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Pudge stood before the pyramid, intently studying the structure. Before, when he and the others had been in what Flick called the Mortal Realm, Pudge hadn’t paid attention to things like architecture. Back then, he was too concerned with his animalistic drive. Sure, that was diluted somewhat by the bond to Zeke, but at his core, he still wasn’t completely sapient. That had changed with his ascension to the Eternal Realm, and now, staring at the majestic pyramid, he couldn’t help but be filled with wonder.

“It’s impressive, huh?” said Piglet. No – her name was Sasha, regardless of the nickname Flick had given the girl. And she was definitely a girl; chronologically, she was more than a decade older than Pudge, but from a maturity standpoint, they were both adolescents on the verge of adulthood. It gave Pudge a sense of connection with her that he’d never felt with any other person; even with Zeke, their relationship had been akin to that between an elder and a child. So, suddenly having a peer was exhilarating for him.

Pudge nodded, saying, “It is.”

Over the past week, his ability to articulate his thoughts had matured to the point where he didn’t stumble over every other word; his vocabulary was still fairly limited, but it was growing more robust with every passing day. Soon, he expected that it would be second-nature for him, just like it seemed to be for everyone else.

“Oh, c’mon,” came another voice from beside Pudge. “It’s just an old building. I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

“Shut up, Tagar,” Sasha said, glaring at the third member of their so-called party. Pudge didn’t need to look at the tigerkin to remember his appearance. Orange-furred, with black stripes, he was lean, lithe, and agile. Like all the rest of them, he was wearing cured leather armor that had been enchanted for durability, but where Pudge preferred his claws and Sasha carried a staff, Tagar favored the pair of shortswords he had strapped to his back.

“I’m just saying –”

“What does it matter? We’re all going to die anyway,” the fourth and final member of their team said, his voice dripping with fatalistic despair. Pudge glanced his way, seeing a now-familiar donkin – or a humanoid creature that traced their ancestry back to a donkey. He had a long face, huge, upright ears, and short, black fur with white splotches around his nose. Like Sasha, he carried a staff. However, where hers was straight and topped by an elegant red gem, his was gnarled and looked like nothing so much as an exposed root.

“That’s the optimism we know and love, Yoree,” Tagar said with a grin that exposed his fangs. “That’s why we keep you around, you know. Anytime I’m feeling down, I think about good, ol’ Yoree, and I’m just –”

“Drop it,” said Sasha, once again cutting Tagar off.

The three had been friends since childhood, so they knew one another almost as well as they knew themselves. In the week since Pudge had entered the village, the group had tried to make him feel like he belonged. But there was no substitute for a lifetime of familiarity, and he often felt like the outsider he was.

“Not my fault he is the way he is,” Tagar countered.

“I’m realistic,” Yoree stated. “Statistically, at least one of us isn’t going to make it out of the trials alive. That’s just math.”

“We’re not going to die,” Sasha said, her tone filled with infinite patience. “We’ve got Pudge. And we’ve been preparing for this for years. We’ll be fine.”

“No offense to Pudge, but…”

Yoree picked up where Tagar left off, saying, “But he’s just one guy.”

Sasha sighed. Pudge had revealed a few of his exploits to Flick and his children, so they had some inclination of what he’d been through. He was a veteran of hundreds of battles, and he’d also discovered that just because he and the others were of a similar level, there was a huge gap between their power and his. In a fight, Pudge felt confident that he could take all three at the same time.

Not that he’d do such a thing, of course. They’d been nothing but kind to him. But he needed some way of comparing his own strength to theirs. The real problem with doing so was that they’d been trained to fight as a group, while Pudge’s role as a skirmisher meant that, aside from a few instances where he’d played off of Zeke’s attacks, he just wasn’t used to that kind of thing.

But watching Sasha and her companions fight together had shown Pudge that, while he and his other companions were, ostensibly, a group, they were more like a bunch of individuals who happened to be fighting together. Sasha’s team was the opposite, with each having defined roles and responsibilities.

For instance, Sasha called herself a mage, and most of her abilities and skills revolved around slinging elemental forces from afar. By contrast, Tagar was a melee fighter focused on bladework, and Yoree was a dedicated healer who kept the other two alive. Once, they’d had a protector – an individual named Christopher – but he had died in the forest during one of their training exercises, which was likely the reason for Yoree’s pessimistic attitude.

They three worked well together, but adding Pudge into the mix introduced a degree of chaos that they were almost certainly unprepared to handle. However, Pudge – and Flick – hoped that he could make up for the ill fit with overwhelming power. And the infernal bearkin was eager to prove the man right.

