Chapter 73 - 71 — Ascent
"Alright, place your bets!"
Garrick stared at the board he’d just formed from metal with a grin. On it, the names of the trainees most likely to reach the summit first were listed.
"A bet, huh."
"Could make a bit of extra money."
"I already know who I’m picking."
"Haha... like there’s anyone else."
Other instructors gathered around him, their gazes fixed on the board. However, Garrick could tell their attention revolved around the same name sitting at the very top of the steel trainees’ list.
Kaelion.
By now, Kaelion’s odds had dropped to a staggering 1.1 due to the sheer number of bets placed on him.
Because of the low earning potential, most instructors had chosen to place large sums on him just for the chance to gain something.
’Bunch of idiots.’
Garrick hid his thrill behind a shake of his head. He was going to be filthy rich.
"...Garrick."
"Hm?"
Garrick turned and found Warren staring at him with a skeptical look.
"Oh? Warren. You getting in on this?"
"...this doesn’t seem like something Calderalth instructors should be doing."
This party crusher...
"Huh? What are you on about? This is perfect. We’re just... encouraging a bit of competition."
"But they don’t even—"
"And more importantly, it teaches foresight."
Garrick slung an arm over Warren’s shoulders like they were old friends.
Warren’s face tightened the moment the stench of alcohol hit him, but Garrick paid it no mind and instead gestured toward the instructors gathered around the board.
"See that? They’re all watching the trainees closely... figuring out who’s got potential and who doesn’t."
"...the money?"
"It just makes them take it seriously. Put something on the line, and suddenly everyone starts thinking properly."
"...I see."
Warren furrowed his brows, clearly mulling it over.
"...I didn’t realize that was your intention. I thought..."
"That I set up a gambling ring with the trainees?" Garrick shook his head, a composed, almost solemn look settling on his face. "...I’m an instructor of Calderalth. I wouldn’t do that."
"...I see. My apologies."
"It’s fine." Garrick gave his shoulder a light pat before turning back to the board. "So... you joining? Might push the others to get in too."
"...hmm..."
Warren studied the board in silence, then eventually nodded, a faint smile forming on his lips.
"...alright. Ten gold on Kaelion."
"T-ten gold...?"
That alone could cover his booze for months. Hell, a year! He knew Warren had money, but not to this extent.
Garrick’s grin widened. "Of course, of course."
"...I’m curious. Who are you betting on?"
"Him."
Garrick lifted a hand and pointed toward the bottom of the board, where the name Zephyrion was boldly written.
"...the young lord?"
Warren’s brows drew together. Of everyone on the board, he was practically the only iron trainee listed.
There were rumors about Zephyrion’s accomplishments, yes, but rumors were one thing, seeing was another. No one here truly believed an iron trainee could come out on top against steel trainees.
Which was exactly why Zephyrion’s odds stood at a staggering 15. Garrick was practically the only one who had placed a bet on him.
"...just make sure it’s not more than you can afford to lose."
At Warren’s doubtful look, Garrick only grinned wider. They had no fucking idea... that boy was not the type to lose at anything.
"Haha... relax. We’ll see how it plays out."
...
Zephyrion stared at the mountain for a few moments before he finally began his ascent.
Climbing was relatively easy for him, having done it countless times during his time in the Order. All he needed was a firm grip and the assurance that every handhold would hold.
The real problem was the pressure of the relic. As he climbed, it intensified steadily, a flood of sensations pouring into him... the biting cold, the rough texture of the mountain against his skin, and countless other details.
With the rising pressure, he was forced to reduce the percentage of fog he was clearing, and a heavy weight settled over his mind. A splitting headache followed soon after, but Zephyrion endured it, continuing his ascent without pause.
Not long after, a strange sensation passed through him.
He raised a brow.
The pressure had suddenly eased, yet his movements hadn’t slowed. If anything, he was climbing faster.
He turned his focus inward, searching for the cause. A moment later, his eyes narrowed slightly.
’It’s my body.’
More specifically, his blood. Without any conscious effort, it flowed precisely where it was needed, supporting every movement.
His body felt lighter, his actions more fluid. It no longer felt like he was moving himself, rather, his blood moved him, guiding each motion with precision. Even with the scrambler active, it continued on its own.
’This is good.’
With the pressure reduced, he could push further. Taking a slow breath, Zephyrion increased his pace.
The main reason Hell’s Mountain was considered dangerous lay in its environment. Reaching a certain height, a dense fog swallowed Zephyrion’s vision entirely, leaving him unable to see even the handholds before him.
Beyond that, roaring winds battered the mountain without pause, threatening to tear trainees from the surface.
They carried a biting cold that seeped into the body, forcing uncontrollable shivers. The worst of it, however, was the moisture.
The cold and fog left the mountain slick, every surface damp and treacherous, turning even the most secure holds unreliable.
Yet Zephyrion remained unfazed by all of it. He had slipped into a trance, his focus drawn entirely inward, his awareness of the outside world reduced to the bare minimum.
His pace was fast, and it wasn’t long before the voices of other trainees reached him as he passed them.
"Ahh—help me!"
"Fuck—someone help!"
"Ahh—I’m slipping!"
"I don’t wanna die!"
Their cries echoed through the mountain, accompanied at times by sharp, distant screams as others fell.
Still, none of it fazed him.
Then, suddenly, with a final pull, Zephyrion hoisted himself up and his feet met solid ground. He paused, shaking his head slightly as the trance broke and his unfocused gaze sharpened.
’I’m... here?’
He glanced around. Garrick stood in the distance with a group of instructors, all of them staring at him with wide, stunned expressions. Aside from them, the summit was empty.
He was the first.