“{It’s getting worse.}”

  Aylar’s words left her mouth without conscious thought, and she glanced at Ceruviel thereafter for reassurance, watching the Moonlight Duchess as the Archon observed her Squire. The proud Haelfar had her eyes fixated upon Leonidas’ hovering form with anchored intensity, her purple gaze faintly narrowed still, and a small flicker of psionic pressure bleeding from her body.

  At the Princess’s words, Ceruviel glanced at her, gaze intent and assessing in a way that Aylar had rarely seen. So intense was the older elf’s gaze that the effects of [Heroine's Will] flowed through her reactively, steadying her beneath the naked power boiling just behind the Archon’s faintly luminescent eyes.

  Hints of worry remained in the Dusk-Lord’s eyes, beneath the fierce exterior, but they were accompanied by a frustrated acceptance—as if she knew there was nothing she could do but wait and watch for the result. Aylar had grown up with Ceruviel, and of all those in Dawnhaven, she and the Duke of Morning alone may have been the only ones able to see the way their enforced impotence galled the Duchess.

  “{Leonidas is strong, Aylar,}” she said instead of immediately responding to the observation, and turned back toward the floating human, much to Aylar’s hidden relief. The intensity of Ceruviel’s gaze could be extremely disconcerting, and she had no desire to be subjected to it when the other female was so evidently in a state of tension.

  “{He has gone through challenges you cannot imagine, all for the sake of those he cared for—and those that showed loyalty to him. In this way, he is the essence of an Archon; a man willing to sacrifice pieces of his very soul to save those in his charge.}”

  To this, Aylar could only blink uncertainly before turning her gaze toward the hovering Terran. She could feel the truth in Ceruviel’s words despite the inherent implausibility of them, and her brow furrowed just faintly in consideration. The way her mother’s friend spoke of Leonidas made him sound like a veteran of nightmarish conflict, but he was barely an adult by Terran standards.

  Her eyes shifted toward the pillar of light. A second later, she felt her [Heroine's Will] surge once more when a blistering lance of scarlet lightning struck the shield around their balcony—impacting with the force of an arcane artillery shell, and sending luminous serpentine cracks out across the normally invisible magical dome’s surface. Her eyes snapped upward to examine it, and she cursed under her breath.

  The nobles around her were not so reserved, and more than one shrieked in terror at the unnatural discharges of energy, looking up at the sky in fear. A booming eruption of thunder followed, as if the storm itself were threatening them, and a second bolt of lightning fell—only to explode high above the fractured barrier and the arena as a whole, deflected by a wall of pure psionic force faintly outlined in purple lightning.

  Aylar blinked in surprise and then felt her blood run cold.

  Ceruviel stood unmoving at her side, but the Archon’s right hand was raised upward, palms splayed as psychic lightning sizzled around her fingers, dancing like violet vipers between each digit as she denied the lightning strike. As close as she was, Aylar could feel the pressure on her mind that resulted from the magical expression, and her heart both soared and quailed at the sheer ferocity of Ceruviel’s casual display of prowess.

  An Archon, the little girl that remained within her thought with awe, I am witnessing an Archon’s power.

  Aylar’s hand on Ceruviel’s tightened as she squeezed instinctively in thanks.

  “{He will survive this, elder,}” she assured the far older female softly, bringing the Duchess’ blazing eyes to hers in the act, and meeting her shining lavender stare with every iota of bracing confidence she could muster. “{You would not select a Squire that could be so easily destroyed by something as inconvenient as Heavenly Tribulation, and he knows you would thrash him if he died.}”

  Silence followed her words for several seconds, and then, abruptly, the Duchess let out a small snort of amusement. Aylar smiled faintly in equal parts satisfaction and relief, and joined Ceruviel as they raised their attention back to the human suspended in the sky above the arena.

  Live, Leonidas Achilles. If you are what Ceruviel says, I shall need your strength…

  Her eyes shifted down to the Terrans filling the stand, and her jaw tightened.

  …and I am beginning to think that Dawnhaven will, too.

  * * * * *

  Synthra sat among the watching crowd with her eyes transfixed to Leonidas’ hovering form, her fingers twisted into fists within her robe as she ignored the nail she’d bitten in half. Her body was tingling with the power in the air, as something in her blood sang in response to it. Some primal, undefinable part of herself felt the energy coursing through the heavens and responded to it as if it were familiar—something she had known all her life.

