Chapter 43: Arc III Chapter 9

III

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Arc III Chapter 9

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Aurora continued plundering the battlefield, stepping over the remains of fallen warriors, mostly taking souvenirs that were easy to transport and carry. Her inventory was already bulging with loot, and she had little interest in ending up overloaded.

 

Along the way, Aurora noticed the concentric nature of the battlefield. The fallen rested alongside the perimeter, all facing the same direction. Whoever and whatever they were fighting, they were coming from the front, through the gate.

 

Aurora followed her intuition and connected the dots. The lines converged in the middle of the hall, close to the gate.

 

A proud silver rapier greeted her. The sword was pushed into the ground and surrounded by six other swords. They formed a geometrical formation, a hexagon. The weapons were arranged so deliberately. They served an unknown purpose.

 

Aurora approached the formation and her suspicions were confirmed. The flow of aether shifted ever so slightly. The swords ... An invisible force distorted the natural flow of aether.

 

Her preliminary inspect yielded no results. Neither origin, nor the source of the mysterious force could be determined, but it mattered little.

 

Aurora couldn't care less about ancient machinations and secrets. What she knew was that she was interested in the rapier, a fine specimen of its noble kind, made of mythril and of the highest quality. A profitable find for sure. Certainly worth a little fortune.

 

Aurora might even share her profits with Lambert and his party, compensating them for their efforts and transportation fees. 95% for her. 5% for them. That sounded like a fair trade.

 

Aurora commenced her looting operation. Mobilsing all her force, Aurora kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing, but the rapier wouldn't budge. The stupid blade defied her will, and her meagre muscular strength.

 

The sword remained stuck for good, sealed into stone forever like .

 

Aurora resorted to more brutish measures. She used a rock as an improvised hammer.

 

Hit. “Ting.“

 

And hit. “Ting.“

 

And hit. “Ting!“

 

And hit. “Ting!!!“

 

No results. The fucker was stubborn. The blade continued resisting in its hubris, but the blade had never met anyone like her. An unmovable object met unstoppable force.

 

Aurora mustered her strength for one final push. For glory and riches! “Aaarrrrrghhhhhhhh. Move!!!“

 

Aurora gritted her knuckles turned white. The blade finally moved, but not the way she had hoped for. The sword snapped and Aurora experienced a hard landing on the ground.

 

“...

...

Ouchie.“

 

Aurora grumbled with the broken half still in her hand. Stupid ancient sword. Useless piece of scrap metal! Worthless piece of junk!

 

Unbeknownst to little Aurora, her thoughtless actions set in motion events unplanned as the rapier was less innocuous than its appearance suggested.

 

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Unbeknownst to her, the sword was part of a seal, serving as a anchor to the physical realm until being broken by a greedy girl and her doll.

 

Unbeknownst to her, dark vibrant aether, cursed energy of the past, trickled from the broken blade, finally set free from the shackles of ancient magic.  

 

Now that the seal was broken, a demon of old times plotted his return to the world of the living, a terrible demon of fire and darkness driven by crazed bloodlust and thirsting laughter.

 

For now, peace persisted, and little Aurora was more worried about finding a way home after vacating her post without permission. Lambert was probably already fuming.

 

Her choice fell on the gate.

 

Aurora knocked at the gargantuan monstrosity. A dull sound responded, the dull sound of metal, the dull sound of annoyance.

 

“Dung ... Dung ... Dung ...“

 

The thing was ...surprisingly solid. Hardened and tempered steel blocked her way, free of rust and patina. Time treated the gate kindly and the raw block of steel had no intention of granting her passage. No chance whatsoever. No apparent weakness.

 

No wonder that nobody got past this humongous roadblock for centuries. Thick, heavy, stubborn, the gate was built to last an eternity, sturdy enough to survive the apocalypse. Difficult too dislodge without adequate firepower, or specialists.

 

The usual motley crew of and adventurers and looters had neither, easily dissuading them and other undesired visitors from trying their luck.

 

Aurora lifted her head, looking up from below. The gate stood tall, massive in size and height.  

 

No doubt, she possessed the strength to force it open by conventional means, but ... Some serious explosive force would be required ...  

 

Elaborate patterns of gold and silver, an arrangement of what appeared to be crests  and emblems decorated the gate. No efforts were spared in their creation.

 

The constructors displayed an eye for beauty despite their practical emphasis on steel.

 

Aurora summoned her loyal fire. A purple flame sprang forth, answering her call. Her opponent forced her to deploy less sophisticated methods.

 

Her attempt at cutting through met with modest success. The alloy used proved a worthy opponent. The ancient Valentian engineers were certainly masters of their craft and highly proficient in annoying a little girl a few centuries later.

 

Her flame barely scratched the outermost layer. Cutting through was not an option. Not only was the alloy heat resistant, but also magic resistant.

 

The gate counteracted her spell. A thin layer of aether lingering across the surface blocked her flame.

 

The thing was enchanted, heavily enchanted in fact, shielded by an array of protective spells and barriers.

 

Aurora inspected once again the artistic patterns. The numerous gold and silver inlays suddenly made sense. They were on the more ostentatious side, but they had a practical purpose. They were glyphs.

 

The inlays served as conductors, as circuits, allowing the aether to circulate freely, stabilising the enchantment.  

 

Her hand touched the lines and sensed the aether. “An objective conductive enchantment ... Impressive.“

 

The enchanters of Valentia clearly knew their craft. Their work exhibited no signs of aetherial degradation despite several centuries having passed.

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