Bacon Macleod
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B3 Chapter 374: Fog, pt. 5
🕑 Added 2025-08-12 21:30:02 +0000 UTCYet another crossroad, yet another choice — though this time it would be a decision he wouldn’t enjoy making. Kaius knew it was a little petulant, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter that the trial was pushing him to split up from Porkchop.
It felt cruel, after two back to back trials of endless struggle in isolation.
He did not shy from the challenge, but it did feel lonely to lack that ever present fortress of warm support in the back of his mind. Even now, with the deepest parts of their bond silenced, he could find comfort in his loyal friend’s physical presence. It was in the warmth that radiated through his back as he leaned against his brother, and the ability to just talk and be understood.
Going their separate ways this trial would be unpleasant, but it was the right thing to do. They needed to know — even if it didn’t lead to immediate ignition, even a hint of resonance would be better than the utter lack of progress they’d made up until this point.
As far as the actuals that waited for them, well — they could be worse.
The left path looked like it had been designed for Porkchop. It was, quite literally, a simple wall of stone. Likely Kaius could chip away at it with his newly enhanced blade, and a wagon-load of nails — but it would take an absurd amount of time, most of which would be waiting for his resources to regenerate.
Nor would it be the wise choice. From his earlier experiences igniting aspects and within the Crucible itself, Kaius knew that ignition was an intensely personal experience. The fact that they’d tried a cooperative route first didn’t change that — after all, their bond was integrated into the very core of both of their beings. If that wasn’t personal, he didn’t know what was.
Still, attempting a route that was absurdly difficult in all the wrong ways — that wouldn’t push him in the way he needed to be pushed — would be a fool’s move.
His path lay to right. The trail through the grass was shrouded in a miasmatic black. A maleficious counterpoint to the fog that blocked all but a couple of strides of his Truesight. It boiled with mana — traces of poison and smog affinity both. Affinities he had resistances to, if he didn’t already have enough hints it was designed for him.
Though he only got the barest glimpses of them, something cut through the fog with the same swiftness as the butcher locusts they had fought so recently. Whatever they were, it wasn’t living — neither he nor Porkchop could hear any sounds of life, just a thin whistle as the objects cut through the air.
He’d already prepared his inscription loadout. A quarter of his pool each for Bound Maelstrom, Slip Step, and Expedient Shunt, with the remainder spread between his two Drakthar spells — just in case he needed some ranged capability further down the track.
Fed and rested, there was nothing holding him back from diving in straight away. Nothing, except his discomfort.
Kaius sighed, staring longingly at the middle route — the one that meant walking another league with Porkchop at his side. If only it didn’t also carry the risk of taking him another step closer to mediocrity.
Only a hundred longstrides ahead of them an inactive metallic golem stood sentinel in front of a gate powered by some sort of gem. Fashioned into an immense figure wrapped in heavy-plate, unfamiliar inscriptions wrapped every surface of his body. If not for the fact that the runes warped before his very eyes, he would have been sorely tempted to take the path and try their new tactic at the next crossroads.
It was his first time seeing a proper autonomous construct in person. They were rare; a branch of runecraft that brought to mind illusive grandmasters hidden away as they desperately tried to recreate an artform that had been largely lost to mankind. The dwarves still knew, from what he had heard, but they guarded the secrets of their colossi jealously. What little examples remained from the Empire had suffered a millennium of weathering — and had most of their secrets hidden inside their mechanical forms, with runes rigged to slag themselves upon deactivation or tampering.
Fascinating as the construct was, without the opportunity to learn from it, there was no point delaying.
Kaius groaned — if he put this off any longer he was just going to drive himself mad. As soon as he was in the miasma, he’d be fine. There wasn’t much room for overthinking when you had to immerse yourself in the moment to stay alive.
“You’re ready then?” Porkchop asked, bending round to nudge the back of Kaius’s head with his nose.
