Chapter 121

Boiling Breaths (IV)

Cain stood amidst a massive crowd stationed on a wide and elevated plaza, one mostly composed of young and ready-seeming folk who remained eerily quiet despite the numbers. At the far front, he noticed a slow pile-on of armored and stalwart-seeming ante-Humans, likely active members of the army, and even further beyond, sitting magically atop the air itself, two rows of flamboyantly-dressed and indifferent-seeming nobility who appeared to have no care in the world.

It was a standard tactic during the conscription, gathering recruits in front of some very, very important people and making them sweat. In fairness, Cain had no clue who anyone actually was, just that they were somewhat important; otherwise, they wouldn’t have been here.

He suddenly felt the crowd tense up further, his eyes veering forward where he saw a fairly tall man walk out onto the platform at the front of the plaza, his armor gold-gilded, hair short and spiked, and a pair of black eyes exuding a chill of the abyss.

He glanced at the crowd in silence, seemingly every gaze that met his quivering, until he reached Cain. Unlike others, Cain smiled faintly and didn’t look away, seemingly surprising the man who offered him the briefest and faintest of nods.

It was only after a good minute of scrutiny that the man spoke up, his voice deep and old, easily reaching every pair of ears on the plaza.

“I wish to extend my gratitude,” he said. “To each and every one of you, for braving yourselves to come here, knowing what lies ahead. That being said, a good chunk of you doesn’t belong here. Chasing the ghosts of glory is for the fools, and I don’t need fools in my army. Understood?!”

“...”

“I said--UNDERSTOOD?!!!”

“UNDERSTOOD, SIR!!” the collective reply shook the plaza slightly, surprising even Cain.

“If so, I hope you will think carefully over which Trial to take,” the man warned with a hardened expression. “There are six in total -- behind-the-lines support, soldier, leader, general, commander, and the champion. Every Trial is harder than the last, so I hope you will gauge your abilities appropriately... as death may await you if you overestimate your abilities. Now I want you to form rows; furthest to my right will be those testing for the support, and furthest to my left those who are foolish enough to believe they can become champions. There is no shame in staying within your lane -- no one man or woman can win a war. Soldiers are just as important as are commanders -- remember that.”

The commotion quickly erupted as everyone raced to where they thought they belonged. Cain paused for a moment, adrift in thought, wondering whether he should go all out. There was some merit in both staying low as well as leaping high, though he ultimately settled for the latter, gingerly walking over to his right, to a lane that already had four souls settled at the front, appearing way too young and way too excited.

Cain stood at the back, scrutinizing the other five lines and noting that most had either gone to the ‘soldier’ or ‘leader’ lane, with the fewest, unsurprisingly, going into the ‘support’ -- only two. And they were already being laughed at.

He chuckled inwardly and ignored the rest, closing his eyes and silently humming a song. He'd been to too many wars to count; to be fair, it was a bit misleading to claim it as such. He was never a soldier, never the guy at the front, charging and ripping through his vocal cords. He never brandished a banner and wielded a cause; he was a hyena, skirting around the edges, looting the dead, and mocking the living. Nonetheless, he'd seen and experienced most of what the war to offer. That was why he prayed the this 'war' would just be a set of skirmishes, a few battles. If not, however, he was ready to take others and leave.

Nary a few experience the flames of war and remain the same, and he was certain nobody in his group would make it. Everyone is quick to go to war where the heavens are promised, yet most only ever end up in the infernal clutches of the cold death.

“You three, get out.” the hardened voice spoke out again, pulling Cain out of his thoughts and shifting his focus to the front where he saw the tall, armored man addressing the three youngsters in front of him in the line. Only Cain and another man, separate from the group, remained indifferent.

“H-huh?” the three appeared startled, looking at him strangely.

