Sealed in Steel
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58. The Other Great Calamity
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 12:55:53 +0000 UTC“My meeting… with the Magistrate?” Elian wondered if the crazy truth would be believable to Thalman.
“You couldn’t have been Cursed any other time because that was your first and only meeting with it,” Thalman said, his voice growing stronger. He stood straighter as Aether constructs encased his frail body and supported his posture. The cold lessened as the constructs clamped into place, and the heavy atmosphere reduced. “I asked the other priests if they have led you before: they said no. Some of them could have faulty memory, that’s possible. But I firmly believe that was the moment you were Cursed. In that very brief moment. What was that, not even ten minutes? Five? I led you in. You came out with a Curse. How?”
Elian didn’t dare lie and concoct a tragic backstory to make him relatable. The white eyes of Thalman might indicate Aethersight permanence.
Those using Aethersight would have their eyes momentarily whitened by the gathering energies. True experts would show only wisps of white, like Teacher Lyra of Immaterial School. Thalman was a way more experienced Aether mage than Lyra but he had white eyes. Also, he didn’t seem to be gathering Aether in his eyes. Elian suspected that Thalman had used Aethersight continuously for years to decipher the enchantments of this chamber, which had afflicted him with Aethersight permanence—he no longer had normal eyes. If Elian was correct, Thalman could pick up his bodily signs that were indicative of lying.
Best not risk it. Elian went with telling somewhat the truth, “This may be hard to believe… but I asked the Magistrate to Curse me.”
The more times he explained it, the dumber it sounded to him. However, it might not be so foolish, as it initiated a series of events that ultimately led to his discovery of a vital piece of the Giant’s plans.
Look on the bright side. There was something always there.
Thalman blinked. Then he stared at Elian with his pure white eyes as he questioningly tilted his head.
“I know, I know,” Elian said. Add in some minor edits to make him look less impulsive. “It sounds crazy and all that. The short of it is, that I needed to get strong quickly. Some followers of the Magistrate told me about its Boon rewarding base attributes after surviving a Tribulation. Just what I had been looking for—I have Bestowals with high multipliers.
“Then I heard rumors of the Magistrate’s Curse. Double the Tribulations for double the rewards. I thought, ‘Wow, that’ll make me stronger faster.’ I’m quite proud of my body’s resilience against physical damage. Two or even three Tribulations shouldn’t be a problem—survive the first, survive the rest. I figured that since the Magistrate gave Boon without any test required, maybe it’d Curse me if I simply asked. And that did happen. Too bad the rumors didn’t say the Tribulation is mandatory.”
Elian waited with bated breath for Thalman’s reaction. Was Thalman going to think less of him?
A few seconds passed. Thalman continued to look at Elian. The clones were probably staring at Elian, he was willing to bet.
Thalman suddenly laughed as if he’d cough out his lungs. “That is a witty yarn you spun! I haven’t laughed this much since I was nailed to this wall. I thank you, brother Elian, for gifting me joy for my release. I sense hesitation in you. I understand if you don’t want to share your past. We all have stories we don’t want to be told. But I am delighted with your joke.”
“I really didn’t think you would laugh at that…” Elian said, keeping his words vague. Thalman would interpret his words differently.
This was what Elian got for telling the truth—getting laughed at. The truth was so stupid that Thalman thought it was an intentional joke. Aethersight wouldn’t discern lies for Elian didn’t tell any nor did he intend to.
“I won’t force your tale out of you,” Thalman said as he winded down his laughter. “But I can offer you freedom from this burden. Brother Elian, join me in vanquishing the Magistrate. We’ll free the Penitents, the Cursed and not, of this despicable burden.”
Thalman took one step away from the wall he had been pinned to. The chamber shook as the last line of the seals keeping Thalman secured disappeared. As he walked toward the door, the clones disappeared one by one. The only light remaining came from the constructs around Thalman.
“I’m… not sure… yet,” Elian said, wondering how to convince Thalman to abandon his plan.
This revenge was a decade in the making. More than ten years, counting Thalman’s first attempt. He had no qualms about the deaths, injuries, and destroyed properties he caused and continued to cause—Elian assumed the hills were still a mess—so long as Khalamundi was distracted. Would he care about the rest of humanity getting killed by Giants?
