It was a gamble from the start, but it wasn’t clear how hopeless the situation truly was until now. Cyg had spent half an hour arguing with Alicia about how far Merry was willing to take things, whether she would raze Murkwell to the ground to get them. The town’s size made such an act impossible to conceal, therefore inviting scrutiny from all over the continent. No doubt countless seers and augurs would be called to uncover what happened.

What a distant worry that must seem when chased by a beast that weighs more than a ton.

Cyg slung the sack under an arm, jumping off a rock and running back into Merry’s domain. The barrier wrapped around him as he passed the threshold, and a quick check of the sigil on his shoulder confirmed it was active again. Then, reaching into the bag, he took out the first bomb he found, setting off the five-second fuse and tossing it behind him.

The basilisk picked up on what he was doing far before the explosive hit the ground, but it hardly mattered since the distance was so great, only requiring a slight adjustment of angle to get out of the way. Right after Bassy passed it, the wooden sphere violently sucked in air, pulling the surrounding grass and dirt, before blasting a two-span wide cloud of smoke, dirt, and flame outward. Cyg flinched, surprised at its effectiveness, while his pursuer continued undeterred.

There was no way he was outrunning it, and they both knew that. This time, Cyg tossed out three bombs one after the other, scattering them as far as he could—but it ended up being another repeat of before with the basilisk safely slipping past the explosions. That wasn’t the point, however, as it bought some time for Cyg to check out everything he was running past. Finding and marking suitable targets was difficult, and he forced his mana into small rocks, broken branches, and other forest debris he passed, clumping it together with loose dirt if needed.

To the basilisk, the forest floor was visibly tagged all over, and the beast stalled for a second, wondering what it should do before ultimately deciding to merely ignore it.

Only two left in the bag, Cyg counted, taking one more out. Then the question struck him—would using his Aspect trigger it? He recalled what Alicia said about firing mana directly into the core and Merry’s words on how his magic worked. “Wrapped”, the witch explained, not filled. Figuring he had little to lose, he waited until Bassy began chasing again, lighting up the bomb and swapping it with a marked stone. Having already been prepared, the magic took under a second to complete, and the basilisk was too heavy to change momentum and avoid it.

Earth and torn plants sprayed out from the shockwave at its underside—a clear direct hit—but the basilisk only stumbled before regaining its balance, not a single drop of blood visible. The damn trick had cost him a ton amount of mana and had amounted to nothing! Its only effect was dazing Bassy, but after no time at all, it was back at it and galloping toward Cyg.

“Well then,” the thief said while panting. He threw the final bomb onto his hand and gave it a light toss into the air while coming to a complete stop. “Sorry buddy, the last one’s for me.”

He held it against his chest, and just before Bassy crashed into him, he sent mana straight into its center.

— ! —

There was no void this time, nothing that Cyg was aware of. One moment he was outside, and another he was in his bed. Alicia stood by him, holding his arm and rolling up the sleeve. Five teardrops, they both counted.

She asked, “What happened?”

During breakfast this time around, Merry didn’t interrogate Cyg on his mood. She certainly was thinking about something, and he could tell as much by her expression, but there wasn't any confrontation. Then later, like before, the witch sent Alicia to act as a guide.

When they reached the creek, Cyg explained what happened as Alicia sat down on her seemingly favorite flat rock. She was fidgeting with her hair at first, but as more and more details were revealed, she seemed to calm down.

After Cyg finished, he joked, “Seeing as how paranoid you are, you definitely wouldn’t have given me the sigil if you thought I could escape on my own.”

Her eyes narrowed, finding no humor in what he just said. “Obviously. You would do the same in my case.”

The thief briefly played out the idea in his head. “You wouldn’t be able to trust another time traveller, true. Especially if it’s someone that barely knows you.” One could certainly accomplish a lot when the other party forgets as soon as the loop begins again.

“Glad we can come to an agreement—”

“So why don’t we change that? Come to think of it, it’s strange how we’re both deep into this but still manage to stay complete strangers.”

