Borlen waved at his group. They removed the covers of several heavily laden carts, revealing almost perfectly round stones carved deep with signs unfamiliar to Elian. Each stone was as large as a basketball and needed three men to carry it to the hole’s edge.
Noticing Elian’s curious stare, Borlen explained, “Absorbing stones of Lha’ar, one of the Tellerin tribes. The stones are embedded within castle walls to absorb hits from cannons. We will pile them around the bowl to lessen the impact of the Tribulation. This is our contribution in alleviating our Champion Penitent’s burden.”
Hired mages, wardcrafters, enchanters, and all sorts of defense experts, flocked around the hole. Everyone was busy at work.
Elian took the opportunity to learn about the deployed magics unfamiliar to him. The Giants destroyed many nations before humanity started to unite. An answer to winning the war might be among the technologies lost.
The other pilgrims were suspicious of Elian—he could be a spy sent by the supporters of Faridar to steal their secrets or even sabotage their work. Borlen assuaged their concerns and introduced Elian as a brother. Listening to Borlen’s lectures about their beliefs for the past three days was worth it to get his support.
By midday, cheers erupted at the outskirts of the encampment. The wave pushed to the middle. The powerful chanting grew stronger as more and more people joined. Thousands of voices became one, shaking even the trees.
“Penitent Tharguras!”
“Penitent Tharguras!”
“Penitent Tharguras!”
Elian climbed on top of Borlen’s wagon to see above the crowds. Others also thought the same so it was still difficult to find a good view.
A mountain of a man, muscles upon muscles, long hair worked into a netting of braids and dyed blue, Tharguras looked like what you’d expect from someone who had supposedly endured dozens of Tribulations. He didn’t wear anything on his upper body, other than golden bands around his massive arms, to proudly display the shimmering black tattoos of the Magistrate’s Boon. Elian couldn’t see from this angle, but he expected the number two hundred and seventy-eight written in Kymorathi on his chest.
The Lesser Boon of the Hundred-Armed Magistrate’s Judgment was one of the rare Divine Bestowals that didn’t need Favor Points to progress. Passing the Tribulations was the payment. Borlen taught Elian that the Lesser Boon required a hundred Tribulations for each tier. Three hundred in total to attain a Greater Boon.
Who in a Giant’s armpit could reach the Magistrate’s Greater Boon? Probably had to be the level of the Great Heroes of the Solvi Empire. Elian was eager to meet the seven priests Borlen told him about.
That said, how many powerful people have died because of this nonsense?
Though it might not be fully nonsense. It could be the solution to Elian’s problem. He needed to watch a Tribulation in action to confirm his plan.
A bath of potions awaited Tharguras outside the dug bowl. Next up was a magical feast that he ate and drank. Elian didn’t have Aethersight yet, but he could tell Tharguras was buffed to the gills and could take on Giants.
Elian sighed. “Looks like that’ll take another hour. I might think they’re crazy, but they take preparations seriously.”
Mages wrote protection spells on Tharguras’ skin before attendants fitted his armor. The unearthly white glow that Elian could spot from afar meant only one thing—the bones of undead dragons. Full sets were extremely rare. Penitent Tharguras certainly had a lot of wealthy supporters. The costs for this one Tribulation could fund an entire army for months.
A fully armored Tharguras descended into the hole followed by several attendants carrying two great shields. No doubt the shields were imbued with all sorts of enchantment. When Elian checked the hole earlier, he saw two metal stands. Those were to help Tharguras hold the shields up under the weight of the Tribulation.
“Damn, I can’t see what’s going on.” Elian hopped from wagon to wagon, trying to get a closer look into the hole. The crowd also pushed forward. They were held back by massive forcefields.
Majestic notes of horns reverberated throughout the congregation. Amplified voices recited prayers. The pilgrims beat drums and clanged pots and pans.
Elian was looking for the next wagon to jump onto when the hair on the back of his neck and arms stood on end. The air around him got sucked upward. He gazed at the sky. Thick clouds swirled, turning the clear day dark in a few seconds. A beam of blue light shot out from the center of the swirl.
A great crash! The world shook as if a thousand Giants stomped all at once.
Elian fell off the wagon and onto several other pilgrims. Dust clouds covered them. His ears were ringing from the noise as he tried to extract himself from entangled limbs.