“Yeah,” Kaius sighed, hauling himself to his feet. “I just need to get moving — I'm just starting to ruminate now.”
“We’ll do great — and regardless of what happens, we’ll see each other when we’re done.”
Kaius nodded, pausing for a moment before he rushed and wrapped Porkchop in a crushing grip. “Good luck.”
“Please, you’re the one who’s diving into a toxic cloud full of dangers — I just have to break down a wall.”
Giving Porkchop a final squeeze, Kaius stepped back and walked towards his challenge. Black miasma roiled a handspan from his face — thick like smoke and choking his vision to a tiny bubble only a little wider than his wingspan. This close, he could smell it. Acrid and bitter, like a motley collection of alchemicals had been left to go rancid. He caught a bare metallic shine as something cut through the air — smog swirling in its wake.
A blade — but one that bent mid flight. He could hear others, whistling through his path like swarming flies.
Kaius drew his sword, its tip dipping into the smog. Translucent and glassy, it melded into the black — visible only thanks to the tinged veins and band of metal that ran through its belly. Taking a final look back, he caught Porkchop’s eye — hesitating for just a moment, before he rallied his nerves.
He’d see the big lug again soon, and it would be nice be to cut loose with only his progress on his shoulders. A more personal struggle.
Giving Porkchop a nod, he stepped forwards.
The miasma prickled like acidic needles on his skin, toxic affinities roiling as it tried to rip and tear at his flesh. Deep within him, Rapid Adaptation recognised and remembered the nature of the assault. The Skill leapt into motion, flooding his body with bolstering energy to attack the invading force continuously.
It crushed the affliction instantly.
*Ding! You have Resisted: Hunlin Gas — Poison, Smog, Corruption*
The same could not be said for the smog's physical effects. It stung like he had rubbed sand into a scalding burn where it touched his skin, hung in his lungs like the thickest smoke, and filled his nose with an overwhelming acrid potency that left him reeling.
Kaius forced himself to breathe deep and keep his eyes wide, banishing his discomfort to the back of his mind as he held his weighty blade at the ready.
There was movement in the black — pulses of swirling smog. Evidence of the hunters in his midst.
Reaching for his Glyph of Vyrthane, Kaius called upon Bound Maelstrom as an avalanche of burning motes erupted from the inscription on his chest.
Wind howled — yanking the smog into a tight spiral that centred him in its eye and stretched twice his height upwards. It left the air clean, blessedly clean.
Magically potent, his newest barrier would do much to blunt whatever projectiles waited for him, be they physical or spell. He’d still have to be careful — magical attacks would burn through the barrier quickly, and what little he’d seen of the flying blades in the smog suggested they were controlled telepathically. Even if his Skill knocked them off course, they may still self correct if they had enough momentum.
Kaius felt a prick of cold violence just behind his left ear. Mercurial Reversal burned as stamina flooded the skill — hastening his sweeping parry far beyond what he could normally achieve.
He only directly sensed what was coming as it ripped into his maelstrom. A handless blade — sharpened on both sides. It wavered as his winds ripped at it, slowing it just barely.
It still moved fast enough to punch straight through. He smashed the projectile to the side, sparks flying as the edge of A Father’s Gift shore half way through the metal.
Kaius kept walking, deep in his focus as he reached out to the world around him. The Veteran’s Edge was watchful and present, digesting a million sensations, and referring to thousands of memories as it judged and anticipated where he would be most vulnerable — what would be hardest to defend. The Struggler’s Madness flooded him — pushed him through the discomfort and pain as a weight of repetition guided his every step.
Sparks lit up the black as he swung again and again, conserving energy by rolling through his motions — never once at rest, never pausing to reset his guard. The assault was too constant, a barrage of screaming steel that he tracked with Truesight and precognition.
Yet he was not perfect, and his defense was not inviolate. Even flickering in and out of the world, with a shield of furious wind, he still got cut. He wasn’t bothered — it was the oldest rule of a bladesman. You will bleed, eventually.
