Chapter 60: Agility Trial (Patreon)

[You have completed the strength trial! As the winner of this section of the trial, you will receive an extra reward. The reward will depend upon your results relative to the other members of your party.]

[Calculating rewards…]

[….]

[…]

[Rewards calculated!]

[As the weakest person in the strength trial, you have defied the odds. Well done, Idiot! You have been granted double the amount of strength achieved in the strength trial—23 bonus strength attribute points.]

[In addition, you have been granted a boon.]

Logan opened his hand. Resting in the base of his palm, a black ring shone with the same metallic glint as the chains. It had that same heavy aura, a presence to it that made it seem alive.

[Strength Ring of Pure Grit. B Grade. When worn, this ring will grant the wielder double strength. The Strength Ring of Pure Grit is part of an attribute set. Upon ownership of all five rings, the rings will dissolve into your skin and become part of your body. Thereafter, the doubling power will turn into tripling power.]

Logan’s eyes widened, shock stark on his features. He’d wanted to make the best of the situation and obtain every attribute point possible in this trial, but he’d never once thought it would be this beneficial. Excitement surging, Logan put the ring on his index finger and… felt like he’d been dick-punched! It was if he’d been hit with a truck!

Panting like an overheating bird in hundred- and forty-degree weather, he stared at his chest and biceps, doing everything he could not to scream. His muscles had already been on fire, his arms like wet noodles. Take a damaged body and expand every single muscle and tendon—cord them with steal as if your atoms were being vaporized and reformed—and you had one result. The fires from hell. No, bugs from hell, bugs on fire that were burrowing into his flesh, subjecting him to torture and constricting his lungs.

Gradually, gradually the pain faded. In place of his worn muscles and swollen tendons, he’d been reformed anew. The pain from the trial dissolved, his legs and arms steadying.

Reeling, Logan waited for the feeling to pass and then pulled up his physical stats.

Intelligence:85

Constitution: 41

Strength: 86 x 2 = 172* (*Pure Grit Ring)

Agility:36

Dexterity:21

Endurance: 40

Perception:20

Wisdom:80

Luck: 45

Holy fucking shit. Logan had received 23 strength attributes from his trial performance, and an additional 23 bonus points. With the doubling power of the ring, he now had 172 strength!

He was a powerhouse. And if he managed to obtain the other four rings, he’d have 258 strength. 258! That was so much it was difficult to fathom. He was having trouble believing this was real, but there was no mistaking the agony that had ricocheted through his body.

Logan glanced down at his chest and arms. At least the strength increase hadn’t turned him into a hulk—rather, it had continued to refine whatever was already there, like using a good base and strengthening the supports.

“How did he manage to come out on top?” one of the guards whispered behind him. “He’s only level 34. It should have been impossible.”

Logan pretended to be looking at his exoskeleton gloves while giving them a surreptitious glance.

Errol was standing next to Arsen, his mouth next to Arsen’s ear. They’d pulled themselves together, their faces clean of sweat. Both had twirled their damp hair into buns, keeping the wet strands out of their face.

Arsen’s voice was just as quiet. “I told you not to underestimate him. How do you think he got through the portal? No one has 1500 Karma at level 34.”

They should know better. Logan’s increased perception could pick up whispers.

Errol shook his right hand, wincing as blood dripped to the floor. While pulling on the chains, he’d shredded his fingernails, and it looked as if his constitution attribute wasn’t high enough to heal the damage quickly. “Even if he has that much Karma, it doesn’t explain how he surpassed Thorin. Thorin is built for strength.”

“Idiot’s species might be able to withstand more pain than ours. A religion, a trial that they go through when they’re young. We’ve seen that with the Rokardoni people. Regardless, the agility trial is next. He’ll never outperform Asthea.”

Errol grunted and then raised his voice. “How is Thorin, Asthea? Have you roused the big lug?”

Asthea was kneeling next to Thorin who was sitting up with a dazed expression. She handed him a large canister that looked bound by leather and he started chugging it down. Asthea rested her hand on his shoulder in concern. “Not so quickly. You’re going to choke.”

She gave Errol a nod of acknowledgment. “He’ll live. Though he might not do so well in the next trial if he can’t even get to his feet.”

Thorin stopped drinking and wiped his chin. “I can stand!”

Resting one hand against the floor, he repositioned himself, trying to get to his knees, his legs sliding. With a scowl of annoyance, he used one fist to brace himself against the floor and then rose into a kneeling position. Wobbling and wincing, he got to his feet.

“We’re on hour four now, just going into our fifth. We can take a longer break before we move on to the next stage.”

Thorin cracked his neck, glowering. “I’ll not hold us up!” Brushing off Asthea’s hand, he gave Logan a narrow-eyed stare before he staggered over, his stride straightening the closer he came.

