Chapter 69

A Year

Sylas sighed, staring into the chilly, ashen, nightly sky. They’d failed. Well, it was a certainty they’d fail—not even for a breath of time did he expect for them to succeed on the first try. However, he did have hopes in them lasting a tiny bit longer than they did. Shortly after Sylas attacked, or attempted to, at least, the Thrall used something that he hadn’t used up until that point—magic.

Within some twenty yards around him, frost began to converge and temperatures dropped to the point where it was physically impossible for Sylas to actually stay there. Derrek, though able to move, had become sluggish and slow, inevitably ending up smashed into a pulp by the fist that was almost as large as his whole body.

Shortly after, Sylas followed. His death was hardly as heroic—he died of hypothermia, at least as far as he was aware he did. The last bits of his memories were quite… delirious, to say the least.

At the very least, he comforted himself, they'd discover one major ability—the frost domain of sorts. What drew Sylas' interest wasn't the domain itself—spectacular and worrying though it may be—but the fact that the giant didn't use it from the start. It clearly sported a decent level of ego to showcase pride. Most animals who are driven by instinct, when going for a kill, hardly held back. It was only after their prey was on the threshold of dying that they'd start playing with them.

The Thrall… was different. The reason he used the domain was likely because of Sylas—that meant that Derrek warranted enough attention that the giant couldn’t just ignore the man to focus on his rear. One thing was for certain, however—if the giant deployed the domain, they'd stand no chance. Sylas couldn't even move within it, and Derrek effectively lost over a third of his strength.

As such, they had a very short window of opportunity—the window that was the length of Sylas' blade. Though it was faint, the reason Sylas attacked was that he heard it—the ripple. It wasn't enough for him to actually pinpoint the weakest area of the giant's body, but it was enough to make him joyous as it meant Derrek could elicit such a reaction, likely even a stronger one if he went harder at it.

“Now the question becomes… what are his other abilities?” he mused aloud. Sylas knew that the big fists and the frosty domain were hardly what made the giant a figure even Derrek considered immovable. In the end, though, there was just one way of finding out: trial and error. And he knew… there would be a lot, a lot, of trials and errors.

You have died.

Save point ‘Pup’s Blood’ has been initialized.

A frigid, beam-shaped burst of energy from the giant’s mouth was what did them in. Well, it was what did Derrek in, freezing the man within a nanosecond. What did Sylas in… was his inability to dodge the fist. As far as deaths go, however, it was a fairly painless and quick one.

You have died.

Save point ‘Pup’s Blood’ has been initialized.

The giant spun… and then spun… and then spun some more. It turned into a whirlwind of absolute cataclysm, using the chain-winked mace to demolish everything in its path. Not only did he obliterate Derrek, Sylas stood at the side and watched it absolutely annihilate the entire castle in a matter of minutes. Yeah, can’t let him cast that shit. Jesus Christ man, what the fuck…

You have died.

Save point ‘Pup’s Blood’ has been initialized.

This go-around, they died from the frosted domain—the solitary assuring fact was that they actually managed to wound the thing, and that, for the first time since they started fighting it, Sylas could hear the perfect ripple. As though someone pulled a string of an instrument next to his ear. It was just a matter of time, then. Or so he thought.

You have died…

You have died…

You have died…

You have died…

You have died…

You have died…

---

…

You have died.

Save point ‘Pup’s Blood’ has been initialized.

Sylas sat on the cold, wet dirt, his look vacant. How long has it been, now? Around fifty attempts, he wagered. Fifty weeks… that’s about a year, ain’t it? I… I can’t believe I’ve already spent a year doing this goddamn thing and have barely moved forward…

It wasn’t the first time, but he bent forward and started crying. It was a soft, silent weep, the ilk that was used to simply alleviate something sitting tightly on one’s chest. A year of his life has gone down the drain. No, not a year—nothing. I’ve nothing to show for it. No time has passed. Nothing, time had long since begun losing most of its meaning to him. In fact, by now, he wasn't even entirely sure exactly how long he did spend in this world—not through the loops and altogether, but from the perspective of someone like Valen.

He suspected it wasn’t truly that long—after all, it was cold when he came and now it was only colder. Can’t be more than a few months, can it? Losing it slightly, he decided to take yet another break and do nothing for a few days.

By now, he was certain they’d uncovered all of the giant’s abilities—and if not all, then only one was missing, one it would use at the dying breath. Nonetheless, it was… difficult. Strangely enough, it wasn’t Sylas that was the bottleneck—against all odds. It was Derrek.

“No, can’t blame him,” Sylas shook his head. While he faced the damn behemoth over fifty times by now, Derrek was always facing it for the first time. Even if Sylas did list out each of the attacks clearly before every battle, it was kind of like a boss raid in a game—just because, theoretically, one was completely aware of everything the boss can do, doesn’t necessarily mean they’d react in time to everything. Some things simply needed to be experienced.

