Mere strength would not be enough to save himself, let alone anyone else trapped in this hell. He had to be greedy, ruthless, and open to every opportunity, every scrap of power he could seize. And if that still was not enough, he would barter, beg, steal, fight, or kill for more.
Without further hesitation, Ori made his decision.
[Confirmed. Mind, Body and Soul aspects have been selected.]