“Sometimes, a single person can make all the difference,” said yet another voice, this one coming from behind the four teammates. Pudge turned to see a grizzled and grey-muzzled wolfkin standing only a few feet away. Despite his frail appearance, the wolfkin radiated a level of power Pudge hadn’t felt since the fight against the wyrm queen. And even that was almost assuredly insufficient to describe the wolfkin’s strength.

However, his aura was placid and calming, rather than aggressive and threatening, which put Pudge at ease.

“Elder Heron,” said Sasha, bowing at the waist. The others did as well, though Pudge only dipped his head a little. It wasn’t in him to offer subservience to anyone, even if that person clearly outstripped him in terms of raw power.

“Enough of that, children,” the old wolf said, his voice gravelly with age. The others straightened back to their full height, and Heron went on, “Pudge is different than those native to the Eternal Realm. Do you know why, Tagar?”

The tigerkin shook his head.

“Because he comes from a wild, untamed place where the only way to survive is to be more vicious and cunning than everyone else,” Heron stated. “The Mortal Realm is one of constant conflict. To ascend from such a hell, it changes a person, and not just physically. Anyone who ascends is worthy of respect and should be treated with caution. That Pudge has chosen to assist you in your Trials is a boon, but if he said that he wanted to do so alone, I would allow it without a hint of hesitation. Do you know why?”

“Because he’s strong enough?” suggested Yoree.

“Because he has already proven himself by ascending,” Heron answered.

Pudge was of two minds about the elder’s description of his adventures. On the one hand, he was proud of his accomplishments. He was proud of his strength. But on the other, he suspected that Heron was giving him too much credit. After all, he’d spent most of the final battle around the Portal of Ascension incapacitated, and he had only survived because of Zeke and, to a lesser extent, Tucker.

But that was okay. The same could be said about either of them – or Talia. No one could survive alone, and Pudge had saved his companions dozens of times over the course of their adventures, and he knew he would be called upon to do so again. After all, he hadn’t forgotten about his friends. An awareness nestled in the back of his mind told him that Zeke was still out there. Alive and probably fighting. Pudge merely needed to get stronger so they could be reunited.

Which was why he was standing in front of that pyramid, awaiting the Trials he was meant to undergo alongside Sasha, Yoree, and Tagar.

“What are we meant to do?” asked Pudge, wanting to move past the elder’s praise and to what was really important. “How do we start?”

“To start, you merely have to go through that door,” Heron said, pointing at the base of the pyramid. The door itself was wide enough to accommodate the entire team, even if they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and its frame bore fanciful carvings of twisting vines. At the door’s crown, there was a symbol that looked to Pudge like a beehive. “Once through there, you will undergo your trials.”

“What can we expect inside?” Pudge asked. The others already knew; after all, they’d been preparing for their Trials for years. It was a rite of passage every young person in the village underwent.

“Bees,” said Sasha. “Lots and lots of bees.”

“They’re called Ixilak,” added Yoree. “There are five levels to the Trial, each more difficult than the last.”

“Our task is to retrieve the Royal Jelly,” Sasha explained. “It’s on the last level.”

“Bees…”

Pudge only had a little experience with the little insects, but what little he knew of them suggested that they wouldn’t be a threat.

“Great, big bees,” Tagar stated, holding his hands out wide. “And that’s just the first level. They…uh…they’re supposed to get bigger and…um…more humanoid with each level.”

“That is interesting,” Pudge said, finally feeling a little excited about the prospect of diving into the Trials. “Is there anything else we must know?”

Heron shook his head, tucking his hands into his robes. “There is not,” the elder stated. “Go. The time is here.”

Pudge and the others nodded, then turned back to the pyramid. At hundreds of feet tall, and with a footprint nearly as wide, it loomed over them like a mountain. But without further discussion, Pudge took a step forward. Then another. The rest of the team followed, and soon, they reached the yawning entrance.

Pudge didn’t hesitate to push forward, stepping into the darkness. The moment his entire body was devoured by the shadow, he felt something similar to when he’d ascended – almost as if his body was trying to be in two places at once. It passed quickly though, and instead of finding himself in the white room where he’d first met Oberon, Pudge stepped into a bright sunlight.

Looking around, he gasped at his surroundings. Unlike what he expected, he was not inside a pyramid. Instead, he’d been transported to a sprawling garden. Enormous flowers swayed in a gentle breeze, giving off a pleasant scent. In the distance, there stood a massive beehive, glowing golden in the afternoon light. Because of the distance, Pudge had difficulty gauging its actual size, but he suspected that it was at least as large as the pyramid he’d just entered.

