Jacob opens his eyes to the complicated expression on the Mithril Golem’s face. He expects to feel completely battered after what Nimirea put him through, but he doesn’t feel one thing out of place.
If anything, he’s feeling better than ever.
Ready to provide an explanation, the Mithril Golem says, “my master would have not allowed
not to heal you. In a trial such as this one, you have the right to start fresh at each threshold, Jacob Cloud. And congratulations, I suppose. You have won the second Trial.”
Jacob looks around and realizes he’s still on the ground; he places his palm on the warm stone, noting that the chaos in the throne room—the aftermath of him acting as bait for Nimirea—has disappeared.
The Golem probably took care of it. And he healed
without breaking a sweat. This guy is powerful beyond belief.
He looks up and sees a smiling Boomgar skipping over to him, clearly happier than he’s ever been.
Boomgar wasn’t confident in his physical ability. But his Rainbow Skill, Kinetic Overlord, allows him to essentially control and redirect any force under a certain threshold as long as he channels the Skill in the right position and at the right ti.
What Jacob did wasn’t just giving Boomgar an opening to the throne by acting as bait for Nimirea and distracting her, but he also gave Boomgar a self-confidence injection like no other.
It’s not much in the grand sche of things, but Boomgar just won us this trial by using the sa physical abilities that he himself—and others perhaps—must have underestimated. And with the Grimoire in my hands, I can help him fix any single flaw he thinks he has.
Now, the Mithril Golem keeps looking at Jacob, to the point that Jacob, confused, asks, “is there any problem?”
The Mithril Golem and its perfect lineants don’t move one inch. He just stares at Jacob for a few seconds more and then turns his back, walking toward the throne.
Making his way to the top of the stairs and to the throne, he has an imposing and ancient aura. When he gets to the top, he gently caresses one of the armrests, reminiscing, and says, without looking at the trial takers, “my master’s youngest son, Lavrev, ca up with this trial, among others. He was a King without peers. Perhaps the only child of my master who truly ever ca close to his father. But he chose a path that many others would have not taken—a path in service of others. My master attained the greatest achievents and made discoveries re mortals could never comprehend. Lavrev, unlike his father—my master—took a very different path.”
For a mont, it looks like the Mithril Golem is about to continue, but then, he says nothing.
“The third and last trial will be held in another room.”
When the Mithril Golem says those words, the entire room starts trembling and the pavent starts shifting. It slowly opens, separating the two halves of the throne room in two, with a split that departs from the feet of the throne itself.
Below the pavent, there’s a terrifyingly hot magma chamber with a few large boulders in-between.
“What’s the Trial?” Nimirea, who’s trying to look composed after losing the previous Trial, asks.
That’s a good question, Jacob thinks. It must be sothing that he thinks both I and Nimirea would have lost. But not sothing tricky per se. I’ve already figured out the second room, and I doubt the Mithril Golem would be stupid enough to repropose a similar trick.
“Before I tell you about the Trial,” the Mithril Golem says slowly, “let
tell you about the reward. So far, I have not ntioned it.
Everyone’s ears perk up.
Rafnov is a figure of myth. During the very first trial, I have gotten a bunch of Skills that were supposedly about mining, but that have been even more useful in combat. Is this sothing similar? But maybe not. The Golem said that Rafnov’s son, Lavrev, ca up with this.
“The reward is a drop of Star tal for each mber of the winning team. The one who actually crosses the threshold first, however, will receive two more.”
Jacob waits for a beat, instinctively waiting for an explanation to resound in his mind through the words of King Baalrek—
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Right. Jacob says, swallowing and biting his lower lip. He’s gone.
“Star tal?!” Both Dwarves and both Goblins seem to go insane at those words.
Jacob raises an eyebrow at Nimirea, who is looking extrely impressed herself.
“Lad,” Boomgar says, almost panting, “Star tal is sothing our people, Goblins and Dwarves, ntion many tis throughout our founding myths. Our long-lost ancestors supposedly started building our respective civilizations by splitting a bowl of Star tal between our two races after a long, bloody war.”
“Until now,” Zibrek says with a deep voice, “I wasn’t even sure whether it existed or whether it was a story for children, Jacob. Its properties are supposedly so incredible that a single drop can change the life of a poor orphan and make him a King of Kings.”
