Defiance of the Fall

The acrid smell of salt, ash, and despair was overwhelming. Zac furiously tugged, and the desperate struggle ended with a crunching snap. The raider’s grip on Zac’s forearm weakened as his final vestiges of life escaped his lips. Zac lay panting on the ground, too tired and weak to even push the corpse off his chest. A tremendous rumble forced his eye open, and he could vaguely see a river of stars sweep the flames away.

“Salvation through slaughter,” Zac wheezed as the world faded.

He was back in the waiting room, lying right before the stele. Seals and soot were removed, but the wounds covering his body remained. The weakness was swept away by the rivers of truth and energy. And yet, Zac didn’t move for over a minute, his hands shaking as he blankly stared at the ceiling.

Zac had lost count of how many times he’d come as close to death. And yet, the brutal, almost intimate, grapple had shaken him. It was the utter lack of fallbacks, of feeling truly exposed. At that moment, they’d been like beasts wrestling in the mud, caught in a deadly dance where Attributes, Dao, and hidden aces meant nothing. Even his refined technique meant little without the energy and Dao to enable its movements. It had been a brutal brawl where ferocity and experience reigned, and Zac only barely managed to get the upper hand.

Was this the weakness the Eternal Servant referred to? Even frontier cultivators were coddled in a way you wouldn’t see back in the day. The path toward the Terminus had become gamified, and there were often safeguards in place to fall back on. Like how the System teleported his whole army across the sector when a Monarch was bearing down on them.

He had carved his path in a way that the scions of the Heartlands wouldn’t understand, but even he had benefitted greatly from the System’s arrangements. It had even personally intervened to save his life on multiple occasions. There was always that comforting notion in the back of his mind that the System valued his existence and would step in to protect its investment. The ancient cultivators never had that safety net. Each step was a struggle against the Heavens, the Earth, and yourself, and death was a constant companion on their journey.

Zac eventually exhaled and sat up, feeling surprisingly balanced after the surge of fear and adrenaline had settled. The experience had helped unearth an aspect of himself he thought had died years ago. He didn’t know exactly what to do with it, but he felt there was something in it that spoke to his Daos of Life and Death and possibly his techniques.

The stele’s energy was gradually fading, indicating he needed to leave for the next trial before the one-day deadline was up. Zac tried to glean something from its aura in case it was like the Gates of Rebirth. Zac didn’t sense anything he could use, so he turned to inspect the surroundings.

The waiting room wasn’t exactly the same as before. There were only four doors upon his return, none of them looking the same as before. Instead, they led to the four remaining trials. The trial stele had also been updated, adding a new time without a name.

Seventeenth place with a time of 3 hours and 34 minutes. It was a respectable yet disappointing number and not what Zac had expected when comparing himself with pre-System cultivators. He couldn’t blame the trial difficulty for taking almost twice as long as the top name. The challenge had obviously been adjusted for his level rather than a Peak Hegemon. The final clash was precisely calibrated to his level.

Zac could have shaved off another ten or twenty minutes if he’d known about the seals and their order beforehand, using more of his firepower before it was taken away. Still, it would only have improved his placement with a few spots at best, definitely not enough to enter the top ten. You really couldn’t look down on the ancient cultivators.

The experience was both humbling and uplifting. The seventeenth spot was most likely as good as it would get, but Zac was confident in passing at least two more trials after the Pilgrimage of Combat. The only thing that left Zac wary was the lack of an exit.

Zac glanced at the right-most door, whose arch was filled with Faith Energy. Would he really have to step into that trial no matter what, even if passing three was enough to satisfy the Eternal Servant? Was that the real reason the Eternal Servant doubted his chances of survival?

The burns and cuts covering his body were gradually mended over the next hour. Meanwhile, he went over his experience and the lessons he’d learned. Finally ready, Zac turned his attention to the four doors, his gaze eventually stopping at the Pilgrimage of Body. Out of Soul, Heart, and Body, Zac was most confident in his triple-empowered constitution.

The stacked benefits of two constitutions, terrifyingly high Endurance and Vitality, and a full deck of Hidden Nodes made him almost as durable as a Beast King. Zac got to his feet and placed his hand on the stele, adding his name to the ladder before stepping through the gate.

A flicker transported him to a new environment. He was still in a waiting room, though this one looked slightly different. It was a murky, rectangular hall surrounded by rough stone walls, the ceiling only three meters. There were no gates, only crude openings leading into winding hallways. He’d been transported to the middle of a maze, by the looks of it. There was no aura of death, but the gloomy atmosphere made it seem as though he’d been thrown into a guarded crypt.

The teleportation had left him severely weakened, even with his connection to his Draugr half remaining intact. A quick calculation indicated that all attributes from skills, classes, levels, and Daos had been sealed. All his items were gone, replaced by a simple set of pants and tunic. Unsurprisingly, his connection with Haro had been blocked, stopping the free influx of Vigor.

