Chapter 97

Birth of the Madness

You have died.

Save point ‘Death’ has been initialized.

Years passed on one by one, blending into a singular timeline that hardly changed. Sylas spent them in a homogeneous routine of simplicity, training and existing, splicing some moments of reprieve in-between--not unlike the one he was currently having. Ryne had promised him she'd make dinner and invited him to her little basement to witness, as she put it, the 'miracle'.

She moved about deftly, he realized; though it was evident that she still struggled, especially with sharp corners, she seemed to have gotten somewhat used to the darkness. It wasn’t all that strange, however--Sylas had spent nearly five months in the current loop, with the song of the spring echoing in the distance, fast approaching. Though not nearly enough time to reinvent oneself, some adjustments were possible.

She hummed a lovely, mild melody as she moved about the makeshift kitchen. The meal she chose wasn’t terribly complex--a garlic-lamb stew of sorts--but was still far more complex than anything Sylas himself could make.

Her footsteps were unhurried and playful, as though she were dancing. It was on purpose, he knew. It was like this every loop. She was still scared. Scared of being abandoned. He didn’t know the root of her insecurities, but they always manifested in a way similar to this. She’d drag him into one or another activity to prove to him she was still useful, no matter how many times he reassured her that he didn’t care.

Sighing lowly and inaudibly, he leaned onto the palm of his hand, resting his head. He tried inquiring a few times about the 'bomb' that resided within her since, as he recalled, it actually healed her the last time it activated but to no avail. He even tried 'infecting' her by letting Tebek run amok but it, similarly, led to nowhere. He half-suspected that he dreamt the entire event up and that it never actually happened.

“Are you still mindlessly training all the time?” she suddenly asked, breaking the silence and turning toward him. She’d covered her eyes partly by letting her bangs grow out, and partly by putting on cloth over them.

“Sometimes I serenade to the snow,” Sylas said.

“Aah, can’t you just answer seriously?” she sighed, walking up and, after some feeling about, sitting onto the chair opposite of him.

“In my defense, I was mightily drunk when it happened.”

“That isn’t much of a defense.”

“I never claimed it was good defense.”

“I drew up several talismans,” she said suddenly.

“I know,” Sylas said. “Valen showed them to me.”

“Are they good?”

“Eh? How the hell would I know?” he said. “Aren’t you the expert?”

“They’re awful.”

“No, what? They’re really good.”

“Aha! So you do know!”

“Oh no, she caught me in a lie, whatever shall I do~~”

“The world shall change, but our dear Prophet shall not!” she exclaimed with a chuckle, standing up and navigating back to the steaming pot of stew. “Always a jester.”

“... I’ll have you know I have a lot of respect for jesters,” Sylas said after a momentary pause. “After all, you have to have balls the size of a castle to mock a man or a woman who could behead you with no consequences.”

“That’s true,” Ryne said, stirring the stew for a moment. “Somehow, though, I have a feeling you’d make a perfect jester. Dance the fine line between life and death.”

“As would you,” he said. “You’ve come a long way in picking up the way I beat people’s heads.”

“I did, huh?” she chuckled lightly. “I... I always admired that about you.”

“Hm?”

“The way you spoke so openly,” she elaborated. “No matter the circumstances or people. I... I wanted to become just like that.”

“Haven’t you, though?”

"Ha ha, no, not quite yet," she said. "If I were, I'd boldly confront you to stop babying me and dancing on your tiptoes whenever we talk. Oh, look. See, you were right!"

“... what? You want me to start making jokes?”

“That’d be a good start,” she nodded.

“I won’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because your sense of humor is too much of a joke for it to handle me at my best.”

“...”

“...”

"Pfft, ha ha ha ha," she burst out into laughter, causing him to smile gingerly for a moment. "Fine, fine, I'll give you more time. Ah, it's ready. Did you starve yourself as you promised?"

“To be honest, I expected a cauldron of food,” Sylas said. “And all I see is a pot. It might not be enough.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbled, slowly pouring two bowls full of the stew without spilling even a single drop. “I’ve already added a frisk of spices. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said, waiting patiently for her to push the bowl in front of him, not extending his hand to take it.

“Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Is it? I must have missed the part where you just took it off the fire.”

“Hey, blind leading the blind.”

“...”

“Oh, what? That was funny!”

“...”

“Screw you,” she grumbled. “That was hilarious.”

“How long have you been preparing yourself to say it?” Sylas asked, smiling faintly.

“... it’s been a while.”

“I bet it has.”

“Shut up and eat.”

“Aye, aye...”

