"Kade Noelstra," the God of Thunder said as he shifted forms again, this time into a serpentine shape reminiscent of his draconic form, but sized to square off against Cheddar. "I will be guiding you through this trial. You'll be learning and adding the five Laws you've earned—but not learned—to your core directly this time, and without my help…well, to put it in terms you'll understand, you'd be screwed. Royally."

"And you'll be fighting Cheddar at the same time?" I asked.

Eugene snorted. Lightning shot from his nostrils as a tongue laced with clouds appeared between two lipless jaws. "You're worried I won't be able to do both, kid? This isn't going to tax me at all."

"And you won't interfere with this trial?" I asked.

"No. Not against you. You'll be up against more than you know already."

"Alright. I'm ready."

"Good."

The world disappeared. There was nothing—no bright blue and reddish lights, no towering pillars, and no floor. Nothing except for two bright-burning serpents, one a blazing yellow-white and the other the pale blue of electricity, and five orbs.

I missed the mountaintop outside of Phoenix where I'd sat while learning my first set of Laws.

"We'll start with one Law. The most important for what you're about to experience. The Second Law of the Thunderhead."

I braced myself as an orb of lightning appeared in front of me. Then it exploded, surging outward in an electrical tidal wave. It touched my outstretched hands, my folded legs, my eyes and ears and mouth. My ears tasted copper. My eyes felt echoing thunder. I couldn't breathe. My heart couldn't beat. My muscles moved of their own accord.

Chaos. Absolute chaos. I fell back on the First Law of the Thunderhead—control is chaos. If I could get myself under control, even the tiniest bit of me, I could stop struggling and start learning. But no matter how much Stamina I used, it wasn't enough. I drained my Mana. That didn't help, either. My vision sounded like static.

"Give up yet?" Eugene asked sarcastically.

I couldn't respond. I tried, but it was impossible.

"Find the pattern, kid. It's possible to foresee chaos."

No, it isn't, I tried—and failed—to say.

But he heard me anyway. "You did it in your D-Rank trial, when I tried to destroy your core."

The God of Thunder was right. But that was on a massive scale. To do it now would mean anticipating chaos on a microscopic, cellular level. I didn't know if I could do it.

It was a path forward, though. And what I was doing wasn't working. So, instead of fighting the thunderstorm ripping through my body, I spent an instant eternity watching it, feeling it, and smelling my veins burn. The pain was overwhelming. I couldn't grit my teeth or squeeze a fist.

And then I saw it. No. Felt it. A negative space where every other part of me was slightly positive. Charges. Polarities. I surged Stamina into the space, and as the lightning core sent another wave of electricity into me, it hit my Stamina first.

I breathed—actually breathed—a fire-hot sigh of relief as the pain slowed. It took dozens of tries before I could intercept enough of the lightning core's power to start absorbing it into my own core. But I had nothing but time. Nothing but time, pain, and opportunity.

Law Learned: Second Law of the Thunderhead Thunderbolt Forms: Rank D to C

The storm appears unpredictable. Chaotic and out of control at the same time. But just as control is chaos, the storm can be predicted. It takes a trained, disciplined person, riding the edge of the storm, to do it. And it is not without consequence, but by allowing the storm inside and nullifying its power systematically, you have taken a step down the Stormsteel Path: chaos is predictable.

Flareflourish upgrades to Thunderblade: Consume two Lightning Charges to temporarily accelerate your strikes to supersonic speeds.

I wanted to relax. To celebrate my victory. To fight alongside Cheddar—who was giving it his all but losing to the God of Thunder—and try my new skill. But I couldn't. Eugene stopped, countering a blast of Cheddar's sunlight with a dark storm cloud. He seemed to raise an eyebrow at me critically. Then he nodded. "Perfect, Kade Noelstra. We can accelerate the process now."

Two more cores—the Stormsteel Core Eugene had pulled from his own body and the wind core I'd cut free from Khalir's corpse—appeared. "You've seen the patterns in chaos. This next part should be easy. Or at least, survivable."

A beam of hypercompressed water cut across both cores. They detonated a moment later, and I found myself trapped between two Laws.

The chaos I'd experienced at the hands of the Second Law of the Thunderhead was worse. It had been inside me, around me, changing how I interacted with the world and stopping me from fighting back. By comparison, the Stormsteel and wind cores' pressure was almost gentle.

But only by comparison. Khalir's core tried desperately to shred my flesh from my bones, and the Stormsteel core—which should have been a safe place to hide from the hammering, pounding tornado unleashed by the wind core—shattered and reformed, letting blasts of wind rip at me. I couldn't keep my balance. The storm drove me to one knee, then tried to flatten me against the ground. I hadn't even realized I'd been standing.

My mind felt stretched. Thin. Weak. It took me almost a minute of being buffeted by the inconsistent winds and trying to fight my way to my feet before I made the connection.

Patterns.

There was a pattern here. Chaos was predictable, after all, and the God of Thunder had thrown me into the deepest pool of chaos he could.

I started with the Stormsteel Core.