Even then, the situation was better than Zac had expected. This was a test of the body, so all attributes from his constitutions remained. Better yet, the trial considered the attributes from his titles as a part of his body’s strength. That had to give him a leg up on the competition.

The trial stele was placed in the middle of a small basin, making it look like a fountain. The basin was filled with a shimmering liquid, which felt like a candle holding back the labyrinth’s gloom. The liquid emitted a fragrant aroma that left Zac’s cells shuddering with desire. Just taking a deep breath of the steam rising from the waters filled him with energy. It was clearly a tonic that could rapidly recover his Vigor, but it was slowly dissipating.—

The stele was equally inscrutable as the previous one, its aura only giving a vague hint of the trial’s rules. He had to pass before the pond ran out of elixir, relying only on his body. In other words, the trial had already started. Between the limited rest time and being thrown right into the action, the fallback scheme to hide in the waiting room until Ultom was rendered moot.

The arrangement could be part of an overall score where rest time was added to the tally. Or perhaps the Eternal Servant had managed to overhear his earlier discussion and threw a wrench in the plans. It didn’t matter much to Zac. The first trial had only left him with surface wounds, and the many restrictions meant his reserves were almost full.

The ladder results didn’t give Zac any idea of how difficult the trial was. The entries were graded with points, and Zac had no way of knowing how the points were tallied. The only other clue was six grooves on the stele, the number matching the six pathways. Zac conveyed the situation, agreeing with Ogras’s assessment that the trial required him to retrieve a key from each passage.

Zac immediately set out, picking a path at random. Desolate wails filled with hunger emerged from all six corridors the moment he entered the maze, and the gloom seemed to grow deeper. That much couldn’t shake Zac’s heart, but he did keep a careful pace as he assessed the dangers. Zac peered into the dark tunnels, finding no traps or beasts.

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He soon rounded a corner, and the weak light from the starting point was replaced by darkness. The lack of a light source didn’t do much to limit Zac’s vision as a Hegemon. However, the darkness almost felt like a blanket on his shoulders.

No, not almost.

Zac inspected the gloom, finding no Dao to explain the very real pressure he felt. He did, however, notice specks of dust blending into the darkness. Zac waved his hand, creating a gust in the hallway. It had no effect on the microscopic motes, but that didn’t mean they remained unmoving. They were drawn to Zac like moths to the flame.

Suddenly, both [Purity of the Void] and [Immutability of Eoz] came alive, releasing cleansing waves through his body. It was only then Zac realized that hundreds of motes had already snuck into his body without his notice. The two Hidden Nodes working in tandem meant the specks were both considered hostile energy and a curse. And they were resilient.

The Hidden Node’s tireless work only managed to cleanse a third of the specks that infiltrated his body before they seeped into his cells. They fused with the golden swirls like parasites and began generating weak ripples. It was no wonder he felt like something was weighing on him.

It wasn’t quite a gravitational restriction, but the effect was close. Each added mote felt like a small droplet of lead added to cells. It would be a while before it became a problem, but Zac had only explored a small corner. He might be unable to even move by the time he reached the edge.

It wasn’t hard to find the solution. He only needed to rouse his constitution, and the golden hurricanes began grinding down the specks, displaying an efficacy almost matching his Hidden Nodes. It wasn’t the vibrant life of his Void Vajra Constitution that cleansed the specks, though. It was Vigor that erased them through mutual destruction.

There were an endless number of racial perks, bloodlines, constitutions, specialty cores, and other things that could strengthen one’s body. These advantages could have all kinds of effects, but almost all forms of body tempering and innate advantages would result in higher amounts of Vigor. This was true for Zac long before he awakened his bloodlines and constitutions, where his Draugr side greatly outshone his human half.

In other words, measuring Vigor was a decently equitable way to test one’s body. Even those whose body tempering came with attribute advantages instead had an advantage. Zac believed he could carry more than twice as much dust as most trial takers, thanks to his titles, and keep a higher pace.

The hungry wails steadily drew closer. Zac used the sound as a beacon, believing it was the crux to quickly passing the trial. Following the sound led him down paths with the greatest amount of restraining dust, and the density only kept increasing. That didn’t mean the side paths were dead ends. Esmeralda posited that all roads lead to the key, with the guarded path being significantly shorter.

This gave the trialtaker options—take the short, difficult route for a better result or take the route with fewer restrictions at the cost of sacrificing time. Some dexterity-based cultivators might even see better results choosing such a strategy. It was an easy choice for Zac, though he began doubting himself after coming face to face with the howling guardian.

The ghost looked just like the unthinking, often malevolent wraiths that could appear in sealed environments. The ghastly figures formed from the Autarch’s resentment in the Centurion Lighthouse was one variant. This creature was instead made from the same curse that suffused the labyrinth. Just being in the same corridor flooded his body with sealing dust, to the point Zac had to spend twice as much Vigor as before.