He spun with the attacks that punched through his guard — minimising his profile to turn bone cleaving strikes into deep scratches. The blades were sharp; they tore through the layered scale of his armour with ease — though at the level he fought at, that was becoming common. Blood soaked into his underarmour, leaving him sticky and stinking of iron.
His sword was sharper, harder, and weightier — but it could not be everywhere at once. Worse, the swarming blades were gradually growing more numerous. At first, it had been an attack every handful or so of seconds. After what had to be half a league, that timing had halved.
Nor was the smog constant — it was growing denser, more potent. Rapid adaptation pushed harder and harder to fully resist its effects, straining to keep him hearty and hale.
The middle path would have been long since over by now. He had no time to gnash his teeth at the change, no peace to ruminate if the change was promising or worrying.
Kaius simply moved, and cut. Bursts of mana erupted from him regularly — refreshing Maelstrom whenever his barrier was spent or diving into a Slip Step whenever chance or foul intention led to multiple flying daggers attacking him at once.
The change was good, it had to be. The challenge was good. It fueled him — the stinging cuts, burning limbs, and heavy weight of his motion. Life ran through him as he bared his teeth to the world, and his eyes shone bright and full with vigour.
It was fun — gods’ bloody scorn, it was fun. All of it. The new sights, the deadly dangers, the trials, the wounds, the strength, and the growth. Even as his blood ran red over his armour, and his lungs felt like he’d been huffing the fumes of some alchemist's acidic cleaner, he was having fun.
The bloodsong rose, heightening his senses. It made it all visceral — primal. Kaius was having the gods’ damned time of his life, and he threw all worries to the wayside. The fish-hooked thoughts that always tried to worm their way deep, anchoring themselves in his spirit.
There was only the beat of his heart, and the movement of his body and energy.
The slow ramp in difficulty was just right. Always increasing a half-step before he fully adjusted to the increased challenge — adding another blade, speeding them up, or darkening the fog. Even when the affliction started to just barely overcome his resistance, he still felt nothing but thrill — the creeping lethargy and dissolving burn against his skin giving him yet more to track and manage.
It kept him dancing on the edge — centred fully in the now. It vanquished unnecessary thought, and nurtured what had always been true.
And within that frenetic peace, Kaius felt Animus start to pulse within him — a steady beat that slowly grew faster.
It was almost enough to make him laugh. Of course the moment he stopped worrying about the why and the what of his aspect — and truly gave himself the time and space to simply be him — did it start to resonate.
Their hunch had been right — the trial had been pushing them towards a greater understanding of their bond, but not the one that they had initially thought.
It was a reminder that no matter how closely they were linked, they weren’t a single unit. They were individuals, with their own motivations, their own dreams, and their own driving forces — they might be willing and able to help each other overcome challenges and make progress, but neither of them could walk the path for the other.
Their souls were their own
Animus roared higher, and Kaius felt a burgeoning truth within. He grinned.
He might as well have some fun while he found it.
A/N: fried my brain with 16 hours of editing today, someone come old yeller me
Comments
gray matter
Nah you’re good old yeller. Just keep slavering and keep writing.
Wisconsindrift
I have to admit that these trial chapters have been a slog to get through. I usually leave 2-3 weeks of story to build up before reading. The first thing I’ve been doing is glancing at the top chapter to see if the trials are over. Before we were running at a steady pace to go through this marathon of a story. It now seems like we are at a shambling walk. Very frustrating to say the least. Obviously it will be different in novel form but will still have to be shortened imo to keep the story from screeching to a dead halt. I’ve been very, very close to dropping this story. Hopefully we are almost to the end of this arc.
Joshua Little
Thanks for the chapter.
BerciTheBeast
> The fish-hooked thoughts that always tried to worm their way deep, anchoring themselves in his spirit. what about them?
