B3 Chapter 348: Perseverance, pt. 1

The first thing he felt was a gust of warm wind against his skin — everywhere.

Kaius grit his teeth, ignoring the absence of his armour’s comforting pressure as he got his bearings. He still had his blade, its heavy weight tugging at his grip — that was enough.

He was in the middle of some sort of amphitheatre — hot sand doing its best to scald his bare feet. The pit that held him was easily fifty longstrides wide, encircled by a tall wall of stone. He judged the height — ten longstrides. Too tall for him to scale even with a run up.

Above it, rows upon rows of tiered stands were filled to the bursting with a crowd of cowled figures. Built with the same smooth hewn stone blocks as the pit itself, it gave an imposing visage. Effort had gone into its construction — a weight of planning and effort that spoke of reverence and ritual.

Kaius spun, scanning the crowd. Truesight was unable to pierce the darkness that clouded their hoods, leaving them a faceless mass of silent watchers.

As scorching midday sun beat down upon him, Kaius turned his focus back to the pit itself. This was a trial — constructed and built for him alone. Whatever came next, he wouldn’t allow himself to be shaken by simple pageantry.

One thing was certain — he was in some sort of arena. Thick, reinforced wooden doors were set at even intervals around the walls of the sandpit — no doubt entrances for fighters to compete for the favour of the watching spectators.

He scanned himself — only to freeze in shock as he took a closer stock of what he had available to him.

It wasn’t his total nakedness; he’d noticed that as soon as he’d felt the breeze, and he was more than capable of fighting unarmoured.

It was his glyphs — they were gone. Where intricate black markings had once graced his chest, temples, hands and feet, there was now only pale flesh.

Racing inwards, Kaius found only more unpleasant surprises. Deep in the innermost reaches of his soul, he found his mana and stamina bound by the implacable authority of the system. Clad in barriers of adamant and godly intent, he was utterly cut off from their strength.

Only his health remained unburdened.

A grievous wound to his fighting ability that went deeper than the removal of his spells and class Skills — without access to his stamina, he would tire like a mortal. His stats would help, excluding Intelligence and Willpower, they all had somewhat of a synergistic effect on raising his physical fitness and endurance to supernatural levels, Strength — and to a lesser extent, Dexterity — most especially.

Still, he was strong — his full capabilities would tire him out eventually.

Kaius tightened his grip on his blade. No matter — he could do this. He had his blade, his health, and his general skills. Regardless of what the trial threw at him, he would win.

He didn’t need magic to be deadly, and multiple of his legacy Skills bolstered his physical capabilities and endurance — to say nothing of his Beastblood.

No matter what Xenanra had said, he could feel in his bones that this would be a fight. Afterall, Corporus was the aspect of the body, and what greater trial was there than pitching the foundations of your might against another? What greater ordeal could there be than putting your very life on the line to prove yourself the better?

Sharp excitement shot down his spine, every hair on his body raising in spite of the warm summer air. Deep within his chest, his heart thumped a beat of violence, sparking a song that hungered for what he knew would come.

All worry, all distractions, fell away. The lack of his armour. The chaining of his status. The plight of his team. All of it. There was only the latent strength that coiled within him, and the comforting weight of his sword in hand — its edge seeming to bleed into the heat distorted air that rose from the sand.

The crowd rose as one, as if they could sense his hunger and readiness. A sprawling mass, they stomped their feet in unison — striking a rhythmic beat that shook the foundations of the arena.

Every step resonated through the ground and up into Kaius’s chest. He immersed himself into its tempo, slowing his breathing as razor-edged aggression masked itself in calm relaxation.

Before he could wonder what the trial would require of him, a notification appeared in his eye — joined by a subtle chime.

**Ding! You have challenged the Trial of Perseverance!**

**Immerse yourself in Corporus, and prove your ability through strength of arm, persistence of body, and skill.**

**Defeat all challenges of the Arena of Rethern, or forfeit at any time to return to safety. Be warned, cowardness has no place on the Path — to forfeit is to abandon this Crucible!**

Kaius embraced the welling manic joy of his bloodsong with open arms, smiling with genuine joy.

If he was to immerse himself deeply in his pillar, a labour of willpower and persistence was perfect for him. What did it matter that he had been cut off from his Skills and most of his Resources? This trial had been designed with that in mind.

If it wanted him to cut and tear his way to victory with nothing but his blade and his body, he would show it how eager he was.

That he could forfeit was meaningless — what could possibly force him to do so? He would not have entered in the first place if he wasn’t determined to grow — to struggle his way up a path that he now knew lead to ascendancy.

Stolen novel; please report.

His confidence in his might was without question — now he only needed to prove it.

Multiple doors slammed open. Kaius spun. Five, equally spread around the wall, leading to halls cloaked in the same impenetrable shadows that guarded the identity of his watchers.

He felt a chime in the back of his mind as Truesight threw itself again and again at the magic that clouded his gaze — to no avail.

Kaius gripped A Father’s Gift in both hands, holding it angled out from his waist — a versatile mid-guard. He felt its newly increased weight, the subtle changes to its balance and length.

A good fight would be just what he needed to grow used to them.

He saw a silhouette in the hall, barely visible through concealing shadow. Cowled and tall — just like the audience. Spinning, he confirmed there was one approaching from every door.

Their heights varied, ranging from close to his own height to a head and a half shorter. They were armed — two arming swords, a greatsword, a battleaxe, and a spear.

He kept himself relaxed, circling to keep them in his sights. Without stamina, he would need to pace himself; conserve his motion to hold exhaustion at bay. This would be no unleashed sprint, but a test of his skill and control.

A flicker of focus brought the spear-wielder’s status up.