I didn’t dare venture into the depths of the compound until Aerion had recovered. If the elves had stopped here not because it was sacred ground but because there were monsters inside, then I wanted every ounce of firepower we could muster.

  The top of the closest ziggurat structure seemed like a good compromise. High above another several flights of stairs—smaller stairs that would hamper the enemy—with plenty of options to jump off if I had to escape. Well, not for a normal human—the thirty-foot fall would be lethal—but I figured I’d manage.

  I took the opportunity to examine Aurora while my elven princess rested.

  Its durability had dropped to 75/500, and a few more strikes in her Reave state would shatter it entirely. The blade was riddled with chips and cracks, some gouging deep into the metal.

  Even though it was only mythril-plated, the steel beneath had been good quality. That it looked like this showed just how much force Aerion’s attacks carried, especially with all her buffs layered on. She truly was the perfect berserker, her abilities funneling into a single, devastating purpose, and what she needed was a battleax or a hammer, not a delicate sword like this one.

  I found my own abilities starting to come together, especially with the armor sets I’d acquired. Instead of all-out damage, though, my superpower was being able to respec my stats as needed. I could only hope that my Convergence rank transition capitalized on that, allowing me to exploit my Blessing’s versatility even further.

  I kept one eye on the Reavers below during all of this. There had to be over two hundred now, with more arriving all the time. Their expressionless masks never wavered, each staring up at the compound’s stairs. Something about the emptiness of those gazes sent chills through me.

  Whatever hope Aerion had of learning more about her people slipped further away with every passing moment. I’d thought that maybe they’d recognize the ability she’d used, and even if they didn’t welcome us, that they might at least cease their hostility. No such luck. Either they hadn’t noticed, or they didn’t care.

  I turned my gaze to the platform that stretched below our ziggurat. Each of the dozen or so ziggurats was like a stepped pyramid, with a small room at the top.

  The ruins reminded me of an ancient temple complex. The main ziggurat was the largest by far, at the end of the giant courtyard.

  No flowers or cultivated gardens here—just wild vines that curled around nearly everything. The place looked like it had been around for a thousand years and would probably be around for a thousand more. Kinda like the pyramids of Giza.

  At least it was silent. I could only hope that meant it was empty and not full of sleeping monsters.

  “What happened?” Aerion asked, coming to a few minutes later.

  “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” I said, throwing her a small smile. “The kingdom is in need of your assistance.”

  She frowned as she pushed herself upright. “What do you mean?”

  I pointed down the stairs. The Reavers were, of course, still there. Just content to stare up at us.

  Her eyes widened in shock when she saw them.

  “This could be a problem.”

  I laughed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just, a few months ago, you’d have said something like ‘A most dire situation’. I guess my mannerisms are rubbing off on you.”

  Aerion pouted. “Now is not the time for jokes, Greg. If they attack us…”

  “We’re fucked. Believe me, I know. I’m hoping we can find another way out from inside the ruins. A secret passage, maybe. I doubt those Reavers are guarding every entrance.”

  Still, it bothered me how seamlessly they worked together. Was that something that came with their Convergence rank-up? Or was that something unique to the Sylvan elves?

  “Either way,” I said, “we should get moving. They don’t seem eager to rush us, but I’d rather not tempt them. What do you say we start with this ziggurat, then move onto the others?”

  “Agreed.” Aerion glanced at Galia, perched on my shoulders. The little bird didn’t speak, but her distrust was written all over her face. Despite everything we’d endured, that gap between them hadn’t narrowed one bit.

  “Do you think this is a religious place for them?” Aerion asked as we approached the small room at the top of the pyramid-like structure.

  “Seems likely,” I replied. “What worries me more is that this might be the place Syrril told us about.”

  “The Convergence Trial?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “Maybe,” I said, thinking it over. “If it is, we’ll need to tread carefully. I’m the only one here who’s ready to even attempt it.”

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  “Perhaps I should attempt it too,” she said.

  I gave her a look. “You’re not even Divergence-Max yet, right?”

  Aerion shook her head.

  “Then I wouldn't recommend it. Best case, it spits you out. Worst case... well, we don't know what'll happen. Ditto for storing you in my inventory. The last thing we need is for the system to glitch out and force the Trial on you. I'll be leaving Galia here for that reason.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. Assuming this even is the Trial, of course,” she added.

  “True,” I nodded. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

  We positioned ourselves around the hall that led to the building at the top of our ziggurat, bursting into the hall on the count of three.

  I led the charge, hoping to take whatever lurked in there by surprise… only to slow to a stop once I entered.

  “Somewhat anticlimactic,” I muttered when I realized the large room was empty. Nothing but bare walls and a low ceiling.

  “On to the next one, then,” Aerion said, sighing in relief.

  We descended our ziggurat and checked out the one right next to it. The last thing I wanted was to get boxed in, in case we had to hightail it out of here, so we were methodical in our path.

  The second and third buildings were the same. By the time we reached the fourth one, which was larger than the others we’d checked out so far, we found our first major difference.

  Namely, murals.

