Bacon Macleod
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B3 Chapter 376: Fog, pt. 7
🕑 Added 2025-08-14 21:30:02 +0000 UTCPorkchop watched with a smile on his face as his brother vanished into a miasma that stank of contagion and forest fires. By the Matriarch’s, Kaius could be stubborn.
Still, it was endearing how long he’d fought to keep them together through the trial — even when it had become blatantly obvious that they were getting nowhere.
He’d been suspicious after three crossroads, and all but certain after the fifth. Still, he’d let Kaius come to terms with it on his own. While he would have listened — he wasn’t an idiot — it felt like it would be more helpful if he could walk his own path without lingering traces of doubt.
Plus, Kaius’s trials really had sounded hard — he deserved a break. Even if they were in the form of obstacles that left him battered and bruised. Hells, he was pretty sure that only made it better — his brother seemed to thrive on chaos. Without something to push against, he got testy and restless.
He enjoyed it too, but it was just as much a means to an end as it was a reward in its own right.
Regardless, the time they’d spent together hadn’t been wasted. Not by a long shot. Reuniting soothed that raw hole in his heart — no meles thrived alone. Beyond that, it had brought them important wisdom. Their bond linked their souls, but it did not define them. They were their own persons, it was silly of them to expect Animus to be any different.
Stretching out the kinks in his back, Porkchop rose to his feet. He thought to Xenanra — to the long conversations he’d had with the ascendant between his trials.
They'd been interesting, not the least for the ascendant’s choice of location to host them. Alien forests, full of life just like his home — but so utterly different at the same time. One of them had been entirely made of mushrooms of all things — phosphorescent spores drifting through the air like he’d been suspended in the night sky.
He liked Xenanra, for all that she terrified him. Perhaps because she held so much power in her hand. It reminded him of his Matriarchs, in many ways — though the ascendant was far beyond even them.
There were differences. For one, she found his deference amusing, rather than expected and proper — like his respect was quaint, or an idle amusement. He couldn’t help it — he’d had his nose rubbed in the codes of propiety more than once as a kit.
The thought of his people’s rigidity stoked old frustration, bitter on his tongue and catching on his throat. He snorted, shaking off his head to banish the demons. Later. That was a mountain he could climb when he was good and ready, when he put a Patriarch's strength to shame, and arrived with powerful allies at his side.
His challenge waited. It looked simple, but he’d long known that was not the same as easy.
A stone wall that rose high overhead, smooth and unblemished. It was dark orange, with flecks of crystalline black that twinkled in the light — and stood more than a stride and a half thick.
It barred his passage; he knew deep in his soul that he simply had to prove it wrong. He would — the urge to know what lay beyond was too strong for anything else. What came with power? With animus? How did the triumvirate fit together? What change could he bring, if he just had a little more ability?
What was next, another crossroads — or something else?
He’d always had questions, much to his elders' chagrin. Questions, and an unwavering determination to find the answers to them.
It begged the question, who was we? What lay at the core?
Stepping forwards, Porkchop reared up — his powerful legs tensing under his weight. Letting out a low roar, he struck. Claws of reinforced sacred jade, harder than steel, smashed into the barrier.
Shards of stone pelted his padded underarmour as stinging reverberation shot up through his arm. The wall had stopped him fast, yet he still chuffed in satisfaction — dropping back down to all fours as he moved to inspect his efforts.
Four shallow divots sat in the thick wall.
He’d chipped it. Barely. But his claws remained strong, and his body was full of vigour. He’d find out what waited for him on the other side.
Already, he could feel the burgeoning of Animus — an awareness of a building spark deep inside of him. He felt…clearer. More in tune with the world around him — better able to see the higher truths that filled the heavens.
The Soul Soap. It had done something, helped him in some ineffable way. The fire within him had been purified. An odd experience, to say the least — like rinsing away dirt that had clouded his eyes as long as he could remember. His soul was…shinier, danced more readily in time with his body and mind.
