Chapter 118

To Slay the Unkillable

Strange silence permeated the dining table, one that Sylas and Agnes seemed entirely impervious to as they continued to gobble up the food. On the other hand, Valen, Derrek, and even Ryne only nibbled, spending most of their time exchanging glances or looking at the strange woman that appeared out of nowhere. Sylas didn’t introduce her, she didn’t introduce herself, the two just walked in together, sat down, and started eating.

Observing her yielded little--in fact, if anything, it confused them further. She had hair as white as snow and a pair of ruby-red eyes and a skin that seemed allergic to the sun, not to mention that she wore similarly light clothing to Sylas himself. She was a beauty, unmistakably, but the kind that men found difficult to approach and speak to--not because she seemed arrogant or difficult to talk with, but because she appeared... strange. Odd. Eerie. Otherworldly, even.

None of the three said anything, waiting for Sylas to break the silence. And yet, it seemed as though he never would, and that he’d just stand up and walk away when he was done eating. As such, Ryne took a deep breath and decided to be the hummingbird that sang.

“Hey, Sylas,” she called out. “Are you going to introduce us to your friend or is it a guessing game?”

“Oh? Right, right, haven’t introduced you this time ‘round,” Sylas mumbled, wiping his lips and glancing at Agnes. She immediately sighed when she saw the speck in his eyes, electing to shrug and just ignore him. She was enjoying the slightly salted cornbread and some deer. “Let’s see--this is... my mother.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I know she looks like this, but she’s, in fact, sixty-nine years old,” he continued, with Valen, Ryne, and Derrek reeling back in shock, still unable to process everything while Agnes was inches away from bursting out into laughter. She swore to herself, however, she wouldn’t afford him the audience he was so desperately seeking. “That’s why her hair is white. Anyway, she was worried about little ole me and decided to trek through the hellish winter to come visit her favorite boy.”

“Are... are... are you really his... his mother?” Valen quizzed. He was roughly eighteen million percent sure she wasn’t... but he still had to ask. Just in case.

“Of course not,” Agnes rolled her eyes and sighed. “There is no way in hell these hips of mine could ever bear as gigantic of an ass as he is.”

“... shit, that was actually good!” Sylas exclaimed.

“Don’t patronize me and eat your deer,” she said.

“Yes, dear.”

“Ugh...”,

Ryne snickered and elected to eat in silence; it has been around three weeks since the ‘accident’, and she was worried Sylas would be beyond down on himself. However, it sounds as though he’d found someone new to lift him. Though it felt lonely, she steeled her heart and nerves and endured. Endured.

On the other hand, Valen and Derrek were stunned into silence, numbly eating their meals. Whoever she was, they realized, she was of his cloth--and one such was enough to taper their nerves, let alone two. They decided to simply let them be, whatever that may end up becoming in the long run.

“Right, Derrek, how would you go about killing something that seems unkillable?” Sylas asked suddenly. “As in, it can kind of, sort of, possibly wipe out the entire castle in a few attacks.”

“What?! Did you have another vision?!!” Valen erupted in shock and terror.

“What? Oh, no, right. No, no new visions,” Sylas took a moment to recall that he was supposed to be a Prophet. “Just pure curiosity. In case, you know, I have one in the future.”

“Don’t... don’t scare me like that,” though he seemed to settle, the Prince’s lips were still shaking.

“Sorry,” Sylas mumbled apologetically. “So?”

“I’m not too sure myself,” Derrek replied. “I’ve said this a few times, but I’m nowhere near as strong as you imagine me to be, especially Kingdom-wise.”

“...” Eh, it was worth a shot, Sylas shrugged inwardly, returning to silence. Agnes and he finished their meals and bid their farewells, returning to the room the two occupied, leaving the other three to undoubtedly chat and chatter for hours at the very least.

“You really are planning on killing that thing?” she asked him on their way upstairs.

“What other choice is there?” he asked back.

“Go around it?”

“And leave someone that dangerous in our backyard? He’d inevitably come north, anyway,” Sylas said. “By then, who can say what our circumstances would be? Besides, ever since I realized that village was abandoned, I had an idea in mind.”

“What idea?”

“To move everyone out the castle and into the village.”

“What for?” she asked, appearing confused. “The castle is far more fortified.”

“It’s also far more exposed,” he said. “When Derrek and I leave, there’s gonna be just a few soldiers left capable of fighting the Ghouls, let alone anything stronger. Though the castle is more fortified, there’s no way in hell we’ll be able to fix up its walls before spring, likely even summer. And without them, it’s just a village, anyway. Additionally, the village has that underground level that can be further expanded to become sort of a hideout.”

