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The Elevatum mountain, which sat upon the island of Pavimentum, was infamously known to be overrun by a group of bothersome and disorderly women. They occupied the peak of Elevatum with weird hubbub. They came with all their friends, taking up too much space without hesitation and making too much noise. The men, who lived at the foot of Mt. Elevatum, were not allowed to venture up its face, nor enjoy its glorious views.
One day, a small cohort of the men had had enough. They knew something had to be done, and they had to make haste. They held gatherings to discuss the best way to end the authoritarian regime that had long suppressed their chance of rapture. The group yearned to reach the summit of Mt. Elevatum and they knew their time had come. They believed they could accomplish what the rest of the male population on Pavimentum could never.
One, who shall just be called Bob, had been elected as the voice of reason through the course of these past meetings. He called an emergency meeting with his insurgent group. His message was clear: the men, who would call themselves the “Order of the Blade,” shall set forth to battle in one day. They needed little preparation for what lay ahead.
So, they armed up, sharpening their blades and wearing armor made of whatever pieces they could scrap together, holding it together with tape to succeed against the women who were powerfully equipped with only their words. The meeting ended with celebratory flying chest bumps and a joint chant and they headed bravely towards their adversaries.
Amid bumping music and dim lights, the main battalion approached the frontlines. The women stood brazenly at the summit. From the shadows emerged a cloaked figure, riding a two-antlered stag. Bob stepped forward to the figure, who asked him about his coming.
The man, who revealed himself as Daedalus, had but few words to say. He offered a warning: the light at the top of the mountain, which was created to keep the women warm and happy, would not have the same effect on the men. He advised the battalion to stay only at the foot of Mt. Elevatum, for any higher and they would burn.
Bob thanked him, though he dismissed the warning. The men had concrete feelings on the matter: the zenith would be theirs.
The troops pressed on, meeting resistance as they made their way through. The battle of Elevatum had commenced. They pushed forth valiantly through the chaos of the battle, trying to reach the top where they could lay their claim to the mountain once and for all. It seemed the Order was winning and would inevitably ascend to power in no time.
After shoving aside a female warrior, Bob stepped onto the apex of Mt. Elevatum. He planted his foot down and gazed upon the entirety of Pavimentum. It was not long before the rest of his battalion stood next to him on the peak. The Order had succeeded.
But their triumph was short-lived.
It seemed Bob had strayed too close to the light, and his armor had begun to melt. He tried to warn his fellow warriors to retreat, but it was too late. Their makeshift chest plates and chainmail had melted into one, and the soldiers began to fall down the mountain. And yet, even as they fell, the men did not curse the light, nor their planning shortcomings.
The men turned their critique towards the only group that let them continue to feel as though they had some sort of power. That would be the very women who caused this problem by being there first, by not warning them of the power of the light. It was only fair that the men got a chance of being at the top of Mt. Elevatum as well.
The defeated Order did their best to gather their dignity together, and they were ready in no time to plan their return, remaining steadfast in their abilities. They knew it was the height that burned them. It was not the certainty that it belonged to them.
