Gaius stepped out of his hiding place, and without any particular emotion, headed straight for the Library of Ancients. The encirclement of snowpyres didn’t even stir at this sight, and Gaius vanished into thin air after taking a tour of the Library’s perimeter, the army of snowpyres arrayed against any intruders seemingly none the wiser.

From behind a rock, the real Gaius shook his head. His first experiment had proven what none of the lecturers back at Heritage Basestation did — that snowpyres didn’t see the way beastfolk and humans did. They should pay him something for his ground-breaking research, but that wasn’t the main point.

His next experiment was far simpler. A snowball flew out, and as it reached the apogee of its flight, it ignited, evaporating before it even hit the ground. A ripple spread through the assembled snowpyre ranks, but they had barely made a move before their movement subsided.

It was…as though as they were acting on instinct. And a finely controlled one at that. They had stopped reacting the moment the sigil’s heat dissipated, having lost its target. It was so responsive that it felt like a machine’s switch being flicked on and off.

Gaius trembled slightly. The moment Gaius grew aware of the nature of Orb, he knew that there were bound to be forces beyond his ken. Things like artefacts, sigils…and now this. What had happened to these snowpyres, for them to act in such a way? What had made them relinquish their individuality, reduced to mere puppets that behaved like robots? And, most importantly, who was able to control them like this?

His mind spun furiously. His snowball-tossing experiment had narrowed it down to two things — either these snowpyres sensed qi or heat. They had reacted too fast, to the point that Gaius couldn’t tell which of these two options the snowpyres favoured.

Still hidden behind rocks, Gaius produced a small ball of coal. He’d taken it from his general supplies, from one of the two boxes he carried from the logistics officer back to his tent. Gaius had wanted to use it for a smaller campfire to produce heat, but it seemed that it would have another use today.

Gaius felt the Stellar Core stir to life as he adjusted the boundary of the barrier around his right arm. Drawing the sigil of ignition with his left hand, the boy watched as the blob of coal crackled under the small flame burning on it. Minutes passed, and the moment the coal burst into flames, Gaius tossed it in a high arc. No matter how physics-defying his Stellar Core was, Gaius’ subconscious was trembling, telling him to get rid of the flaming ball on his hand.

His instinct needed to adapt with the times.

The army of snowpyres turned their heads as one, as the piece of coal shot skywards, propelled by Gaius’ overly strong arm. A moment of bated silence followed, as the icy fires in the eye sockets of the snowpyres turned red.

Sparks flew, and the ball of fire in the air scattered into the winds. A snowpyre, one streaked with silver, had catapulted itself towards the piece of coal with deadly accuracy and sliced it into two. The heads of the other snowpyres twitched, in a manner that reminded Gaius of a confused chicken, as the flames dissipated.

Gaius narrowed his eyes at that sight. Not because the snowpyre was fast, but rather because it’d somehow leapt off the air to return back to the snowpyre encampment. The monster had somehow created a foothold in thin air, and used it to launch itself back. Even if Gaius took to the skies, it was entirely possible that that particular snowpyre might be able to reach him.

And even if it couldn’t, Gaius was the one who needed to enter the Library. Sooner or later, he would have to come down, and when he did, an attack would be waiting for him.

But he’d thought of a way to confuse the snowpyre army.

The wildfire sigil, which he had wanted to use to dispose of last week’s snowpyre corpses, created a fairly large area of heat and flames. He’d resisted this suggestion unconsciously, as stepping into a wall of flames was nothing short of suicidal (or heroic, if you were a firefighter or good Samaritan). Only the sight of the other snowpyres looking confusedly at an area of hot air reminded him of a method to trick heat sensors like those of the snowpyres.

Gaius’ body rippled and vanished as he turned invisible. The last thing he wanted when tackling the army of snowpyres were other Harvesters knowing that he could fly.

His body lurched, and then shot skywards. Gaius could feel the gazes of over a thousand snowpyres fall on him, as a silver blur sliced through the air with a bloodthirsty hiss.

A thunderclap echoed around the area as knife met knife. Gaius’ vision lurched for a single moment, before his recently-trained flight instincts kicked in and stabilised him. His assailant, however, was long gone, kicking itself off what seemed to be segments of hardened air to retreat back.

The boy continued to ascend, even as he assessed his condition. That clash had jolted him somewhat, despite being protected by the Stellar Core’s barrier. If not for it, Gaius might have been vomiting out some blood. In the eyes of the snowpyres, he was perhaps a rising star, looking down coldly at the army assembled below.

His left and right hands worked furiously as Gaius started his descent. Wind whistled, and as the orderly formations of the snowpyres braced for impact, the faint lighting of Heritage’s sky bloomed a brilliant orange and red. A screen of flames had appeared in front of Gaius, wide and long enough to blanket half the Library in fire, sending the monsters into what looked like a panic.

The wall of flames began to break apart, as snowpyres threw themselves into the air. But not every snowpyre was like the one who had assaulted him earlier, and bloody explosions ensued as snowpyres smashed onto the ground by the dozens. Whatever that had stripped the free will from the army of snowpyres had clearly forgotten to leave some common sense and self-preservation instincts behind.

Another wall of flames appeared as Gaius fired off the sigil in his right hand, sending the remaining snowpyres into a mad frenzy from passions that were not clearly their own, and this time, Gaius charged through the two walls of fire to touch down on the Library’s perimeter.

The smell of blood and slightly-burnt flesh filled the air, but none of the snowpyres were paying attention to him now. Each and every one of them were launching themselves towards the wall of flames…which weren’t all that hot, admittedly. For the wildfire sigil to be effective at killing enemies en masse, Gaius would have to do it the same way as he used the ignition sigil, which was over fifty times in a certain span of time. If the monsters had been rational, they would have realised that these flames weren’t all that dangerous or threatening.

Gaius walked up towards a dull-looking door. The plaque on top were written in languages that Gaius did and didn’t recognise, but they all meant the same time.

“Welcome.” The boy muttered under his breath. And as the words escaped his lips, the door swung open, revealing a gaping dark maw. Gaius smiled faintly, and walked into the shadows.

The door closed a few seconds afterwards, leaving no evidence about anyone’s entry. Only the shrieks of snowpyres outside remained, and even they fell silent as the walls of flames vanished from existence.