Chapter 51

The Harrowing Terror

Sylas was currently observing Tebek as the man relayed the orders around the hole in the wall. It was there, Sylas noticed—the nervousness, the guilt. It was right in front of his eyes but he missed it. In fact, as his plans shifted around, Tebek fell on the wayside of things, with the sole purpose being just a strong body for the defense. But now that strong body would have to go.

Sighing, he looked up at the cloudy, bleak sky, forecasting that it would soon rain. The reason he knew was obvious—it always rained on this day. Once again, he took a few days off after resetting the loop to recalibrate his mind and reattune to magic all over again. During the days, he continued rummaging through his mind trying to discern what Dyn’s purpose was—why he needed the castle emptied and what—if anything—it had to do with the Shard.

Furthermore, there was one more detail that didn't fit into any of the boxes—the man Tenner saw on the night of the battle when they were ambushed, the one who had slain the Prince, he didn't fit anywhere. Though Sylas was on the lookout for the 'cape', it was too broad of a definition—after all, it could have been a cloak and not the cape. It was dark, and Tenner—just like everyone else—had just been roused from the sleep by Sylas' shouts.

It wasn’t Dyn—at least Sylas didn’t think it was Dyn. He’d never seen the man wear anything close to resembling a cape, mostly sticking to hoods and shawls. This meant that there was another player in the game, someone who could sneak into the most well-guarded tent and assassinate the highest priority target and then walk away, unseen.

“Man, I need to clear my head a bit,” he mumbled, heading toward the training grounds to swing away wildly for a while.

He had to wait at least a month until Dyn approached him for the next onset of the plan—to try and squeeze the actual reason as to why Dyn wanted the castle emptied from the man. Until then, there was little he could do—questioning Derrek didn’t seem to have a purpose at the time since the man, as it turned out, was unrelated to Dyn’s plan and his being here was a pure, cosmic coincidence.

In the end, he could, realistically, only practice—swordsmanship, talismans, and magic. Every day, five-six hours apiece. There were a lot of diminishing returns by now, he realized. Once more, he’d capped out his skills with a sword; his body could no longer catch up to his intentions, and that would continue to be the case within this loop, he knew. He suspected that the current loop would likely have a save point after either Dyn died or the castle was defended, but he couldn’t be certain. As such, he didn’t make plans with that in mind.

It was on the day that he suspected Dyn to arrive that he had a 'eureka' moment that he should have had loops ago. Why not let Dyn go through with whatever he was planning? That way, Sylas didn't need to wreck his mind trying to figure out how to bamboozle the young man out of the information he needed, and, instead, could just sit back, relax, and watch it all unfold.

He wasn’t terribly clever, he realized—at least not within the framework of his experiences. Not just yet, anyway. He’d get there, of that he was certain.

Going through the motions with Dyn, he played it out exactly the same as before—letting the man approach him during the ‘ball’, setting up the meeting the morning after, and introducing him to Ryne—the whole package. Three days swiftly passed and he, once again, found himself standing on the wall. This time around, however, he didn’t follow after Dyn and Tebek immediately. In fact, he waited until the battle was all but imminent—with the dark silhouettes emerging within the raging blizzard—before leaving. As he left, ‘Dyn’ still stood by him, giving him the creeps. Whatever magic he was using… Sylas wanted it.

The inner compound of the castle was dreary and beyond eerie. Silent, dark, it looked like a set from a horror movie realized within life. Rather than running around aimlessly, Sylas went ahead to the central building of the castle and stood by the gates. It provided a clear view of most of the compound, save for the backs of the wings, and it was the shortest distance from most other points of interest.

Minutes passed swiftly, with the sounds of the battle occasionally breaking out through the blizzard. Ever so often, Sylas saw the wounded being carried back. He couldn't imagine what it was like fighting in such conditions when the shadow next to you could just easily be a friend as it could be a foe.

Nonetheless, nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. As the minutes ticked by, Sylas’ frown deepened. Was Dyn just… mental? Did he not have a plan coming in? Was he just winging it? At this point, everything was possible. Just as his hopes were being dashed, however, hurried footsteps coming from within the castle drew his attention. There, he saw Dyn hastily walking out, unmasked, his face completely pale, the Shard still in his hand.

“Impossible… impossible… where is it? How can it not be there? The message said it would be here… they’ll kill me, they’ll kill me, they’ll kill me…” What the shit is he on about?! Sylas, electing not to intercept the man, decided to instead follow him.