“It is quite fateful that Jacob Cloud and Nimirea Arendor ca here with a Dwarf and a Goblin, indeed,” the Mithril Golem says. “And that story, that was my master’s doing.”
“What?” Zibrek frowns. “The myth says that during the bloodiest battle, a star took pity on our two races and shed tears for us, gifting our ancestors the Star tal.”
“I would like to point out,” the Mithril Golem says, irritated, “that one of my master’s titles is The Miner of Stars. He was irate with your distant ancestors and decided to put an end to the war. However, neither of your people wanted to settle without the complete annihilation of the other. My master, therefore, ca up with…” The Mithril Golem seems to struggle to say out the last words.
Everyone looks at the Mithril Golem curiously.
“My master told every single creation of his to refer to the gift as…” the Mithril Golem seems to struggle with the very matrix that keeps him together. “The Bribe.”
Jacob is the only one to snort, “Master Rafnov definitely had a good sense of humor. So, the bribe put an end to an entire race war?”
“It was a priceless gift! How undignified of him to call it a bribe out of humor! He saved countless lives! And the reason he didn’t want either of the races to include him in their history is because he didn’t want to take the mont away from either. In reality, they were selfish, greedy little bastards who took Master Rafnov’s generosity and ran wild with it! If it was up to —” The Mithril Golem barely restrains itself and straightens up. “It doesn’t matter.”
Both the Dwarves and the Goblins are looking slightly ashad at that. Filr’etk and Narfikara are more angry than ashad, whereas Zibrek and Boomgar seem to carry so sha over what their ancestors did.
“As for the Star tal, I’ll explain how to use it to whover wins,” the Golem says, then turning to Jacob Cloud. “I know your Master must have told you about this trial. I don’t know where he got the knowledge, but you must carry three pieces of his inheritance that can be only unlocked by Star tal.”
Everyone turns toward Jacob.
“King Baalrek told
about it, yes,” Jacob smiles. “He ca by the information through one of the heirs of Lavrev. He told
that the second Trial would have Star tal as its reward, which is sothing that I need, yes. But, King Baalrek did not know the details of the Trial itself, milord.”
The Mithril Golem curls his nose upward at being called milord.
“How arrogant of him to believe you would be the first in many eras to pass this Trial,” the Mithril Golem says with disgust. “But I suppose that’s what one might expect from Baalrek the Mad. That the earth has been ridden of him is sothing anyone will mourn.”
Jacob, who has been mostly calm and happy throughout this, now feels the fire of anger burning in his chest. King Baalrek did indeed entrust him to win the Trial because his Domain, his sword, and the Primordial Spell need to be enhanced by Star tal—more specifically, the power of the three is not sothing that Jacob can wield without Star tal acting like a reinforcing glue. Without it, Jacob has no way to achieve the full potential of each even at this low Rank.
“I will win,” Jacob says, looking straight at the Mithril Golem. “And I have much respect for Master Rafnov—too much to be able to say what I think of soone who speaks of the dead like you do. If you have lived for as long as you say you did, you should know what my master did for this world. I doubt Master Rafnov would be happy about you badmouthing King Baalrek like this—that one of his creations does not have honor in their words brings sha to his mory as well.”
Suddenly, the previously perfect-looking Mithril Golem is surrounded in white flas and his eyes, perfectly expressive and human, beco fully white and possessed by a demonic-like power.
“Jacob Cloud,” the Mithril Golem steps toward Jacob, and the ground around him suddenly vaporizes. “The only thing that can keep you alive after you DARED talk of my master’s honor is the fact that my own master’s words bind . But if you think I won’t give up my existence to take yours down, you’re beyond wrong.”
Jacob, even though he can feel his skin being charred through the Mana he’s pumping all over his body to resist such flas as the Mithril Golem gets closer, says, “I understand. Let’s proceed, then. Aren’t you curious to see who deserves your master’s legacy? And aren’t you curious to see how I will win?”
The Mithril Golem suddenly realizes that the flas around his body are about to kill everyone in the room and he extinguishes with a thought, just as fast as he had generated them.
“We shall see,” the Mithril Golem replies. “Now, let
explain the rules.”
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