The wraith noticed Zac’s presence at the same time, and it released a gleeful howl. Zac almost found the situation funny, wondering if he should be looking for cherries as the wraith hurtled toward him. But it was difficult to laugh, seeing just how much black gunk the creature had accumulated.

The closer they came, the faster the ghost got, and Zac unleashed a powerful punch after confirming he couldn’t circumvent or outrun it. It accomplished nothing, but it felt better than just passively letting it pounce.

A flood of darkness entered his body, greedily sapping his strength. The golden swirls turned into a murky brown and were almost forced to a halt from the accumulation. Zac groaned, and his knees almost buckled from the immense weight suddenly tacked onto his body. Zac unleashed his constitution to its fullest, triggering a war between light and darkness throughout his body.

Zac’s vast reserves of Vigor were gradually gaining an edge, though it was a pyrrhic victory. Zac took a few stilting steps, feeling as though his muscles and tendons were full of rust. The good news was that the darkness found it harder and harder to squeeze into his cells as his restrictions increased, making it easier for his Hidden Nodes to deal with them.

Eventually, Zac was able to run again, at which point he suppressed his cells and [Immutability of Eoz]. Only [Purity of the Void] kept toiling away. He only had so much Vigor to spend, and the Eoz Hidden Node used it as fuel, too. Meanwhile, [Purity of the Void] only ran on Void Energy, which he had ample reserves of.

The Void Node barely managed to maintain the status quo with the occasional burst of Vigor. Zac still felt like he was carrying a boulder on his shoulders as he reached the maze’s depths. It was a small square, looking like an inverted version of his starting point. But instead of a stele and elixir, there was a floating crystal above a basin of roiling darkness.

The crystal was obviously the source of the darkness, and dust so condensed it had become liquid dripped into the pool below. Zac glanced at the waters, feeling something stirring. Another wraith would be born with another twenty minutes or so of the crystal’s nourishment.

Zac’s bones creaked as he went into a sprint and lunged over the basin, snatching the crystal before landing with a crash. A steady stream of darkness burrowed into his hand, and nothing he did helped stop it. The crystal exhibited a fierce resistance to being taken away. It felt like there was a magnetic pull between it and the pond.

Between the curse and resistance, the journey back became a lesson in suffering and resilience. Zac doggedly put one foot in front of the other until he reached the starting point. He was utterly exhausted, and the sweet aroma from the fountain was delectable enough to almost drive him mad. He hurried over and slotted the crystal in its matching groove.

Zac greedily took a deep swig of the shimmering waters, finding its taste even better than his almost delirious fantasies over the past twenty minutes. A cleansing wave spread through his body, expunging the taint far more effectively than he could on his own. Just as he’d expected, saving his energy by carrying as much restriction as possible on your way back was the way to go.

Meanwhile, a single mouthful had recovered a third of his spent Vigor. Zac took another gulp, estimating the efficacy had decreased by almost ten percent. Repeated use came with diminishing returns. Not to mention, completely recovering one’s Vigor this way was impossible, just like eating Soldier pills couldn’t replace natural recovery.

In a way, the fountain was part of the test. A high-quality body was like having high affinities. Some could extract more benefits from pills and treasures; others could consume larger quantities before they built up a resistance. Zac had both. A sixth of the trial was over, and less than five percent of the water was lost.

Each round would get harder, and he would probably have to spend some time dealing with the ghosts before the third or fourth round. The wails from the remaining five corridors were noticeably closer, and he had a strong feeling that letting them reach the fountain was a very bad idea. Still, passing was more or less a given.

The question was how he’d measure up to the names on the leaderboard.

Hours later, Zac wobbled out of the hallway, veritably dragging himself into the fountain to slot the final key. He fell into the waters, his body screaming with complaint. He forcibly held onto his fading consciousness, eager to see what score his performance would translate to. The stele’s aura rapidly rose after the last crystal was inserted, and Zac felt the water being absorbed by the plaque.

A powerful pulse of cleansing faith burst from the stele, sweeping away all taint in Zac’s body before continuing into the labyrinth. The ravenous shrieks that had accompanied him for the whole trial were cut short, but Zac barely spared it a thought as he looked at the stele with disbelief. He’d been mentally prepared his placement would be worse. But to this point, while having access to his titles and [Purity of the Void]?

To think his run only amounted to a 58th placement. How did the top-ranker have a score almost 40% higher than his? More than half the elixir remained when Zac wrapped things up, so the leader must’ve had around 75%.

Had he missed some aspect of the trial, or had the maniacs at the top bulldozed right through the walls to pick up the pieces at record pace? Or were they simply so strong that the erosion couldn’t exhaust their reserves or slow them down? Zac turned to the labyrinth entrances, which had been blocked or replaced with gates to the remaining trials.

Zac was tired, but his competitive spirit burned. Not to mention, he was growing increasingly curious about the facilities outside which had helped raise these monsters.

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