It was a near thing, but Maphen and I careened sideways enough that we stayed on the upper lip, skidding on the smooth rock.

Maphen was the first to recover, shaking himself and then half-standing over me.

“Sett, are you alright?” he glanced back from where we had come. “That demonshi –”

Koffer came from the other side and closelined Maphen, sending my friend spinning, his feet swinging over his head before his shoulders crashed into the ground.

Koffer circled back around, still in a jog, belly shaking and a smile on his face. “Sett, why are you with this punching bag?”

Almost everyone I had seen so far looked tired, even my fellow Warriors, but not Koffer. Boast apparently hadn’t been lying when he had said that the Mastery of Greater Constitution could keep you on your feet all day.

I got to mine after untensing most of my muscles and the skin above them. “We’re fighting together,” I informed Koffer, “and I’d appreciate it if you let us be.” I still needed to get to Tamra, after all, not to mention the top of the mountain.

“Hmm, I could do that,” Koffer said, dancing near Maphen who was struggling to his feet. When Maphen finally lurched the rest of the way up, Koffer was there, throwing a series of punches at Maphen’s head. Maphen managed to duck them expertly, just as, months ago, he had done against me. He then stepped in, sliding his arm across Koffer’s chest, and whipping his heel forward and then back, striking Koffer’s calf in a quick takedown. Koffer, however, remained standing. He then elbowed Maphen in the back of the head, and when they separated, punched Maphen in the face, which sent him sprawling. “But this guy is just too much fun to knock down.”

I had meant to help Maphen in the exchange, but an odd curiosity had settled over me as I watched them. Koffer was one of the ones I had beaten in the Crim relatively consistently, while Maphen I had never defeated. Yet here Koffer was, laying him out twice over. The difference in strength from the mantle was clearly playing a role, but was the difference it created truly that great?

Whether it was or wasn’t, Maphen certainly needed help, so I beckoned Koffer toward me with one of my tensed hands. He obliged, working my torso with his fists as soon as he arrived, while I did everything I could to maintain my stiffness there so I didn’t crack a rib or worse. Unlike some other opponents I had fought, Koffer didn’t seem surprised or discouraged by my resilience, keeping up the assault with a smile on his face and not a bead of sweat. Perhaps he remembered that I had gotten the Toughened Skin Mastery and figured it would wear out before his boundless energy. He might be right, but I had other plans.

The Crim had trained us primarily for one-on-one fights, and yet I had almost died a moment ago by not paying attention to my surroundings, so I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. It felt unnatural to do, sloppy even, to not give my opponent my full attention. But because I wasn’t, I spotted Ralet – the last Beast Kin Neophyte – creeping over a nearby rise, a different entrypoint than my party had used. In his hands was the sharp, oblong stone that Bask the Artisan had created. Sensing an opportunity, I turned with Koffer’s punches, presenting the back of the Warrior to Ralet.

Ralet happily took the opening, loping over, and using his weapon in some way I couldn’t see. Koffer cried out in pain from the attack, his good mood vanishing, and when he spun around to see who had struck him, a sharp gurgle told me that Ralet had finished the job. Koffer collapsed, and I readied myself to fight the green-tunicked boy. However, a large rock crashed into his back, and I just barely got out of the way before he shot past and fell over the edge just a few feet behind me.

Looking to the side, I saw that the tiny boulder had come from Shanel who was fighting with Tamra. Nearby them was Celeste’s crumpled body, and Tamra’s shouts of rage told me she hadn’t been the one to take the Assassin Neophyte down. I took a step forward, feeling bad about leaving Maphen, but Tamra was barely on her feet, her sword more keeping the tall girl at bay than threatening any sort of attack.

Suddenly, there was a sharp warmth at my side. I turned my head to see Fargle in a black tunic standing behind me. I hadn’t heard him approach, not a sound, nor had I expected anyone to be there with the edge so close behind me.

He pulled whatever he had stabbed me with out, and I distinctly heard it leave my body with a sucking sound. What followed was a lump of searing, throbbing pain, that only grew worse as each second passed.

“That’s three,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was speaking to me or not. Either way, he didn’t seem particularly happy, and I certainly wasn’t as my legs collapsed underneath me.

