YoTS January ~ 48!

CHAPTER 48

With a lopsided grin and a wink from his non-bleeding eye, Fergus raised his arms and fell back into the void. He didn’t scream, and his body quickly faded from view. Grant hyperventilated, unable to process what was happening. One by one his friends and companions disappeared over the edge. Cheers and clapping filled his ears, the audience thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Derek didn’t go as easily. Even chained, the brawny steelworker managed to take a guard with him, both toppling into the chasm.

Sir Friday looked at Grant with sorrowful eyes. “I’m sorry, Grant. I only wanted to bring honor to House Friday. I want…”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence. A laughing guard bopped him on the head with Sir Friday’s own Wielded Weapon, then gave him a vicious shove. The spectators erupted in laughter as the proud Noble slipped from view, his body tumbling head over heels.

Try as he might, Grant couldn’t remain composed before his looming death. Even so…  he’d rather die than be apprenticed to Randall. On his knees, he raised his head to watch Randall and Lord January approach. Lord January’s morbidly obese body was carried on a litter by six straining, muscular guards.

“It is clear, after today’s spectacle,” Lord January began, “that we have a bit of an infestation. Every inch of the castle and the lands around it will be scoured. We'll find any Leaps that are hiding, and they will share your fate.”

“Let me take that off you.” Randall pried February Twenty Nine from Grant’s iron grip, one finger at a time. “Once you’ve made the leap, and you’re dead, I should be able to access the sword’s power.”

Randall flashed a wicked grin at Grant. There was a large welt forming at the side of Randall’s head from where the weapon hit. A meaty, ring-encrusted fist caught Grant under the jaw, lifting him into the air and over the edge. “That’s for earlier.”

“Flap your wings and fly, little birdy!” Lord January waved his arms in mockery. Rolls of fat bounced up and down as he laughed.

Grant scrambled to grab something, anything, but he was too far from the edge of the platform. Gravity took hold and accelerated him downwards. Laughter and the persistent aroma of cooked meat quickly faded away, replaced by the howl of freezing wind clawing at his body.

He squeezed his eyes, and fell for long seconds…

Then the howling of the wind stopped abruptly, and Grant felt himself drifting in a strange bubble of light.

“It isn’t over, young man.” Auld Leap’s soft voice soothed Grant, and tension in his body left him as he drifted closer and closer to the ground, which was lit with the strange blue light that had filled the Pool of Forethought. “You made the right choice. If this didn’t happen now, you would have been tested another time, perhaps with no one to catch you as you fell.”

“What… this was supposed to happen?” Grant looked around as bubbles started drifting past him, showing him killing Randall, Lord January, making them submit, showcasing the two choking… all things that didn’t happen.

“No.” The answer on the wind caught Grant off guard. “My boy, free will is a powerful thing. Nothing is supposed to happen. There is only what did, what did not, and what could have been.”

“Then… how do you know that I did the right thing?” Grant asked the open air. “I lost the Leap sword!”

“You refused to give in. You did everything you possibly could to succeed, and it wasn’t enough. Grant. That’s okay.” The words made tears of frustration start to run down Grant’s face. “Sometimes, it just isn’t enough, no matter how much we want it to be. Sometimes, like now…”

A new bubble floated up in front of Grant, showing Randall furiously attempting to make February Twenty Nine bind to him. The sword was flashing, shifting between real and insubstantial as Randall gave in to fury and tried to take an ingot hammer to it. Soon, the man tired and threw the sword against the wall, standing and pulling up his pants. Only then did Grant realize that the man had been doing all this while using the toilet. Randall walked out of the room in a huff, leaving the sword where it was.

“Sometimes, you prove your worth, and walk the steps… of prophecy!”

“My name… is Regent December. I am doing everything I can to save the world, so that one day, it may be healed.” A blue bubble appeared in front of Grant’s face, this time showing a stern, ancient face. White hair, mustache, and beard were long but well-kempt. Words came from the bubble, and for the first time, Grant heard why Leaps were truly hated in January. “The easy road of January, part one of the prophecy of Year of The Sword.”

“A great mind rots away in a prison of flesh, deeper thought and true genius sealed behind unending desire.” The words continued to flow, and Grant was so mesmerized that he didn’t even realize that he was standing on his own two feet. “Innovation and technological singularities are ignored in favor of leisure, increases to the mind all but forgotten. The people die younger and younger, the truth hidden behind false claims of accidents. Even if the deception is found, none search for deeper meaning.”

“The ancient Lord sits upon a throne he has become, his once great mind begging for death even as his body forces him to live. Each moment that he lives, his flesh dies and is reborn, returned to peak health… and he is forced to live on. However, in a seeming fit of anarchy, one day a descendent bearing his name - but none of his blood - shall end his reign of luxury.” Regent December seemed to lock eyes with Grant at this moment. “Wielding the timelessness and legacy of the Leap sorcerers, and wearing the name of his enemy, this person shall give the people a choice. Survive… or live.”

The bubble popped into a shower of blue sparkles, and Auld Leap stepped forward to stand next to Grant. The man was skeletal, his skin wrinkled beyond belief. He lifted a shaking hand and set it on Grant’s arm. “My boy, for this moment to occur, you needed to forge a deeper bond of selflessness with your Wielded Weapon.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Grant admitted freely, seeing no point in hiding his confusion from the thinnest person he had ever seen. “That prophecy, what does it mean? Is there more to it?”

“Of course there's more. Thirteen parts in total, to be precise. Those are for another time, my boy.” Auld Leap started guiding Grant away, and toward a door cut into the wall of the deep chasm they were in. As they stepped through, Grant was greeted with a familiar sight: the Pool of Foresight, as well as all of the people that had taken the leap with him. “You needed to learn, and prove, that you were willing to give up your established norm. That you would go against your base instincts and work to better yourself… even with all external influences pressuring you to give up just so life could be easy.”

“You’ve taught everyone here that surviving isn’t enough. You found self-determination, and improved yourself, when everyone around you was satisfied with mediocrity. All of us are proud of you, Grant.”

Quest update: Leap of Faith. You have forged a deeper bond with yourself, and therefore the Weapon of Power that has been bonded to you. You have unlocked a new Weapon ability!

Weapon Inherent abilities:

1) Weapon Absorption: This sword has the ability to absorb another Wielded Weapon’s power, taking its ability into itself. Restriction: Only one weapon per Monthly series.

2) Weapon/Armor Synergy: When the Wielder is equipped with armor, this sword increases in potency and gains power. Increase is capped at the Weilder’s cultivation stage, or average armor stage, whichever is lower. February 29 is now considered an ‘Early Spring Medium’ sword. Current maximum damage is: 8 (5.5 from weapon cultivation, 2 from weapon stage, rounded up.) Damage type is ‘piercing’, or ‘slashing’ depending on how February 29 is used.

3) NEW! Time is Space: you now have access to any of the powers of February Twenty Nine, no matter where the Weapon is. You may also call your Weapon to you so long as you touch upon a place in the world where it once was while in your possession. Cost: 25% of mana pool.

4) Locked

As soon as he processed what had just happened, Grant stepped past his friends and put his hand on the floor where he had once set his sewage-coated clothing… and February Twenty Nine. “Time… is space?”

Mana flashed from his outstretched fingertips. His open hand clasped against cold leather, and Grant pulled back, retrieving his Wielded Weapon out of thin air. There was a collective inhalation from the group as the weapon caught the light, and the golden runes on the flat of the blade seemed to burn with the sword’s name. Grant looked around at all of his friends, people that had just expected to die to help him, and took a deep breath.

“Let’s go feed that tyrant some cold steel.”