The iron gate rose slowly above the entrance to the practice yard. Sung-Il stood beside the pie stall in the court outside. Ahead of him, two porters were opening the gate for the deliveries. Beyond them, people were setting up tables for the Founders’ demonstrations.
Mara waited nearby with her five children. Owen had to turn sideways whenever someone passed because of the cardboard wall tied around him. Lani hugged her bean sack and watched a baker carry a tray into the yard.
Sung-Il watched it too. Lyra had already bought him a pie, but there was no harm in knowing what else was available.
"Will they explain the tournament here?" he asked Lyra.
"After the demonstrations. Entry requirements, registration, and the first trials."
Good. He wanted to hear exactly what stood between him and a hundred gold crowns. Preferably something he could walk around.
A porter pointed at a blue line painted through the entrance. "Children this side, please. Keep out of the cart lane."
The blue walking path ran along one side of the entrance. The wider space beside it was for carts. Both passed beneath the same raised gate. Mara gathered the children behind her while Sung-Il looked at the chains above them.
The chains ran from the gate to a large metal wheel beside the entrance. One porter turned a crank, winding the chains around the wheel and pulling the gate up. Heavy stone weights beside the arch helped balance it.
The other porter stood beside the gatepost with one hand against the wheel. His free hand rested on a long brake handle below it.
"Does he have to hold that all day?" Sung-Il asked.
The porter heard him and glanced over. "I can," the man called. "But I’d rather have lunch."
He was a broad man with rolled-up sleeves. His brown coat lay beside an iron bar near his boots.
"I’m Renn," he added. "My gift keeps things still while I touch them. It’s called Stay Put. I just need to keep a firm hold."
"Useful for this," Lyra said.
Renn nodded. "Once my partner puts the bar in, we can both leave."
His partner bent to pick it up. Renn pointed at a hole in the wheel and another in the frame beside it. Once the bar passed through both, the wheel could no longer turn. The gate would stay raised even after Renn removed his hand. That made sense. Sung-Il liked a safety measure he could understand by looking at it.
He put Six-Ears in an empty basket beside the pie stall. "Stay here. Don’t get stepped on."
The rabbit stood on its hind legs to look over the edge.
"And don’t eat that."
Six-Ears slowly removed its teeth from the basket handle.
The crank stopped turning. Renn kept his hand firmly against the wheel while his partner picked up the locking bar.
Both porters signalled that the children could pass.
Mara led them onto the blue path. They were going to rehearse in the marked corner of the yard while the workers finished arranging the tables.
She and the first three children had just reached the other side when Owen’s cardboard wall caught on a nail sticking out of the gatepost. He stopped and turned, trying to pull it free. Lani waited behind him.
Both children were still beneath the raised gate.
Then someone shouted from the delivery ramp. "WATCH OUT!"
A handcart loaded with grain sacks was rolling toward them too fast. Its driver pulled back on the handles, but a wheel struck a loose stone. The cart swerved out of its lane and crashed into the gatepost. Its wooden side struck Renn, knocking him against the post. His hand slipped off the wheel.
The gate started falling. Renn grabbed the brake handle and forced it down. Metal screeched beside his hands. The gate jerked to a stop just above Owen’s head.
The cart tipped over. Grain sacks spilled across the entrance, knocking Renn’s partner to the ground. The iron bar slipped from his hand and rolled across the paving.
"GET BACK!" Renn shouted.
The crowd stumbled away from the entrance. Mara pushed the three children behind her farther into the yard, away from the falling gate. Lyra rushed forward from the court and grabbed Owen’s costume. The cardboard would not come loose, so she tore it. Owen stumbled into her arms. She pushed him back into the court, where the pie seller caught his shoulder and pulled him clear. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Lani tried to follow. A sack sliding from the overturned cart struck her legs. She fell onto the blue path, and the sack landed across her foot. She was directly beneath the gate. Her bean sack remained clutched against her chest. She tried to stand, but her trapped foot pulled her back down.
Lyra turned toward her at once. Behind them, people were already moving. Two men caught the overturned cart before it could slide farther into the children. Another crouched beside Renn’s partner and began dragging a sack off his leg. The pie seller pushed Owen behind her stall and sent her boy running for the healer. Inside the yard, Mara held the other three children back while a demonstration worker hurried over to help her.
Sung-Il took a step away from the gate. There was plenty of room behind the pie stall. Nobody would blame him for standing there. He had bandages on both hands and bruised ribs. He was practically a patient already.
Then Lani looked at him.
She pulled at her leg again. The sack barely moved. Her mouth trembled as she looked from Lyra to the adults outside.
He remembered sitting behind the school curtain with a cardboard tree costume across his knees. He had wanted a speaking part. The other children had laughed, and he had refused to go onstage.
