Walking through the bolt was different from what Dallion expected. While sharing a lot of similarities—the starting point, the guardian room, the mending maze—each had its own set of peculiarities. The guardians tended to be a reflection of the item’s owner, or owners. Gloria’s ring guardian was strong, but also fair and kind, those of the items in Dallion’s home were simplistic, but encouraging, and the rocks he had taken from the river were wild. However, it was the mazes that were the greatest difference. Each had a different shape, incorporating the item’s true form, and as Dallion had found out, there was a direct connection between the damage on the outside and that in the labyrinth.

The labyrinth of the bolt turned out to be a tower composed of multiple smaller labyrinths placed on over the other. Initially, there wasn’t even an indication—the starting room led directly to the guardian arena. Yet when Dallion had shot at the connecting archway with his dartbow, the archway had transformed into a stairwell, shifting the guardian room to the top.

“How did you think of this?” Veil asked, impressed.

“It’s something my mother told me,” Dallion replied.

To be honest, hadn’t given the matter much thought thanks to the echo, not that he had many opportunities to do so up till now. The entire time in the village had been spent learning skills basics in preparation for the chief’s tasks. Looking back, Dallion was almost annoyed at the time he had wasted doing mundane things instead of experimenting and pushing the limits of his skills.

“She said that some people liked to damage items for the fun of it.”

“Well I’ve damaged a lot of things,” Veil said with pride.

Dallion felt like shaking his head. Some things never changed.

“I’ve never done it from the inside, though. I’d just chip off a part of the thing then go into the labyrinth to do more damage.”

“Well…” I’m not touching that topic. “Since they are connected, you can do it on the inside as well. You just need to know the exact spot. Having some perception helps.”

That shut Veil up as he darted an annoyed glance at his sister. Noticing it, Gloria raised her chin in a smug expression. Typical sibling rivalry at its best.

“What is your plan?” the Cleric asked.

“It’s simple. All we have to do is cause enough damage in every third floor so that the bolt holds together, but the bolt is on the brink of shattering. When the chainling grabs the shaft of the bolt, the tip will continue on.”

The only reaction Dallion got were blank stares. For some reason no one saw the significance of what he had just said, and yet it was so obvious. Dallion had seen that in lots of videos. It was the same principle with arrow heads… more or less. Maybe he wasn’t explaining it right?

“Look, the bolt is already in flight, all we’ll do is just break it up a bit so that the chainling can’t stop it. At worst, it’ll get sprayed by metal fragments. At best we can kill it on the spot.” Dallion paused a moment. Maybe the last bit was pushing it too far. “At best we can wound it for Dame Vesuvia to kill off quickly.” That sounded much better.

“So we need to bash up parts of the labyrinth?” Veil was the first to break the silence.

“Only some floors, and not all of them…” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. “You and Gloria to the top. The Cleric and I will start from the bottom.”

“I don’t get it.” Veil shrugged. “No prob in smashing things up, though. Coming, sis?”

Gloria gave a Dallion a long stare, then just sighed.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, then followed her brother.

“There really is no downside,” Dallion shouted as the siblings started their climb up. “Just don’t break too much, okay?”

Part one of his plan had started. Originally the next part involved them doing the same at least twice more—once for each of the bolts he was about to fire, and if lucky for a few reloads. They weren’t going to be happy about it, but better a few days of grumbling alive than a calm death. The Cleric, though, was a huge unexpected bonus. Dallion didn’t imagine he’d be there, or that he’ll have magic. Now the odds of this attack being a success had increased exponentially.

Seconds passed. Dallion calmly waited for Veil and Gloria to climb up and get well out of earshot. Beside him, the Cleric silently did the same.

“Any reason we have to wait?” the albino asked.

“Shh!” Dallion rose a finger, still looking up.

“I can stop sound just as I can stop light.”

“Oh…” Now he felt stupid. “Right. I didn’t think about that. Can you heat things up as well?”

“Heat, freeze, harden, soften… What exactly do you know about magic?”

“I know a bit.” Most of it was through games, cartoons, and roleplay sessions. In Dallion’s mind it still had to count, though. After all, magic was nothing but a set of principles—common principles, even. “Know any good spells?”

“No.”

The word was said with such a lack of emotion that Dallion suspected something to be off.

“While the Seven blessed me with the power of magic, I have proven unworthy to attain the skills to use it adequately. I can only affect change in items and areas. If I knew spells, you and I wouldn’t be having the conversation.”

“Because you’d have killed the chainling on your own?” Dallion felt the urge to take several steps back. Even with his perception of four, he could spot bitterness in a person, and the Cleric was definitely bitter.

“Because I wouldn’t have been sent on this mission at all. Who do you think improved the Initiate’s blade?”

Dallion remained silent.

“And now that you know how much I know about magic, what is it you want me to do?”

Ouch. Bitter and passive aggressive. Dallion said to himself.

“Any chance you can make the bolt invisible?”

“It wouldn’t matter. The chainling would still see it.”

“Any chance you could make parts of the bolt shaft heated? Like super heated?”

“Easily. Why?”

“I want to make the bolt into a rocket.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s a…” How the heck do I explain the idea of a rocket? “The idea is that if you suddenly heat up part of something in a specific shape, it will… make it fly faster?”

During his life Dallion had heard a lot of terrible explanations, but they paled in comparison to what he had uttered just now. Trying to simplify something complex that he took for granted sounded like a drunken gibberish.

“Err, I mean…”

“I know what a rocket is,” the cleric interrupted, saving Dallion from his misery. “How do you know, though? Other than the Order and the Imperial family, only a handful of nobles know the secret. Are you saying you know a way that would change a dartbow bolt into a rocket?”

“Maybe?” What mess did I get myself into now? Maybe having a limiting echo wasn’t that bad after all? “I mean it should. This one is sort of a test. We have a few more shots to get it right. No big deal, right?” He let out a fake laugh. “At worst, it’ll—”

“How old are you?” The Cleric narrowed his eyes. “In true years.”

“True years…” Dallion hadn’t heard the term before. “Twenty-two.” Give or take.

“Twenty-two. You know a lot for a person your age.” The faintest of smiles appeared on the albino’s face. “What exactly do you need me to do?”