Gaius had never thought that there would be a pain greater than that of drawing tens of sigils within a minute or two, but that was before he took on the task of polishing the scales on the sculpture of a dragon. His vision had been filled with watery blurs, and the nerves on his arms were screaming bloody murder by the time he was done with the 256th scale.

His little apprentice had given up three hours into the polishing to nurse his right arm, which was a damn good thing. Gaius had a feeling that he was going to snap if someone — anyone — were to bother him at this point, as he plopped down onto the ground and rolled around a few times.

Clutching his right arm tightly, the boy felt warm tears stream out of his eyes. With his work complete, his tensed right arm had loosened up on its own, opening the floodgates of pain with it. He knew that it was coming, but Gaius couldn’t help but writhe anyway, and before long, the floor of the pavilion was drenched with cold, cold sweat.

“I’ve grown soft,” Gaius muttered through gritted teeth, rolling onto his back and onto his chest over and over. “But why the hell do muscle pains exist on freaking Cybral? Weiwu, you bloody liar!”

“Well, you seem to be having fun.”

Gaius slammed his left fist onto the ground, his eyes still leaking liquid like a faulty faucet, before forcing a greeting out. “Pardon me for this unsightly display, senior.”

The boy grunted madly a few more times, and then gave up on resisting altogether. As he let the pain ravage his body, Gaius noted with irony that a sculpture had completed what a Demigod and a whole bunch of Paragons had failed to accomplish — to make him give up in pain.

“Your sister’s almost done with the sculpture she’s making for La-Ti,” said Weiwu, who looked very much like a blur right now. It was probably due to Gaius’ tears, but the bone-deep agony he was experiencing right now had left him little resources to think with.

Gaius grunted, and then rolled around a few more times.

He would have preferred to show off a more elegant side of him right now, but any desire to suppress the anguish he was feeling could go die in a fire.

“Interesting,” Weiwu mused. “I had expected you to be somewhat immune to the concept of pain in this world, but your attachment to the expectations you hold have coloured your experiences. Pain is not a constant within the populace of Cybral, so your deep-rooted assumption of its presence can be…”

Gaius felt a vein throb on his head, but it wasn’t from pain. The last thing he needed was a scientific analysis of his current state — it would have been infinitely preferable if Weiwu had provided him with some succour instead.

“It’s all in your head,” Weiwu said. “You feel pain here because you expect to, which is why I cannot do anything about it. I would have to change your very personality if you want me to act.”

Gaius grunted again.

He paused. “Don’t even try to change it, either. For you, the expectation of pain is as natural as breathing. It is a part of your identity, second nature to you. I suggest you learn to enjoy it.”

Some small corner of his mind, a corner that was unafflicted by the ongoing torture, cursed at the Chanter of Innocents with some choice words.

Why would you even bring that up, then?

Time turned into a blur. The crushing pressure that bit away at his bones seemed to dull as the minutes and seconds ticked by. High above him, the sky continued to darken, which, to the boy, seemed like a rather adequate description of his mental state right now.

Weiwu had wandered off, and Gaius didn’t need to make much of a guess to know where the old god had ambled to. For Gaius, so long as anyone he cared about wasn’t here to see his current state, that was good enough. The pain was ebbing, true, but the boy didn’t want to move like someone who hadn’t been treated well by the aging process.

Flopping over on his back, Gaius closed his eyes and willed for the remainder of whatever pain he felt to vanish. He was no stranger to it — the boy was certain that on Orb, he was pretty much number one when it came to enduring pain — and yet, his methods to resist pain here had all systematically failed.

This was the first time he’d given in to it.

Breathing out slowly, Gaius finally found it in himself to get up after a few more minutes. His right arm felt a tad off, but other than that, whatever agony that had gripped him earlier had finally drained out of his body. Glancing at the night sky, he hobbled over to the sculpture, which was reflecting some light in a non-uniform manner.

It wasn’t half-bad, but simply recalling the pain that came with such an effort made the boy revise his opinion immediately. Pacing around the sculpture a few times, Gaius used his left hand to make some little smudges here and there.

There was perfection in imperfection, and imperfection in perfection. To Gaius, this sculpture of Aldnath was the best embodiment of that artsy statement he remembered reading somewhere back on Earth. After all, the Eternal Cadence was a being of constant movement — smudges in the polish Gaius had painstakingly applied here and there would reinforce that very view.

“Alright, good enough.” Gaius lowered his left hand, making a mental note to wash it clean before eating later. He was a tad surprised to hear how steady his own voice was, but that was just proof that there was growth in pain…probably.

The urge to hobble faded away as he left the pavilion and made for his lodgings. His right arm was sore and pretty much unusable, but the only thought he had in his head was Weiwu’s words earlier.

The expectation of pain is second nature to me? The heck!