Nyxpera

The 19th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

Lyssa sucked air, bent double above the shattered remnants of the tenth Construct of Hyperion. Eleftherios and Despoina sat on the ground on the other side, each breathing as heavily as she was. To her right, Gigator took deep, steady breaths in some kind of meditation while, to her left, Vik was as composed as ever. Elpida, Iosif, and Grimmolt had sat out the last fight, so they were fresh, relatively. Each bore wounds from previous fights, but there was no option to turn back.

They had quickly determined it was best to keep the constructs’ attention on the faster members of their group while those with magical weapons dismembered them as quickly as possible. They’d fallen into a fighting rhythm, but it still took precious minutes to take each one down. They’d whittled it to under five minutes per construct but their time dwindled with only six minutes and two constructs left.

“We’ll have to fight them both at the same time,” Lyssa gasped.

“Not doable,” Eleftherios protested. “We can barely take down one without injuries. We’ll never get two.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Elpida said. “She’s right. We’ll have to split them. Before, we didn’t know which statues were going to come alive, but we should be able to hit them immediately if we prepare this right.”

They’d tried to damage the statues before activating them but the dark stone was invulnerable until the pebble was placed in the bowl. There was no discernable pattern to it either, so they couldn’t set an ambush for any of the statues as they came alive. So far, they’d been unlucky in guessing. Lyssa dragged herself to her feet, listing to one side. Her Stamina was at less than fifteen percent. The thought of running gave her stomach a turn but there was nothing for it. They didn’t have time to waste.

“Get ready.”

Vik clambered awkwardly onto one of the constructs, angling his sword to puncture its throat as soon as it came alive. Despoina tried to do something similar, but her axe was less suited for quick cuts, so she settled in to take out one of the construct’s legs instead. The rest got into various positions nearby, ready to distract and grab attention where able. Lyssa picked up the final two stones and placed them into the sacrificial bowls.

Chaos broke out almost instantly. Both constructs jerked to life with sudden movements, not at all like the smooth awakenings of the ones before. Vik ­rolled with the motion as his construct bucked forward. Starlight punched a hole straight through the statue’s throat, releasing a stream of molten slag. That fight was far from over, however. It grabbed Vik around the middle with one hand and threw the moon elf into the ground at its feet. Vik gave a strangled cough and blue blood splattered out of his mouth to land on his own face.

Despoina was hardly faring better. She had landed a single, solid blow against the heel of her construct before it kicked backwards, sending both her and her magic axe flying. Gigator threw his full weight at the construct, trying to bear it to the ground now that its balance was compromised, but it rolled with the impact, tossing Gigator to the side as its focus settled upon Iosif. The man dodged left and right, weaving between the construct’s sweeping strikes.

Vik’s statue slowed as more and more molten slag dripped to the ground. Vik himself wasn’t moving at all. His presence in the party interface was the only evidence he was still alive, but that didn’t mean he was stable.

“Eleft!” Lyssa shouted. “Get Vik!”

“On it!”

The brawny man slid beneath one of the construct’s arms to reach Vik’s side. Elpida grabbed attention by smashing her hammer into the construct’s face. It didn’t do much damage, but it wasn’t mean to. She ducked and spun out of reach, pulling it away from the others. Lyssa ran for Starlight, sweeping the sword up as she took stock of the situation.

The construct with the injured foot knelt and punched the ground, throwing up a spray of stony chips that Iosif couldn’t avoid. He was knocked off his feet, cuts lining his face and arms as he struggled to clear his vision, and the construct closed quickly in. Lyssa pushed her flagging Stamina to its limits, aiming not for its vulnerable spots, but its legs.

With her focus decided, her anatomy skill highlighted joints and pressure points. Starlight’s tip pierced the strange, black stone of the construct three times. There was more resistance than she expected, knowing how sharp the sword was. The effect, however, was undeniable. The construct’s leg collapsed underneath it, completely immobile. No longer out of reach, Grimmolt swung Despoina’s axe over and over into the statue’s neck with a furious bellow. By the fifth swing, the head detached and rolled across the floor.

Lyssa changed directions and refocused on the remaining construct, only to find it had trapped Elpida beneath its foot. She had managed to get her shield in front of her and was using it as a brace, but the construct was too heavy. Gigator wrapped his great arms around the statue’s leg and was trying to shift it away, but the foot still descended.

There was no time. The construct was fifteen meters away and Lyssa’s Stamina was almost completely gone. She brought the sword up over her shoulder and reversed her grip.

“Please,” she whispered.

