The Immortal Calamity

My finger began to bleed as my nail caught against the rock. I sucked in a sharp breath as I waited for the pain to pass. I would not call out. That would cause my family to worry. I could not do that.

I felt the rope binding the four of us together begin to pull taut and knew I had to hurry up. I reached out with my hand and pulled myself up further. My arms burned with every movement, but I could not slow down.

Sylvie taunted me, hopping around just out of reach. She chirped and sang encouragement, before flying off to the top of the mountain. I never wanted to strangle her more.

While the side of the mountain was not a straight cliff, it was close. all we could do was keep climbing. I could see a ledge up ahead. We could rest there.

Charly was in front of me. I could hear his labored breaths. This type of strenuous activity was more than the bookworm was prepared for. His uncalloused hands had developed the same blisters mine had.

A rock broke loose under his foot. He slid down with the loose rubble. His foot collided with my face, and now we were both falling.

Luckily, Dad was behind us. He was able to catch us as rocks clattered down the mountain. The rope connecting all of us grew tight as Mom clung onto the solid outcropping.

With the last of our strength, we managed to pull ourselves onto the somewhat flat surface of the large boulder.

“How much… further… do we… have to go…” Charly asked, gasping for breath. He seemed pale as he looked down the long drop down the mountain.

I tried to point up to a cliff above us but felt my arms go limp and unresponsive. “I’ll point in a minute, but It should be right there. Maybe a hundred meters or so.”

“Should?”

“It has been four hundred years. I have a good memory, but it’s not perfect,” I replied with a huff.

“How did the Corvus kingdom get supplies up and down this mountain.” My father mused. He was the only person in our family not gasping for air. The small sheen of sweat was the only indicator that he might have exerted himself.

“Flight is fairly common among the Thirteen Divisions. If you reach a high enough stage and have enough power, the natural laws like gravity are more of a suggestion.”

“Really?” my father asked, nearly slipping as he turned to look at me in surprise.

“You saw the king the night the Demonkin attacked. He was standing in the air without any support. That was not his innate talent. That was what is known as a Domain. Within a small area around him, his will is absolute.”

“How much power do you have to have to do something like that?”

“If we are only talking about raw power, it would require about ten times the maximum you brought out fighting the Demonkin. Unfortunately, it does not only take raw power. It also requires a high natural connection with the chaotic energy in the world around you. A domain is a bottleneck that stops many people from climbing higher.”

“Ten times… a connection with Chaotic energy? The energy I use to activate my glyphs…”

“Now, if you only want to fly there are easier ways to do it,” I continued, “Versatility is the advantage of glyphs. Once you learn the right patterns and symbols your current power should be enough to allow flight.”

“Do you know the right glyph?”

“Nope,” I replied with a shrug, “People with innate talent cannot use glyphs so I never bothered to learn them. Only three of the Thirteen Divisions actively teach and research glyphs. Every division has its own unique way of fighting. While there are groups that try to combine the different styles, I have never been interested in that.”

My father grew quiet for a long time as we rested on the cliffside. He stared out at the mountainous scenery. The setting sun reflected in his eyes. “I felt I had reached my peak years ago. That I could not get any stronger no matter how much I trained. Is it still possible for someone as old as me to reach the level of Domain?”

I fought against my screaming muscles as I reached out, planting a hand on my father’s arm. “I know you can. You just need a little bit of guidance.”