It was a trial, a test of sorts. He had to figure something out, but what? It was related to fire, but he didn’t exactly understand how. Distracted, the wolf pounced on Matt and he was forced to parry with his bow—sparks flew through the obsidian claws of the wolf, and it— yelped. Pain, it howled and shook as its paws melted into the ground.
Matt was confused. What had just happened? The wolf tried to attack it once more, its limbs seemingly regenerating from the coal on the ground, Matt shifted and slammed it with the bow shaft but nothing occurred.
Again.
He tried as more sparks flew, but this time around nothing happened.
The uneasiness within his heart amplified as he realized that the wolf was basically unkillable. Was it just going to wear him down until he inevitably died? He gritted his teeth, it surely was a shitty way to go, but the wolf was slow, so perhaps he could figure out the secret of the trial. He had gotten a hint just now, the sparks—but the subsequent ones were nothing, unaffecting the wolf.
His head scrambled, but to no results. The Prophecy; its name was called Fires of Abrasion.
Matt didn’t understand it, what was abrasive about fire? How did any of this work— was there even fire inside this place? It was all related to fire yes, but he could hardly think with the wolf constantly trying to kill him. To be honest his situation felt laughable to him, it was a single wolf that realistically posed no threat, but the looming guillotine over his head gave him constant anxiety, much more than what he was used to.
◇ ◇ ◇
He moved on, leaving the wolf behind with a sprint; to his surprise the wolf simply walked towards him. But once in range it would pounce on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of a wolf constantly tailing after him at a walking speed, but it gave him some time to think. He scouted around, he checked the rocks, they were pale and slightly green, but the whole world—the sky itself was gray. Everything was devoid of color.
Matt reached other campsites and found the same thing, just billowing smoke as if a fire had once been present. He roamed the forest, the wolf constantly stalking after him. Campsite after campsite he found the same results.
◇ ◇ ◇
Hours passed as he marched on, checking every single thing that he could think about. Every movement, every twitch from a branch falling into charcoal he would check. The wolf following slightly behind. At some point it became like a trance, a routine for him, he simply checked and moved—he checked and moved. Checked. And. Moved.
He lost track of time as his routine blended together. Like a robot he scanned and checked. He simply moved and patrolled, checking for new things, new hints, new ideas. The wolf always followed closely behind.
Time passed, and he continued to check.
Time passed, and he continued to check.
TIME PASSED, AND HE CONTINUED TO CHECK.
Matt grabbed his hair.
“FUCK.” He stomped the ground to no avail, his voice falling in deaf ears.
And then he heard a growl. Once more he turned just in time for parrying, and once more sparks flew with no results. Matt felt rage. Frustration. DESPERATION. What the fuck was he supposed to do in this trial. He had lost track of time, he felt hungry, his body hurt simply from moving. How many campsites had he checked? He couldn’t remember, the same old gray sky followed him everywhere, oh, and the shitty wolf. The shitty wolf too followed. A scythe on his throat every time he tried to sleep.
He didn’t know how long it had passed. But… It was too much. IT WAS TOO MUCH.
Matt cried as he dodged the wolf, his sobs were mixed with dread and screams. He was hungry, starved. He had gone into the trial without thinking. He didn’t think it could cost him his life. He just didn’t fucking think. Sure there were a few close calls, but…
He looked at the sky as he removed his bow, resigning to fate. This was practically torture. The wolf pounced on him as he resigned to his fate. It didn’t matter anymore. The wolf howled and went for his shoulder, biting in deep—he didn’t know what happened at that instant, but he was filled with memories of Blair, or rather of people dying, of things dying, and the struggles that he sometimes saw from the monsters or Blair herself. How she had almost died fighting the snake guardian.
He couldn’t die. Matt’s eyes shot open as the wolf clawed onto his shoulder. Both of his hands grabbed onto the rocks of the ground, and with all the strength he could muster he slammed both of them onto the head of the wolf. They clanked. Sparks. The wolf combusted as if it were made of nothing but oil, and in an instant it howled as it died.
[You have cleared the first stage.]
Matt laughed. He laughed and laughed before he started to cry and began to cough up blood. He was drained of everything. He was tired. He was. He had to survive, but he was tired. His entire body demanded food that he didn’t have, his tongue demanded water that he was unable to acquire, and his mind demanded to break the routine that he couldn’t break.
How long had he been here? He stared at the sky, unable to know.