“You lot are pipsqueaks fresh out of your mothers’ wombs,” the man hollered angrily. “’less you want them to be burying your carcasses tomorrow, I suggest you get lost elsewhere.” the three appeared to be on the verge of tears as they stormed away, leaving the last lane with the fewest souls now, as the third had joined the ‘supports’.

“My name is Akkatov,” the man said, glancing over the two remaining ones. “And I will be the judge for your Trials.”

“... Elburn.” the other man said first, prompting Cain to look at him. He appeared to be on the shorter end of things, draped in a thick layer of clothes all wound inside a leather coat, his features hidden by a mask and a hood.

“... Cain.” he added as well.

“Elburn,” Akkatov spoke to the man. “Take the stairs to your right and head up to the Tower of Fire. Your trial is at the very top. The Bishop shall explain it to you.”

“Very well.” the man nodded and departed swiftly after, appearing entirely disinterested in the rest.

“A Conqueror,” Akkatov turned to Cain and spoke. “Why are you here?”

“A Quest.” Cain replied honestly.

“Aye, that will drag ya’,” Akkatov chuckled as he led Cain off the plaza and into a nearby, shack-looking building that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the surrounding high-rises. The man brewed the two a cup of tea each as they settled inside a single-bed, windowless room with what could barely be called a table and a pair of chairs. “How strong are you?”

“Part-of-the-group-who-cleared-the-first-trial-strong.” Cain replied simply, taking a sip. The taste was quite similar to the green tea -- one without any sugar or honey or any other sweeteners.

“Impressive.”

“Hardly.”

“That man I just sent,” Akkatov said. “Could almost match me in a battle. You, however, don’t strike me to be as strong.”

“... to be truthful,” Cain smiled faintly. “I could likely toss around with the both of you at the same time.”

"Mighty confident, I see," Akkatov said with a chuckle, leaning back against the wall that looked just about ready to collapse under his weight. "You know, the First Trial is very different from this. If it were climbing the mountains, the first would be an ordinary one -- and this would be an active volcano."

“Good thing I like to play with the fire, then.”

“... if you are so confident,” Akkatov said after a brief moment of silence. “I have means of testing you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Fight our Guardian and survive for an hour.”

“...” Cain tensed up for a moment, feeling somewhat peevish. It wasn’t that he knew who the ‘Guardian’ was, but that the word ‘Guardian’ implied that it was actually the Floor Boss. Now, however confident he may have become after his ‘victory’ over the Ruined King, he was not confident enough to immediately challenge the boss of the Second Floor, no matter who it was to impress. Even if he didn’t need to win, just ‘survive’.

“Afraid?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“...” Akkatov grinned after being startled for a moment, clearly not expecting Cain’s reply. “Ha ha, I like that. A man who is confident... but hasn’t allowed his confidence to turn into arrogance. Perhaps I ought to reword my statement; you won’t be killed, no matter what. It is merely a test to see the height of your prowess. The rules I set are just musings; in reality, whatever the Guardian decides... so it shall be. He may take one glance at you and outright refuse to fight you, or he might immediately forfeit. He’s strange, like that.” Hm?

“That’s... interesting.”

"Yes," Akkatov nodded, sighing. "Though he is quite powerful, and the King's trusted aide... it is difficult to get a sense of him, I'm afraid. In fact, it was his idea to declare the war, to begin with."

“...” No way... Cain mused inwardly for a moment.

"But it is worth it -- he'd been the rain for our drought. And you are strange enough yourself; I have a feeling you may hit it off with him."

“... aha, aha. So, how long has he been your Guardian?”

“A couple of months.”

“Interesting. Is he that strong?”

“Hmm... it’s better to say that his items are exceptionally strong. This armor, for instance, had been made by him. Brilliant, no?”

“... yes,” the bad feeling was stronger than ever as Cain rubbed the bridge of his nose, dreading to ask the next question. “What’s... what’s his name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah, of course not! It’s Taima!”

“...”

“...”

“...” AH, GODDAMMIT!!!