I come out of the dive in an awkward roll. Immediately, I face the monster, forced to duck under a decapitating blow. Any time I feel like I am about to get my footing, the minotaur changes its attack pattern. The strength behind each swing of its axe is debilitating—the most my blocks can hope for is a slight change in the heavy weapon’s trajectory. I struggle to keep up with the barrage of attacks, each deflection leaving my arms more numb. Exhaustion continues to build; the wounds and blood loss from my previous battles weigh me down. No matter how I think about it, I’ve yet to land a single attack on the beast, and the longer this fight goes, the worse my position becomes. I try to think of anything, anything that will keep me alive for another minute… I’ll take even another second. What kind of literal hell is the School, that they would put a student in the ring with a minotaur? Despair and anger tighten their grip on my heart. None of my skills will help me here. I have no secrets or tricks hidden up my sleeve from the Inheritance.
Wait. Do I have any skills that will be useful here? Meditation says it will increase focus when meditating, which off the top of my head doesn’t seem too helpful. But the evolved form of it, Petal Dance, says it will automatically put me in a meditative combat state. If I try to run Meditation now, will the skill help me focus on the minotaur’s attacks?
I really don’t have anything to lose in trying it—other than my life, I guess, but as things stand, I’m minutes away from being minotaur chow. I try to flow mana into the skill; it catches—then fizzles. There was some kind of error, but the skill began to activate so there’s hope. I continue dodging the minotaur’s attacks, pulling it from one side of the platform to the other. Blossoming Breath is more focused on thoughtlessness than visualization, but right now I’m thinking of a million ways to avoid dying.
I need to trust the art and push my practice. I breathe following Blossoming Breath’s pattern, I feel my mana flow fall into the familiar cycle and I force my body to move in a compatible way. There’s less agency in deflecting the minotaur’s attacks, but so far I have been able to avoid any lethal blows. My steps become more sure, my body gently glides across the platform staying just out of the monster’s reach. At the peak of my lightness, I activate Meditation again. I feel the mana catch the skill; I breath through my panic—one second passes, then another… I did it. The skill activated. I continue pressing my advantage, creating space where I can between myself and the minotaur. I lose myself to self-preservation, the bull’s ineffective attacks forcing it into a rage-induced barrage of attacks.
There! In the chaos, I spot a hole in the barbaric attack pattern. Between strikes, there is just a small gap where I can squeeze in an attack and retreat. I don’t take the opportunity right away, it could be a trap. I continue watching, and the opening stays consistent. I dodge the attack as narrowly as I dare, and strike out. The blade of my weapon slides into the gap in its stance, striking the beast in its right rib cage. A shallow cut is scored on the monster and I retreat before its counterattack shatters the platform where I stood. I continue pulling the beast across the platform, lashing out whenever an opening presents itself. In just a minute, multiple small cuts adorn the monster’s body and its form continues to degrade from rage.
I’m dancing across the platform, with each success I lose myself more to my meditation. My mana flows more smoothly… quicker. I feel it nourishing my muscles and increasing my recovery. The sweat and blood coating my skin begins to evaporate into the smell of flower petals blooming around me. I can feel excess mana evaporating from my skin, motes of mana portrayed as flower blossoms, dispersing on the wind. Another strike is scored against the minotaur’s arm, I dodge the edge of its axe by only an inch before the monk’s spade lashes out for another bite of monster flesh. I take in a deep breath, empowered by Blossoming Breath, I finally let my thoughts go in their entirety.
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The world fades away and I am a lotus sitting on the surface of a dark inky pond. There is nothing else in sight except the dark water. I float, unable to act upon the world, with nothing there to act upon me. Slowly, I become accustomed to the nothingness. I feel for the mana flow and find myself in a world excluded from the natural order, just an endless void exists here. I am able to find peace in that and let the hours pass me over as a casual observer. I know in my heart that this is the mind palace of Blossoming Breath, the battle with the minotaur must continue to rage on in the real world, but here I am safe. Here I am at peace with the world.
Suddenly, ripples tear across the water. At first I gently rise and fall to small waves running across the endless pond, but eventually I am shaken by tidal waves that pull me to the edge of my deep roots. My eyes flash and I’m suddenly back in the real world, very narrowly diving out of the way of a world crushing blow from the beast. Meditation deactivates as I am forced out of the mind palace, I already know I am too desperate at this point to find the same peace of mind to activate it again. From head to toe the minotaur is covered in wounds dripping inky, ichorous blood. I can feel my wounds have healed significantly, and I am no longer feeling empty, but the tier-and-a-half gap between us is too much to surmount. I forgot about one crucial aspect of a minotaur duel. At a certain point, their rage boils into an uncontrollable berserk form. My strafing strategy is no longer a concern of the mindless drone before me. None of my attacks are deadly enough to end the battle before it tears me apart. The only possible saving grace I have is that its accumulated wounds kill it before its axe bisects me.
It becomes increasingly harder to stay on my feet. Fatigue from the extended battles bottoms out my stamina, and any strength I recovered meditating has already faded. It feels like I’ve been chased by the monster for hours, but it could only be a few minutes. The beast ignores its wounds and is moving unobstructed. A grim realization dawns on me. The minotaur might not be healing, but its wounds are definitely not getting worse.
Knowing my fate is sealed, I decide to make one last attempt at making Mallorc proud of me—even if he was the one who agreed to put me in this godsforsaken death trap. I dash forward, ducking under a decapitating backhanded swing. I pull the monk’s spade back in a hold similar to a spear-user, and lunge. I aim the bladed end of the weapon for the minotaur’s throat, hoping to land a deadly strike against the monster’s carotid artery. The attack looks like it’s going to land. The axe has already passed over my head and it won’t be able to get it back around. I actually might win this!
The monk’s spade is inches away from its target when I hear a loud thud at the edge of the platform. I’ve no clue what that might be, but I have one singular goal in front of me I can’t be distracted. The cold steel blade pushes through the beast's skin, cutting away flesh as it bites down looking for the decisive victory. Two giant hands appear from nowhere, grabbing the spade’s shaft and halting the blade's progress. Of course. The crash was the minotaur abandoning its axe to grab my weapon. It pushes me back with its overwhelming strength then I’m thrown across the platform. I come to a crashing roll, all my remaining strength leaves and I’m unable to pull myself from the ground. My monk’s spade drops at the feet of the minotaur.
The monster begins the slow trek across the platform to my ravaged and defeated body. Foregoing its axe, it wants to finish the job with its bare hands. I struggle to maintain consciousness, I beg and plead my body to stand, to move, to do anything. But all I can do is lie there, any semblance of strength sapped from me. The berserk nature of the minotaur has subsided, and the monster stands over me, gloating in its victory. I’ve never heard any stories of a Tier One pushing a minotaur into its berserk form. I can be proud of myself for the fight I put it through.
The minotaur pulls back its fist to deliver the skull-crushing blow guaranteeing its victory. As the punch begins to descend, I close my eyes and make peace with my inevitable defeat. I hear the whistle of wind meeting its fist and a powerful breeze blows against my face. I wait for pain or the expected darkness of death. But it never comes. I hesitantly open my eyes to find Sagaryn standing over me, motes of mana dancing around the empty space the minotaur just occupied.
“Congratulations, Cam, you pass. You are officially welcomed into the School.”
The world goes dark as the accumulated stress and damage take over and I finally lose consciousness.
