III

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Arc III Chapter 9

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Aurora continued plundering the battlefield, stepping over the remains of the fallen, mostly appropriating souvenirs that were easy to transport and carry in nature. Yet, her inventory was already bulging with loot, with her running the risk of ending up overloaded. A realistic scenario considering her avaricious tendencies.

Along the way, Aurora took notice of the concentric nature of the battlefield. The fallen all faced the same direction, rested alongside a certain perimeter. Whoever or whatever they were fighting, the enemy was coming from the front, through the gate.

Following her intuition, her mind connected the dots, and the lines converged in the further ahead, closer to the gate. There, a proud silver rapier greeted her. The sword was pushed into the ground, surrounded by an arrangement of six other swords at each corner. The blades formed a geometrical formation, a hexagon with the rapier in the middle. The weapons were arranged so deliberately, although their exact purpose remained unknown to her.

Aurora approached the formation, and the surrounding aether shifted ever so slightly in the presence of an intangible force. The peculiar aura originated from the swords. They were distorting the natural flow of aether, yet any pretence of due caution was abandoned, as she couldn't care less about ancient machinations and secrets. What she knew was that she was interested in the rapier, a fine specimen of its noble kind, made of mythril and of the highest quality. A quite profitable find, for sure, certainly worth a little fortune. She might even share her profits with Lambert and his party, compensating them for their efforts, due transportation fees included. 95% for her. 5% for them. That sounded like a fair trade.

Commencing her retrieval operation, Aurora mobilsed all the force her muscles were able to muster. She kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing, but the rapier wouldn't budge. The stupid blade defied her will, and her meagre muscular strength. The sword remained stuck for good, forever sealed by stone.

Forced to resort to more brutish methods by the misfortune of circumstances, Aurora used a rock as an improvised hammer, hitting the blade in quick succession. Hit.“Ting.” And hit. “Ting.” And hit. “Ting!” And hit. “Ting!!!”

No results. The rapier proved a troublesome adversary, as it offered continued resistance, but the blade was underestimating her stubbornness. This was a moment when an immovable object met unstoppable force.

Gritting her teeth, Aurora mustered her last strength for one final push. For glory and riches! “Aaarrrrrghhhhhhhh. Move!!!”

Her knuckles turned white, but the rapier finally budged, but not the way she had hoped for. The sword snapped, and Aurora was rewarded with a painful rendezvous with the stone floor.

“... ... ... Ouch.” Aurora landed on the hard ground with the blade's broken half still in her hands. Stupid ancient sword ... Useless piece of scrap metal ... Worthless piece of junk ...

Unbeknownst to little Aurora, her thoughtless actions set in motion events unplanned, as the rapier was far less innocuous than its appearance suggested. Unbeknownst to her, the sword formed the central piece of a seal, serving as its anchor to the physical realm until being broken by a greedy girl and her doll. Unbeknownst to her, dark vibrant mana, cursed energy of the past, trickled from the broken blade, finally set free from the shackles of ancient magic. Now that the seal was broken, a demon of old times plotted his return to the world of the living, a terrible demon of fire and darkness, driven by crazed bloodlust and thirsting laughter.

For the being, though, peace persisted, and little Aurora was more concerned about finding her way home after vacating her post without permission. Lambert was probably already fuming.

Her choice fell on the gate. Her hands knocked at the gargantuan monstrosity. A dull sound responded, the dull sound of metal, the dull sound of annoyance. “Dung ... Dung ... Dung ...” The thing was ... unsurprisingly solid. No apparent weakness could be identified. Hardened, tempered steel blocked her way, free of rust and any patina. Time treated the gate kindly. The raw block of steel had no intention of granting her passage. No wonder that no mere adventurer got past this humongous roadblock for centuries. Thick, heavy, stubborn, the gate was built to last for an eternity and beyond, sturdy enough to even survive the apocalypse. The gate was difficult to dislodge without adequate firepower, or the necessary specialists at your disposal. The usual motley crew of adventurers and looters had neither, easily dissuading them and other undesired visitors from trying their luck.

Aurora lifted her head, looking up from below. The gate stood tall, massive in size and height. No doubt, she possessed the strength to force it open by more conventional means ... The only problem was that it would require a considerable amount of explosive force ... A degree of force she was reluctant to use, unless necessary.

Elaborate patterns of gold and silver and an arrangement of what appeared to be crests and emblems decorated the gate. No efforts were spared in their creation. The constructors displayed an eye for beauty despite their practical emphasis on steel.

Aurora summoned her loyal fire. A purple flame sprang forth from her palm, answering her call. In the end, her opponent forced her to deploy less sophisticated methods, although her attempt at cutting through met with modest success. The alloy used proved a worthy opponent. The ancient Valentian engineers were certainly masters of their craft and highly proficient in annoying a little girl a millennium centuries later. Her flame barely scratched the outermost layer. Cutting through was thus not an option. Not only was the alloy heat resistant, but also magic resistant. The gate counteracted her spell. A thin layer of aether lingering across the surface stopped her flame. As it turned out, the gate was enchanted, heavily enchanted in fact, shielded by an array of protective spells and barriers.

Aurora inspected once again the artistic patterns. The numerous gold and silver inlays suddenly made sense. They were on the more ostentatious side, but they had a practical purpose. They were glyphs. The inlays served as conductors, as circuits, allowing the aether to circulate freely, stabilising the enchantment.

Her hand touched the lines to sense the aether. “A conductive enchantment ... Impressive.” The enchanters of Valentia certainly knew their craft. Despite several centuries having passed, their work exhibited no signs of aetherial degradation.

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