She didn’t know why she said it or who she was even saying it to. All she could see was the desperation on Elpida’s face, the defiant set of her teeth, the blood staining her armor. The hairs on the back of Lyssa’s neck stood on end and her skin rippled with gooseflesh. She threw the sword overhand, collapsing afterward as her Stamina hit single digits. The sword wobbled through the air, then struck the statue’s chest, directly over its weak spot. Slag bubbled out around the blade but the construct still moved. Despoina rushed forward, wielding a shield with both hands, and threw herself into the fray. The shield hit Starlight’s pommel and pushed it deeper until the tip poked out the other end.

The construct collapsed to the side, releasing Elpida, who gasped and coughed. Lyssa’s vision spun, tossing the whole room about. Her stomach churned, but she bit back the bile that crept up her throat. Stamina depletion was dangerous and nauseating, but she had dealt with it many times before. She was lucky, in fact, that she hadn’t lost consciousness. She was at less than two percent of her Stamina maximum. Most of her old training partners would have faded at ten percent, their bodies rebelling the stress. After several deep breaths, she was able to focus enough to pull open her waiting notifications.

Your party has slain 11x Constructs of Hyperion.

You gain 18,562 experience.

You have completed the Trial of Strength.

The experience was not insignificant. Lyssa had leveled after the third construct, having killed it personally, and now she was a significant way another level. Most of the others had gained several levels throughout the hour-long fight. Vik, strangely, hadn’t leveled at all. She wasn’t sure how strong her spymaster really was, as he was the only person in Myriatos who had refused to give his status information to Theodorous. That he was able to contribute to the death of twelve level seventy-five constructs in a party of eight and not receive a single level gave her pause, especially as she recalled his warning about Callias and the power of the entity he had seen. A warning she was, ultimately, forced to ignore.

Surrender was not an option.

They could only grow their power and prepare as best they could. It would have to be enough. Lyssa found herself once again wishing for Arche’s presence. His optimism and humor were sorely missed. He would have known how to rally them.

“Is everyone alive?” She had meant it to come out strong and reassuring, a leader’s query, but her voice croaked.

“Vik’s unconscious but stable,” Eleftherios said. “I can’t do anything for him. We’ll have to wait until he wakes up.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“A few broken ribs.” Elpida spat to the side. “I’ll live, but I won’t be much help if there’s more fighting.”

The others mumbled their own injuries, mostly minor or superficial ones. Lyssa had been lucky so far. Her increased Agility had given her enough of a speed advantage to avoid taking any direct damage.

As they took accountability, a scraping noise of stone on stone drowned out their words. As one, they turned and watched the stone doors blocking their passage open, beckoning them deeper into the dungeon.

“Fifteen minutes and we go,” Lyssa said. “I’ll scout out the next chamber.”

“We should stay together,” Elpida argued, further words choked away as she was wracked by a coughing fit.

“I’m not asking. Stay here and recover as best you can. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Lyssa ducked into Stealth and made her way forward. Her Stamina didn’t recover as quickly when she was sneaking but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make to see what was waiting for them. She placed Starlight into her inventory and made her way through the stone doors.

The room was considerably smaller than the last two, standing at twenty-five meters deep by fifteen across. Lyssa took slow, calculated steps as she looked for any sign of life. At first glance, the room was empty. Large doors on the opposite side implied there was a challenge that would be completed, but there were no statues, sacrificial bowls, or artificial suns to interact with. Lyssa brought her gaze upward and saw the ceiling was carved, but the images were mostly oriented away from her and were difficult to make out in the low light of the room. Lyssa moved, trying to get a better look at the carvings, and found herself near the center.

You have started the Trial of Light.

Lyssa cursed, turning toward the doors to the Trial of Strength in time to see them grind shut. She drew her bow and nocked an arrow in the same breath, waiting for an adversary to appear. After three minutes she released the tension on her bowstring. She was alone. The secret of the room would not be yielded so easily.

She turned her gaze to the ceiling once more. It was the only thing that stood out, so it was her best option to pass the trial. As she looked, she realized it was a rolling story, with a progression of events as it was read. It circled the ceiling, each image oriented from the center of the room, spiraling outward in a great work of art. Lyssa inspected the floor carefully, looking for any hidden traps or threats. None found, she stood in the middle of the great cavern and gazed at the ceiling, her mouth falling open as the images glowed and moved.

The story unfolded before her. A large man sat upon a throne of wood with a harpe sword tied to his waist. It was an outdated choice, leaf-bladed xiphe and gently curved kopides were the current fashion and had been for over a millennia. A woman appeared, carrying a swaddled babe in her arms. She handed the wrapped child to the man, who looked down upon the infant for only a moment before he opened his mouth and consumed it whole.

