Noah kept walking deeper into the darkness, hoping his trust in Liam wouldn’t end up getting him killed. He wondered how any of the original challengers managed to discover this place, but Noah imagined they had come with a group or were just crazy, plain and simple. He wasn’t sure which group Liam belonged to, but with him he wouldn’t discount either of the possibilities.
After a short walk made in eerie silence, Noah finally reached his destination. In front of him were stairs, fit for those of either the Goblin Lord’s stature or a race of giants, with two lit braziers on each stair, placed at opposite ends. At a quick estimate, Noah counted 40, maybe 50 stairs, but what surprised him even more was that Noah could make out a man that could easily be fourteen, maybe fifteen meters tall kneeling on the ground, with over a dozen pale golden chains binding him. He couldn’t make out much from such a distance, but the man wore a majestic beard that dangled to the ground, with the features of a particularly burly human except one difference- golden eyes that were so radiant Noah could make them out from a different city, let alone a trifling distance of a few meters.
You have encountered Azamorath, The Last Titan (Level- ???)
“GREETINGS, CHALLENGER!” A loud, booming voice echoed out with a pressure that almost made Noah go down to his knees, but he barely managed to resist.
“Uh, hello… Who are you?” Noah awkwardly asked, feeling rather intimidated by the man’s presence.
“I am a vestige of Azamorath, last of his race. Eons ago I made a pact with the Primordial One, offering him my assistance in the construction of his final work. My presence here is a result of that pact. Should you like to accept the trial left by my main body, you may,” he explained calmly and patiently, as if it were an automated response, he had waited eons to say.
Would you like to accept Azamorath’s Trial? The Challenger may not leave until the trial ends or Gridlocked’s duration ends.
Yes
No
Noah agreed, and Azamorath nodded in response. A square piece of cloth glowing in an eerie blue light flowed from Azamorath’s chained hands towards Noah. He caught it, and a burst of information entered his mind.
“What appears real, is illusory. What appears illusory shall be real. Myriad Illusions, one path. One slash, a thousand phantom blades. This is the lowest level of a combat art that my main body crafted, but do not construe that as easy for master, for this is the work of a divinity. You may seek the higher levels as you go further in the tower, but only your own fortune will determine whether you can learn the entire art,” Azamorath explained, his voice relaxed.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Images flowed into Noah’s mind, and it felt as if they were flashing past his mind with blinding speed, but he was able to recall the details with pin-point accuracy. It was a method of movement, a footwork both for offence and defense- the entire body language, the angle the shadowed man held the gladius- perhaps the art was being adjusted to Noah’s own preferences-, the way his footsteps were strategically placed- it all gave the opponent the impression that the strike was going to come from a particular side, but it ended up striking from a completely different angle.
Instead of a footwork, it would be more appropriate to call it a deadly dance of deception and wits, of anticipation and subtly misleading one’s foe. It had turned combat into an art form, that even an ex-civilian like Noah could understand.
“What exactly is a combat art? And how do I pass your trial?” Noah asked, still reeling from the information that had just flooded inside his mind.
“A combat art is nothing but a form of knowledge, and just like there is no restriction to the amount of knowledge you can seek, there is nothing but your own skill and perseverance that decides whether you are capable of grasping the essential elements of a combat art or not. To pass the trial, you must demonstrate a suitable understanding of the Combat Art: Myriad Illusions. You will be deemed worthy if you climb the steps of ascension and reach the 50th step and stand tall, next to me. The knowledge I have given you only has any worth if you manage to grasp it, so show me your worth, Challenger!” Azamaroth said with a booming voice near the end, as if he were taunting Noah to bring it on.
“Hey, Liam. Err….. you know any way to cheat?” Noah whispered lightly to himself.
“Of course, lad. Why did you think I’d bring you all this way if we weren’t going to play dirty? But if we take that option, you will never be able to learn this Combat Art, you sure you want to sacrifice such a good reward?” Liam asked, looking Noah in the eyes.
Noah awkwardly scratched his head and thought about it for a moment. While Liam could help him cut corners this time, if he never put himself in the face of a real challenge, what use would he possibly be to anyone? All this while, Noah had been running away from his own desires, deluding himself into a career he really didn’t want to pursue. It was time to stop, and deal with the challenges as they come.
“Plus, lad, the floor guardians do give experience. So, you don’t have to worry about falling behind there. Think of all the pains we had to make to get here, you really think we aren’t going to be recompensated for our efforts?”
“You think you can turn on some rock music?" Noah asked, as hefted himself over the first gigantic step with a grunt.
"Ah lad, I thought you would've never asked! Of all my abilities, perfect memory has to be the most convenient," Liam clapped his hands together with a chuckle, officially starting the party.