Aetherios System: Whirlwind

Chapter 61: Heavenly Tribulation

It wasn’t thunderclouds rolling in, not the standard ones anyway.

As Alex ticked his stat over the next threshold the sky itself seemed to unzip, torn seams revealed bleeding wisps of gray and oily vapor that coalesced into a single, roiling mass directly above him. Sparks crawled about in its depths, thick and yellow, like fangs gnashing against the night.

Alex tilted his head back. He felt his heart kick into overdrive just at first sight of the thing, but he refused to look away. The storm wasn’t just weather, not the coming change of a season, not the drifting whim of mother nature. No, the growing cloud was judgment.

The first lightning strike came faster than he could brace himself.

A lance of electricity slammed straight into his chest, dropping him to one knee. His vision went white-hot and his nerves felt flayed as a torrent of hostile aether surged through his veins. The energy didn’t only burn, it as if it searched about inside him, prodding and prying, hunting for weakness in him. It poked about everywhere, his soul aperture, his essence gate, the fragile seams of his body. Somehow Alex knew that if it found a crack, it would tear him apart.

No. Not happening.

Alex shoved back with his own aether, forcing it against the invasive surge and clawing for dominance. For a heartbeat he felt in control, but then the second bolt hit.

The world shattered into pain. His control over the first lightningbolt splintered, balance thrown into chaos as if the storm itself laughed at his defiance. His body convulsed, his muscles jerking and spasming beyond his command.

The third strike came before he could even breathe. His spine arched, teeth grinding until his jaw almost cracked, every nerve fired off like an exposed electrical wire. He dropped to both knees, his hands clawing trenches in the dirt.

Through the ordeal, a voice cut urgently into his awareness, “Don’t! He must endure it. Interfering with a Heavenly Tribulation brings your own sotrmcloud down on your head. You think you can handle that?” It was Myrae’s voice that he heard.

Alex didn’t have to see who she was talking to. He knew it was Holly.

A flicker of warmth cut through the storm’s fury in his chest, a spark of gratitude. Gratitude at both that Holly cared enough to try helping him, and that Myrae had stopped her. If anyone else drew the storm’s attention and was assaulted by these bolts, they’d be nothing but ash.

Lightning growled above him again, another charge coiling about in the clouds. Alex dragged in a shakey breath, his vision focusing down on the boiling storm. His body was breaking, but his will refused to give in.

Come on then, he thought, baring his teeth in a grimace. Let’s see who cracks first.

Another bolt ripped through him, but this time Alex noticed something, something inside himself answering back against the assault. His veins boiled and his heart hammered as his body frantically tried fighting back. Inside him, his blood itself reacted, the latent Wyrm-toxin woven into it stirring like a cornered beast. Every surge of lightning that entered his body, his Wyrm-blood chewed at it and dissolved it, devoured it. For every spike of pain, there was a counter-flash of corrosive rebellion.

And it worked, ever so slowly.

The conquered fragments of lightning didn’t just vanish or disappear, they seeped into him, lodging themselves into the make-up of his being. His bones vibrated like hammered steel, thickening and hardening with each impact. His muscles shuddered, then swelled under the strain, the fibers reforging in the crucible of the tribulation. His aether channels drank deeply too, widening to handle the storm’s invasion. While his Soul Aperture expanded in breadth as the energy pushed against its bolstered resilience. He knew this added resilience to be his new imprint, and that alone made him happy with the choice he had made.

It’s working. Gods, it’s actually working.

But the storm didn’t relent. Each bolt came heavier and angrier, four bolts, five, six. Each lightning strike stacked onto the last until the weight of it threatened to crush him flat. His own defenses buckled, his Wyrm-blood and aether imprints were doing their best, but not enough. He couldn’t hold all of it back, not like this.

So, Alex decided to join the fight.

He pushed to his feet, legs trembling, and dropped into the stance of the [Demon Asura Style]. A sickly, caustic aura formed over his body, violet-black and vicious, seeping into his flesh, his bones, and radiating from him like smoke. The aura of his martial style met the storm and, for the first time in a long while, Alex felt something new from his martial style.