Lyssa tasted bile as her whole body convulsed, yet she could not tear her eyes away. The scene played before her six times before the light moved to the next scene. A boy delivered a meal to the man upon his throne. Upon consuming the meal, the man retched and began to vomit, falling off his throne to lie fetally beside it. The first thing to come out of the man’s vomit was a stone shaped like a baby with swaddling cloth bunched next to it. After, people emerged from the man’s mouth, two men and three women. They, along with the boy, fled the man while he cursed them all.

The scene changed again and the boy had grown into a man. Together, the six of them stood against the throned man and all his allies. A war was fought, utilizing every weapon and magic above and below the sun. Years dragged on and battles raged but no side could find victory. Lyssa saw kýklōpes and hekatonkheires fighting on behalf of the six, forging weapons and armor that were able to overcome the child-eater and all who stood with him. They were cast down and imprisoned behind darkness in tombs of stone.

The mural went dark and Lyssa was left with nothing but racing thoughts.

A presence pushed against her awareness. It was there – but it was not. Something formless in the dark. Lyssa drew her bow back once more, searching for the source, but found nothing. She whirled about, checking the corners. She was alone.

“Show yourself!”

The mural above her glowed, not in pieces like before, but entirely. The light intensified until Lyssa had to shut her eyes against it, then the light pulled itself away from the ceiling and collected downward like motes of glowing dust.

“Lyssanderyli.”

The light pulsed with each syllable.

“What are you?”

“I am the Light. Mine is the sun.”

The presence pushed against her. She felt it press against her skin and mind, but it was even in its approach, as though it was an effect of the light existing rather than a conscious effort.

“What do you want with me?”

She had no way of fighting this thing. She was not an eremancer, capable of swallowing light. She doubted even Starlight, her only magical weapon to hand, could do anything without a physical form to strike.

“You struggle for power, seeing it bestowed so easily upon your friends while you remain helpless. You cannot save them. You cannot face the Olympians by strength of will alone.”

The words hummed within her, seeming to come from her own mind as much as the space around her.

“I will defend what I can. I have no quarrel with these Olympians.”

“War is coming and you have already aligned yourself with one side of it. There will be no escaping it, now.”

Lyssa bared her teeth. The presence was steadily gaining in strength and it was taking conscious effort to stay standing.

“What are you?” she hissed.

“You know what I am.”

She did know, she just hadn’t wanted to say it.

“Titan.”

“I am Hyperion, The One Who Stands Above All.”

“You are the mountain and the dungeon.”

“I am what they are meant to contain. They, a prison. Myself, inmate and warden. Jailor and jailed.”

“I will not free you.”

“You could not if you tried, as you are.”

“Then I ask again, what do you want with me?”

“A deal. I will give you a path to power. A way to earn what has been out of your reach for two hundred years.”

Lyssa shifted.

“What would you receive in return?”

“Loyalty.”

Lyssa clenched her fists, forcing herself to stand against the pressure. She would not kneel.

“I will not be beholden to you or any other.”

“It would not be wise to refuse my offer.”

“It would be more foolish to accept it. I will not be yours. Servant, slave, or champion. If I fall, I will have done so by my own power. I will not capitulate to the schemes of you and those like you.”

“And when your friends and loved ones are being slaughtered and driven before you, will you still hold to that same pride? When your children are torn apart and consumed, will you cradle and nurse your ego? I have seen sons rebel against fathers, witnessed the end of an eternal night. Mine is the light that shines upon the world. You think you have known true grief and pain? The murder of your brother? What lies behind is but a taste of that which is yet to come.”

The pressure increased again and her legs nearly buckled beneath the weight, but she kept her footing, spitting words from clenched teeth.

“Enough of your threats. I will not be cowed into submission.”

“I speak only of what is to come.”

“Then silence your falsehoods,” Lyssa snapped. “The future is unwritten. No being in time or out of it can guarantee what is next.”

Hyperion laughed, the sound coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“I recall a time when that was not true.”

“You mock me.”

“I am fascinated by you, little elf. So small, so proud, so angry…so weak. Will you not even consider my offer?”

Lyssa hesitated. The presence had withdrawn somewhat, or she had become accustomed to it. Hyperion’s tone had changed as well. It was less overbearing, more curious, like Lyssa was a strange, new toy that the Titan had yet to fully understand. One that he might break to learn how it worked.

“My responsibility to my people forbids me to subjugate myself to a being I cannot begin to comprehend.”

“Your people. You mean those humans and other smatterings of creatures that live on the surface?”

“Yes.”

“You could protect them with the power I offer.”

“But I could not protect them from you.”

“You cannot protect them from me now.”

“But I can try.”

Hyperion laughed again.

“Very well. Go forth on your own accord, daughter of the Huntress. When you change your mind, my offer stands.”

The doors rumbled open as the light faded. A notification flashed in Lyssa’s vision.

You have completed the Trial of Light.