He hadn’t gotten wiser, nor any smarter — but insight seemed to come easier. The mystical connection to his Aspects had come quicker. His previous trials had been hard, and embodiment of Mentis and Corporus hadn’t been swift — but it had come. With effort and struggle, of course; as all good things did.
He could feel the wisdom in that. While he might not relish the challenge in exactly the same way as Kaius, he did hunger for it — for what it represented. He’d never shied away from struggle — you had to summit a hill before you could explore the horizon to your heart's content, after all.
As long as he could remember, he’d considered the innate advantages of greater beasts to be suspicious. They were too long lived, too strong, and too hale. He’d noticed hints, of course. The suspicious additional time they got to gather and complete their skills before awakening their bloodlines, and the fact that most of his elders seemed to hang at a tier cap for decades — working on stubborn abilities that refused to grow with the swiftness the higher races enjoyed.
It was in the effects of his bond skill — a bonus to insight. A counterpart to the strength his brother had borrowed from him. Meaningless at the time, but one that had helped him bridge some of the gap he was certain would have otherwise existed.
Now, that gap had been closed further; his soul burned bright and true.
He’d always endured tribulation, and always would. It was the essence of his Corporus, The Indomitable Mantle; as was his concern and mindfulness for the bigger picture a part of his Mentis, The General’s Foresight.
But why.
Hackles raised, he drew up to his full height and put his body weight into another smashing rake of his claws. The wall was hard, but his claws were harder. Dust and stone showered down. Turning, he gouged at the wall with his other paw — growling low in his chest as he struck out again and again.
He felt the burn, the sting of his digits buckling as he rammed them into immobile rock again and again. It was simple to push past.
What drove him to continue on — to push past the point where others would have long given up? To follow his instinct and intuition when others begged for reason, or when long held wisdom suggested his path was folly?
For a long time, he’d thought it was a simple intolerance of injustice, or a need for the world to make sense — to follow the best path, even when it was impractical. Now, he recognised that it was only a section of the truth. They were important, but not everything — they didn’t drive his relentless need to push onwards, no matter the obstacles in front of him.
Nor was it an obsession with strength, and nor did he crave the struggle in the same way that Kaius seemed to live and breathe it.
He searched within himself, eyes locked on the stone in front of him and he struck out again and again. Energy flooded from the pools in his centre — filling Gladespirit as he swelled to new size. Ephemeral force oozed from his very pores, flooding him with the potency of ancient guardians of sacred and quiet spaces.
He tore at the wall with everything he had, feeling the furor within.
What drove him onwards? He knew. He’d always known — it had just been shoved to the side. Buried and forgotten, like a shameful secret, derided as the willful obstinance of a kit who had yet to grow.
Even now, with a spark pulsing above his final pillar, and a resonance barely withheld, he struggled to admit it.
Stubborn curiosity.
That was it. No grand ambition, great quest, or superiority of ethic.
Could things be better? Did the hierarchy of the dens really have to be so rigid and omnipresent? Why did they follow half remembered teachings of ancestors millenia dead? Was their willful isolation anything more than a bitter grudge that should have been long forgotten? Why keep their skills to themselves?
What was over those damn mountains? Why shouldn’t he break every taboo of his people and bond — not even with an elf, but a human boy he’d met by a twist of fate?
It was everywhere; from wondering if he was strong enough to win the next fight, to what strange lands lay over the next horizon. Even simpler things — like why highleveled classers wore shoes when their feet were more than tough enough to go without.
It was curiosity, plain and simple.
What lay on the other side of this damned wall? A fight? A meadow? Another wall? Who knew!
He would, soon enough — no matter how tough it was.
It was shaking now, cracks spreading from the pit he had dug through its centre. Rearing up higher, Porkchop let out a roar as he felt his pillar burn. He drew his paw back — jagged crystal wrapping his arm as unleashed a Jade Crash into the wall once more.
Loud as thunder, a crack filled the fog. Jagged chunks fell to the path in a pile, clanking against each other.