She snorted. “No thank you.”

“What? You probably pried everything out of me when you were the one time travelling.”

“The opposite, in fact. You were stubborn as a mule, and if there was one thing I learned from you, it was how to keep my mouth shut.”

He balked at her for a while, wanting to argue but abashedly realizing that was precisely what he was doing to Merry this whole time. “...Okay, I guess we can postpone it until after we get out of this mess.”

Waving a hand as if dismissing the conversation, Alicia then asked, “So now what?”

“You said Merry survived a box of those bombs?” Cyg asked, kicking a pebble into the stream. “Yup, forget it. Five more tries isn’t enough, especially when we’re working with only a week. Actually, we probably should’ve tried this first—just waiting things out and trying not to die.”

“...I don’t think that’ll work.”

“Why not? I messed up the first week because I went into her room. I’ll just keep to myself this time.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Alicia pursed her lips. “Cyg, I’ve never seen you survive past this week. She’d always find one reason or another to get rid of you. And trust me, I made sure to never let her see you the exact same way each loop. I’ve tried to, I should say; I don’t think I was successful most of the time.”

“Huh? You’re lying, right?” he asked, mostly in disbelief. “I mean, it was just you feeding me knowledge from previous loops, wasn’t it? It can't really be compared to now when I have full knowledge.”

“You’re not wrong,” she said, sighing. “I guess we should at least give it a go.”

“Actually, can you make me a bomb or two?” he asked, “...Just in case.”

As the conversation trailed off, one mystery lingering in Cyg’s mind was what could possibly be the witch’s Aspects. Healing was a given, but what were the other two? One must be whatever she used to fly around, and the other was likely something that could pick out lies. Or it wasn’t magic at all, and Merry was simply incredible at cold-reading him. The more he wondered, the more frustrated he got. The witch’s words were seared into his mind—only something exceptional would force her to reveal her hand, but how could they accomplish that when they couldn’t even handle Bassy?

* * *

The week was exhaustingly boring; the days played out precisely as they did before, with neither Merry nor Cyg doing anything out of the ordinary. While Cyg did keep “practicing”, he felt nothing new throughout the whole mana-draining process, and doing it day and night transformed it into a terrible chore. He even tried swapping while juggling, resulting in him learning an incredibly useless trick. The witch questioned him on it, of course, but a straightforward honest answer seemed to sate her curiosity.

The thief, aiming to appear well-behaved, politely obeyed all of the witch’s instructions without question, even if they were the same rote tasks as before. When it came time to eat, he did so with more care and propriety, making sure as to never look terrible at the table with the other two.

As for the guard, he came and went on time, and Cyg was so starved for excitement that he considered trying to save the poor man. Then again, it wasn’t as if he knew how to cure the plague or a glimmer bite by himself. He wasn’t so stupid as to give in to his impulses either, only playing around with the idea of how he would go about it. Eventually he turned his attention to the puzzle box back in his room, solving three more sides; two of them were easy, and the last one reset the state of the side opposite, bumping up the difficulty just a little. Really, a waste of time it all was.

Merry went to town and returned with without any fanfare, and there wasn’t a thing that would lead Cyg to believe he was in danger. When night came, he was sitting at his desk, fiddling with the puzzle box yet again. He wasn't trying to solve it, but was looking for something to keep his hands busy. This was something better savored over time, he thought, too busy feeling relief in having gotten through the week without getting killed.

Had it been this simple all along?

The world answered that question with four rhythmic knocks at his door. Cyg, inattentively expecting it to be Alicia, went up and opened it, only realizing it would be ludicrous to think that the elf would try to get his attention like this; and true enough, on the other side was the witch herself.

With his heart starting to race, he asked, “Can I help you with something?”

“Hmm. See, that was what I wanted to know,” she said, taking a step forward.

And he took a step back, a mistake that Cyg recognized too late. “What are you talking about?” Tensely, he gripped the puzzle box in his hand.

