Porkchop watched with a smile on his face as his brother vanished into a miasma that stank of contagion and forest fires. By the Matriarch’s, Kaius could be stubborn.

Still, it was endearing how long he’d fought to keep them together through the trial — even when it had become blatantly obvious that they were getting nowhere. The most update n0vels are published on novel✶fire.net

He’d been suspicious after three crossroads, and all but certain after the fifth. Still, he’d let Kaius come to terms with it on his own. While he would have listened — he wasn’t an idiot — it felt like it would be more helpful if he could walk his own path without lingering traces of doubt.

Plus, Kaius’s trials really had sounded hard — he deserved a break. Even if they were in the form of obstacles that left him battered and bruised. Hells, he was prettysure that only made it better — his brother seemed to thrive on chaos. Without something to push against, he got testy and restless.

He enjoyed it too, but it was just as much a means to an end as it was a reward in its own right.

Regardless, the time they’d spent together hadn’t been wasted. Not by a long shot. Reuniting soothed that raw hole in his heart — no meles thrived alone. Beyond that, it had brought them important wisdom. Their bond linked their souls, but it did not define them. They were their own persons, it was silly of them to expect Animus to be any different.

Stretching out the kinks in his back, Porkchop rose to his feet. He thought to Xenanra — to the long conversations he’d had with the ascendant between his trials.

They'd been interesting, not the least for the ascendant’s choice of location to host them. Alien forests, full of life just like his home — but so utterly different at the same time. One of them had been entirely made of mushrooms of all things — phosphorescent spores drifting through the air like he’d been suspended in the night sky.

He liked Xenanra, for all that she terrified him. Perhaps because she held so much power in her hand. It reminded him of his Matriarchs, in many ways — though the ascendant was far beyond even them.

There were differences. For one, she found his deference amusing, rather than expected and proper — like his respect was quaint, or an idle amusement. He couldn’t help it — he’d had his nose rubbed in the codes of propiety more than once as a kit.

The thought of his people’s rigidity stoked old frustration, bitter on his tongue and catching on his throat. He snorted, shaking off his head to banish the demons. Later. That was a mountain he could climb when he was good and ready, when he put a Patriarch's strength to shame, and arrived with powerful allies at his side.

His challenge waited. It looked simple, but he’d long known that was not the same as easy.

A stone wall that rose high overhead, smooth and unblemished. It was dark orange, with flecks of crystalline black that twinkled in the light — and stood more than a stride and a half thick.

It barred his passage; he knew deep in his soul that he simply had to prove it wrong. He would — the urge to know what lay beyond was too strong for anything else. What came with power? With animus? How did the triumvirate fit together? What change could he bring, if he just had a little more ability?

What was next, another crossroads — or something else?

He’d always had questions, much to his elders' chagrin. Questions, and an unwavering determination to find the answers to them.

It begged the question, who was we? What lay at the core?

Stepping forwards, Porkchop reared up — his powerful legs tensing under his weight. Letting out a low roar, he struck. Claws of reinforced sacred jade, harder than steel, smashed into the barrier.

Shards of stone pelted his padded underarmour as stinging reverberation shot up through his arm. The wall had stopped him fast, yet he still chuffed in satisfaction — dropping back down to all fours as he moved to inspect his efforts.

Four shallow divots sat in the thick wall.

He’d chipped it. Barely. But his claws remained strong, and his body was full of vigour. He’d find out what waited for him on the other side.

Already, he could feel the burgeoning of Animus — an awareness of a building spark deep inside of him. He felt…clearer. More in tune with the world around him — better able to see the higher truths that filled the heavens.

The Soul Soap. It had done something, helped him in some ineffable way. The fire within him had been purified. An odd experience, to say the least — like rinsing away dirt that had clouded his eyes as long as he could remember. His soul was…shinier, danced more readily in time with his body and mind.

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He hadn’t gotten wiser, nor any smarter — but insight seemed to come easier. The mystical connection to his Aspects had come quicker. His previous trials had been hard, and embodiment of Mentis and Corporus hadn’t been swift — but it had come. With effort and struggle, of course; as all good things did.

