Glade boldly strode through the entrance of the 7th gate, bracing himself for another painful experience. So far, he had fought off knife wielding maniacs, been flash frozen crossing a river, lightly charred with dragon’s breath, assaulted by a mob, chased by an amorous witch, fended off a horde of ratkin, fought off some sort of large origami giant made from the pages of books, maneuvered through corridor after corridor of traps and monsters, and been nearly eaten by sedan sized insects. What other sadistic torments awaited him?
Glade didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from brute forcing his way through these ridiculous trials. Which was why he stumbled in disbelief after finding himself back in the white void.
“What. no three headed giant canary waiting to snap me up? You’re growing soft, Acumen,” Glade muttered, his knife held out at the ready in case it was all a ruse.
There was no response. Instead, the silhouette of the Adjudicator stood several yards away, his back turned toward him.
Carefully, Glade inched forward, straining his perception to its maximum in an effort to detect the traps that were most definitely waiting for him. Only, there weren’t any, which made him even more nervous.
As he approached, dozens of images hanging in the air came into view, each a floating projection displaying scenes from Glade’s run through the labyrinth. Glancing through the screens, Glade couldn’t help but notice they were all of his more memorable feats along the way, even the one where he had taken a burst of flame to the face right before ducking out the exit.
“What is…” Acumen began, but was interrupted mid sentence.
“I swear, if I hear you ask ‘what is intelligence?’ one more time, I’m going to find the most mind numbing hole of inbred narcissistic toad people and start sending them to you every day for weeks on end for trial!” Glade growled, his frustrations of the last several hours having finally bled through now that the subject of his pain and suffering was standing before him.
Acumen paused, turning his shadowed face to take him in. Without warning, a pressure the likes of which Glade had never felt slammed into him, driving him to his knees. It was like a mountain of utter apathy was crushing him from existence.
In that moment, Glade knew that he was nothing. Less than nothing. He was the equivalent of an ant facing a boot. A moth caught in the inexorable draw of a pillar of flame, waiting to be consumed. An insignificant mouse being swept up in an owl's talons.
He faced power. True and everlasting power. And he was found… wanting.
On instinct, Glade used up every point of will he had in reserve, fighting back the unstoppable force threatening to wipe him from existence.
“If I… cared about your opinion…I would have asked…” Glade snarled, his nostrils flaring in defiance as his wall of will met the inevitable tidal wave that was Acumen… and held.
Slowly, the Adjudicator circled the kneeling man, bearing down on him with the indifferent gaze of an eagle looking to devour its next meal. How long they remained there, Glade didn’t know. Time lost all meaning as he fought to maintain the fragile barrier between himself and the self important prick of an immortal.
“Fascinating,” Acumen muttered just loud enough that Glade wondered if he had heard it all.
As quickly as it had come, the all consuming pressure vanished, causing Glade to pitch forward onto his hands and knees in relief.
Gasping for breath, Glade fought to calm his racing heart as he slowly climbed to his feet. He wouldn’t give Acumen the pleasure of seeing him grovel, even if his head was about to explode from holding off all that pressure.
Congratulations! You have gained +2 to Will!
Glade dismissed the prompt, not really caring about the attribute gain. He had spent more than 20 points of will in a desperate bid of self preservation against an Adjudicator… and won!
“You have an interesting definition of winning,” Acumen said in that dry, reedy voice of his.
Glade snorted, shaking his head at the reality that Acumen had just read his mind. Because, of course he could.
“You’ve got to take the wins where you can get them,” Glade replied, his voice hoarse.
They stared at each other for a long moment, before Acumen spoke again.
“I wasn’t going to ask you to define intelligence…” Acumen began.
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Glade snorted in disbelief.
“... as it is abundantly clear that you have yet to comprehend the faintest meaning of the greatest of the eternal attributes.”
“Uh huh,” Glade grunted, not bothering to provide a response. He knew that no matter how he answered, Acumen was going to use it against him. Instead, he decided to use his go to response. Blunt honesty.
“I don’t really care,” he said, forcing himself to relax. Nothing annoyed people with power more than nonchalance. “I never wanted to go through this idiotic labyrinth to begin with. So, why don’t you kindly step aside so I can finish this trial. The eighth gate is waiting for me and you’re standing in my way.”
Acumen cocked his head to the side, looking over Glade with distant fascination, like he was an unusual bug that had caught his attention.