“There’s more to your head than meets the eye, huh?”

“Still,” he said, ignoring her jab as she opened the doors to the room. “This all presupposes I’m somehow able to single-handedly kill that thing. Which, let’s face it, will take a while. The best way is to probably evolve my Way further, coalescing a second heart that I can then use fully to discharge a single attack. The last time, it wasn’t fast enough so he was able to dodge in time, forcing me to miss his vitals. However, if I can get off a strike directly into his heart... ain’t no way he’s surviving, ascended form or not.”

"It's somewhat horrifying how casually you're talking about literally forming a second heart," she said, pouring herself a cup of wine. He didn't realize when, but she'd squarely begun treating the castle as her home.

“I’m just following a blueprint,” Sylas sighed. “I’m not sure if it’s even the right way.”

“Why can’t you just kill that man before he turns into whatever ‘ascended form’ is?” she asked.

“I possibly could,” Sylas nodded. “But I don’t want to.”

“H-huh?”

“I’m already capable of killing strong men,” Sylas said. “Hell, I could likely face an army of Derreks and do just fine at this point. But... my heart and gut are telling me that I need to be capable of much, much more if I even want to have a chance of succeeding. The shadow is the perfect wall for me, right now. If I can kill him, even by the virtue of cheating, in the ascended form, it would mean that I can walk up to the stage of the bigwigs and strut my stuff about.”

“It’s a mightily tall wall that you’ve chosen to tackle,” she said. “You are allowed to go step by step, you know?”

“... I think I can skip a few steps, being an immortal and all,” he said. “I’m more worried about you.”

“About me? Why?” she quizzed.

"Though I may sound confident, it will likely take years, possibly dozens of them, for me to actually kill him," Sylas said. "Wouldn't it be better if you'd just... forget for a little while?"

“Is this your roundabout way of telling me to go away?” she asked with a faint smile.

“It’s my straightforward way of questioning whether you have the mental fortitude to endure the same reality for years on end.”

“... I haven’t told you something yet,” she said, looking out the window. “But... the last year or so that I’ve spent with you, fragmented though it may be, has been the happiest of my life. Not necessarily because of you,” she added before Sylas could take a jab. “But because alongside with everything else around me repeating... so do my dreams.”

“You mean...?”

“I haven’t gotten a new nightmare since that time I watched you die in the village for the first time,” she said. “They were all repeats. And though horrifying they are, after having seen them a few times... they are more bearable. So, if anything, I welcome the years and potentially decades of sameness.”

“Even if nothing moves forward?”

"Why do things need move forward, anyway?" she posited a question. "Don't all people wish to simply latch themselves on a few moments and never move on? Lovers tightly woven 'neath the stars? A mother holding onto her child a mere few hours before it passes? Or a man overlooking an open plain where he'll run out into a battle a few hours later and die? Wouldn't the moments of eternity be the chains all of them would gladly put onto themselves?"

“... for a time, perhaps,” Sylas said. “But... nothing lives on forever in a moment. At some point, we all need to stop looking back at the things that were and weren’t... and look at things that could and will be.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me,” he said. “The reason why Ryne is blind, Valen is crippled, Derrek is armless, and Tenner and many others are dead... is because I was unable to look back any longer. I had to step forward, chasing after the thing that could have been.”

“Well,” she mumbled. “I will let you know when that day comes. Until then, humor my senselessness.”

“So long as you promise me that the ‘hip birthing a gigantic ass’ wasn’t your peak just yet,” Sylas grinned. “And that more gems of that nature are coming.”

“They are a-comin’,” she said. “Unlike you.”

“... you know what?” Sylas said. “Because it was really good, I’m going to substitute the actual reality with yours. Good job!”

“You could have just said ‘good job’,” she sighed. “I didn’t need to know, you know?”

“How else would I glimpse at those beautiful, apple-red cheeks, though?”

"I'd honestly just prefer if you slapped me full force at this point."

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Very well,” Sylas nodded. “The next time, I’ll slap you with an even more embarrassing sentence. Just like you asked.”

“Yeah, the moment you smiled, I knew your lips will turn into buttcheeks and shit will just come flying out.”

“Spraying out. I’m suffering from diarrhea at the moment.”

“... I’m going to leave, for a little while. Don’t look for me, okay? And reflect in the meantime.”

“Godspeed, sister! Make sure you don’t step on any of the shit flyin’ out of my mouth!”

“Haaah...”