Savage Awakening 325. The Festival of Might (IV)

It felt like the entire crowd was holding its breath. The only thing that moved was Zane—standing there, his whole body trembling, struggling to contain the force he had made.

They saw Zane's eyes go blank.

His aura exploded. And in that moment, they all felt his heartbeat—a single note in the Astral Plane...

A sound that would not be denied.

The Fourth Stone wobbled.

Choked gasps rippled through the crowd.

Then it began to shake ferociously, as if it were violently resisting—

The sound that tore out of Zane was like nothing anyone there had ever heard. A primal howl, drawn straight from the core of his being.

And the stone came off the ground.

At nearly the same time, Zane broke.

His right calf exploded. Then his thighs. His back tore down the middle in one grisly line; clouds of blood gushed out of him.

Yet somehow, the Stone kept rising.

It defied all sense.

In that moment—swamped in the self-belief, the sheer determination of Zane—everyone in that plaza believed a miracle could happen. That an Ascendant could lock out the Fourth Stone—

"How—how is he doing that?!" choked Elder Thorin.

Then—CRACK!

It resounded across the plaza, drowning out everything else. The sound of Zane's body. And his soul.

The light went from Zane's eyes.

The Lifting Stone crashed against the ground. A second later, Zane hit the marble face-first.

And lay there, still.

A beat of silence.

Then—as one—everyone in the Plaza of Titans lost their minds.

Zane had never felt so wrung out in his life.

He floated in a sea of throbbing pain. A pain that seemed to split down the center of his being...

He felt woozy, like his head was wrapped in a thick layer of it, making it hard to think. He tried to muddle his way through, frowning. He hoped Reina was okay. It was the last thing he remembered before blacking out.

Then the rest of it came back to him.

...Oh.

He blinked.

He felt... hot. Painfully hot.

Then sensations filtered in. Blurry spots of light streaming from above—a shock of cold.

"You alright, lad?!" It was the Barbarian Sage, shaking him.

He blinked. Tried sitting up, and felt a lash of pain tear down his back. He groaned.

"Attaboy!" said the Sage, grinning. "There—I’ve got you. Can you stand?"

Slowly, things filtered back to him—feeling came back.

Seams of white-hot pain lanced down every muscle in his body, it felt like...

"Did I lift it?" Zane asked.

"Did you—" The Barbarian Sage looked flabbergasted. Then he grinned. "Did you ever!"

The Sage looked around. "He's alright, everyone!"

An explosion of cheers.

"Alright," said the Sage, hoisting him up. "I’ve got you. There we are..."

Zane looked down at his body. Still pretty wrecked, felt like. But most of his muscles were stitching back together. Healing fast.

He was pretty sure that effort took everything he had.

It did please him to know that he’d lifted it. It was just a stone. But its meaning had changed for Zane.

He’d promised Reina when the Hordes came for them, he would be ready. No matter what he had to fight, or what he had to lift.

He’d made good on that today.

Blearily, he looked over at the Steles. Looking for his name.

Past #5... #4...

"#3 all-time on the Minor God Rankings," said the announcer, all shaky. He sounded hoarse, as though from shouting. "Partial Lift of the Fourth Stone—Zane Walker! Folks—we’ve just witnessed history!"

The crowd cheered, and shouted, and stomped their feet, making a little earthquake—they were so happy, Zane would’ve thought they were the ones who’d done it. It felt like every one of them knew what it meant.

"Lad... every time I think I’ve seen just about everything you can do, you show me a little more..." The Barbarian Sage couldn't seem to stop grinning. "Hells—the only folk higher than you had two Sacred Bones! That’s the Founder, and Patriarch Steelheart himself!"

Zane was quite satisfied that he’d managed to lift it.

But...

"I am not #1," said Zane. He still felt a bit woozy.

"You rascal—that’s what you took away?!"

To Zane, it meant there was still room for improvement. He yawned.

The Barbarian Sage shook his head, chuckling. "Lad—you know you’re nuts, right? And that’s saying something, coming from me!"

Zane was greeted at the edge of the dais by Orin Thunderfist.

"You are a beast of a man, Zane Walker," he said. "When I thought I was trying hard... I wasn't trying at all. You showed me what pushing myself to the limit really looks like..."

His eyes were shining. "I must try harder next time," said Orin.

He walked away.

Right behind him was a familiar face—Grand Elder Thorin, the fellow he’d met when he first came to the Faction.

"I’d give you a slap on the back if you weren't so beat up!" Thorin laughed. "What a lift! That’s the kind o' thing that takes years off a man’s life!"

Zane wasn’t sure if he was serious, but it did feel like it.

Whatever he’d just done had done a number on him, it felt like—in body and soul. He could do with a long nap. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d even done it.

Just then, a notification popped up in front of him.

Warning: Critical Overload.