“Sorry! Really sorry about that.” His eyes teared from the dust. The barriers must’ve been destroyed for dust to reach them. Such a powerful impact. “I’m so sorry if I hit—”
“Is he alive?” a pilgrim next to Elian asked him.
“Huh? Who are you talking about?”
“Penitent Tharguras! Did he survive?”
Other people also asked each other the same question. They picked themselves up and surged to the middle to check. Elian couldn’t do anything against the tide of people. He left himself to get carried by the flow because he wanted to see the aftermath. He didn’t care about the fate of Penitent Tharguras.
He was interested in the hole. What did the Tribulation do to it?
“He lives!” An amplified voice swept the crowd. “Our Champion Penitent Tharguras lives!”
Masses of pilgrims erupted into cheers that almost deafened Elian. While everyone was busy hugging each other or kneeling and praying, Elian jostled his way onward. He didn’t get far as the wall of people became too dense close to the center. He headed to a covered wagon tipped to the side and climbed on it.
Still couldn’t see.
“I have an idea.” Elian jumped on the covering of the wagon, planning to use it as a trampoline and rise higher.
His feet tore through the canvas followed by the rest of his body. He crashed into crates inside the wagon.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Okay, stupid idea.
But in the short time he was in mid-air after jumping, he got a glimpse of the hole—it became even bigger, double in size. The dug bowl turned into a crater in the shape of a palm as if an Elder Giant slammed his hand down.
Everything was gone. The towers bearing the barrier wards were flattened into rubble pancake. Magical barriers were shattered. Elian couldn’t see the bottom though he had gotten closer because it became much deeper. The announcer did say Tharguras survived though.
Elian chuckled, staring at the hole he made through the wagon’s cover. “That Tribulation has got to be a physical attack.”
The obvious evidence was the very large and very physical hole it left behind. A solid ‘something’ crashed down like an asteroid. The protection wards, the barriers, the enchantments, none of them were for defending against magic—he made triple sure of that while interviewing the people working around the hole. All defenses were in anticipation of a physical attack.
“Am I really going to go through with this?” His chuckles turned into laughter. “Did time travel make me crazy?”
The plan made sense though.
The Armor attribute was for physical attacks. Magical Resilience defended against magic. Simple enough. But not very straightforward. The explanation of Yanira of the Mist Barrier returned to Elian.
“If someone used magic to levitate a boulder and throw it at you, that’s a physical attack,” she had told him. “Have all the Magic Resilience you want, but that’s not going to protect you from getting squished. A mental blast that pushes targets as its only effect is also considered a physical attack. On the other hand, Magic Resilience will counteract the slash of the sword made of astral flames.”
“What about a flying boulder coated in astral flames?” Elian had asked. “What do you need for that?”
“You need to get out of the way.”
Just because something was made by magic didn’t mean its damage was magic in nature. The Tribulation was a strike from the heavens that squished people. It was caused by a deity, yes. But it was a physical force.
“That’s it. I’ll do this!” Elian punched the air, his heart filled with resolve.
The Tribulation would be his ‘skill’ for offense. Given that it came from the Hundred-Armed Magistrate, it didn’t use the Penitent’s Attack Power. Otherwise, Penitents could lower their Attack Power using various methods and easily survive the Tribulations.
It could be used only once a day and it could kill him, but this was a start. He’d think about the issues later.
“Hey! You there!” A furious man peered into the hole that Elian made. “This is my wagon. Are you stealing from me?”
“I’m sorry! I just fell inside. I’m getting out now.”
It took Elian a few hours to reunite with Borlen. Elian returned to their campsite and found that most of the adults had left to scoop soil from inside the crater. Some sort of religious souvenir since it was literally touched by their god. When the pilgrims returned with their jars of dirt, Borlen wasn’t with them because he had gone looking for Elian in the Healer tents, thinking he was injured in the aftermath of the Tribulation.
“I’m sorry for disappearing earlier,” Elian said. “I made you worry. It’s just that thought of seeing the Tribulation up close… I still should’ve told you.”
Borlen made the circles and triangles sign. “It warms my heart that you desire to witness the Tribulation. I was right to invite you to this momentous occasion, brother. You were part of its success and I’m glad you’re here with us. Please stay longer to join our celebrations. After which, I will no longer hold you back from your journey to Frothlake.”
“I changed my mind,” Elian said. “I’m postponing my trip to Frothlake.”
“Why so?”
“I have found a higher calling to go to the Temples of Tribulation. I will ask the Hundred-Armed Magistrate for his Boon.”