Destruction, after all, was protection—and I needed protection from the hurricane-force wind's power. It was a logical, intelligent decision. Predict the Stormsteel Core's shattering and reforming, and move up when I could.

And, as I predicted, the Stormsteel core was predictable. But that didn't matter. I could anticipate its reforming, but even clawing my way forward on my hands and knees, I couldn't make progress against the wind core's power. Chaos was predictable. But that wasn't enough. I needed to understand the two Laws in front of me.

I couldn't sit back and learn, either. Not like I had with my E-Rank Laws. Eugene—the God of Thunder—was forcing me into an active, aggressive learning. Why?

"Because you're trying to progress faster than any mortal should, kid. That will have consequences later, but for now, this is the only way."

That wasn't true. Ellen was progressing just as quickly. She was ahead of me—or had been before I entered the God of Thunder's portal world. And she had no barriers to her growth.

"Ah, but she doesn't have your potential. No one in your world does. Want to know why? Of course you do. It's because you're my pupil. Now, prove you're worthy to be the weakest of my Paragons, Kade Noelstra. Figure this puzzle out. And be quick about it. You're starting to flag."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I gritted my teeth. The Stormsteel Core wasn't what I needed to predict. I needed to understand the wind. And to do that, I needed the First Law of the Sirocco: power is patient.

My fingers dug into the nonexistent ground as I pressed myself low. I closed my eyes. The wind ripped across my body, wave after wave of it. But power was patient, and I was powerful. More powerful than Khalir, and more powerful than the core I'd taken from him.

That was it.

Power wasn't as strong as I was. On a long enough time scale, I'd win. I just needed to be patient: patience conquers strength.

Law Learned: Second Law of the Sirocco Cyclone Forms: Rank D to C

The wind across the desert. The southwestern gusts that whip up firestorms in the forests. These forces are relentless. Powerful. Dominating. And yet, with time, they fade. They leave scars—burned swaths of trees, worn stones and mountaintops—but even those are transient. Impermanent. By understanding the battle of endurance, you have taken a step down the Stormsteel Path: patience conquers strength.

Headwind upgrades to Windfall: Consume two Wind Charges to add a snare effect to a spell.

As the wind slowly faded to a breeze, I relaxed and let it into my core. Two of the Laws were learned. Three more remained—and then there was the matter of the C-Rank trial. I'd need to survive that, too. But the God of Thunder had promised not to interfere this time.

"Correct. But without the Stormsteel Core's Law, you won't be able to learn the other two. Get to work."

I turned my attention to the Stormsteel Core. Its shattering and reforming nature had promised protection. And I'd taken it up on that offer. And then…then, it had betrayed me. There was a lesson to learn here. And I was close to understanding what it was.

The Stormsteel Core's promise of protection was a lie. Just as destruction was protection, protection was destruction. No, that wasn't quite right. The Stormsteel breastplate and gauntlet did their jobs. They protected me and ripped at my attackers' weapons and limbs. That was true. Indisputably. But if that was true, then the Stormsteel Core wasn't promising destruction and protection.

Its deception was based on something else.

In my D-Rank trial, I'd hidden from the storm in a shelter made from the wreckage of my core. And I'd weathered the storm. But the God of Thunder had—

"Good, Cheddar. That was well played."

I ignored Eugene's comment. It had nothing to do with me. The God of Thunder had nearly shattered my core with a single Stormbreak. And only misdirection had saved it.

There was a kernel of something in that. The Stormsteel Core in front of me shattered again. This time, when it rebuilt itself, I saw it for what it was. Weak. Almost immaterial. Not quite irrelevant, but nowhere near as protective as I'd hoped it would be.

It couldn't withstand the storm. Nothing could. Nothing but patience. Nothing but time—time to wait it out and move when it was over.

Law Learned: Second Law of Stormsteel Stormsteel Core: Rank D to C

The storm inside of you is strong. Too strong to be contained. It seeks war. Violence. Destruction. But as you've harnessed its power, you've learned that destruction overcomes protection. There is no armor in all the worlds that can withstand every weapon. Every fortress will fall against the right attack. In confronting the storm's strengths and weaknesses, Kade Noelstra, you have taken a step along the Stormsteel Path: no shelter can withstand the storm.

The core inside of me strengthened. I could feel it pushing against the growing storm inside—but not to entrap it. To embrace it. To hold it for the moment it would be needed.

I readied myself. There were two more cores. The sunlight core I'd gotten from the Blood-Drained Light, and the cloud core the God of Thunder had given me after his brutal training session. Together, they'd be my final test.

"Not yet, Kade Noelstra. Not yet."

Rage.

Fury.

Agony.

Fear.

The lightning serpent that Kade called Cheddar knew nothing but those four emotions right now. In the back of his mind, he remembered Kade—the being that had saved him from hatred and killing, from the voice in his head that had demanded death and blood even before he'd hatched. But the human was an afterthought. Inconsequential. The fight in front of him was all that mattered.