*Ding! Pillar of Self Discovered, Animus Ignited. Would you like to initiate Aspect Formation?*
Porkchop dropped down and stepped forwards into another bubble free of fog. A break in his journey, though this time lacking in a choice. Looking to his right, he saw another path running to join the crossroads — cloaked in roiling miasma.
Chuffing to himself, he settled down to wait as he pulled a sack of jerky from his dimension bag — courtesy of his Lesser Ghosthand earstud. He’d beaten Kaius to the punch; no doubt the idiot was only going to ignite his pillar once he felt like he’d really worked for it.
Comments
Joe Brennan
Thanks for the chapter and story. I feel curiosity is my central motivation as well, and wonder how many people would be the same.
Bacon Macleod
Don't worry, i'm not just spinning my wheels. One thing I *do* have a problem with, is that I really bloody struggle with brevity. I am *trying* to get better, however I rarely manage to execute as swiftly as I would like. I will say though, that this crucible does matter. The last two trials are very important for setting up some long term things, and the path as a whole is quite central to the story. I've (roughly) outlined the whole story from the get go, and I have a defined end i'm working towards. However, what I outlined as 'book 2' when writing ended up turning into books 2,3 and 4 (next book) as I delved more into little minutae and realised how the crunch of my story impacts things. You learn things, as a first time author. I have learned that having consistent regular breakpoints for skills etc makes time skipping incredibly difficult if you dont want to either A: just skip over a bunch of skills and make the whole thing meaningless, or B: spend ages just describing what has changed and why. Entering deadacre up to being kidnapped was supposed to be act 1, the delve (with the cruicible having been designed as the meat of it since the begginning) as act 2 with some set up for future events and a B plot running through it, act 3 (next book) was the culmination of the deadacre arc. Hell, I even underestimated how long B1 would be -- I intended to play out a deathzone start to completion, rather than rushing through it. But I thought it would be like... maybe an average epic fantasy novel length, not 300k words. yes, there are cities we havent seen yet, but we *will* see them. I'm very much excited to show you guys the greenseed dukedoms, and mystral, and the deep sea+elven conclaves, and the hiwian steppe, and the drozag stoneholds beyond them. I'm very very much excited to explore more of the history of the world, especially with regards to why everything is weird, and the shattering of the empire, and kaius's family, and a dozen other things I have drip fed. We will get there, don't worry. Blame Hidetaka Miyazaki for ruining my brain with indirect worldbuilding :P
Joshua Little
Thanks for the chapter.
Jayden Southworth
Been a patron for a long while. I read this story often. I will continue. You've given genuine uniqueness to your story and I look forward to where it goes. I think the reason people are frustrated -- that I am -- is that at chapter 300 the story announced movement. They settled in and smiled at the prospect of hitting tier 2 within a month. We are now at 376. We are nearing 400 chapters for the. first. tier! I think this has happened for two reasons. 1) Quicksand: litrpgs are written with the expectations of numbers getting big, and coming often. This works when the story moves with the numbers. When pacing is accounted for. But often I find authors -- I'm certainly not accusing you of padding text -- fear *lack of* tension or buildup, and indeed, I think a fear of things ending too soon. We fall in love with our characters and every level up a step closer to losing what we built. But it is a litrpg. Subconsciously: we know we cannot stop numbers. So we don't. The story becomes a *slog* of them. All the numbers. 50 chapters for a progression 'sprint' towards tier 2 and we start a random crucible? Sure-- make it 20 chapters! Yet still we have to keep the numbers. So we increase a skill or 50. More randomness is added. And yet we remain tier 1. The numbers go up. The story stays still. The power creep explodes. We're still not tier 2. The magic becomes disconnected with the progression of the story. The levels lose their impact. Our progression is quicksand. Increase of skills get whittled down. It's a bazillion superfluous feats that move our people toward the ethereal nothingness of more feats and more feats and more feats but never, no never, progress. So progression itself starts to feel impossible. An impossible obstacle of endless refinement we're clearly shown through the prism of our MC: and yet the world is supposedly full of characters who achieved it. Our MC feels less special. Indeed we just widen his protangian feats. And again. And again. And yet, no matter how many VOLs deux ex we discover or skills we embody we're still a tier one nobody. All those additional specialities of our MC become meaningless under the pressure of them progressing him nowhere. A swing of a sword can only be written so many ways and remain interesting. I can only critique the juxtaposition of his numbers moving and the story not moving without sounding redundant, as well. But worse: in pursuit of this widening we fall into the trap of *and thens* as Matt Stone and Trey Parker puts it. Instead of having well defined, clear story arcs, with conflict, resolution and momentum we're stuck in a quagmire of nothing ever concluding. Characters *do stuff* but there isn't any goal being progressed. More: this causes the world to become ungrounded and therefore: 2) "the weight of the world": this will feel like a literary critique. It's not. Litrpgs are not expected to be Hugo award bait and I don't care if it were. But I cannot texture this issue without explaining it. I won't cite elements of style by strunk nor highbrow critique the prose. I will assert a quote: "The road to hell is paved with adverbs" -- Stephen King. King talks about adverbs in *On writing* through the lens and coloring of *lazy writing.* (I am not accusing your writing of being lazy in the nominal sense. You're clearly not lazy. Much effort is clearly here and I've given you money well over a year for it.) What this means is that actions and the world get stroked in such a broad brush the totality of the story becomes *telling* rather than showing. It's *lazy* reading. Not easy, lazy. We never got shown cities because we're told about them. We know they exist but I cannot tell you the coloring of the sigils of their walls. The poverty level. We never get engrossed in characters because their thoughts are outright written. Old Yan is evil because he is evil. We never make the reader read when we do this. The chapters feel empty. With this in mind: I think we're stuck with *and thens* because the writing feels stuck between the "unlimited mana" issue wherein 500 chapters in and MC is on the 700th divine king universe eater 9000 kinggod emperor level or we put the reader in a "slice of life," people find toiling and boring. I think they find it *boring* because we don't really know anything about the world other than small tidbits. Even the scale of the cities feels like a black box. I don't think I'm a particularly great writer so I struggle in wanting to give an example, but, for instance, take the following: << “I want a job,” I said. Henrik didn't budge. The sound of the Tavern firm of chatter. My voice was a pebble dropped into the river and vanished. I said it again. Louder. “I want a job.” Henrik looked down. Several patrons bobbed their heads between him and I. He scrunched his eyes, and his lips parted to a grin. His head tilted. “I can work,” I insisted. “I’m strong.” I held my little head high. A chorus of laughter came from a nearby table. Joric and Sten. I knew them. Two farmhands who thought cruelty was a sport. Dad ran them off years before. “Are you strong enough to lift a mug of ale, boy?” Joric slurred, raising his tankard and inviting me over. A village girl was slung around his waist. She smiled and looked kind. I kept my eyes on Henrik. The world had many Jorics and Dad said to never be a Joric. “The stalls need mucking,” my voice cracked. “It looks dirty. Whoever cleaned it is lazy.” One of Henrik’s caterpillar sized eyebrows crawled up his forehead. His Nephew, Tam, was the stable boy. And I was right. Tam spent more time counting rust splots on his pitchfork than he did using it. >> This type of story exploration *grounds* the reader. It allows you to explore the world *and remain interesting*. We hit our word counts, too. I think we need more of this. Of more exploration of the story. To give characters and the world *weight.* So when we explore it, it's not boring. And we don't become fatigued with and thens and stagnation. I want to learn about the smells of the taverns. The existence of the humble bakers. The wants and wishes of even the passerbys. Engross me! You've built a wonderful world, why hide it away from me? Give me intrigue. Give me mystery. Have our MC confront themselves beyond a superficial trial where they have to swing their sword 50 times. Challenge them and me. Give them motivation and make that resolution *complicated.* Make onyx led by his mom or something. The alternative factions deplorably evil. I love what you've built and I think you've just lost a little sight of it.