Like Aldric, he didn’t bother finishing the job, taking a few soundless steps to the left. A part of me that was trying to learn everything it could babbled about how he must be muffling the noise somehow, while a much larger part of me recoiled from the terrible agony that was consuming my side.

Tighten it, I told myself. Stop the bleeding.

I tried, but with the pulsing pain, it was hard to feel my muscles or skin.

It was worse in the entrance test, I told my body, as if I could reason with it. You kept going then.

Sitting there, not dead yet, I saw that Chikra was fighting against Chorazin, whose mouth was a bloody mess, probably from casting his spell multiple times. The Summoner Neophyte had managed to break Chikra’s spear with his magic though, and Chikra herself looked like she had been tossed about. To the right of them, Tamra was still keeping Shanel back, but as I watched, Shanel grabbed Celeste’s dead body by an arm and flung it at Tamra. Tamra got her sword up, but it did little good as the corpse crashed into her, shoving her blade into her face and nearly cutting her. Shanel’s long legs crossed the distance in no time, and she punched down, her Greater Strength snapping Tamra’s neck, so it laid parallel to her shoulder.

I roared in my head but not out loud, taking a page from Fargle’s book, as I somehow stood. The Assassin Neophyte was still watching the others, obviously waiting for them to do his work for him, when I caught him around the neck with my arms. He reacted immediately, much faster than a person should, from his mantle no doubt. But I had expected him to try and stab my arms with the weapon he had used on my side – which turned out to be a small, pointed stone – and I had already stiffened them. A spear might have been able to cut me, but not this rock. As I had hoped, hardening my arms also had the added effect of crushing his neck all the quicker, and he began to flail and gasp as his body tried unsuccessfully to breathe. If this had been a sparring match, I would have let go then so he could recover, but I couldn’t risk him getting back up, so I held on.

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

While I did, Shanel made a break for the top of the peak, using the Greater Strength in her legs to leap up onto the rock face. She wasn’t able to jump as high as Aphos, but it was still impressive, getting her a third of the way up.

I let go of Fargle, shoving him back while I lurched forward. My side hurt like a demon was gnawing on it, but I kept trying to tighten it, as well as my hands, in the hope I wouldn’t die of blood loss. Reaching Tamra, I pushed Celeste off of her with my foot, and then went to grab her sword. My palm connected with the hilt, but like when trying to pull at Maphen’s robe, my fingers didn’t close because I lacked the control to separate stiffening my palm with stiffening my fingers.

A technique like this was sure to need weeks if not months of study to master; it wasn’t something I could learn in the heat of battle. Looking up, Shanel was nearing the summit; she’d reach the plinth atop it soon after, which would initiate the fiery countdown. It was then I spotted Chorazin limping along. He had somehow managed to best Chikra and even had the top half of her spear in his hand. Watching, I saw him hold it carefully, point forward, and then he said something, blood misting the air as he did. The spearhead shot forward, straight at Shanel and lodged in the base of her skull. She stiffened, and then fell from where she had been climbing, slamming into the ground of our level.

Chorazin turned toward me, and only then did I see the gruesome mess that had become of his face. His upper lip was split to his nose, while his lower hung loose in fleshy flaps exposing his teeth. There was so much blood oozing from his mouth and down his chin and neck it looked like it had been painted there.

Seeing his determination overcome the obvious agony he was in, I felt him more of a true sibling than in all of our years together in the Crim.

“Thank you, brother,” I said to him, and from a twitch of his eyebrows, I could tell he didn’t understand. “For showing me the way.” I stopped stiffening my hands, letting the blood flow and throbbing pain of both spike, so I could grip the sword with my fingers. As soon as I had, I tensed them again, locking them in place. Then I ran at Chorazin.

He straightened, head tilting back as if getting ready to try and push me off of the mountain. But we were both near death at this point, and from the look of his mouth, I doubted he’d be able to say the word again. Saints praise him – he tried, shouting right before I was in striking range. Instead of the red mist I saw when he killed Shanel, red splattered from his mouth and something wet did strike me, but it didn’t push or halt me so I didn’t stop to see, ramming the blade into his chest.