Logan wrinkled his nose. He knew he didn’t smell like a bed of roses, but Thorin’s stench was something else. His body wafted a reek that resembled a skunk intermixed with day-old socks.

Jabbing a finger into Logan’s chest, he growled. “I don’t know what tricks you were up to during that trial, but I know that beating me wasn’t through natural ability. What is it? Do you have a skill that siphons off the strength of those around you? Witchery!” he barked.

Logan looked down at the finger jabbing into his chest and then for the first time, consciously tried to project his aura, communicating non-verbally just how pissed off Thorin had made him.

He’d done this intentionally back at the resort with Brad. Someone who couldn’t accept defeat graciously was the worst kind of person. The strength trial had been agony for Logan and to suggest that he hadn’t won fairly filled him with outrage.

His estimation of the man’s character had just dropped significantly. There was a time and a place. Logan understood that he could be feeling humiliated—boasted as the best amongst the group, shown up in front of a princess—but as far as Logan was concerned, accepting that defeat and learning from it was the ultimate sign of maturity. Acting as if you’d only lost due to trickery was a cop out and a sign that you couldn’t learn from your failures.

Still, Logan wasn’t expecting his aura projection to work. After all, he was level 34 against Thorin’s level 92. It was like a mouse trying to intimidate a cat. And judging by Thorin’s toothy grin, Logan was correct.

Logan met his stare, his eyes heavy-lidded. But astonishingly, something in his steely eyed gaze, something about projecting a murderous intent, had gotten through to the man. Hesitating, Thorin lessened the pressure of his finger against Logan’s chest and then dropped it. His expression was still indignant, but now there was a wariness to it.

There was one explanation. Even though Logan was level 34, he’d increased his strength attribute to a massive degree. An aura had to depend upon more than just your level. What if it projected all your attributes at once?

“No witchery,” said Logan, expressionless. “No trickery. I just beat you.”

Logan’s words caused the man’s indignation to rise once again. “You—”

Asthea looped her hand through Thorin’s arm and tugged him away. “This is my trial of awakening, remember? No time for pettiness. That can wait until after.”

Arsen cleared his throat. “Asthea’s right. We’re wasting time. I was ready to suggest a longer break for your sake, Thorin, but not if you use our rest time to start an argument. How often will you get this chance? Agility increases are waiting, brother.”

“But—”

Arsen’s voice was firm. “I won’t hear it.” He gave the group a steady look, scanning each person including Logan. “Everyone ready?”

Asthea willed her canister back inside her spatial storage, straightening and taking a deep breath. “Ready.”

“Let’s get out of the room so the System can reset for the next trial.”

Thorin wiped away his expression and for the first time, he seemed to focus. “You’re right, brother. I’m ready for what’s ahead. My apologies to the team for not keeping my priorities straight.”

Errol brightened and thumped Thorin on the back. “Hah! Hah! You were beaten, the mighty Thorin, beaten! No explanations necessary.”

Thorin went back to glowering, but he followed Asthea to the tunnel entrance.

Logan looked at the wheel and the discarded chains. “What happens to the strength trial?”

Arsen glanced back at him. “You mean the contents of the room? Who knows. All we know is that we enter the tunnel, the room resets, the wheel disappears, and the new trial begins.”

Arsen gave him one last curious look and then disappeared into the tunnel with the others, leaving Logan in the room. They wouldn’t be paying attention to him; they’d be focused on what was to come. The risk of discovery was slim, and this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Focusing on the pair of fallen chains closest to him, Logan willed them inside his spatial collar. There was resistance at first—that same elastic band he’d felt when severing the boulders—but then with a snap, the link to the wheel split and the chains disappeared.

Kickass.

With a bounce to his step, Logan followed the others.

***

Logan had been wondering how the reset would occur, but as soon as he stepped out of the chain room and joined the rest of the party, the System answered him.

Ding!

[Trial reset in progress…]

[…]

[..]

[Please stand by.]

He took out a bottle of water and chugged it and then ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“How are you holding up?” asked Asthea. She was back to her kind self again, her eyes soft and curious.

“I think I did all right.” Logan didn’t hold back a smirk. He wasn’t bragging—he was proud of his achievement. The guards had written him off before they’d started the trial, even holding bets on how quickly he’d fail. Instead, he’d beaten someone who was level 92 whose highest attribute should have allowed him to leave Logan in the dust.

“I meant with Thorin. He’s bitter now, but don’t worry, he’ll get over it. You won’t have to worry about him.”

Logan hadn’t been worrying. At least until now.

Wary, Logan eyed the man who’d managed to pull himself together. He was jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, psyching himself up.

Ding!

[Trial reset complete.]

He’d heard no sound from the room, nothing that made it seem as if things were being repositioned.

Next to him, Asthea took a deep breath and closed her eyes, repeating in a chant, “I’m prepared, I’m focused, I’ll push my body past its limits.”