Would he even believe Elian? Like with Jadewell’s case, Elian didn’t have anything to prove his story of time travel.
Thalman stopped and turned around. “Are you having second thoughts now? I assume that you came here knowing my intentions to end the Magistrate, right?”
“I did, yes. But, uh, how are you going to do it? Only deities can harm other deities. I mean, it’s possible to destroy the manifestations of deities on Fellenyr, like projections or possessions. But the Magistrate is different. That’s the body part of a deity.”
“I know.” Thalman raised his right hand and pointed to its wrist with his left. “However, my target is not the hand itself but the bracelet it wears. Destroy it, and it is not its own no longer its own entity but a part of another. None of the priests know how to repair it. I doubt even the catfolk can, if they still existed, for it is the master craft of the Giants. Without the bracelet, the Magistrate’s body will wither and die.”
“Then the Elder Giant will regain its right hand?”
“I imagine so. We don’t have a precedent for this. The catfolk writings contain nothing. But that’s not my concern.”
“The Magistrate’s essence is inside the hand. That’s your real target, isn’t it? What will happen to it when its vessel is gone?” Elian was trying to find a way to keep the bracelet on the Elder Giant’s hand intact while Thalman carried out his revenge. “Maybe there’s a way you can eliminate the essence only. You’re not even sure if the vessel dying would also kill the Magistrate’s essence. You have to be sure that—”
“I am wholeheartedly confident I will succeed, Brother Elian. As confident as breaking those pitiful seals that contained me. I have thought of this for a decade. It will all end tonight. The Elder Giant’s right hand… the Hundred-Armed Magistrate inside it… the temple… the hills…”
The temple and hills? What the hell? Elian pretended he didn’t hear that. He had an inkling of Thalman’s true plan and hoped he guessed wrong.
Before Elian could think what to do Thalman had exited the chambers.
Thalman led Elian to the depths of the Forbidden Temple, avoiding any windows and other openings. If there were cracks in the walls or ceilings, Thalman was quick to plug them with darkened constructs. This was incredibly risky. If there was even one hole that Thalman missed, the Tribulations would start charging in the sky. Elian wouldn’t have any time to run out of the range of all the Tribulation debt of Thalman.
“Don’t be scared brother Elian,” Thalman said.
Did he sense it or was he guessing? If Elian’s hunch that Thalman had Aethersight permanence was correct, Thalman could watch Elian through the back of his head. Elian should be careful here.
“I mapped the way with my clones,” continued Thalman. “Every crack, every hole, I am aware of. Every passage above and below the ground, I know even if my own two feet had not walked through them before. Don’t worry; I’m not going to ruin my revenge by missing a hole.”
“How are we getting to the temple?” Elian asked. “There’s a portal connecting the Forbidden Temple to Temple Hill, isn’t there? I, uh, heard some rumors.”
“You heard correctly. But we won’t use it because Ihadir destroyed the gate before leaving. The musclebound behemoth of an oath was worried my clones had already breached to the other side and were laying a trap.”
“Was he right?”
“In a way,” Thalman replied, flourishing a hand. “I’ve diverted the gate to lead elsewhere. But we’ll be using a different gate. Forgotten and buried in the dizzying maze of ancient catfolk tunnels. I hid my discovery from the others, for six years and counting. The others don’t care; they don’t explore the ruins of the catfolk as I do. Though Ambrose likely knows about the passage we’ll take… but a sack of useless potatoes he is.”
“This gate we’ll use to get to the temple…” Elian said, choosing his words. He saw an opening to lure Thalman into revealing his real intentions. “Is it going to be far from the temple itself? I’m just concerned if you’ll have to cross the street or something. You need to remain underground.”
“And underground it is, for the gate leads to the—”
“The bottom of the library,” Elian finished, snapping his fingers. “That’s why you—your clones, to be accurate—often come up from there. I’ve never seen you go down there, thinking about it.”
“You truly are gifted with brains, brother Elian.” Thalman softly chuckled. He no longer coughed. “I knew you were so blessed during our short training.”
“Even before that, you knew,” Elian said. “Or at least, you guessed. That’s why you recommended those difficult books to me. They wouldn't have been useful for the novice. But I did find them very helpful. That said, can you, and I hope I’m not overstepping here… can you become my teacher after this?”