“This is as far as you go,” Acumen said after a moment's pause. “You have not earned the right to enter the eighth trial. My judgment of you will have to wait for another time.”
“Fine by me,” Glade said, shrugging his shoulders with indifference. The sooner he was out of here the sooner he could salvage this disastrous attempt at rescuing his friend.
“Hmmmm… As much as I would like to cast you from my domain, I cannot do so,” Acumen hummed, turning away to look at the images floating in the air. “At least not yet. You have asked of me a boon and I am bound to grant it to you.”
“What?” Glade asked, confused. When had he asked Acumen for a boon?
As if in answer, an image floated down to eye level. It showed Glade and Acumen, standing in a white void similar to the one they were standing in now. As he watched the replay, Glade’s heart sank.
“For calling the name of Acumen upon entering my domain, I, the Adjudicator of Intellect, grant you the boon of insight,” the image of Acumen called out.
“Yeah…about that,” he sighed, turning to Acumen. “That was not one of my finest moments, to tell you the truth. I’m good if you are. No need to impart any of your wisdom.”
Acumen stared at him with that quiet intensity.
“Fine, which insight did you want to share with me? The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can both say good-bye, something I assume both of us want.”
“I will answer your question with a question,” Acumen replied. “Which is the first question I was trying to ask you before I was so callously interrupted…”
Glade held back a snort. He would bet a gold bar against a rat’s tail that if he hadn’t interrupted the Adjudicator he would have asked that stupid, incessant question he had been asking the entire time he had been in the labyrinth.
“What is it that you have learned in your time within my labyrinth?” Acumen finally asked.
“Other than the fact that you are a veritable pain in my…?” Glade began, but was interrupted by a voice of such sudden intensity that he was forced to take a step back.
“No!” Acumen boomed, his presence overwhelming Glade again in an instant. “Let me explain this in the basest of terms so that even you can understand! The simple fact is that you refuse to learn!”
Images of Glade’s trials grew to the point that they blocked everything else out. He saw the lesser dragon, its blood red scales reflecting in the dim light of the cavern as it swooped in with another jet of weak flame, chasing him as he leapt from rock to rock before taking cover behind an outcropping of stone.
Another appeared, where Glade figured out how to cross the frozen river. Another, where he had fought off the horde of ratkin by funneling them through a narrow passage so he could face them one at a time.
Every image he saw showed him getting hurt in some way, trudging through each trial with focused determination and grit. He overcame every obstacle, solved every problem. And those that had no solution he simply barreled through, fighting and winning every step of the way, regardless of the cost.
Despite the Adjudicator’s overwhelming pressure bearing down on him, Glade’s anger surged.
“I passed every trial,” he snarled, pushing back against the crushing weight of Acumen’s presence.
“Running about blindly, solving perceived problems that your weak mind can’t see beyond to the elegance of purpose robs you of personal growth!” Acumen said, the pressure lessening with every word until the Adjudicator was speaking in earnest. “And despite your misguided beliefs, you are truly blind, Glade. You continue to grasp onto the anchors of doubt and avoidance, drowning within the sea of misperception that what you were is all you will ever be. You are not the same person that came through that portal. Your destiny does not lie in the past…”
The anger churning within Glade’s soul hardened to ice cold fury.
“My destiny died back on earth,” he hissed, his voice echoing throughout the void despites its volume as his intense glare bored into the shroud of darkness.
Acumen took an involuntary step back, giving Glade space.
“I… see,” the Adjudicator said, his voice calm. Glade wouldn’t have called it gentle, but it had taken on a resonance that began pacifying the brewing storm. Instead of fighting against the obvious influence Acumen was exerting on him, Glade let it help him get control over his emotions.
“Fascinating,” Acumen said after a time, his demeanor once again that of an obsessed bystander looking at the most unusual insect. “Your intrinsic self value is inexplicably tied to the belief that your bonded mate, Megan, has shed her mortal coil, thus ending her existence entirely. Tell me Glade…”
“How do you know her name?” Glade interrupted.
There was a prolonged pause as both man and Adjudicator studied one another.
“From your memories, naturally,” Acumen finally replied. “I would have thought that was self evident. Also, I find that being constantly interrupted by you is both tiresome and fascinating. In all my existence as an Adjudicator, never once has someone ever shown any aspect of the Whole such disrespect…”
“Then you’re going to love this,” Glade replied, his fist already swinging in a tightly controlled right cross.