Whether the army of hooligans knew who the boy was did not matter, for a path into the castle had been opened.
Every guard on the other side of the wall, who were collecting and handing out weapons, were taken and thrown out.
New volunteers from the hooligan army took the opportunity and started handing out better weaponry than what Cheal was able to arrange for them.
None still parted with the totem of small dagger handed to them personally by Cheal or any other. It was always meant as a secondary weapon.
Little did they know that was why an army of hooligans was able to walk all the way from the outer city boroughs to the castle.
It had Cleaving's terrifying mystical law embedded into it. The how known by one man, Cheal.
Battlefield moved, from the castle gardens filled with artistic bushes and pots, to the entry in the castle from the inventory wall's hole.
It was the castle guards turn to funnel the hooligans into a death trap of their own making.
However, another wave of war party of a thousand hooligans and ruffians demanding a meeting with the Monarch jumped across or sidestepped the hole to the vault underneath. Entering the castle garden, all their swords ablaze.
Effect of action of fire but contained to the edges. The swords held onto its integrity.
The flame was dim enough that it didn't blind the sword holder, but apparent enough to make out where the flames danced.
Every sword had its own color, an effect gained due to the material used for the sword.
Guards forgot the boy in brown overcoat, their major miscalculation of the death trap apparent.
The first wave had arrived.
It cut into the backs of the guards while some climbed atop the walls silently from the outside, everyone's focus in the castle on the group that had taken over the inventory of weapons.
Boy in the brown overcoat walked away not into the inventory. He recognized the trap he himself created.
His need was to deviate all attention to his action than to where he will go after.
Huffing under the cloud of dust that erupted from the formation of the hole in the wall, he murmured, "just don't be near the keep, don't be near the keep."
A mantra he wished became true.
It did not.
The castle guards abandoned the inner castle path and doorways, but they chose to strengthen the keep.
Shaking his head and avoiding a downward slash. He smashed the head of the attacker.
Pommel driven into the skull with the rope sling. His swing came onto the man's helmet and cracked it open. The cold seeped in freezing his brain.
The sword that the boy had used shattered in the hole, only its handguard remained.
He chose that shattered handguard will be his new rope mace.
Smashing skulls with a fast revolving cooling effect mace in a battlefield where the enemy wore more cold conducting material than the attacking force?
He welcomed the odds.
That's when he heard a cry, a voice he recognized. It has been five different war parties advance on the castle when the main voice, he had searched in the advance party, finally came.
"To the keep people! To the keep! We need answers and the Monarch Gweren will answer it all!" Cheal valiantly let arrows be let loose at him. He jumped before any reached him across and down into the vaults.
The boy saw his jump. He considered whether the inner castle was better or the vaults route following after Cheal.
A silence heralded his decision. And thus his advance to the inner castle.
"Let Cheal handle the maze," he muttered under a breath. Breaking into a run revolving his icy broken handguard as an impromptu rope mace, he barreled into the inner castle breaking the door on its hinges.
Several concussive attacks before the action of ice ran out on the handguard. He was in.
Cheal's route wasn't without his own misgivings. His belief that the vault will be empty was wrong. He had spotted readied spears to skewer people jumping down.
Who held them was of no consequence. All would die. Yet he chose this maze of vaults.
He used the same secret he used before arriving at the city of Cleaving with the wanderer leading that advance through the wildfire then.
Whereas the wanderer currently strangled two different types of castle guards with his rope. His entry into the inner castle was easy, only what followed after had a successive increase of soldiers.
Each one died to the handguard impromptu mace until the handguard broke apart. His strangle of the current guards was in response by using his special rope as a whip.
It wasn't much different than how he used it as a sling, and perfectly let the soldiers be embraced to death.
Cheal meanwhile travelled inside a deeper corridor of the maze of vaults. He was marveling at the architecture used to make the corridors.
"How did Gweren implement the fake sky?" He asked the wind.
He looked in through a window of a vault, there were no people inside. "Empty, this one too."
He walked along, checked another. And another.
Changing corridors, he arrived through a flight of stairs in one lit with weird starlight. "That is truly marvelous."
A night-like light suffused his skin. As he walked among the starlight beams dancing around.
Letting the starlight judge his intents, he voiced them out, "Joy. Beginning of joy."
Light that seemed to be of stars shimmered on the words.
Cheal didn't look through another window, he was preoccupied playing with the starlight as his collected ragtag army fought the castle guards. And a wanderer in a brown overcoat laid waste to the distracted squadron one at a time.
The Rigac Cathedral's bells rang marking the end of the fifth hour since the first rays of the morning.
"Morning's horizon had spread," marked Noria the priest.
She and the staff of the Rigac cathedral had done their best and were advancing slowly, with the remaining Skyact Guards as protection, through the outer city boroughs.
Orna spoke up, "keep your nose and mouth covered at all times! Do not breath in a lot of steamy smoke!"
He coughed through his mouth cover.
Leous wished to help the old artist, but her conscious reminded her, 'I am the reason he has lost everything.'
Her insides churned to want to protect the people. She had shared the details of how to do the bestowment action of the Monarch Gweren.
It was the same one now Cheal observed through one of the windows of another vault in a different corridor. Blood pooled behind him trailing the paths he had taken.
Inside the vault being observed, hundreds of men, women, boys and girls did the same simple action of tapping three dots in a vertical line above their height away from themselves.
As they did the action they ran back, the ones who didn't get hit with the instantaneous effect of that action breathed in the breath they had been wanting.
While there were few who got either incinerated by a meteorite, starlight that didn't discriminate the selected range, and sudden floatation of the one who did the action.
The floatation ones were saved by the soldiers in the vaults, they ran to get their hands on those special ones.
A voice boomed through the vault and it reached the window where Cheal was, "Remember to keep performing the action of sky! We need to stabilize the throne of the Monarch. It is up to us to save Ashtrim!"
Cheal didn't know how the voice boomed across, but he saw two effects more.
One that created a small patch of a fake sky, and another that rattled the air violently in front of the action performer.
Both didn't harm the ones who did do the actions, but he could see it. See that every single one of kidnapped citizenry is starved.
Not because they weren't fed. The soldiers personally brought food and water to them as many times as they could, or the action performers went to the buffet set up in any of the designated areas.
"This starvation…hmm, it seems to be an effect of the action's toll. But how do these actions actually work?" Cheal was still puzzled on that part.
A question that was asked by people of Ashtrim the continent, some did get the answer and the know-how.
Others of the majority did not. Cheal and the wanderer had never asked the ones that probably knew the answer.
The question did reverberate through the wanderer today several times, but he answered it with one. "The enhancing mix equals out whatever I am using for these actions."
He had climbed through a few floors of the inner castle. His journey to the keep was ever laden with several ambushes waiting to be unraveled.
He did respond with one of his own traps, a mace he fashioned time after time with random objects clamped into the holding spot of the rocks in his rope sling.
Yet a more thorough future trap of a shiny quality always was added at random places in the inner castle. Sometimes in the side of a burning torch, other times in the pockets of his dead victims.