It was a trial, a test of sorts. He had to figure something out, but what? It was related to fire, but he didn’t exactly understand how. Distracted, the wolf pounced on Matt and he was forced to parry with his bow—sparks flew through the obsidian claws of the wolf, and it— yelped. Pain, it howled and shook as its paws melted into the ground.
Matt was confused. What had just happened? The wolf tried to attack it once more, its limbs seemingly regenerating from the coal on the ground, Matt shifted and slammed it with the bow shaft but nothing occurred.
Again.
He tried as more sparks flew, but this time around nothing happened.
The uneasiness within his heart amplified as he realized that the wolf was basically unkillable. Was it just going to wear him down until he inevitably died? He gritted his teeth, it surely was a shitty way to go, but the wolf was slow, so perhaps he could figure out the secret of the trial. He had gotten a hint just now, the sparks—but the subsequent ones were nothing, unaffecting the wolf.
His head scrambled, but to no results. The Prophecy; its name was called Fires of Abrasion.
Matt didn’t understand it, what was abrasive about fire? How did any of this work— was there even fire inside this place? It was all related to fire yes, but he could hardly think with the wolf constantly trying to kill him. To be honest his situation felt laughable to him, it was a single wolf that realistically posed no threat, but the looming guillotine over his head gave him constant anxiety, much more than what he was used to.
◇ ◇ ◇
He moved on, leaving the wolf behind with a sprint; to his surprise the wolf simply walked towards him. But once in range it would pounce on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of a wolf constantly tailing after him at a walking speed, but it gave him some time to think. He scouted around, he checked the rocks, they were pale and slightly green, but the whole world—the sky itself was gray. Everything was devoid of color.
Matt reached other campsites and found the same thing, just billowing smoke as if a fire had once been present. He roamed the forest, the wolf constantly stalking after him. Campsite after campsite he found the same results.
◇ ◇ ◇
Hours passed as he marched on, checking every single thing that he could think about. Every movement, every twitch from a branch falling into charcoal he would check. The wolf following slightly behind. At some point it became like a trance, a routine for him, he simply checked and moved—he checked and moved. Checked. And. Moved.
He lost track of time as his routine blended together. Like a robot he scanned and checked. He simply moved and patrolled, checking for new things, new hints, new ideas. The wolf always followed closely behind.
Time passed, and he continued to check.
Time passed, and he continued to check.
TIME PASSED, AND HE CONTINUED TO CHECK.
Matt grabbed his hair.
“FUCK.” He stomped the ground to no avail, his voice falling in deaf ears.
And then he heard a growl. Once more he turned just in time for parrying, and once more sparks flew with no results. Matt felt rage. Frustration. DESPERATION. What the fuck was he supposed to do in this trial. He had lost track of time, he felt hungry, his body hurt simply from moving. How many campsites had he checked? He couldn’t remember, the same old gray sky followed him everywhere, oh, and the shitty wolf. The shitty wolf too followed. A scythe on his throat every time he tried to sleep.
He didn’t know how long it had passed. But… It was too much. IT WAS TOO MUCH.
Matt cried as he dodged the wolf, his sobs were mixed with dread and screams. He was hungry, starved. He had gone into the trial without thinking. He didn’t think it could cost him his life. He just didn’t fucking think. Sure there were a few close calls, but…
He looked at the sky as he removed his bow, resigning to fate. This was practically torture. The wolf pounced on him as he resigned to his fate. It didn’t matter anymore. The wolf howled and went for his shoulder, biting in deep—he didn’t know what happened at that instant, but he was filled with memories of Blair, or rather of people dying, of things dying, and the struggles that he sometimes saw from the monsters or Blair herself. How she had almost died fighting the snake guardian.
He couldn’t die. Matt’s eyes shot open as the wolf clawed onto his shoulder. Both of his hands grabbed onto the rocks of the ground, and with all the strength he could muster he slammed both of them onto the head of the wolf. They clanked. Sparks. The wolf combusted as if it were made of nothing but oil, and in an instant it howled as it died.
[You have cleared the first stage.]
Matt laughed. He laughed and laughed before he started to cry and began to cough up blood. He was drained of everything. He was tired. He was. He had to survive, but he was tired. His entire body demanded food that he didn’t have, his tongue demanded water that he was unable to acquire, and his mind demanded to break the routine that he couldn’t break.
How long had he been here? He stared at the sky, unable to know.