The Demon Asura aura hated the lightning. Not just resisted it, not just fought it, it attacked it like a long sworn foe. It seemed to recognize it as an enemy, an opposite, and his aura went berserk. Every bolt that landed against him was met with a frenzy of corrosive hunger, the aura clawing, biting, shredding at the divine current like it had been waiting its entire existence for this battle.

He refocused, forcing himself to ride the torrent of energies like he was a boat on ocean waves. His arms shook, the aura of the Demon Asura crawling across his skin in angry, spiked lines. His laugh—partly hysterical, and partly exhilarated—cut through the crackling air above it all.

And then the storm changed.

The clouds above thickened even further, darkening to a suffocating weight that made the camp suddenly go silent. The lightning inside the clouds churned, its color warping from a sullen yellow to a searing, molten orange. The hairs on Alex’s body stood on end, his instincts screaming a warning. The feeling he got from the storm was no longer that of divine judgment. Instead, it now felt like punishment.

I pissed it off. He realized.

Alex had set himself to defy the Heavens, and The System itself was answering his defiance. The next bolt crackled down, brighter, hotter, crueler than before.

The orange bolt tore the world apart as it struck him. Alex’s whole body convulsed, his muscles locking up so hard he swore they might snap him apart. He felt his control slip, his grip on his own aether scattering like frightened birds escaping tree branches. If it had been only him standing there, he’d have been ash already.

But his Wyrm-blood still boiled, the corrosive toxin burning away at the invading energy. His Demon Asura aura writhed around him, black-violet fangs snapping into the lightning, ripping at it, refusing to let him die. They bought him seconds, which was barely enough, because the second orange bolt was already gathering, its power pressing down on him like the System wanted him broken and begging for relief.

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I can’t take another one…

Alex’s hand flashed to his bracelet, and he pulled free a piton-shaped object, its surface already humming with restrained energy. A bitter laugh almost slipped from his mouth as he looked at it.

This damn thing. Last time it saved my life… and shattered my core in the process. Guess we’ll see if lightning likes déjà vu.

After the artificial-gate was forged, the remaining bit of the Etherium ingot was given to Doran for this particular purpose, to craft a stake from the high-grade material. He had received the finished item shortly after, as it was a simple enough shape to make. What was more difficult was teaming up with Devon for the enchantments. Between Obby’s input, and both of the Worldstriders [Glyphcraft] skills, they managed something remarkable.

Starting from the spike design that was used against the Mother Basilisk, the object was modified with Alex’s understanding of the [Condensing Spiral] technique, as well as the [Lattice Spiral] enchantment. The two of them were able to make a very powerful version of the item Alex once received from the System itself; The Stake of Condensing Breath.

With item in hand Alex turned his back to the storm, not to spite it, but to line up his strike. He braced, pressed the point of the item to the center of his spine over his fourth meridian cluster, and without hesitation, slammed it home.

The Stake of Condensing Breath pierced flesh and spirit both, embedding itself with a jolt of agony.

“Uh, fleshsack, what are you—ohhh no. No no no, bad idea! Worst idea! Don’t you—”

The bolt hit and reality stuttered.

The lightning came in toward Alex, and it struck the stake like a lightning rod. With a sound like the cracking of the world, the item drank the storm’s fury, pulling it all into itself in an instant. For a bare moment, Alex thought it had worked to collect and store the energy. But then he felt the item blast the lightning’s power forward, all of it compressed into a single point at the spike’s tip, and slammed it into his meridian cluster.

Alex screamed.

Inside him, his channels twisted, threatening to rupture, his very spine quivering like it would vibrate apart. The storms energy was being hammered into him, forced into the structure of his cultivation like molten iron poured into cracked stone.

And his body, his aura, his blood, they had no choice but to meet it head-on.