“We’ll see what happens after, brother Elian.”
Thalman’s response made Elian’s blood run cold. Elian had thought Thalman wanted to take him in as a student. They were both Cursed. Thalman checked if Elian showed promise, even witnessing it for himself during their last meeting turned training session. But that didn’t seem to be the case, leading Elian to think his other hunch was correct.
“Priest Thalman, can I ask—?”
“Call me Thalman. I’m no longer a priest. I call you ‘brother’ since we are both Cursed by the despicable Magistrate.”
“Right. Uh, Thalman… Can I ask about the penalty of the Greater Curse of the Magistrate? Is it different from the Lesser Curse’s penalty? The Kymorathi number on your chest flickers into the thousands.”
“I remember Borlen mentioning that you know how to read Kymorathi numbers. To answer your question, there is not much difference between the penalties of the Lesser and Greater Curse. Do you recall the words of the Curse? It multiplies what was owed, and that all debts must be paid. Have you missed a Tribulation?”
“I did. Just an experiment,” Elian hastily clarified. “Not that I forgot. I got struck by six strikes.”
“What do you think would happen if you hid in a cave and missed two days? How many strikes would descend when you exit the cave to greet the sky?”
Elian shrugged. “Twelve? I’d owe four Tribulations, multiplied by three.”
“That is correct,” Thalman said with bitterness. “How many Greater Tribulations do you think would hit someone who owed ten years' worth of Tribulations?”
“Is the mandatory Tribulation weekly? I also don’t know by how much it is multiplied and how many—”
“Fifteen thousand and six hundred Tribulations!” thundered Thalman.
Elian gasped. “That many?” He knew that the higher tiers gave a longer time in between Tribulations. One week, according to the diary of Jadewell’s grandfather. But they had more mandatory Tribulations and probably higher penalties too.
“You also know that each Greater Tribulation is composed of multiple strikes,” Thalman said in his normal voice. “That is to say, if I was ever made to repay my debt, a debt I was forced to incur, the destruction would be calamitous, to say the least.”
“But you’ll no longer have a debt after you kill the Magistrate, right?” Elian asked.
“I expect it to be so.”
“Should we ask the Magistrate first about this calamity? It sounds like something we should all be worried about since a deity is scared. The Magistrate wants to evacuate everything. We should—”
“I am the calamity, brother Elian.”
“Wha-what? No. That’s not—”
“It’s amusing, isn’t it?” Thalman said, turning around with outstretched arms. “The Magistrate foresaw its death in my hands. Not only its death; but the destruction of its tiny domain. And so, it sent out Jungdu and Yonnik, in turn allowing me to execute my plans. Poetic justice at its finest.”
This is really, really bad, Elian groaned in his head. His hunch was confirmed.
Only a deity could kill a deity, both the vessel and the Magistrate—that was how the world, with all its planes, worked. Technically, Tribulations came from a deity… the Magistrate itself. Thalman was going to kill the Magistrate using the thousands of Tribulations that were his penalty. They’d flatten not just the temple, but Temple Hill itself, and destroy the other hills with the shockwaves.
Thalman wouldn’t care about the Giant invasion. He planned to die tonight and take the Magistrate with him. And everything and everyone else too.
Problem was, Elian was included in that.
Did he ask me to come here so I couldn’t stop him? Damn it. Elian wasn’t good with this scheming thing. Even back on Earth, he avoided office politics. What to do?
He couldn’t confront Thalman about it. Thalman would just deny it or restrain him. There was one thing left for Elian to do: go with Thalman to the temple and look for help. Priestess Hazelheart was his only hope.
“Here we are, brother Elian.” Thalman stopped before a wall covered in vines.
The vines disintegrated, sparkling green fading into the cold wind that blew in the tunnels. They were realistic-looking Aether constructs hiding a small passage.
“At the end of this tunnel is the gate,” Thalman said, “that leads to the bottom of the library temple. Let us go and vanquish the deity who Cursed us.”
Comments
Gerardo Jr. Diaz
Thanks for the help!
MilkTheShark
They would’ve been useful for the novice. -> They wouldn't have been useful for the novice.
Undead Writer
Thanks for the chapter!
