A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"What do I do, Ingolsol?" Oliver asked.

The Fragment within him sighed, Oliver could almost hear him drumming his fingers on a desk, as he contemplated his next move. "First, make me a promise to do something devious. Something to do with that Gargon whelp – I think our aims align there, no? Make him squeal for me, and I might be willing to tell you."

"Damn it, fine. Hurry up, or I'm going to be trying something of my own here," Oliver said, looking over his shoulder to see the crab charging through the last patch of trees.

"It isn't awfully complicated, it's just a little… extreme. No doubt you've felt your own itching for combat. That's a symptom. If you force it, and reach for it, you can integrate that Divine Energy left in you. The only reason you haven't, is because your body and your soul know to fear it. You're in limbo.

The forces of progress – or wisdom, or whatever bollox the other Gods reside over – reach a certain peak, and the body and spirit are capable of holding more of that God's essence. You'd call it the Third Boundary…" Ingolsol said.

"Shit," Oliver was struck by a sudden wave of understanding. Ingolsol hadn't even finished his explanation yet, but with the mention of the Third Boundary, and that itching for combat, he thought he understood that which he was merely nodding to before.

He left the trees. He'd taken too long in his conversation with Ingolsol, and the Boulder Crab had already levelled all those that were left on the plateau. If he wanted to make use of them, he'd have to lure the beast down into the forest below, at the bottom of the slope. But Galvin had forbidden him from doing that, making it something of a last option.

Divine Energy, the Fragments of Gods. Something had been left in Oliver, as a result of what Francis had done, or so he understood. It was the essence of a God – that which a mortal was meant to absorb once he'd met the requirements of Progress – for Claudia, anyway – but he had such energy lingering in his body early.

In the case of Ingolsol's example with the magic meat that would make him stronger – here Oliver's digestive system wasn't strong enough to process it yet. To do it early would be to exert a heavy toll on himself. But he didn't have much of a choice. Whatever wounds his body and soul had endured could not be cured without something drastic, if Ingolsol was to be believed.

Trusting Ingolsol in any endeavour always seemed to be the mark of a fool – but what other choice did he have?

The Boulder Crab skated back onto the plateau after him, leaving gauges within what had once been perfect pure white snow. It looked furious. It was a creature meant for quick combat, not reckless chases. How long had they been fighting already? Five minutes? Ten?

He wondered if his flesh would even be enough to sustain the beast after such a prolonged fight.

So, that was his option. Ascend to the Third Boundary early or… or continue along the line of whatever was happening to him.

He grit his teeth. The thoughts of the backlash from it didn't exactly fill him with excitement. The way Ingolsol spoke of it, it would be worse than what he was already suffering. But if he survived it, then that would mean he had recovered, wouldn't it?

"Not exactly," Ingolsol said. "I don't have a clue what it'll mean."

Of course, being the Fragment of Darkness that he was, he didn't exactly fill Oliver with confidence, even when both their fates were on the line. So, without even the hope of full recovery to cling to, he was forced to make a choice.

It shouldn't have seemed like a hard choice. After all, who would not want to ascend to the Third Boundary early? But Oliver knew to fear it. He knew the dangers of unearned power. He knew he wasn't quite at the Third Boundary level yet.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Oliver cursed to himself. Something about the sight of the Boulder Crab in front of him helped make his decision for him. Its ugly face seemed to demand a good pummelling. Besides, how good would it feel to crack that impossibly tough carapace that coated its body?

Beam would have done anything for strength, no matter the consequence. It was Beam that he needed now. No resting spots, no easygoing, just constantly hanging by a threat, as he reached for the stars.
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A deep breath. The Boulder Crab charged again. Its charges were growing more advanced. Its capacity for learning seemed almost as great as a human's. It didn't throw all its speed into the charge, but retained a little, so that it could easily change direction as Oliver dodged.

"All I need to do is go all out, then?" Oliver said. It sounded simple. But he was already going all out – or so he thought. As he wound his fingers around his sword, though, he realized that Ingolsol was right. At the very edge of his body's awareness, there was the glimpse of a little something, something untapped, something that offered strength and fear aplenty.

A mindless place. A place that he hadn't been to since Francis' battlefield. A place that his body had prevented him from going, for fear of what he'd find if he returned there.

Breathless, quiet, the world grew crisper. He could see the steam that arose from the crab's nostrils as its hot breath misted in the cold air. He could see the flex of each of its joints, the ripple along them, as they told tales of their master's intentions, long before they landed.

Oliver went along with it, how it expected him to. It had unconsciously been more geared towards defending to the left, and as soon as Oliver went that way, it lunged on him with an eagerness.

Oliver hadn't overcommitted though. His was a delicate step, the sort of step that wouldn't even sink in water. He drew back. The most basic of counterattacking strikes, which even Blackthorn now carried out with ease.

His back leg coiled like a spring, and as the Boulder Crab lashed passed him, hitting only empty air, Oliver brought his sword down from overhead in a diagonal slash, using all the muscles of his back.