Behind them, the other guards made sounds of agreement, growls rumbling deep in their throats.

“Remember,” said Arsen. “The agility trial is yours. Don’t let yourself get into your head. You’ve got the highest agility of the group; you’ll smoke everyone else.”

Asthea nodded, her face focused, eyes full of determination.

The group let her lead and enter the room first, everyone close on her heels.

When Logan stepped into the spherical room, everything was different.

Impossible.

Yet the others didn’t seem surprised that the wheel and chains had disappeared, and in their place… Logan had to look up. He could only equate them to floating platforms. Some were small, about the size of large dinner plates, others were five feet across. If he squinted, he could see them hovering in place, but he could also see that they were moving as if in a slight breeze. They were about twenty feet off the ground, which meant—

The ceiling hadn’t been that high before.

Logan could only blink in disbelief. And yet, at this point, why was he surprised? The normal laws of physics were out of the window, and what had seemed impossible in his previous life was now normal. Raise the ceiling of a room in a few minutes? Why not?

Ding!

[You have entered the agility trial. You will compete individually but only advance to the next attribute as a group. Once the last person concedes or drops, the group will advance to the next attribute.]

[After 24 hours, your overall individual performance will be judged against the rest of your party. The individual with the highest attribute increases in each area will be granted a bonus.]

Logan could only assume this was like his agility ladder exercises, only this time, in the air. They’d have to jump from one platform to the next—possibly while they moved—to increase their agility attributes. Unlike the strength trial, this one didn’t seem that hard. As long as he didn’t get too fatigued, Logan could see himself increasing his agility by a massive amount.

Still, that left the question of how they were going to reach the platforms. They were way too high to jump. Logan glanced around the room and finally found a black metal ladder that shone like the chains. It was attached to the stone wall next to one of the floating platforms.

“There’s a ladder over there,” Logan said and moved closer to it.

Errol snorted in derision. Suddenly, his metal whip was in his hand. “With your permission?” he said to Asthea.

Asthea nodded with a preoccupied smile and Errol curled a hand around her waist, cracked his whip and lodged the scorpion tail into one of the platforms. Testing its grip, he then took a flying leap, lifting Asthea and himself up onto the platform with a loud grunt.

Arsen grinned savagely and was suddenly holding two daggers the length of his arm. His face like a thundercloud, he ran at the wall, scoring his daggers in deep and lifting himself into the air. He shouted in exuberance as he swung himself onto the next platform. His feet skidded and he had to dig one of his daggers in deep to steady himself, wobbling before standing straight.

Okay then. Logan was never one for flashiness—what was the point? Errol and Arsen had just spent energy that could have been used in the trial. Not very smart. As for Logan, he was fine with a ladder. A ladder he could trust.

He made quick work of it and then jumped on top of the nearest platform. It swayed under his feet and seemed comprised of the same black metal as the chains. Logan had originally thought he’d need to banish his boots, but crouching down, he realized the surface was as slick as ice.

He must have just found the difficulty. You could jump from platform to platform, but not if you were sliding off them as soon as you landed.

“Thorin, don’t be a fool,” shouted Arsen down at him. “You can hardly stand. Use Errol’s whip; he’ll get you up.”

Thorin glowered at him, his massive sword in one hand. It looked as if he’d been about to copy the same move as Arsen by jamming his sword into the wall and leaping into the air.

“I can handle it.”

“At least take the ladder,” said Asthea in exasperation.

“I’ll not follow the idiot!” Thorin bellowed. Running at the wall with his sword outstretched in one hand, his chest muscles bulging with each stride, he screamed as he lodged the sword into one of the notches Arsen had made with his daggers and then launched himself into the air.

He barely made it.

Thorin landed half on the nearest platform, one of his legs hanging over the edge, his sword the only thing keeping himself in place. “Oh the clan,” he moaned in pain before prying himself onto the thing, sprawling with his limbs outflung.

Talk about an idiot.

“When does it start?” asked Logan. “This doesn’t seem that difficult, but why do you all have weapons?” Would Logan need to take out his baseball bat? He still didn’t trust the Cursed Rope around people.

Arsen grinned at him. “No weapons,” he said, willing his daggers into his spatial storage. “Not unless you want to make yourself into a target.” Errol got rid of his whip, Thorin following him with his sword.

What?

Above them, a slot the size of a cat-door opened in the ceiling. The ceiling was a good twenty feet from the platforms, and at first Logan couldn’t make it out, since inside the slot, it was black—pitch black.

The blue orbs on the walls pulsed with color, illuminating the room in light.

Within the opening, something came out.

It was the size of a bowling ball, only sharp-looking spikes littered the surface, spikes that were made of the same material as the chains. The ball blinked its glowing blue eyes and then with a squeal of glee, launched itself in the air, hurtling towards them like a cannon ball.