B3 Chapter 376: Fog, pt. 7

Porkchop watched with a smile on his face as his brother vanished into a miasma that stank of contagion and forest fires. By the Matriarch’s, Kaius could be stubborn.

Still, it was endearing how long he’d fought to keep them together through the trial — even when it had become blatantly obvious that they were getting nowhere.

He’d been suspicious after three crossroads, and all but certain after the fifth. Still, he’d let Kaius come to terms with it on his own. While he would have listened — he wasn’t an idiot — it felt like it would be more helpful if he could walk his own path without lingering traces of doubt.

Plus, Kaius’s trials really had sounded hard — he deserved a break. Even if they were in the form of obstacles that left him battered and bruised. Hells, he was pretty sure that only made it better — his brother seemed to thrive on chaos. Without something to push against, he got testy and restless.

He enjoyed it too, but it was just as much a means to an end as it was a reward in its own right.

Regardless, the time they’d spent together hadn’t been wasted. Not by a long shot. Reuniting soothed that raw hole in his heart — no meles thrived alone. Beyond that, it had brought them important wisdom. Their bond linked their souls, but it did not define them. They were their own persons, it was silly of them to expect Animus to be any different.

Stretching out the kinks in his back, Porkchop rose to his feet. He thought to Xenanra — to the long conversations he’d had with the ascendant between his trials.

They’d been interesting, not the least for the ascendant’s choice of location to host them. Alien forests, full of life just like his home — but so utterly different at the same time. One of them had been entirely made of mushrooms of all things — phosphorescent spores drifting through the air like he’d been suspended in the night sky.

He liked Xenanra, for all that she terrified him. Perhaps because she held so much power in her hand. It reminded him of his Matriarchs, in many ways — though the ascendant was far beyond even them.

There were differences. For one, she found his deference amusing, rather than expected and proper — like his respect was quaint, or an idle amusement. He couldn’t help it — he’d had his nose rubbed in the codes of propiety more than once as a kit.

The thought of his people’s rigidity stoked old frustration, bitter on his tongue and catching on his throat. He snorted, shaking off his head to banish the demons. Later. That was a mountain he could climb when he was good and ready, when he put a Patriarch’s strength to shame, and arrived with powerful allies at his side.

His challenge waited. It looked simple, but he’d long known that was not the same as easy.

A stone wall that rose high overhead, smooth and unblemished. It was dark orange, with flecks of crystalline black that twinkled in the light — and stood more than a stride and a half thick.

It barred his passage; he knew deep in his soul that he simply had to prove it wrong. He would — the urge to know what lay beyond was too strong for anything else. What came with power? With animus? How did the triumvirate fit together? What change could he bring, if he just had a little more ability?

What was next, another crossroads — or something else?

He’d always had questions, much to his elders’ chagrin. Questions, and an unwavering determination to find the answers to them.

It begged the question, who was we? What lay at the core?

Stepping forwards, Porkchop reared up — his powerful legs tensing under his weight. Letting out a low roar, he struck. Claws of reinforced sacred jade, harder than steel, smashed into the barrier.

Shards of stone pelted his padded underarmour as stinging reverberation shot up through his arm. The wall had stopped him fast, yet he still chuffed in satisfaction — dropping back down to all fours as he moved to inspect his efforts.

Four shallow divots sat in the thick wall.

He’d chipped it. Barely. But his claws remained strong, and his body was full of vigour. He’d find out what waited for him on the other side.

Already, he could feel the burgeoning of Animus — an awareness of a building spark deep inside of him. He felt…clearer. More in tune with the world around him — better able to see the higher truths that filled the heavens.

The Soul Soap. It had done something, helped him in some ineffable way. The fire within him had been purified. An odd experience, to say the least — like rinsing away dirt that had clouded his eyes as long as he could remember. His soul was…shinier, danced more readily in time with his body and mind.

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He hadn’t gotten wiser, nor any smarter — but insight seemed to come easier. The mystical connection to his Aspects had come quicker. His previous trials had been hard, and embodiment of Mentis and Corporus hadn’t been swift — but it had come. With effort and struggle, of course; as all good things did.

He could feel the wisdom in that. While he might not relish the challenge in exactly the same way as Kaius, he did hunger for it — for what it represented. He’d never shied away from struggle — you had to summit a hill before you could explore the horizon to your heart’s content, after all.

As long as he could remember, he’d considered the innate advantages of greater beasts to be suspicious. They were too long lived, too strong, and too hale. He’d noticed hints, of course. The suspicious additional time they got to gather and complete their skills before awakening their bloodlines, and the fact that most of his elders seemed to hang at a tier cap for decades — working on stubborn abilities that refused to grow with the swiftness the higher races enjoyed.