  Her heart thundered in her chest at the feeling, and she felt her [Everflame Core] tremble with recognition.

  What are you, Achilles? She demanded in the depths of her mind, while her hands squeezed hard enough for her remaining nails to very nearly pierce her skin through the fabric of her attire. How can you be able to summon such an event? What secrets do you hold? What did my mother see in you?

  The Sorceress’ attention moved away from Leonidas at the sound of a percussive peal of roaring thunder, and she turned instinctively toward the Royal Box, where her surrogate aunt stood side-by-side with the Swordmaiden Princess. Aylar Eldormer appeared unshaken by the strike despite the damage to the barrier, from what Synthra’s enhanced eyesight could discern, and stood unbowed at the Archon’s side. At the same time, the less resolved members of the nobility scrambled like cowards before the storm’s fury.

  A moment of both approval and savage amusement at the scurrying purebloods slid through her, and then her senses screamed at her, and Synthra’s eyes shot wide at the same moment as they snapped to the barrier.

  A second, devastating bolt of red energy fell to assault the mana shield—and then stopped just above the colosseum in a discharge of force and sound that shook the arena. Her [Draconic Sight] highlighted the magical energy with perfect clarity when she instinctively activated it, and Synthra felt her blood run cold.

  Ceruviel was a beacon of power, emitting enough psionic force to have blown apart half the arena had she the inclination—and this she focused solely into the shield of power that had arisen to reinforce the barrier with indomitable force. It was impossible for her to truly fathom the level of power that the Duchess must have possessed, and more concerningly, the power the lightning must have contained to demand such a display.

  To most people, she simply looked to be faintly glowing—but the overlay of her bloodline’s vision told Synthra the truth, and she felt awed to witness it. Archons were warriors of legend upon Altera, and she had known in an objective and rational way that Ceruviel Latherian was powerful, but what she was witnessing went beyond the bounds of conventional strength. She doubted even her mother, a half-dragon possessed of all the might that entailed, could truly stand against the Haelfar long enough to win if the Dusk-Lord desired to fight her in earnest.

  Thank the Divines she’s here, she said while looking around at the various spectators splitting their attention between the faintly tangible shield and the levitating Achilles, or we may have all been in horrifying danger.

  A sudden shout captured her attention, and Synthra turned to see several people pointing up at the light-ensconced Black Knight in shock.

  She joined them a moment later, and what she saw stilled her heart.

  “{Achilles},” she breathed with a stirring of renewed worry, “{truly, what are you?}”

  * * * * *

  Leonidas awoke to the sound of thunder.

  His eyes remained open and fixed as he returned to awareness within his body and felt his [Cataclysm Core] at full output rotation within him. Mana flooded every inch of him, searing his channels and muscles, and yet he felt less agony than he should have. It was still horrible, like his flesh and organs were being stabbed by pins and needles combined with scalding heat, both inside and out—but compared to what he had already gone through, his [Noble’s Resolve] was more than enough to allow him to weather it without more than a grimace of irritation.

  He also couldn’t move, no matter what he tried.

  Lightning raged around him and around the arena in a tempest, and though his eyes remained stuck in place, he could see and—more poignantly—feel every iota of the power seething across the area. It was not a mere storm, not a simple weather event; it was the System manifest. It was a tribulation, just as the false Miranda had warned. The very world seemed to scream as the lightning flashed, and Leonidas knew in his soul that he was the cause, even without the Administrator’s confirmation.

  Before he could do more than wonder if anyone had died, his vision was obscured, and two shining System screens flashed into existence before his suspended head.

  Congratulations, you have successfully unlocked your [Knight Oath]!

  ARCHETYPE: KNIGHT

  [Description]: Knights are oath-sworn warriors that stride upon the field of battle in pursuit of their chosen code, brooking no resistance to their sworn mission. To be a Knight is to be an embodiment of focus and sheer will! Knights must take upon themselves a [Knight Oath] by completing a Feat of Heroism before their First Tier, and will be granted greater understanding with each subsequent Tier Advancement, as well as evolved abilities!

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  [Oath Effect 1]: -25% Stamina Cost for Knight Abilities

  [Oath Effect 2]: +1% Stamina Recovery per Level

  That one was nice enough, but it was the message beside it, shining with an almost indignant radiance, that would have soured his expression if his muscles could respond.