Derrek, however, didn’t have that luxury. As such, they’ve hit a plateau. They’ve hit it some fifteen-twenty attempts ago, actually, which was also the closest they’ve ever gotten to killing the thing. While Sylas had nearly dealt a death blow with the tenth strike, the Thrall was forced to defend, giving Derrek an opportunity to cleave off one of its arms cleanly. Unfortunately, that was also when giant used the last ability that the two managed to discover—it reversed the flowing blood and turned the droplets into arrows—or, by the sizes of the chunks, spears most likely—and used them to skewer both men.

Since then, they'd never hit that mark again, as it was a stroke of luck. And that was what the battle would inevitably roll down to—luck. There was no clear strategy that they could use to win—at least Sylas was unable to find it. It was simply trying over and over and over again until one lucky encounter when everything goes the way it's supposed to go and the Thrall is distracted long enough for Sylas to deal the death blow, ending the whole fight before the behemoth could use its vast arsenal of skills.

But that kind of luck… was one in a million. Possibly more.

"Am I forcing it?" Sylas grunted. "Should I just stop trying to do it with just Derrek and me? We do have a fucking army, after all. But if we throw bodies at it… the goddamn thing will just activate that fuck-off aura and we'll be fucked anyway. Maybe drag some ballistae outside the walls? No, there's no way ordinary spearheads can penetrate that fucking skin. Maybe enhanced with Ryne's talismans? Eh, at least it's worth a try. It's not like I've got other fucking things to do."

At least, he once again comforted himself, his talisman knowledge had grown exponentially. After all, he'd spent a year, now, actively making them each and every loop. And he'd gotten so good at it that it left Ryne aghast. Though he was still nowhere as quick and as precise as she was, his original one-in-a-thousand had turned into one-in-a-fifteen when doing it all alone from the scratch.

“Eh? What are you doing out here?” Valen’s voice jolted him to reality, causing him to turn back. The young Prince’s face was one of elation—after all, to him, they’d just achieved a marvelous, lossless victory. Furthermore, Sylas was yet to inform him of the invasion. “Wow. What’s with the expression? Is something wrong? Did… did you have a vision?”

“… no,” Sylas chuckled, shaking his head. As he decided to take a break, there was no reason to inform the Prince. “I just had to take a piss, and my little general got hurt in the cold a bit.”

“…”

“What are you doing here?” Sylas ignored Valen’s twitching eyebrows and asked. “Shouldn’t you be inside, celebrating?”

“There will be time for celebration,” Valen said. “I came out here to thank you.”

“… thank me? For what?” by now, Sylas had actually genuinely forgotten he was the one who killed Dyn and saved Valen’s life.

“For saving my life,” Valen said sternly. “Though I know you don’t concern yourself with the mortal matters,” Ah, yes, that used to be my catchphrase, I think… “You still elected to take a life… and save mine. I know that for Paragons… taking life is one of the greatest sins. An almost unforgivable one. And yet… you did it. For me.”

“…” He’s… he’s not gonna profess his love or something, right?!

“… am I… am I truly worth it?” the Prince suddenly asked. “All of this, I mean. Of all the people in the Kingdom, you chose to come to me—to guide me. You chose to forsake comfortable life to live in the castle at the edge of the world. You chose to break your oath… because of me. I… I don’t think… no matter what I do, will your sacrifices ever be worth it?”

“Someday in the future,” Sylas said, smiling lightly. “When there’s a crown sitting on your head and you’re the King of all, I will have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything!” Valen exclaimed immediately.

“I’ll have you form me a harem of a thousand—no, ten thousand beautiful women!” Valen’s expression immediately dropped. “That will attend to my every need! And… and all of them will have to be good-looking, with big tits! No, wait, you can toss in some mix-ups here and there. I do recall liking variety as the sameness tends to get boring. Yeah, toss in some flat-chested babes in there if you must. But not too many. And… oi, where are you going? Are you going back on your promise?!!"

“… I will become strong,” Valen paused suddenly, glancing back at Sylas with a hardened gaze. “Respected. Kingly. I will make you acknowledge me and stop treating me as a child.”

“You must have some fucked up view of me if you think I’d talk about hot babes in front of you if I thought of you as a child…”

“… rest well,” Valen said. “There’s a long journey back home waiting for us.”

Sylas escorted the Prince with his eyes, sighing toward the end. He turned back and faced the road leading toward that very home. There’ll be no home to return to unless I figure something out, he grabbed the top of his head and sat down, deciding to try and break down the battle into even tinier fragments, looking for anything that stood out. I have to figure something out, goddammit. Come on brain! You’ve failed me in bio, don’t fail me now!