He'd wanted this fight for a long time. Since the human had summoned him into the world of red and blue for the first time. There was a powerful creature there. A beast whose strength crushed Cheddar's aura—and that of Kade, too. Cheddar knew he could not win. Not against such overwhelming power. And Kade hadn't let him fight. Not the last time, and not this time, either.

And oh, how he'd wanted nothing more than to give into his rage and fight. Kill. Attack.

So, the moment the overwhelmingly strong monster's aura faded and its body reshaped itself into a lightning serpent, Cheddar gave in to the rage.

Now, after nearly two hours of fighting, the only thing holding back Cheddar's fear was that rage, tempered by fury. Fury that he couldn't land a decisive blow. That his sunlight couldn't shred the clouds and lightning that protected his opponent. Fury that his purpose—to protect Kade and the ones Kade cared about—was going unfulfilled.

If Cheddar couldn't even beat a pathetic, wingless lightning serpent, how could he help Kade?

But beneath that fear was something else. He'd felt it before. Pain. But when he felt it, Kade was usually there to take him away from the danger and give him the freedom to attack. He disappeared and reappeared at Kade's side. Not this time, though. This time, the pain burned on and on until it was an agony that torched through even Cheddar's rage and fury.

Cheddar hated the monster he was fighting.

But he feared it, too.

And more than that, he feared he wasn't strong enough to defeat it.

As Cheddar braced himself for another wave of lightning to ripple across his sun-touched body, an emotion hit him like a tornado. A wave of calm…and clarity. Cheddar didn't spare a glance at Kade, even though he knew that was where it came from. Instead, he refocused on the thunder serpent in front of him.

"Now is the time," Eugene said. "Your pet's ready. The last two cores, kid, and then you're half-done."

Half done. Only halfway. Not even halfway. The enormity of what I was trying to do weighed on my mind and my core. It felt shaky. Unstable. Like there was already too much inside of it, and I was trying to pack it even fuller.

I could stop right here. That instability was a problem. Adding two more Laws, then consolidating them, would only make it worse. If I kept pushing my learning like this, something would go wrong.

But I couldn't stop. Not yet. Not until I was C-Rank. Jeff was counting on me—and with Ellen about to hit C-Rank herself, I'd be abandoning her, too. I'd promised I'd be with her for the long haul. And I needed the strength to make sure Jessie was taken care of. She was in danger every time a portal opened in Phoenix, and even if…

Could I leave here for the weeks it'd take to escort a convoy across the desert to Carlsbad Fortress? Had I made arrangements to keep her safe? Was I doing what I'd promised Dad? I had no idea—

"Kade, the cores," the God of Thunder said again. "I'll help you through these two. You've fought well, but you'll need the guidance. Focus."

Before I could nod in agreement—before I could even admit to myself that my hesitation was exhaustion—the last two cores appeared in front of me. The glowing ball of sunlight and churning orb of clouds both broke and mixed together, filling the void around me with bright, glowing fluff. Where it was thickest, it was almost silver. Close to the edges, it was a blinding white.

"Now, Kade, the final two Laws work together. You need to focus. Your brave little pet needs you to focus. The First Law of the Clouded Eye. What is it?"

"Protection…" I breathed, able to speak for the first time in this entire process. "Protection begets deception."

"Good. Perfect, even. Now, kid, when we fought, I didn't let you use your spells or aggressive stance. But I still demanded aggression." Something moved inside the clouds. Was it Cheddar? Or was it the God of Thunder? I couldn't tell. "If protection begets deception, what does deception beget?"

I closed my eyes. Eugene was giving me a hint. What I was seeing in the clouds wasn't Cheddar—and it wasn't him, either. Protection begat deception. It was a trick. But what did deception—

Something burst forth from the suddenly black clouds. A wave of light that washed over me, turning the void into the center of a star. It burned. I didn't have the words to describe it. All the shelter I wished I had wouldn't have protected me. No amount of patience would have let me endure. The Laws I'd learned started to slip from my core.

"Kade, focus!" For the first time, the God of Thunder's voice sounded urgent. "What does deception beget?"

I focused. And there was only one possible answer.

"Violence. Deception begets violence."

"Exactly. Well, not exactly, but within acceptable bounds."

Law Learned: Second Law of the Clouded Eye Mistwalk Forms: Rank D to C

The eye of the storm can be deceived. The shield of the maelstrom can be a weapon, Kade Noelstra. And as protection lends itself to deception, so too does deception lend itself to something more. The clouded eye of the hurricane may be calm, but it is the calm before another wave of devastation. In understanding this, you have taken a step down the Stormsteel Path: deception begets aggression.

Cloudwalk upgrades to Mistform: Consume two Rainfall Charges to become momentarily incorporeal.

I was so close. One more Law. One more step. I just needed to understand the Second Law of the Godray, and I'd be ready. If I just had the strength. The determination. I stared at the dark clouds that had, only a moment before, glowed bright with the sun's warmth—just before that warmth had burned me. But the answer didn't come. They were angry thunderheads, threatening to flood the God of Thunder's void space and destroy me.

And I wasn't sure I had the strength for the last Law.

"Stop," the God of Thunder said.

And everything stopped.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.