Sylas ate absentminded, his thoughts drifting toward the progress he'd made in the numerous years he'd spent--he was almost at the peak of it, just a few inches short of covering the entirety of his blood by energy. He’d actually already tested freezing the blood in place and managed to do it, surviving good four seconds before everything started giving out one after another, like a very deadly set of dominoes falling one after another.

What made the constant resets more bearable was that he never encountered a bottleneck--it was, effectively, smooth-sailing from the beginning. Though it did result in many, very painful deaths, it was all worth it for the progress. In fact, he planned on covering his entire body’s worth of blood in the current loop, finishing it off, and preparing for the next part--freezing it in place and surviving.

“Where did you go?” Ryne’s voice pulled him out.

“The taste was so divine I ascended to the heavens for a moment,” he replied.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.

“Hey,” he reached over and grabbed her hand gently. “When spring comes, I plan on taking the Prince and marching down south. I hope you’ll join us.”

“... e-eh? South? I--I mean, yes, of course. But, uh, why?”

“We’re long overdue for some answers,” Sylas said, standing up slowly as he pulled his arm back. “And the only place to find them is south. In the meantime, I’m going to criticize you.”

“C-criticize me?”

“You’re an Exorcist,” he said. “And though it is admittedly beyond adorable that you’ve cooked for me, isn’t your time better spent on talismans?”

“I...”

“If you ever hit a wall, don’t hide and shudder. Find me, and we’ll break it together. Okay?”

“... okay.”

“But since you’ve learned to cook, you may as well make something for Valen. I’m sure the lad would be delighted.”

“... okay.”

“Alright. I’m gonna go train.”

“Of course you are.”

“It’s in my veins.”

“Of course it is.”

“Just like your love for the Prince.”

“Of course--HEY!!!”

Sylas, once again, left the castle, drifting further away from the collapsed walls into the forest. He didn’t know what effect he might trigger--if any--but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Sitting down, he took a deep breath and focused, clearing his mind before he began to condense the energy. Over the course of his training, the minute control he had over the tiny wisps of magic continued to grow. Every aspect of him, it seemed, was evolving--all thanks to Derrek’s overt generosity, his determination to break the Orderly Oath to share the Way with him.

Sylas inscribed the favor in his heart, swearing to repay in the future. Debts piled, he knew. But he’d pay them off, one by one, or he’d die trying. In the meantime, however, he had a journey to finish.

Inch by inch, energy began to sweep through his veins. He felt it, just as he felt the bubbling blood beneath. It was a strange sensation, akin to the feverish delirium, where a mind was aware of many things, but only in the oblique haze. And yet, there was no haze--just clarity. It felt as though he could touch it.

Bit by bit, his body began to steam as all the times before, melting the snow around him in one fell swoop. Soon enough, smoke blistered from his frame as though he was the fire itself, forming a strange mist around him. He didn’t care, however, fully focused inwardly.

Sweat began to coalesce as he approached the last leg--the last few inches he had left. This was already his third try. He learned in the first that he couldn’t go inch by inch and that he had to cover the remaining bits in one fell swoop, and he learned from the second try that the pain would be immeasurable.

Pausing for a brief breath to gather himself, he coalesced the dregs of his energy and pushed them--immediately, fiery sensation burned through him, every last prickling needle of the flame converging toward his heart. He barely held it together, preventing it from imploding. Nonetheless, the sheer grandness of pain was nearly enough to forcibly shut his brain off. But he endured. It was nothing. Nothing. Hollow.

Push.

He saw the energy move--it was like a tired man trying to climb the last bits of the mountain. One foot in front of the other. All slow. Minute. Childlike. But the forward momentum persisted. Bit by bit. That was enough.

Push.

It was there--the last inch. The last bridge to cross. However, it was the most difficult. By now, he felt as though his body was genuinely on fire. His throat was void of liquid, as dry as a desert. His mind was in shambles, the convergence of pain and tiredness and insanity freezing the thoughts in trails. Nothing about this was normal. It was impossible. No human, he realized, would ever be able to do this. But he had to.

Grinding his teeth together, he pushed the last inch and succeeded--every last drop of his blood was now covered in energy. Suddenly, the world froze and he found himself adrift in darkness. Just as confusion began to take over, a window appeared in front of him.

You have defied the Trial, alternating the Way!

Beholders look favorably upon you!

The Cosmic Divinity is being rewritten...

...

Cosmic Divinity Way has been edited!

A new Way, ‘Way of Madness’, has been birthed.

As a creator of the Way, you can teach up to 3 other souls.

Improve the Way further to strengthen it.

“...” Sylas stared dumbly at the window, not even realizing he was back in the forest, borne naked in the wilderness void of snow for several miles around him. “Just what the fuck?”