Beside him, Sasha gasped, “I…I didn’t…expect it to be so…”

“Beautiful,” Yoree added. “I don’t –”

Suddenly, a giant, fat bumblebee descended from the sky. It was at least four feet long, with wings to match, and its backside was tipped with a stinger the size of a longsword. And that stinger was aimed directly at Yoree. The donkin froze, stunned by how quickly he’d found himself targeted by a hostile entity.

Fortunately for him, even as awestruck as he was, Pudge had never let his guard down. He embraced his skill, [Hellfire], and extended his hand. A globe of liquid black-and-red fire erupted into being, then shot forward to engulf the attacking bee. A second later, it crashed into Yoree, though the [Hellfire] had already torn through the enormous insect.

Yoree screamed in pain as he was driven into the ground, but Sasha was on him in a second, knocking the flaming insect away.

“Heal yourself, Yoree!” she screamed, watching the flames eat away at the donkin.

Horrified, Pudge reached out and cut the stream of mana that had fed the [Hellfire]. After a second more, the tendrils of black energy dissipated, leaving the fire to burn a more natural orange. Seeing that, Sasha rolled her friend across the ground, extinguishing the flames.

A moment later, Yoree recovered his wits enough to use his own skills to heal himself. However, the burns had already grown so severe that mending them took a subjective eternity. When he was done, the donkin slumped in exhaustion, his mana clearly spent.

That was when Tagar turned on Pudge with an accusing glare. “You…you almost killed him!” the tigerkin roared, reaching over his shoulders to draw his swords.

Pudge tensed, ready to spring to action in an instant. Perhaps he’d have a chance to prove his theory that he could take them all on by himself. He liked the three companions, but they weren’t his team. If they attacked, he would end them without poisoning his own conscience with regret.

Fortunately, Sasha had a cooler head than the tigerkin, and she reached out to grip his arm. He glared at her, but she shook her head. “You won’t win that fight, Tagar.”

“He almost killed Yoree!”

“Not on purpose,” she pointed out. Then, she turned to Pudge, asking, “Right? It was an accident.”

Pudge nodded. “Yoree should be more aware,” he said, his hackles still up. He bared his teeth. “As should you all. This is not your tame forest. That bee would have skewered him if I had not acted.” He relaxed a little, then added, “I understand if you don’t want to fight with me, though. In that case, I’ll just kill them all myself.”

“Them?” asked Tagar.

Pudge turned and pointed to a swarm of bees descending toward them. Each was at least of a size with the first, which meant that they were a deadly threat to everyone, save, perhaps, Pudge. “Them,” he said.

“Get ready,” Sasha said, conjuring a bolt of lightning at the end of her staff. Tagar drew his swords, then twitched with some sort of enhancement. Even Yoree managed to push himself to his feet, though he was clearly out of energy. Hopefully, he could use his staff as more than a walking stick. Otherwise, he truly would die.

For Pudge’s part, he rolled his shoulders and summoned more [Hellfire]. He knew he would have to be careful with the skill – it was at least as dangerous to his companions as it was to his enemies. That meant that, aside from an initial volley intended to thin the bees’ ranks, he would have to fight in melee.

Which, given his background, was more than fine by him. He’d been aching for a good fight, and these insects might just prove capable of pushing him to his limits. Besides, he had a quest to complete:

Active Quest: Kill forty (40) Ixilak drones. Kill twenty (20) Ixilak warriors. Kill five (5) Ixilak advisors. Kill one (1) Ixilak Queen. Retrieve Royal Jelly. Reward [Netherclaw].

When Pudge had first read the quest after his ascension, he’d had no idea what any of it meant. However, now that he was in the Trials, everything was clear. Somehow, the Framework had predicted that he would assault the hive, and it had tailored the quest accordingly. Now, all he needed to do was complete the trial – making sure to kill the appropriate creatures along the way – and he would attain his class’s defining skill.

In theory, it was an easy task, but in practice? The swarm of giant bees suggested that it would be more difficult than it might’ve appeared at first glance. But Pudge was used to difficult. So, with a feral grin upon his face, he tossed his first ball of [Hellfire] into the swarm, sending a few of the huge insects plummeting to the garden below.

Comments

Nim

I really should have caught that before "It doesn't matter, we're all going to die", bit that was the give away :)

nrsearcy

Yeah - it's a weird line between being too subtle and being so obscure that you don't get the point across. I had to throw something obvious in there. I thought the "piglet" nickname would do it, though.

Anonymous

I wish Pudge said “oh bother” When he accidentally set Yoree on fire.

nrsearcy

I considered it, but I thought it would be a bit too on the nose. Plus, it didn't really fit Pudge's speech patterns. Would have been funny, though.