His plan had always been a gamble. The fourth meridian was one he might’ve been able to open himself with time, patience, and a lot of pain. But now? He’d shoved the job into the hands of the System instead.

If the Heavens want to break me… they’ll have to break something useful open while they’re at it.

His fourth meridian cluster bucked under the onslaught, the knot of channels spasming in protest, the pressure mounting like a balloon on the edge of bursting. His body screamed to shut it down, to stop, but Alex gritted his teeth, fists clenching until his nails drew blood.

Another orange bolt came down, raw divinity slamming through the stake once again. The meridian resisted again, the walls of his aether channels bulging and straining, refusing to open. His entire spine arched, as sparks dancing across his skin.

A third bolt came.

The energy inside him turned savage, tearing at his channels, bleeding into his bones, his aura flickering about his body. He could taste copper and ozone on his tongue, the smell of charred flesh in his nose, but his blood still fought, eating away the loose lightning, devouring what would’ve killed him.

Then came the fourth bolt.

The lightning punched into the stake with a thunderclap that rattled the mountain. Alex howled and jerked his limbs like a puppet on snapping strings. His meridian cluster swelled, split, then gave way with a tearing snap.

Energy flooded in. The new channel cluster blazed open hungrily, instantly guzzling the storm’s power. His whole aether channel array shuddered as if something had finally clicked into place, balance restored in the system.

His hand shot to the stake, ripping it free of his body with a wet spurt of blood. He hissed at the burn as it came loose, the item red hot between his fingers, the orange lightning having pushed it past its limits.

Alex stared at the glowing, almost melted metal in his palm, chest heaving. Doesn’t matter. I got what I needed. He tossed the item back into his bracelet.

The Heavens weren’t finished yet, as he could feel more power collecting above him. But now he had four meridian clusters open and flowing, and a body that was no longer just enduring its beating and waiting around for its chance.

"I like insane, meatboy, but that was suicidal. You could have fried your entire soul aperture," Obby hissed, circling in his mindscape like a nervous vulture.

"But I didn’t," Alex growled through gritted teeth, smoke curling from his lips, his skin, every inch of him scorched, "so shut up and let me focus."

The storm still boiled overhead, a seething knot of orange light, writhing as if furious at being tricked and used. Alex knew it was coming. The last strike, the tribulation's final judgment.

He stood rooted, bare chest blackened with burns, aura thrumming with violent hunger. Come on then!

The sky ripped open with a roar, light swallowing everything. For a heartbeat Alex was blind and deaf, utterly senseless. He almost buckled... almost. But his blood rose, gnashing at the lightning, his Demon Asura aura tore at it with teeth of caustic fury, while his own azure aether wrapped layer after layer around the turbulent storm inside him. And still, the lightning fought, digging for weaknesses, for a way to unravel him.

Alex collected the lightning inside him and shoved, soul and will as one, driving the divine fire through his aperture, into his soulspace.

And there, he let it loose.

The storm tore through the dimension of his soul like a wild beast, smashing into his broken core fragments, gouging the fake metaphysical crystalline walls. Each impact jolted pain through Alex’s head, but the space held. It always held. Alex's soulspace always felt indestructible to him.

Maybe, that strength was from some kind of after effect of surviving the shattering of his Mage Core. Maybe because of something else. The specifics didn’t matter. Alex knew how powerful his soulspace was, and it was stronger than the Heavens expected.

The Wyrm-Heart pulsed above his broken core, releasing a whip of violet essence into the lightning and stunning its movements for a moment. Obby’s illusory form flickered at the edge, bulbous eye wide but silent.

The sparks raged on, slamming against walls and ceiling, ricocheting like an angry god trapped in a cage.

And then… it began to fade. The tantrum died out as its energy bled away, fracturing into sparks, until the soulspace itself drank it down, absorbing the divine residue like rain into parched earth. When the last spark dissolved into nothing, Alex opened his eyes. His chest rose and fell, his body glowing faintly with residual aether.

He smiled. He had survived the Heavens.