Surprisingly, rather than going in the direction of the battle, he went ahead toward the hastily-repaired hole in the wall. Any form of siege weaponry would knock this baby out with the faintest of swings, but at least it projected confidence.

Dyn snuck out through one of the temporary doors used by people working on the wall to go in and out, and Sylas followed. The man started walking north, into the forest, causing Sylas to wince and cringe, his entire body shuddering. He’d already accrued quite a few traumatic memories and experiences in this world, he realized. Surprisingly, electing to off himself who-knows-how-many-times didn’t build up his psyche as much as he thought he would.

Luckily, Dyn took a sharp, right turn instead of beelining north—all before the first patch of trees that acted like a Talisman Circle. Sylas was majorly shocked that he remained unspotted—it wasn’t as though he was particularly good at shadowing someone, not to mention the fact that he’d quite often step onto a cracking leaf or two, sounds which Dyn should have heard. He must be just that out of it…

Eventually, the man led Sylas to a small hole in the ground—one hidden beneath an overgrown shrub and a few patches of leaves. Dyn dipped inside without bothering to close it up, either too confident he wasn't followed or too single-minded with his goal. Sylas waited for a moment before following. If he wasn’t blessed with the ability of rebirth, he’d never follow a man into a tiny hole in the ground. That simply screamed of something awful.

The passage was extremely narrow, so much so that Sylas practically had to crawl through the pure, brutal darkness, often knocking his head against the walls. Eventually, however, he spotted light, hurrying forward. Peaking his head out, he saw that the exit led into a small, squared room with a bed, a few shining crystals that looked like lightbulbs, and a cracked mirror the size of a grown man. Currently, Dyn was kneeling in front of the mirror, his entire body shaking, arms extended forward, holding onto the shard.

“M-m-m-my Lord, I—I did as You asked,” he stuttered. “But—but… it… it wasn’t there. It wasn’t there, my Lord.”

“…”

“No, no, I swear—I swear it wasn’t there!” though Sylas heard nothing beyond the whimpering of a grown man, Dyn clearly did. “I looked—I looked everywhere! Y-yes, yes,” he continued after temporary silence. “The Prince? Yes, yes, I shall kill him at once. H-his… his heart? W-why—no, no, of course. I will do it, I swear!” Sylas continued to stare at the mirror. Whoever Dyn was talking to was either in there, or the man had simply gone completely mad and Sylas’ theory that Dyn was mental and was doing everything randomly could be true. A few moments later, Dyn’s arms relaxed as he toppled over onto the floor, breathing heavily, still shaking, but clearly not as terrified as before. It was also then that Sylas crawled out of the hole. There was only one thing that Sylas knew vanished from within the castle recently that something like a Shard could potentially have some interactions with—that weird thing in the walls who requested he be called ‘Shadow’. Or, perhaps, the ‘Terrible One’ within Cyrs.

“Quite a sight, to see a man of you means sweating his ass off because of someone,” Dyn yelped like a little child as he shot up to his feet, beyond shocked to see Sylas just standing there.

“W-wha—how?! How—w—”

“Who was that?” Sylas asked, glancing at the mirror. “You have terrifying friends, Dyn. Truly terrifying.”

“You—you saw? No, no, impossible! You must die! I—my head! It will be off with my head!”

“What were you guys after?” Sylas asked, realizing he was quickly losing the young man. “The one in the walls or the one inside the man?”

“…” Dyn’s eyes widened as much as they physically could without leaping out of their sockets. The Kingdom’s most well-kept secret… and the fake messiah knew it. He knew it. He knew it. “Who… who are you? Please, please don’t hurt me! I… I have no choice! I must do what they ask! I… I have no choice… I have no choice… I…” Dyn fell to his knees, bursting out into tears. Sylas nearly fell back, shocked at the sight; the young man was outright crying like a child. It truly felt as though everything became too much for him. The façade he’d put up, the bravado he showcased to hide the terror… it cracked.

“… I won’t hurt you,” Sylas said, crouching in front of him.

“Y-you… you won’t?” Dyn seemed to calm down somewhat.

“Well, if you yank my balls, I might.”

“No, no, I won’t! I swear I won’t!” Haii, could this finally be it?! Could I finally get some fucking answers?! Please, God, you already granted me immortality, granting me this much shouldn’t be an issue, right?!

“Good,” Sylas smiled. “Well, then, let’s have a chat, shall we? Starting with… what were you planning to do with the Shard?”