Chapter 110 The Final Trial : The Weaving Of Faith

• And through the noise, he heard it. His voice. Not thundering, not booming, but clear, firm and commanding. One of not the greatest, one of the inner dedication of himself, of his own volition. "Keep climbing."
• And of course, he did. Barging through the voices still whispering over his shoulders, hearing more distinctly the voice that told him to keep climbing, his unwavering will seeping out of him. He crawled up on enthusiastic arms, bellowing chest, thudding and whining hands. He kept on going even when he started bleeding; but he didn’t stop until he had stretched to the farthest distant point of the tower; until his hands spun on whirling vapor around the top of it.
• The instant he set his foot upon the peak of the tower, the tower disappeared, disappeared like nothing was ever there. He was once again standing on the ground, the wind dancing round him, cloud-like substance tugging at his ankles.