B3 Chapter 360: Obstinance, pt. 8

“Gods’ rotten fuck!”

Kaius screamed his frustration to the air, slamming his fist on the ground as he woke up in the starting room again.

He’d made progress with the map, even managed to decode the symbology enough to have some measure of understanding of how the obstacles worked — routes, patterns, and timings.

It had only made things bloody worse!

Ten deaths! Ten deaths! Back to back, all due to slip-ups and mistakes caused by spending too much time desperately trying to remember instead of reacting to what was going on around him.

He turned to the canvas, spitting in its general direction. Spittle rolled down the canvas. Ink flashed into existence a moment later.

By sheer force of habit, Kaius focused and his sense of time slowed — marker after marker engraved deep in his mind. This time, he ignored the top line — utterly turned aside every indicator of where and what the future obstacles would be.

This time, he focused only on where the hidden traps were. The places he would need to slow and be more cautious.

The canvas was part tool, part trap. He could feel it — a seductive poisoner that had been left in the very room he had started in.

His connection to the Veteran’s Edge was stronger now — revealed the deception. His mentis, it was practical — an insight and wisdom brought through experience. Sure, preparation was not forgone entirely, and it would always be important — but learning from his experiences and his mistakes was at the core of it.

After all, it was the Veteran’s edge, not the Academic’s. The physicality and personal experience of it all was central to everything else.

Just knowing when he should pay attention for a surprise was enough — everything else would come with time.

He would die, suffer pain, and endure setback after setback. It would all be worth it. He could die a million times and it would still be worth it. This would not break him — he would endure. Especially since he still had The Struggler’s Madness helping him along, a weight that pushed him to improve with every run. Step by step, he mastered trials, broke them down, and leaned on his reactions, speed, and form as he acted according to instincts forged in the hottest of fires.

He’d been making progress! Right up until he started thinking too hard.

Kaius groaned, running his hand through his hair. Rotten roots, he’d been a bloody idiot.

Shaking himself off, he prepared for another run.

…

Kaius gripped the handhold tightly, hanging a dozen longstrides in the air. Gravity did its best to pull him free, but even with only his fingertips he was more than strong enough to support his weight half a dozen times over.

He locked his eyes on the next hand hold, a grip eight longstrides away. The furthest he’d gotten on this obstacle had been five handholds ago — he was moving blind.

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Spells were out — he’d already tried them. Using even one would cause the entire inverted climb to be drenched in a fire hot enough it would scorch his bones in seconds.

Swinging back and forth, Kaius built up his momentum. He leapt a moment later, hands stretching outwards.

They snatched the handhold, little more than a raised square only a fraction of a fingerwidth high. He hung in place — catching his breath as he judged the next jump.

It wasn’t far. Within arms reach, though the awkward shape meant he’d only be able to hold himself up with both hands.

Needles shot into his hands a moment before he could jump, retracting back into his handhold with a quiet click.

**Ding! You have been Afflicted by Prison of the Statuesque – Paralysis, Stone (Tier III)!**

Kaius went rigid, his body frozen in place. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a nozzle slowly slide out of a slot in the wall next to him. All he could muster was resignation.

Fire erupted, followed by a familiar black.

…

Kaius leapt for a ledge, his arms out stretched. An invisible force latched onto his ankle. Another grabbed his neck.

There was a quick yank.

His head popped free in a shower of blood.