  WARNING

  Incomplete [Knight Oath] detected during Tempering.

  To avoid immediate dissolution of your body matrix, please speak your [Knight Oath].

  You have [30 Seconds] to comply.

  Leonidas stared at the message, and his lips tried to turn down in aggravation.

  Ceruviel had warned him this might happen during his training, given he had not yet achieved a ‘feat’ worthy of earning his [Knight Oath]. Defeating the Hydra, it seemed, counted as such—and while he had been pondering his [Knight Oath], the options he’d dwelled on were as varied as they were incomplete. He had drawn inspiration from every iota of fiction and historical text he could, including what little Ceruviel had given him regarding the Archon Order, but had not finalized his decision.

  However, it appeared the System wasn’t interested in giving him time.

  I bet this is the Administrator being petty, he grumbled mentally. She didn’t seem thrilled I escaped her trap Evolutions, though I suppose I’ll have to ask Ceruviel about it later.

  For the immediate moment, he needed to come up with a [Knight Oath] he could adhere to, and which would not impede his plans for creating a sanctuary on the post-System Earth he’d returned to. He needed one that would not coerce him into killing innocents, killing his own family members—no matter their seemingly collective loss of reason—in a compelled duel, and one which would grant him autonomy to pursue whatever path he deemed best for both his own goals and the safety of those he would be charged to protect.

  Potentially, those Ceruviel intended him to rule over, as mad as the idea still seemed.

  Think, Ace, think!

  He needed something flexible but inviolable in its purpose.

  He needed something Knightly, even Chivalric, that did not steal his options.

  He needed something, most of all, that others would respect—because that was the hidden joker in the deck, according to Ceruviel. A [Knight Oath] could grow in power as a hidden ability when it was inherited or revered by those under your lawful authority. It could also be fractured—and the Archetype alongside it—if that reverence was instead revilement or scorn by the same. This was less of an issue for Blackguards, who cared little for anything but personal gain, but a [Knight Oath] tied to an Ambition of [Noble] or higher was exponentially more affected by the belief of others.

  By his mentor’s assessment, his [Sovereign] ambition would only amplify that.

  He could not swear the Archon Oath because it dealt specifically with Altera and Eldormer, and that was a losing prospect for him, given they were worlds away. He also couldn’t just reword it to fit him, because a [Knight Oath] similarly could be shattered by lack of self-belief or a Knight’s investment, and he felt no attachment at all to Ceruviel’s now-extinct Order. What they were building would be something new.

  The timer reached 15 seconds, and Leonidas felt his mind churning.

  Come on! Think!

  What did he want to do? Protect? Yes. Lead well? Absolutely. But he couldn’t be constrained by the [Knight Oath]. It needed to function in a way that allowed him to—

  The realization hit him like a truck, and Leonidas all but shouted the vow in his mind with the phrasing that Ceruviel had instructed as the timer ticked down.

  I take upon myself this [Knight Oath]:

  I shall be the Sword who slays those who would challenge my path to peace.

  I shall be the Shield who defends those who are truly worthy of my grace.

  I shall be the Symbol who leads those who give me their sincere loyalty.

  I shall be the Salvation who delivers those who prove to be truly deserving.

  I shall be the Sovereign who creates a sanctuary for those whom I find worthy.

  This [Knight Oath] I swear, with the System and Divines as my witness, now and forevermore.

  Leonidas finished almost exactly as the timer hit 01, and the System screen seemed to shimmer in indecision for a moment before vanishing altogether. As it did, the [Knight Oath] eligibility screen disappeared in tandem. They were replaced by a new one entirely—one that rippled with System energy, which made his heartbeat race as he beheld it, still frozen in time within the pillar of light.

  Congratulations, you have successfully initiated your [Tempering Tribulation]!

  FIRST TEMPER

  BODY TEMPERING

  [Description]: Rarest of all those within the System are they that challenge the might of the Heavens, the domain solely held by the Divine. By merit of your force of existence as a [Cataclysm], you have earned the attention of forces far beyond the understanding of even the greatest of Cultivators. All that remains is to survive and see yourself reforged!

  Leonidas read the words on the screen in utter silence and then felt a surge of mana erupt through his body. In the same instant, the storm above changed, and he felt attention fall upon him—an awareness that transcended mortal conception. Not just one, not just a few, but several focused gazes that held weight enough to crush the world. He knew they were far away, millions upon millions of miles; but they saw him, through some means of the System, and he felt them watch.