He had waited there, upset and embarrassed, hoping his teacher would come looking for him.
Lani pulled at her foot again.
"Damn it."
He put his pie down and hurried toward Renn. The porter had gotten one hand back against the wheel. Yet he was still leaning hard on the brake, his knees shaking. Earlier, he had held the gate without breaking a sweat. Something was wrong.
Sung-Il stopped behind him and focused on his backside. One second. Two.
[RECTUM ANALYSIS]
[PELVIC STRAIN: ELEVATED]
The tension was much stronger on one side. As Renn tried to straighten his injured leg, a new line appeared beneath the familiar reading.
[LOCAL MANA FLOW: IRREGULAR]
Mana?
He had seen the leftover energy around Brina’s sore muscles. This time, the faint line near Renn’s strained side flickered as the man struggled to hold his position.
Then Renn’s leg gave a small jerk.
His fingers slipped off the wheel.
The faint line faded, and the gate dropped another few inches.
"Your gift isn’t holding!" Sung-Il said.
"My hip," Renn gasped. "Hit the post. Can’t keep my hand steady."
Every time his injured leg gave way, his hand lost contact with the wheel. His gift stopped working, leaving him to hold the brake down by force.
"Lyra! Hurry! He’s about to fall!"
She was already beside Lani, pushing at the sack across her foot. It shifted, then stopped against the overturned cart. The two men holding the cart saw what she was trying to do. They bent their knees and began lifting its side, giving her room to move the sack.
Sung-Il grabbed the brake handle beside Renn’s hands. He immediately regretted it. The handle pushed upward so hard that his elbows bent. Pain shot through his palms. He tried to pull it down, but his feet slid forward.
"Bend your knees!" Renn said. "Use your weight!"
Sung-Il looked down. Renn had one foot behind the other and his hips close to the handle. The reading showed the muscles around his pelvis tightening whenever he pressed down.
Sung-Il was standing too far away. He was trying to do everything with his arms.
[PELVIC BRACING: UNSTABLE]
"Tell me, how can I help, you stupid ASSHOLE!"
"I’m sorry, I was shouting at my ability, not you, Renn."
Sung-Il wanted to cover his face. Unfortunately, both hands were busy preventing a gate from crushing people. He moved closer and copied the porter’s stance. His back foot slipped on grain. For one terrible moment, his weight came off the handle.
He scraped his boot onto a clear patch of stone, bent his knees, and leaned down again. This time, the pressure passed through his legs instead of folding his arms. The handle stayed down. It still hurt. It hurt considerably. But at least he was holding it.
A courier hurried over from the pie stall. Seeing the two men struggling, he put down his parcel and grabbed the outer end of the handle. With his help, Renn managed to take some weight off his injured leg.
"Get the bar," Sung-Il told him.
"Can you—"
"Quickly!"
Renn limped after it. Sung-Il and the courier pressed down together as his weight left the handle. The brake scraped loudly, and the wheel began turning again. Slowly, but it was turning.
Sung-Il looked down in horror. They were holding the handle down as far as it would go. The brake was still slipping. Something inside it had broken when the cart struck.
"BRINAAA! HELP!"
His shout carried toward the steps leading back to the headquarters square.
"THE GATE!"
Around him, the others kept working. The man beside Renn’s partner finally pulled the sack away and helped him sit up. One of the demonstration workers brought a thick wooden beam toward the entrance, ready to support the gate once they could raise it. The two men at the cart lifted it another few inches.
Lyra shoved the grain sack aside. Lani’s shoe remained caught beneath it. She bent lower and reached for the girl’s ankle. Sung-Il could see her. He could see the gate above her too.
"Come on," he muttered, pressing harder.
Warmth spread from his stomach into his legs.
[LESSER IRON GUT ACTIVE]
His knees steadied, but the handle kept pushing upward.
It wasn’t enough.
He tried to force more of that warmth into his legs, the way he had pushed through the exhaustion at the farm. His stomach tightened. The heat surged, flowing through him much faster.
A warning flashed.
[STAMINA OUTPUT: THREEFOLD]
[RESERVE CONSUMPTION ACCELERATED]
[WARNING: RAPID EXHAUSTION WILL FOLLOW]
Fine. He would be exhausted later.
He would happily lie down later. He would spend the entire evening lying down if someone would get the child out from under the gate first.
Sung-Il dragged in another breath and pressed harder. His legs held, though his palms still burned. The warmth in his stomach was already thinning as he used it.
Beside him, the courier leaned his whole weight onto the handle.
The wheel slowed.
It did not stop.
A small yellow shape landed beside his boot.
"Six-Ears? Go back!"