Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The silence that fell over the amphitheater after the Stone Chimera's death was heavy, like settled dust. Kaedan sat with his back against the huge obsidian stalactite that still pinned the monster's body to the floor. Each breath echoed with a sharp pain in his cracked ribs, but the young man didn't hurry to use the medical kits. He listened. He listened to how deep within him, in the very depths of his Vessel, the storm caused by the extreme exertion of power slowly subsided.
Iskon rose to his feet. His movements were jerky, unsteady, but his gaze remained just as cold. He approached the monster's head.
"We need to take what the Temple created this guardian to protect," Iskon rasped. He drew his double-edged sword. "In the body of a creature of this scale, there must be a core. Without it, obsidian is just stone."
The young man began to methodically open the Chimera's carapace around its sternum. It was hard work—even after the guardian's death, its scales retained incredible density. Kaedan, overcoming his weakness, rose and came to help, using his stone vambraces as levers.
After a few minutes of intense effort, they reached their goal. Deep in the monster's chest, among the intertwined frozen energy veins, it pulsed.
It was the Core—a crystal the size of an adult's head, shaped like a complex polyhedron. It didn't glow with a steady light; inside it swirled vortices of a thick, oily substance, constantly changing color from deep indigo to bright orange. A powerful low-frequency hum emanated from the object, making the knights' armor vibrate finely.
"The Core," Iskon gazed at the crystal, mesmerized. "It contains all the energy the Chimera absorbed for centuries. If we leave it here, the Temple will simply create a new guardian in a couple of days."
Kaedan carefully touched one of the crystal's facets. His fingers instantly went numb from the excess pressure of power. "We must share this," Kaedan said, looking Iskon straight in the eye. "Bert and Olaf are wounded. They need recovery. But for you and me... we need something more."
Iskon hesitated for a moment. His fingers convulsively tightened on his sword's hilt. In his gaze flickered that very pride that always made him act alone. He wanted to take it all. His Vessel craved this power to instantly heal his joints and take a step towards the next rank. But he looked at the battered Bert, at Olaf who could barely hold his shield, and at Kaedan, whose defense had been shattered into splinters for Iskon's final blow.
"Fair enough," Iskon tossed out laconically, sheathing his sword. "We are a detachment. For now."
The process of dividing the Core required extreme concentration. Kaedan and Iskon placed their hands on the crystal, creating a closed circuit. Bert and Olaf sat beside them, their shoulders touching their leaders'.
"Begin," Iskon commanded.
Kaedan felt a red-hot stream gush from the Core into his palms. It was not a gentle warmth—it was a crude, unrefined power that slammed into his channels like a battering ram. The young man gritted his teeth, forcing his inner essence to accept this gift, to grind it down and densify it.
Most of the power, by unspoken agreement, went to Iskon and Kaedan—as the group's main combat units. Iskon absorbed the power greedily, his Scaling Spirit literally vibrating, expanding the boundaries of possibility. Kaedan, meanwhile, focused on density. He felt his energy fill every micro-crack in his bones, his ribs knitting together under this pressure in minutes.
Bert and Olaf received their share—enough to stabilize their wounds and restore muscle tone. Kaedan saw Bert's face flush, his broken arm locking into place thanks to a sharp spike in regeneration.
The crystal in their hands began to dim. The vortices inside it slowed until it turned into ordinary clear quartz, which immediately crumbled into fine sand.
Kaedan straightened up. He felt... different. His power had reached a level where it began to exert pressure on the reality around him. Every movement he made was weighty. He understood that he was just one step away from the Pillar rank, one critical situation that would force his Vessel to finally transform.
"Your energy... it's become heavy, Kaedan," Olaf remarked, rising to his feet. He looked much more alert.
"We've all become heavier for this place," Iskon replied. He rolled his shoulders, and the dry crack of his joints sounded like a shot. The pain was gone, replaced by a feeling of colossal reserve of strength. "The Temple wanted to cull us, but it only gave us the tools to break through."
Iskon looked towards the exit from the amphitheater. "Now we go to the Center."
Kaedan nodded. He felt his Unbreakable Armor, restored and even more massive, thirst for a new battle. The Seventh Detachment, wounded but unbroken, now fueled by the power of the Temple itself, moved on. Ahead was the Central Axis, and Kaedan knew—there, they would meet those who considered themselves masters of this world. But after the victory over the Chimera, his confidence in his own rightness had become as solid as the basalt of his defense.