  The lightning above started to boil, to thrash, to twist and foment with ramping energy as power slithered and coruscated through the black clouds in a weave of terrible vengeance and wrath. Leonidas’ heart thundered in his chest, at the same time as his mind seethed against the suddenly oppressive agony of his mana running wild. His Psi was utterly silent, inert, as it seemed to be held in stasis while his [Cataclysm Core] very nearly whined within his body, performing what he could only think of as a supercharged revolution.

  When the first bolt fell, Leonidas felt his body fracture.

  The pain of his mana was like a welcome massage compared to the feeling that accompanied the bolt of energy striking his body—more specifically, striking his core itself. System Energy that resonated deeply with his Cataclysm Mana eviscerated his bones, infused his marrow, and progressively sundered every inch of his skeletal structure. He wanted to scream, he wanted to go dark, and all he could do was hang there; eyes open wide as the scream that was denied died in his throat.

  A second bolt fell, and his world became destruction.

  I take upon myself this [Knight Oath].

  His blood boiled, his veins twisted, his blood vessels burst, and he felt his spine break in multiple places. He was dying, he was sure of it, and yet he did not bleed—he could not move. Pain had consumed everything, consumed his awareness of the world. More lightning built above, and he could only think back to Ceruviel’s lessons of meditation as yet another lightning strike connected to him, like a rod for its venting fury. The marrow in his veins ignited, and he felt power energizing his broken body, racing through it like current through a power grid.

  I shall be the Sword who slays those who would challenge my path to peace.

  A fourth strike hit him like a battering ram, and he felt his [Cataclysm Core] go incandescent within him, turning white-hot in a way that he knew, he knew meant it was going to melt through his organs, eviscerate his dantian, and turn him to ash. Yet he remained, subsumed by the pain, and only conscious and aware by sheer force of his Willpower Attribute. It screamed at full Focus, as the only narrow thread keeping him tethered to reality and not lost within the madness of his mind.

  I shall be the Shield that defends those who are truly worthy of my grace.

  Another bolt felt and struck his body like the fist of an angry god.

  Faces flashed through his barely-sane consciousness as the overwhelming pain blotted out all rationale: His companions on Elatra, his grandparents, his parents, his sister, the people he’d fought beside against Azrageth, the possessed souls he’d put to the blade, the demons he’d tortured, the ones he’d killed, the Archdemons he’d taken apart piece by rotten piece.

  I shall be the Symbol that leads those who give me their sincere loyalty.

  Another bolt fell, followed by a sixth, and his world became memory alone.

  He thought of Ceruviel, of Tarnys, of Sinalthria, Celia, Cerevil, and then Bardulf, Synthra, and even Mithrander from the palace. Friends, acquaintances, enemies, and more blazed through his mind like some kind of grounding presence as he choked on screams that were not permitted to come.

  I shall be the Salvation that delivers those who prove to be truly deserving.

  A seventh bolt shattered his muscles, an eighth destroyed his tendons, and a ninth detonated his organs. He was not permitted to die, not allowed to be released as he hung, suspended, for all the world as if he were hale and hearty—even as his body was destroyed in agony that transcended words within him. He barely knew who he was; he barely understood his own name; he had only one single point to cling to: his newly-sworn [Knight Oath], playing through his mind like an unstoppable mantra.

  The storm clouds heaved above him, roiling and tempestuous, and swirling together like they were enraged as his awareness of reality eroded into nothing but pain and remembered trauma. His [Cataclysm Core] whined audibly inside him, churning with a ferocity that felt as though it would consume him in a singularity of force. He felt as though he was ending, being undone, being unmade—not just physically, but on a mental and even spiritual level.

  His Willpower was a frayed and weakened thing, and yet it held.

  I shall be the Sovereign who creates a sanctuary for those whom I find worthy.

  And within the metaphysical tethering chain of his Attribute, barely within the realm of his awareness, remained a defiant thread of Psi—a thread that contained him.

  When the final bolt struck, larger than any that had come before, his Core rang out like a gong as it was struck directly.

  This [Knight Oath] I swear, with the System and Divines as my witness, now and forevermore.

  Leonidas felt a rush of revitalizing heat surge out from his [Cataclysm Core], and then the world turned white.

  Please comment on what you liked or with theories you have!