Growth Stimulus >200%

Bottleneck reached.

"..."

Physique has vastly surpassed the maximum threshold.

Hidden requirement unlocked.

The Asura State is reacting... 0% complete.

"Hells—you’re burning up!" said the Sage. "You sure you’re alright?"

It was true. Every cell in Zane's body felt painfully hot.

His heart was thumping strong. He was surprised to feel his Asura State active—fired up. Working at a slow burn.

"What’s going on?" said the Sage, shuffling him away.

Zane blinked. "I’m not sure."

1% complete…

The heat felt comfortable, flowing through his muscles. A good kind of pain. Slowly knitting him together... but it was doing more than that, too.

It was a growing pain.

As they moved through the crowd, folks gave him a respectful space—"Coming through!" said the Sage. "Give him some space—lad just put his body through hell and back!"

Folk started pumping their fists in the air—"That man right there, that’s the best the Conclave’s got to offer," a gruff voice roared. "Three cheers for Zane!"

The whole crowd showered him with joy, stomping their feet. "Zane! Zane! Zane!"

"Alright, folks!" cried the announcer. "Give us an hour to reset. The next set of trials will be the Gravity Gauntlet!"

"Let's get you home," said the Barbarian Sage. He sniffled—looked a bit emotional. "I’m so damned proud of you—"

"But I haven’t done the rest of the trials," said Zane, confused.

The Sage stared. "You’re still up for 'em—after that?"

Zane nodded.

He hadn’t trained all this time to quit. "I’m here to win," he reminded the Barbarian Sage.

"Lad," said the Barbarian Sage, looking concerned. "Your soul and body’s so fried you can't even stand up straight!"

"Give me an hour," said Zane.

He knew he wouldn’t be fully recovered by then with the load he just put on his body and soul.

But he didn’t see why that was reason to give up. The Monster hordes wouldn’t give him a rest.

The job wasn’t done. It was that simple to him.

Besides—and the strange heat coursing through his body was clearing his head at a surprising pace.

8% complete...

It was healing him faster, too. He didn’t understand it, but he could feel it working through his body. The good pain was growing stronger… 

The Barbarian Sage looked him up and down, then looked away and let out a string of curses. And, at last, heaved a sigh. And grinned.

"A lad after my own heart—right through to the end... Alright," said the Sage. "You really want this, don’t you?"

Zane nodded.

"Then you go give it your all!"

Zane was right.

He wasn't fully recovered when time came for the Gravity Gauntlet. He was maybe 75% of the way there in body—and worse in soul. He had trouble getting to his peak in the Asura State. When he got close, a splitting headache struck him down. He still felt wobbly on his feet.

Yet—"Huh. You’re healing much faster than I would’ve thought," said the Sage, scratching his head.

The Asura State was still running at a light burn. Usually, it tired Zane out to keep it up.

Right now, it felt invigorating.

It wasn’t just his Asura State. It was his Bloodline—searing hot through his veins, and his muscles with it...

All burning together—like metals in the furnace of his body.

55% complete...

It felt like his body was preparing to change. Like all those metals were getting ready to meld together. And make something new. 

He was quite curious what would happen when it hit 100%.

Folk in the crowd seemed quite surprised he’d come back for more.

"Hells—what heart the lad’s got!"

"He’s barely on his feet—he’s wobbling, even as he goes up those damned steps!"

"How’s he going to make a run like that?!"

But Zane fired his Asura State hotter as he stepped into the four-thousand-fold Gravity strip, which steadied him.

He would give it all he had. That was all he could control—and all he put his mind to.

A little bushy-bearded arbiter set the stopwatch. "Go!"

Zane roared and went for it.

Three point six seconds.

It was a very respectable time, the announcer said. Good for #2 all-time Ascendant and #39 all-time Minor God.

Zane frowned at it. Then coughed out a mouthful of blood. The Barbarian Sage patted him across the back—"Head high, lad—in your condition, you shouldn’t have even touched the top hundred."

Orin Thunderfist took the stage next.

Gently, he took off his glasses, wiping off the fog with a tiny handkerchief. Put them in a little brown case, so they wouldn’t get damaged.

Then he ascended the steps.

Something was different about him. His aura was calm—unnaturally so.

His previous best, recorded on the Steles, was #28 all-time.

According to the Sage, Heavenly Elephants were alright at explosiveness—nothing special. They were lumbering beasts, usually.

When Orin ran, though, you would’ve thought he was bred for explosion.

His face changed, gained a sudden intensity. His aura skyrocketed.

He stomped down so hard it shook the whole dais—ran.

"2.0 seconds!" called the announcer.

It was good for #10 all-time at Minor God.

It looked like Zane had some ground to make up.

62% complete...

The next trial came an hour later. The 'Atlas Crucible'—the ultimate test of endurance.