  The chamber was not only larger, its walls were covered over with paintings, though we could only really see them after Galia helpfully lit herself on fire, becoming a living torch.

  The firelight danced on the ancient murals, making an already eerie scene even more dramatic.

  Wars between elves and humans, wars between elves and giants, wars between elves and elves.

  “Quite the violent past,” Aerion remarked.

  “You saw what they were like,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Hardly a surprise.”

  “True,” she admitted.

  “The real question is how does a culture of battle maniacs survive? They can’t feed themselves or care for their young like that. Do you remember dropping Galia when you went into your Reave State?”

  Aerion flinched. “I… did?”

  “Yep.”

  She hung her head in shame. “That’s horrible. No wonder she hates me.”

  “Well, I think she felt that way long before you dropped her,” I said. “Though I’m sure it didn’t help.”

  Aerion tried to approach me to apologize to Galia, but the tiny phoenix buried her burning face against my neck, shrinking away in protest.

  Aerion’s outstretched hand dropped and I could practically taste her disappointment.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “In that state, everything drives me toward battle. There’s no room for thought.”

  “Exactly. Thing is, the ones chasing me burned out, just like you do. Which means they must have a regular state as well. Some period of time when they’re normal.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Then why haven’t the other elven clans made contact with them?”

  I didn’t know. But I held out hope—not only from that thought, but from the murals. After all, someone had to have painted these. Which meant culture. Arts. Some capacity to have thoughts outside fighting.

  “Seems they love their gods as much as war,” I said, walking over to another wall. “Well, one god in particular.”

  Order. Neutral-faced and expressionless in all the murals, and yet, unmistakably Cosmo.

  It made me wonder just how old this compound truly was. And why it had been built.

  “I suppose I could always pull out the Champion card if everything goes wrong,” I said. “If they love Order this much, they’re bound to love his Champion, right?”

  “Perhaps,” Aerion said. “But let’s press on.”

  The main ziggurat was set apart from the rest, and the compound was so vast that it had to have been designed for an absolutely massive throng of worshippers. I figured ten thousand people could easily congregate in the central courtyard with room to spare.

  The ziggurat was no exception, taking another ten flights of stairs to get to its summit, where an equally oversized building stood.

  Like the others, this one was also empty and covered in murals.

  These murals, though, were somewhat different. Instead of a stone-faced deity, they showed a god bestowing mountains of gifts upon the masses. A god who was clearly well-loved. In others, he was shown to be healing and alleviating suffering.

  Not just once or twice, either. There had to be dozens of these, painting quite a clear picture of who Cosmo used to be at one point.

  And then, it all stopped. The murals that had been bright and colorful turned dark and bloody, and the monstrous forms slaughtering people told a pretty bleak story.

  “The day the Cataclysms began,” I muttered. Whatever had caused the Cataclysms hadn’t been older than the records of this place… Which made this structure far, far more ancient than my brain could comprehend. Only magic could’ve kept it from crumbling tens of millennia ago.

  I glanced at Aerion to find her biting her lip, face full of confusion. Was she beginning to re-evaluate how she saw the god? Maybe, but even if she was, undoing all that hatred was bound to be a long, slow process. If it was even possible to move past all that history, of course.

  As much as I wanted to stay and study the murals in more detail, we weren’t exactly on a vacation here.

  At the center of the primary ziggurat was a grand staircase that led down into the ground, undoing all the work we’d done to climb up, and then some.

  Galia once again lit up, giving us ample light to navigate by

  “That’s my phoenix,” I murmured, stroking her and earning a satisfied coo in response.

  We finally reached the end of the enormous staircase, some several hundred feet below, where an equally enormous wall awaited. This, too was painted with murals, but one that depicted a very different concept. Not war or gods, but an elf entering the small tunnel at the bottom before rising to the heavens.

  “Ascension,” I muttered. “This is it. This is the Trial.”

  Aerion gazed into my eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready? Do you not want to take some time to train more?”

  I glanced at my ludicrous 460 points of Order and smiled. “Trust me. I’m ready. Rather, it’s you I’m worried about.”

  I thought of Syrril’s words. How time flowed differently inside the Trial, just like the others. Days would pass as hours, maybe even minutes, for them.

  “I’m going for it,” I said, gently plucking the living torch off my shoulder and putting her on Aerion’s. The phoenix gave me a look but ultimately didn’t protest. Maybe she knew I was going somewhere dangerous?

  Aerion, looking distraught, opened her mouth to argue, but I leaned in and kissed her. Her eyes shot wide and her eyelids fluttered as I stole her breath away.

  “Not fair,” she muttered when I finally released her.

  “Trust me,” I whispered, looking deep into her beautiful mismatched irises—half blue, half green—until she had to look away.

  “You better make sure you come back.”

  “I would never leave you two alone,” I promised. “I’m doing this to give us a fighting chance.”

  “I know,” she said, resting her head against my chest. “Just, be careful? I don’t… I can’t…”

  “I know,” I said softly, holding her arms. “I know.”

  After one final hug, I stepped into the tunnel carved into the base of the mural wall and walked alone into the darkness.