----------------------------------------
Elian’s stomach was about to burst after the feast. Wealthy supporters of Penitent Tharguras made sure food piled high and drinks endlessly flowed. Elian couldn’t fight the food comma that followed—his Armor was useless against it—and slept in the wagon as the caravan started to move. Borlen had told him they’d travel to the Temples of Tribulation to support Penitent Tharguras meeting the Hundred-Armed Magistrate. Elian wasn’t listening to the rest of the explanation because sleep claimed him.
Booming fireworks woke up Elian. “Wha-what? Are we already there?” His voice struggled to be heard over the blaring trumpets and more fireworks.
“We are on the Road of Penitents Past.” Borlen, sitting across Elian, gestured outside the wagon.
Behind them were groffs, more wagons, and hundreds of people on a wide road paved with white stone. All of them witnessed Elian sleeping like a drunk Filloswine. Lining either side of the road were statues of people with hands raised in defiance of the heavens.
“Are they Penitents who died during a Tribulation?” Elian asked, pointing at the statues.
“Champion Penitents who have reached the Lesser Boon’s third tier,” said Borlen. “And yes, it is as you surmised. Further on, we’ll pass by Enlightened Champion Penitents who perished from the Tribulations of the Greater Boon. None were Stagnants. All brave, pushing their limits to the end.”
Elian thought it improper to voice his thoughts about the Stagnants, choosing to instead ask, “Where’s Penitent Tharguras?”
“He should have reached the gates of the first temple by now. The fireworks indicate so. Our lines stretch far back so it will take time until our wagon arrives at the gates.”
“I can’t wait to see the Temples of Tribulation. Or maybe I can. I still don’t want to move. So full…”
Borlen went on to explain that although the place was called the Temples of Tribulation, there was only one true temple—the building that housed the Hundred-Armed Magistrate’s aspect on this mortal plane. It stood on the central hill surrounded by smaller hills with the other so-called temples that were actually more like schools dedicated to different ways of defense. Each hill was a town unto itself, connected by roads and bridges to the other hills. A bustling place for it wasn’t only the pilgrims that traveled there but also scholars and soldiers from various kingdoms wanting to train themselves or share their knowledge for a fee. A huge blow that the Temples of Tribulation were destroyed so early by the Giants in the previous timeline.
“Seven hills in total.” Borlen held up as many fingers. “The central hill and one for each of the Six Paths of Enduring Penitence.”
“What are those Six Paths?” Elian’s curiosity prodded him awake.
“Most prominent is the Path of Vigor. As its name suggests, it focuses on raising your Health and abilities with Health as a cost, such as the Steelskin Form pioneered by the warrior monks.”
Elian had planned to pick up the Steelskin Form while at the War Monastery to shore up his defenses. Odd that they have teachers of the Steelskin Form here. Did they have a treaty with the War Monastery to access their scrolls?
“Opposite the Path of Vigor is the Path of the Mind,” Borlen continued. “Barriers, auras, all manners of protection spells fueled by your own Energy. Then there is the Path of the Immaterial. Drawing from the Aether, the element unseen permeating all life, manifest magical constructs such as unearthly armor and shields. These three paths are focused on the individual.”
“Paths for people who want to be a Penitent,” Elian said. “I’m guessing the other three Paths are for those who want to support the Penitents?”
“That is so, brother. The Path of the Forge is quite self-explanatory though not all of its followers are armorers or use the forge for their creations. Everything worn for protection is the domain of this Path. Then there is the Path of Construction. Enchanters share their blessings with armor, wardcrafters drawing from the powers of the earth to make defenses, rune carvers, and many more. Last is the Path of the Cauldron consisting of potion brewers, alchemists, witches, and the like, all making concoctions to meet the Tribulations.”
“Thank you for your explanation, brother,” Elian said. He liked how all of the pilgrims called each other brother and sister. As a single child, he sometimes wondered how having siblings would feel. “After receiving my Boon, I’ll visit the Temples of the Paths and pick one to master.”
“I suggest the Path of Vigor for it is easiest to tread in the beginning,” Borlen said. He presented his arm. His skin rippled, turning into gleaming silver. “Mastery over the rudimentary Skins will do you well in your first few Tribulations.”
“I’ll keep your advice to heart.” But Elian wouldn’t follow it for new plans brewed in his mind.
Didn’t Aether armor defend against both physical and magical attacks?