16. Flesh Against Stone

The rush of water pushed against Fredrick’s ankles with each step. Anxiety held onto him as he made his way to Nathanial, but each grueling march screamed at him to return. His body was quivering out of sheer fear at the unknown presence that was lurking around Nathanial.

Whatever was acting against his friend didn’t want him anywhere close as the resistance grew fiercer with each second. And with the water pouring into the room, Fredrick knew he didn’t have time to just sit around and wait for Nathanial to snap out of his trance.

This had to be part of the watchman’s test.

That was the conclusion he reached, and right now he needed to figure out what his purpose was.

Fredrick glanced around the room. Darkness surrounded him.

“I can’t see shit,” he muttered.

Fredrick moved around the edge of the room where he could while tapping the walls. A heavy thud responded, not once or twice, but several times as he hurriedly made his way. His heart hammered in his ears, fighting against the sound of rushing water that ticked away like a clock.

His composure was slowly breaking. He needed to do something, anything, so that they could get out, but all the walls on Nathanial’s side were inaccessible and the ones near him were as sturdy as boulders. He could free his sword in exchange for another slit being freed, but then that would reduce his time.

Unlike Nathanial, he didn’t think far enough to wedge his scabbard so the blade could be freed. If he pulled it out, then the chances of him blocking the rushing tide would be slim. Now all he had left were his bare hands.

“I should have carried a second weapon.”

Fredrick struck the side of the wall with his fist with the icy water biting deeper into his flesh. Parts of him wanted to believe that the tide wouldn’t rise higher than their waist, but John was a bastard when it came to training, and he meant every word.

Not once had the watchman lied about the difficulty.

It would only get worse, and with that line etched firmly into his skull like the commandments of God, Fredrick raised his head. Nathanial was out of commission. It was up to him to get them out of here, and as he pulled his fist away from the wall, a faint plop entered his ears. He glanced at where his fist had struck. Cracks formed along the impact, and bits of stone fell into the depths of the tide.

This was it.

This was the answer.

He raised one hand, then drove it forward. The thud of flesh meeting stone was heavy, like a hammer striking an anvil. Pain coursed through his knuckles with each strike. The wet, percussive crack of his flesh had softened into a wet thwack. With every strike, it sounded like a man fighting for his life, but to Fredrick, his life wasn’t his own. It was also Nathanial’s, his friend locked in place by a sinister presence that wanted them to fail.

To die in this dark chamber.

And Fredrick wouldn’t let that happen. Not without a fight.

He bit back the pain with each punch landing like clockwork.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound grew fiercer with each swing as cracks grew wider with each impact. Fredrick ignored the pain and kept going, but at the current rate he wouldn’t make it. They wouldn’t make it.

His flesh tore as the water reached his thighs. Blood trickled down his fists and the wall before falling into the pool of water like ink blossoming outward. And at that fraction of Fredrick’s life, he wondered… why?

Why was he trying so hard?

Why was he putting all this effort toward a battlefield that held power over their lives?

Where men who were better than him died for less?

He struck the wall again with tears swelling in his eyes. His family had cast him aside. He didn’t have a noble reason or cause like Nathanial. He came to the front lines to die because those he loved said so. And they threw him away without a shred of hesitation.

How was it that Nathanial could remain strong even though their circumstances were the same?

Fredrick didn’t know, and he lacked the strength to make a difference.

They didn’t need him. That’s how it’s always been.

Yet despite that, he kept swinging his fists one after another with the same intensity since the start. Betting his life that the minuscule amount of strength he could muster from his aching body was enough. The only time it would ever be enough just so he could break through and get his friend out of this situation.

The water rose just below his chest, and Fredrick begged for his body to pull through. To keep swinging.

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He couldn’t regret failing to put more effort into training. It was far too late for that now, but in a life-or-death situation, that small bit of effort would have made the difference.

That difference that would have given value to his life.

That difference that would have saved their lives.

That difference that would have broken the wall.

And in that moment of despair, Fredrick formed a conviction through the blood-stained walls. One that condensed the aura within his soul. That even if he had to grind his bones to dust, he would break through the walls that held them and free his friend.

Just as he was about to swing one final time, a faint green energy enveloped his hand, and with a deafening crack—he punched straight through the wall as the water burst through like a dam. Fredrick panted, half from exhaustion and half from disbelief. He hunched over with his bloody hands pressed against his knees.

“Holy shit, I did it…”

“That you did, my friend, that you did.”

Fredrick’s head slowly turned to Nathanial who was wading through the water as it rushed out the opening. He stared in disbelief at his friend’s bright blue aura that was shimmering over his body.

“You… awakened your aura?” Fredrick asked.

“Yeah, a few moments ago when you were hammering away at the wall—wait, are you crying?”

Fredrick immediately looked away. “No! What kind of stupid question is that? Don’t you see all the water around us?”