He could feel

the wisdom in that. While he might not relish the challenge in exactly the same way as Kaius, he did hunger for it — for what it represented. He’d never shied away from struggle — you had to summit a hill before you could explore the horizon to your heart's content, after all.

As long as he could remember, he’d considered the innate advantages of greater beasts to be suspicious. They were too long lived, too strong, and too hale. He’d noticed hints, of course. The suspicious additional time they got to gather and complete their skills before awakening their bloodlines, and the fact that most of his elders seemed to hang at a tier cap for decades — working on stubborn abilities that refused to grow with the swiftness the higher races enjoyed.

It was in the effects of his bond skill — a bonus to insight. A counterpart to the strength his brother had borrowed from him. Meaningless at the time, but one that had helped him bridge some of the gap he was certain would have otherwise existed.

Now, that gap had been closed further; his soul burned bright and true.

He’d always endured tribulation, and always would. It was the essence of his Corporus, The Indomitable Mantle; as was his concern and mindfulness for the bigger picture a part of his Mentis, The General’s Foresight.

But why.

Hackles raised, he drew up to his full height and put his body weight into another smashing rake of his claws. The wall was hard, but his claws were harder. Dust and stone showered down. Turning, he gouged at the wall with his other paw — growling low in his chest as he struck out again and again.

He felt the burn, the sting of his digits buckling as he rammed them into immobile rock again and again. It was simple to push past.

What drove him to continue on — to push past the point where others would have long given up? To follow his instinct and intuition when others begged for reason, or when long held wisdom suggested his path was folly?

For a long time, he’d thought it was a simple intolerance of injustice, or a need for the world to make sense — to follow the best path, even when it was impractical. Now, he recognised that it was only a section of the truth. They were important, but not everything — they didn’t drive his relentless need to push onwards, no matter the obstacles in front of him.

Nor was it an obsession with strength, and nor did he crave the struggle in the same way that Kaius seemed to live and breathe it.

He searched within himself, eyes locked on the stone in front of him and he struck out again and again. Energy flooded from the pools in his centre — filling Gladespirit

as he swelled to new size. Ephemeral force oozed from his very pores, flooding him with the potency of ancient guardians of sacred and quiet spaces.

He tore at the wall with everything he had, feeling the furor within.

What drove him onwards? He knew. He’d always known — it had just been shoved to the side. Buried and forgotten, like a shameful secret, derided as the willful obstinance of a kit who had yet to grow.

Even now, with a spark pulsing above his final pillar, and a resonance barely withheld, he struggled to admit it.

Stubborn curiosity.

That was it. No grand ambition, great quest, or superiority of ethic.

Could things be better? Did the hierarchy of the dens really have to be so rigid and omnipresent? Why did they follow half remembered teachings of ancestors millenia dead? Was their willful isolation anything more than a bitter grudge that should have been long forgotten? Why keep their skills to themselves?

What was over those damn mountains? Why shouldn’t he break every taboo of his people and bond — not even with an elf, but a human boy he’d met by a twist of fate?

It was everywhere; from wondering if he was strong enough to win the next fight, to what strange lands lay over the next horizon. Even simpler things — like why highleveled classers wore shoes when their feet were more than tough enough to go without.

It was curiosity, plain and simple.

What lay on the other side of this damned wall? A fight? A meadow? Another wall? Who knew!

He would, soon enough — no matter how tough it was.

It was shaking now, cracks spreading from the pit he had dug through its centre. Rearing up higher, Porkchop let out a roar as he felt his pillar burn. He drew his paw back — jagged crystal wrapping his arm as unleashed a Jade Crash into the wall once more.

Loud as thunder, a crack filled the fog. Jagged chunks fell to the path in a pile, clanking against each other.

**Ding! Pillar of Self Discovered, Animus Ignited. Would you like to initiate Aspect Formation?**

Porkchop dropped down and stepped forwards into another bubble free of fog. A break in his journey, though this time lacking in a choice. Looking to his right, he saw another path running to join the crossroads — cloaked in roiling miasma.

Chuffing to himself, he settled down to wait as he pulled a sack of jerky from his dimension bag — courtesy of his Lesser Ghosthand earstud. He’d beaten Kaius to the punch; no doubt the idiot was only going to ignite his pillar once he felt like he’d really worked for it.