“I can tell you’re plotting something.” In the soft flickering fire from the lantern in the living area, the contour of her hair was set ablaze, making her appear as if ethereal.

“That's crazy talk; why would I do something like that?” Cyg replied, and it was the truth—unless total inaction was a plot, which he doubts anyone would agree.

She judged his reaction and brought a hand to her chin. “You know what I’m doing.”

Anyone’s first instinct would be to lie and deny, but Cyg stopped himself; it was certain she would figure it out. Could he sidestep her accusation altogether? Forget it, Cyg thought, the only option was to lean hard into this angle. “I do,” he answered, “What about it?” His eyes flickered to the open closet, where a single bomb sat amongst a small pile of jewels.

“Well now, did Alicia let it slip?”

“It was just a guess, but I figured it out myself,” he replied, “If you’re worried I’ll tell anyone, I won’t.”

The witch sighed. “That’s a shame, Cyg. I would love to believe you, but I’m afraid I just can’t,” she said, taking another step forward. “See, the last time I did, I was taught a very valuable lesson: never hope for something when you can make it certain.”

There was a beat, and Cyg swapped the puzzle cube with the bomb in the closet. A blur flew out to where his neck was, but he threw himself to the side without even seeing what attacked him. He primed the explosive and tossed it behind him at the witch. Not even bothering to see how she would stop it, he dove for the window farthest away, the explosion that followed a second later almost sending him sprawling.

As fast as he could, the thief flung open the window and leapt through, only to be halted midair by his foot. He fell onto the ground, and when he twisted around to see what grabbed him, he found an absurdly long arm reaching out of the half-destroyed room. Cyg began to kick at it, trying to free himself, but his seized leg began to twist and bulge. He cried out in pain as muscle and bone twisted, everything under his skin made unrecognizable. The thief could do nothing but watch in horror as the carnage spread up his body and to his other leg.

It took ten seconds but felt like an eternity. For the first time ever, Cyg wished he were dead, grasping around for anything he could use to finish the job. Then, Merry herself appeared at the window, a long, warped arm slowly fixing itself back to a normal length. The only sign she had stood next to a bomb was the bit of ash and wood on her cloak, but that was all.

“Consider this to be a bonus lesson,” she said, climbing out of the window gracefully. “If you think of the human body as just another part of nature, then you can say healing magic is simply another earth Aspect.”

“Well I fucking knew that already,” Cyg spat. His eyes darted around, looking for any way out. His worst fear was that Merry really was using an Aspect to measure his honesty, and now she would use it to pull out all of his secrets. If that were to happen, there was no guarantee that Alicia could get in and reset the loop. It was the worst-case scenario imaginable.

“Oh? Then did you know that it’s specifically used against things with souls?” the witch explained. Meanwhile, Cyg saw a figure on the second-floor window holding something up—a round hand-sized object of some sort. In fact, she was awkwardly waving it, trying to catch his attention without shouting. “It’s one of the few Aspects that uses someone else’s mana against them, innately giving it excellent permeation properties.”

He took a sharp breath, and then gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow, and clenched the dirt underneath his hands. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“You don’t know? And here I th—”

Ripping free a bundle of dirt, the thief immediately swapped it with the bomb Alicia was holding. The witch stopped midsentence, directing all of her focus in a burst of mana that tore through Cyg’s nerves. He felt the shock fly up his spine, numbness following wherever it passed, but before it managed to reach his neck, he filled the wooden ball with mana and slammed it against his chest.

He lost all control of his body right after, his arm falling slack, but the blinding flash of light and shockwave vanished the scene in an instant.

— ! —

Alicia gripped Cyg’s arm as he lay in bed, and he let out a small laugh. Another abrupt change of scenery, but a welcome one.

He told her, “You’re a lifesaver.”

She at first raised a brow, but when she looked at his sigil, worry covered her face. For a second, Cyg was about to tell her having two deaths so far wasn’t that bad, considering what he learned, but he froze after seeing what she saw.

There were not four teardrops left but only three.