Chorazin sagged into my body, looking at me and then down at his purple tunic that was doing a fine job of hiding the blood that must surely be soaking into it.

“Well fought, brother,” I said to him, as I eased him down to the ground. Then, as well as I could – out of respect for him and Tamra’s blade – I yanked the sword from his body. He jerked up as I did and then was still.

I tottered slightly as I looked around, there were so many bodies around me, Tamra, and Maphen still hadn’t moved. It was only then I spotted what had struck me from Chorazin: it was his tongue, ripped from his mouth with his final push. I stared at the bloody lump on the ground a moment before looking back at the peak. I would need to reach the base and then climb it, two feats that felt impossible in my current state.

So, I only let myself think about the first, stumbling toward the wall. The pain of my side must have distracted me from my progress because one moment I thought I was sure to fall and never rise again and the next I found myself with my hand pressed against the stone I had wished to reach. I looked up, and my vision swam, confirming what I already knew: even with the mantle, I was at my limit. However, the twin fires had yet to be lit. The Elders hadn’t mentioned the possibility of none of us winning. How poor would we look to them, as well as the Acolytes and Devouts watching, if we failed? We were here to help win the Everwar, to be the foundation that lifted those ahead of us to greater heights, not to disappoint during our greatest test yet.

So, with arms and legs that felt already dead, I began my ascent. I knew Tamra would hate me even more if I left her sword on the ground, so I carried it with me, which left me only three fingers to climb with on my right hand.

I actually made it two body lengths up before my limbs gave out, shaking uncontrollably. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes and the various wounds on my body as well. There was no way I could make it the rest of the way to the top; it was impossible.

Is what you will say to yourself when you battle beside your brothers in Sharell? A stern, somehow undaunted part of myself asked. That the war is unwinnable? That all is lost? What if you climbing another few meters would save humanity? It was a ridiculous thought, that such a small act could have so huge an effect. But…what if it wasn’t? What if I had a life saving drought that would rejuvenate a prime celestial, letting them vanquish a greater demon, turning the whole tide of the Everwar?

It was my left foot that ventured upward first, followed by my left hand once I had found a toehold. My body held no additional energy; in fact, I felt rung out to my core. But I couldn’t let humanity perish, and that meant I couldn’t stop climbing.

I would either fall, or I would rise.

One pained push from my legs and pull from arms after the next, my cheek pressed hard against the cool stone, air puffing out my mouth in wheezing gasps, I grew closer and closer, until I reached the highest point Shanel had. Or at least I thought I had; my faculties were far from perfect at this point.

No one cried out at my minor accomplishment, and I quickly learned that pausing briefly at the milestone had been a grievous mistake: my body refused to move farther, despite me straining with everything I had left. Then my hands started slipping. I tried stiffening them in place, but that didn’t help, the blood and sweat on them not mixing well with the slick rock. If I dropped Tamra’s sword, I would certainly have a better chance of staying where I was. It was just a weapon, after all, a thing, I didn’t need to die or lose because of it. So thinking, I almost let the hilt slide from my grasp, but then with a scream I didn’t know I had in me, I stabbed the blade into a crevice just above my head. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting to happen. It was a magically made mountain after all – could a sword of steel even pierce it? Somehow it did, lodging halfway up the blade in fact.

My thankful surprise was short-lived, because no sooner was it in place then my other hand lost purchase, the sudden shift dislodging a foot as well and then the other went with it, leaving me dangling one-handed from the sword. The weapon immediately shifted downward due to the increased weight, but miraculously it held.

Just hold on, I told myself, even as my gripping hand began to strain, my fingers loosening. Just hold on.

But my hold on the sword wasn’t the only thing that was slipping. My side and hands were continuing to drain blood from my body and the blackness that had previously tinged my vision was narrowing in. With what awareness I had left, I focused on tightening the skin of my fingers and palm as much as I could, imagining it becoming stone more unmovable than the mountain, fixed, impossible to break, even if I should lose consciousness.

Perhaps the added strain was what put me over the edge, for no sooner had I conjured the mental image of me never letting go of the sword than I blacked out.