A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Beam eyed it warily, unsure whether it was going to remain standing. He cursed again, rolling out of the way, trying to find an opening with which he could use his training. He had his misdirection that he'd grown so reliant upon and he had his strength style, that single overbearing attack. But with how fluent their movements were, the horned goblins gave him no opening.

It was like going against an army.

They continued to hound him, not giving him a chance to recover. The unarmed goblin continued to run along the front line, pinning him in place, whilst the spear-wielding goblins cut off his retreat and continually aimed at him from the flank.

One thing became clear to Beam as they ran him around. "I need to get better," he murmured. For the first time since his battle with the hobgoblin, that feeling was beginning to spread through him. Despite his training, despite his recent efforts, it wasn't enough.

That irritated him. Why wasn't it enough? Why did it never seem to be enough? It was irritating, but it was also exhilarating, for there were greater heights to be reached, despite his continued inadequacies.

The feeling of greed, that want for progress, it began to spread through his chest, as he felt his face grow slick with sweat. He eyed the horned goblin in front of him carefully, as the first wormings of fear crept through him. The spears were getting closer and closer to piercing his flesh, until finally, one did.

It tore through his side, ripping the surface of the skin. Beam grunted in acknowledgement. The wound hadn't been deep, not to his flesh. But to his pride, it was a slap in the face. He'd dared to grow complacent, as every man was want to when progress was going his way.

And yet that was indeed the destiny of man, that continual cycle of complacency, followed by a weight that he needed to grow stronger to lift – the continual striving forward. -Enjoy!

Yet Beam was not the same man that he was before. He was not the same boy that had needed to so desperately claw for even the faintest murmurings of progress. He knew struggle, better than most. His lifetime of suffering gave him all the fuel he needed for continued evolution.

That was not all, though. It was not merely suffering that drove him anymore. It would have been easy to fall into despair, as he felt his back once more be pushed up against the wall. As he saw arrows zooming towards his face and he had to desperately swat them away. It would be easy to curse, and say, "again, am I not good enough?"

That day with the hobgoblin was worth more than that, however. The depth of that victory was not merely something that functioned as an isolated event. In subordinating both Ingolsol's curse and Claudia's blessing, he had reached a state of potential that even made the hero knight Dominus' skin tingle.

Only now, for the first time since his battle, was he being forced to test the limits of that potential.

He felt the darkness whirling in him, Ingolsol's acknowledgement of adversity. He felt the light too – Claudia's own hope of progress, her nourishment and protection. And ruling them both, he felt his own heart beat like a war drum, the fingers of his soul reaching towards the ever-unobtainable crown.

His grip tightened on his sword. He feigned a step backwards. The goblin fist came driving for his face. Beam swung his sword at it. The creature ducked. Just as he was learning its attack patterns, so too had it been allowed to learn his.

But rather than the sword it had expected, it was a fist that came towards it. Before it even knew what was happening, knuckles were driving into its face, flattening its nose. It was airborne before it even had the chance to scream out in surprise. Beam caught his airborne sword a moment later and loosened his shoulders.

"Now... Will you teach me?" He murmured to himself, as the horned goblins charged in with their spears and as the arrows sped towards his back. There was potential in the air, he could feel it. A more sensitive warrior might have felt it too, as though a giant was sucking in all the oxygen in the air, using it for himself.

As the goblins came in, Beam ceased to think. Instead, he opened himself to new ideas, he allowed his body to move in ways he had not trained it to. He looked for the source of all things, that guiding river of progress his master always spoke about.

Spear points neared his chest. His sword met one of them, before his wrist flicked that point into the rest, attempting to get the goblins to trip over each other. But the giant balls of meaty muscle quickly adjusted and kept their forward momentum going, bearing down on him with a roar.

He dared to hold his ground. Only at the last second, did he twist his hips, barely allowing the point of spears to pass him, whilst the third looked as though it would pierce his heart. Instead of dodging it, he stepped past it, allowing the point to knick his shoulder.

And then, with all the authority of a war god, he brought his sword down in a sharp and dominant display, his strike purer than he had ever managed it. He split that goblin in two with the utmost grace, as the blood spurted out, coating all that was around him.

The spear-wielding goblins that had charged past looked on in dismay. These horned goblins – just like all goblins – their strength lay in unity. Once one goblin had been removed, it was already the beginning of the end. Their strategies grew less effective, less fluid, and their defences became increasingly exposed.

Beam looked at them with a smile, feeling a renewed vigour in his body. Never in his life had he felt such potential. Never had he been able to progress merely by willing it. The talents that had been suppressed his entire life, they began to come to the fore.

Through struggle, he had broken through that second boundary, he had defeated the hobgoblin and saved his soul from the tug of war of two Gods, and now here he stood, swimming in a sea of potential that even Arthur would be jealous of.

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