7 Trial of Patience
Orion found himself standing before a green anvil.
More specifically, he found himself on the circular summit of a tall mountain. Other peaks could be seen in the distance but not as tall as the one he was currently in.
Moonlight bathed the snowy landscape as a cold breeze threatened to freeze his body...
To his right, an onyx hammer stood — supported on its rectangular head. To his left was a small pile of different ores, each one of a different color, form, or texture.
Orion turned.
There, he found an even taller pile of weapons. Swords, bows, shields, pendants. All of them scattered and discarded, as they weren't good enough for the standards.
He lost track of how many days he spent in this specific trial. Or maybe weeks? He couldn't remember.
At first, he waited patiently for the challenge to appear. For the Clubs Wraith, that would start the trial. And yet, nobody came.
The first hours were spent in pure confusion. Orion walked back and forth, waiting for the Wraith to appear. But no one came, only accompanied by a chilling wind.
And — driven by boredom — he got the hammer and ore and started smithing.
'My hands are numb…'
The first time, his hands and chest began burning up. Similar to how his heart, brain, and vocal cords did. But this time, he sensed a better control in strength.
More precision. Better agility.
Not only that, but he could sense a strange aura appearing around the hammer's head.
'My head hurts.'
Seeing that, Orion grasped the hammer firmly and got a chunk of metal.
With the first strike, that same aura around the hammer was transferred into the ore. Thin jade veils flew into the air and remained there.
Waiting to be molded.
If Orion reached with his fingers, he would be able to touch them. To control them. He would be able to look deep into them and see what they were made of. What granted them existence.
He could modify those traits with expertise as if he always knew how to do it.
And that's how he spent these last few days.
Striking.
Molding.
Creating.
Destroying.
'I want to stop.'
It was on the first night that he realized what was the trial's purpose. To create a weapon. Or a piece of armor. Anything mattered.
Yet, no matter how many he created. Not one of them mattered. All worthless.
'I feel like I'm going to die.'
Orion always wondered how a Wraith of Clubs worked.
Spades were known for their defense and offense. Diamonds for their intelligence. Hearts for their deceiving tactics. But Clubs?
They were the strangest of them all.
They attacked with a strange force, with a mysterious energy that could condense itself in different types of weapons or artifacts.
If one wanted, it could create a perfectly-tracking arrow that never missed. Or a hammer that could cut better than most swords' edges.
It was… magic?
Some sort of sorcery?
Orion didn't know.
'I want to stop.'
He would sometimes find the same Wraiths creating these things. Perhaps it was a self-igniting lantern or a gate that lifted itself automatically.
Sometimes, the procedure took mere hours.
'I want to give up. I want to rest.'
But other times, the whole process took days.
Weeks.
Months.
'I just want to get out. Please.'
But Orion was always fascinated by one thing. No matter if the result failed to such an extent that their whole bodies were on the verge of being destroyed.
Failed at such a point that no sane being would try it again.
To the extreme that a mere human would be traumatized to even think about it, let alone try it again.
The Clubs Wraiths would always keep on trying.
No matter how bleak the process was. No matter how many resources they wasted or how many times their lives were put on the line.
The Wraith will always finish their job, simple or complex.
'Just get me out of here! Please!'
The same monotonous action is repeated constantly, and its consequence is entirely different each time.
Orion recalled something.
Insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results to happen. A sane being wouldn't act that way.
Orion blinked.
He lost track of time again. Perhaps mere minutes passed, or an entire day went by again.
He looked at the anvil. He had finished smithing yet another sword.
He looked back. He had created a lot of new weapons to this point.
But these weren't good enough. And Orion didn't know why.
Somewhere… something in the procedure was going wrong. Something made all these things worthless. Meaningless. But Orion didn't know what it was.
He sighed.
His lips were dry. His stomach roared. His hands were simply not there for him. They moved against Orion's will as if they had a consciousness.
Looking to his left, Orion went to get another metal. And he realized. No ores were remaining.
A spark of hope ignited in his eyes as his lips began curving up, not believing what he was seeing.
"This…" his voice was broken. "This is it. It's done! It's over!"
For the first time in days, Orion's lips curved up.
It was finally over! All those days smithing the same worthless weapons finally paid off! There was simply nothing else to do!
And looked all around him, waiting to be brought back to the throne room.
And yet.
Nothing happened.
The mountain remains as silent as the last days… or hours. Or weeks. The wind caressed Orion's body as it always did, reminding him of his fate.
His hope quickly died off.
Those seconds of expectation hit harder than any sting of pain from hunger and thirst.
It was demoralizing.
He remained motionless.
Not moving his fingers.
Not moving his eyes.
His mind was empty with no thoughts.
He blankly stared at the anvil in front of him.
Until something appeared from the edge of the mountain's summit.
A gigantic blob of a jade color. At least eight meters tall and wide.
It was an extremely viscous liquid slowly moving forward. Orion frowned until he noticed what was inside of that slime.
Metals.
His entire world shattered.
The slime slowly moved towards his left and let out yet another uncountable number of metals as its body began shrinking.
After a painful minute, the slime climbed on top of the anvil — its form now as small as Orion's hand.
And it looked at him.
Orion mumbled,
"Clubs Wraith. There you are. I was looking for you…"
The Wraith remained still for some seconds. It stretched its body a bit, appearing like a long, thin stick.
And then bowed.
Orion kept staring at it with dead eyes. Staring at the Wraith, who so casually was leaving him alone again, climbing down the mountain.
'Ah. I understand now.'
Orion looked at the new pile of ores.
The trial was never to create a weapon. It was never about smithing itself. It had nothing to do with a Wraith of Clubs nature.
It was about perseverance.
In this trial, Orion was presented with two choices.
Do nothing and wait, which would eventually lead to your demise as your body slowly decays.
A meaningless death of boredom and inaction.
Or, grab the hammer and start working.
And for what? No reason.
Orion thought that if he created the perfect weapon, he would eventually be freed from this trial. A mere supposition based on his circumstances.
If he had stopped smithing, he would've died.
But if he continued, there was a slight chance he would complete the trial. And that's what he did, even if the results were not what he expected.
He just kept going.
He knew that at some point, another clue would appear. Something to guide him. And it did appear. But it wasn't a clue as he expected.
Instead, it was the answer.
He knew it in the first place.
He was actively working with the answer, but he couldn't realize it. Now, it was as clear as water.
Perseverance and patience are the most important of virtues. The one that will make him survive in the Wraith Realm.
Because no matter how meaningless or futile an effort may seem, at the end of the day, you'll make it.
The boulder will fall down the hill multiple times, and your future will depend on whether or not you decide to push it back up.
If you give up, you'll never be free.
If you push it again, maybe you'll be free.
It's all up to you, after all.
Orion grabbed another metal and struck it down with the hammer.
The world went black.
…
Orion opened his eyes.
This time, he didn't wake up in the throne room. His arms weren't restrained anymore, and the place was significantly smaller.
He lifted his head and stared forward.
The Vow Wraith was looking at him — its head resting on its right fist.
"I am impressed."
