107. Much To Do (Patreon)

Emerging from the depths of his library, Oz tossed back an antidote and followed it with a swallow of water. He scratched idly at his wrist. I should do something about that. At first stage, with access to the second floor books, I ought to be able to research a way to dispel it. Didn’t Sachairi say a second- or third-realm mage could dispel it easily? I could just get stronger, but I might as well continue down my pill-studying path and figure out a true antidote, rather than the pills I have now, which merely suppress the poison.

He reached the grand lobby, arriving at the desk and the branching shelves, spread out before him. An expansive checkered marble floor stretched underfoot, the begonia-and-book crest panel sitting quietly behind the desk as always. As he arrived, a red-haired woman looked up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Linnea nodded at him. “I see you’ve grown stronger. Congratulations!”

“Yep. Second floor of the library should be unlocked, now.” Oz eyed the stairs upward, then took a deep breath.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Linnea asked, crossing her arms.

Oz shook his head. He walked up to the staircase and rested his hand on the polished wood railing, eyeing the long, curved path up. He took a deep breath and lifted his foot.

Knock, knock.

Oz scowled. “Now? Really?”

“You could just ignore it,” Linnea pointed out. She leaned against the desk, giving Oz a look.

Oz hesitated, then nodded. “You know what? I think I will.” Raising his foot, he stepped up onto the first step.

Once again, the pressure bore down on him. He circulated his qi, and the pressure grew weaker, fading away. He nodded, casting his gaze upward. I can handle it now. I’m stronger than I was.

With his strength, he also felt the weight of the pressure in a new way. Rather than a wall of cohesive pressure, now, it felt like a thousand different unique pressures. Oz paused, feeling the weight of it. His eyes widened. This pressure—it’s the weight of the pressure all the books on the second floor emit, bearing down on me. Madame Saoirse wasn’t trying to keep me weak. She was trying to keep me safe, from accidentally killing myself with pressure by advancing through the floors at a low level! I understand now.

But I can handle it now. I’m strong enough. He lifted his other foot, climbing onto the next step. One foot at a time, slowly ascending to the second floor. With each step, more weight bore down on him, wearing on his shoulders and head, but he pushed upward anyways. His head bowed, his shoulders slumped. Legs straining, he kept climbing. One step. Another. His hand tightened on the railing, A thousand pounds pressed him toward the floor. He heaved his leg upward, foot almost too heavy to lift, and climbed. More weight struck him, bearing him down.

“If you can’t make it, you can always take a break and consolidate your realm. It takes a while to come into the full power of your level, after you break through to the next tier,” Linnea advised him, concerned.

“I can do it,” Oz gritted through a tensed jaw. He lifted his foot again, dragging his eyes up from the floor to stare ahead. Five more steps. Five more! I can finish it. I can reach the second floor!

“If you insist,” Linnea said, shrugging.

Another step. Four. Another. Sweat dripped down his back. His veins stood out over his whole body, every muscle straining. His qi struggled, fighting against the immense pressure. He heaved a breath and lifted his foot again. Three.

“Oz. Take a break. You don’t need to do it today,” Linnea said, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m doing it,” he said firmly. He lifted his foot, then staggered and almost fell. His grip tensed on the railing, stomach lurching.

“Oz! Seriously. Take a break!” Linnea went to climb up after him, only to fall backward as she struck a wall of pressure. She scowled, unable to approach him. To herself, she muttered, “Can’t climb up until you clear the trial…?”

Oz took a deep breath. Three more steps. Three more steps. With all his strength, all his qi, he lifted his foot. Every muscle strained. His whole body trembled. One inch at a time, his foot lifted to the level of the next stair.

His foot landed. Oz grabbed the railing and pulled himself up. Two.

As he landed on the next step, a mountain slammed onto his shoulders. He shook, every muscle straining. He eyed the next stair, but knew in his heart that he could never lift his foot. This was the limit. The absolute limit of his strength.

“Come on. Don’t hurt yourself. Come back down and consolidate your strength. You can try again tomorrow,” Linnea urged him.

Again, someone knocked on the door. She glanced over her shoulder, then back at Oz. “Go check the door. Oz, you have plenty of time, now. There’s no need to rush.”

Oz stared at the next step. His shoulders shook. His chest ached, struggling to draw breath against the weight on his back. Is this it? Is this as far as I go?