Chapter 109
Oddities Make a Man
A strange atmosphere surrounded a dining table, with only one among the five seated seemed entirely oblivious to it, diving deep into bland-tasting porridge, drinking it down with some beer. The four others, Valen, Ryne, Derrek, and the newly-baptized Agnes merely awkwardly chewed away at some bread, eyeing each other with quizzing looks.
The whole ordeal lasted some ten minutes which was when Sylas burped lowly and leaned back into his chair, finally full. Looking around, he grinned at the circumstances, as they were hardly accidental.
“So, yeah,” he said, breaking the silence. “This is my wife.”
“WHO IS YOUR WIFE?!!” Agnes exploded immediately.
“As you can see, she’s very shy,” he persisted, causing Valen and Derrek to sigh.
“... I’ll take this knife and open up a hole in your throat,” she said.
“And very violent. Anyway, she’s gonna be living with us from now on, so welcome her.”
"Will we get even a made-up story that makes an iota of sense?" Valen quizzed.
“Uh, sure,” Sylas said. “One day, I was feeling wanderous and I wandered outside the walls and I found her lying in the cold, wretched snow, shaking. I could barely tell her from the snow, but I fell in love immediately and made her my wife then and there and heroically carried her on my back and nursed her back to health.”
“And all that in one night?”
“All that in one night.”
"Haaaah... fine, whatever, I'll trust your judgment," Valen shook it off. "I'll ask some maids to retouch Ryne's room and I'll move in with her, to give you newly-wed some freedom. I mean, if you’re okay with that, Ryne?”
“Okay?” Sylas scoffed. “She might literally die of joy.” Agnes looked toward the young, blind girl and saw her blushing cheeks, picking up a fork and pressing it against Sylas’ cheeks, right beneath his eyes.
“You might literally die if you don’t stop yapping like a scorned bitch,” she said. “Got it?”
“... very violent,” Sylas smiled lightly before pushing off her hand--it was shaking, as she seemed genuinely nervous that she might hurt him. “Anyway, don’t you guys have some meetings to go to? I’d like to spend some alone time with my wife.”
“... yeah, yeah, yeah,” Valen sighed dismissively. “Let’s go. Find us if you need anything.” the room emptied soon after.
One major change that Sylas had begun implementing in every single loop was that he assisted in making a proper wheelchair for Valen. Though this world had the general idea with their own so-called ‘invalid’s chair’, they didn’t really use wheels for movement but instead had 'sliding slacks' as they called it, which were just smoothed out wooden panels, hardly a wheelchair. As such, he had to be carried everywhere, and Sylas knew the young lad hardly enjoyed it. Thus, he took the time out of each loop to help build a better version of it. Though he still required assistance to move up and down the stairs, naturally, at the very least he could navigate the corridors on his own.
Agnes sighed and took a few plums from the bowl, nibbling away at them, occasionally darting dirty looks toward him. Though she insisted they move out immediately, Sylas planned on replicating the last loop as closely as possible, including the departure time as well as their time of arrival in the village.
“What?” he asked, glancing at her.
“I somewhat get why you’re mean to me,” she said. “And why you enjoy riling me up... but she’s just a girl. Couldn’t you have been gentler?”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Huh? That girl is more mature than you,” Sylas said. “And she can take a punch.”
“... ugh.”
“It hurt?”
"It always hurts! Haah, at least I get to stay without needing to stay hidden," she commented, standing up and stretching.
“You can go with them, if you’d like,” Sylas said, pouring himself a cup of wine. “They’re fun company. And I’ve a feeling they’d like you, what with your uninhibited anger toward me and all.”
“All that anger is well-deserved," she glared at him. "Besides, don't sell yourself short. You're a fun company, too."
“... what?”
“Hm? Beyond the pain of you poking fun at my very existence,” she chuckled. “A lot of those jokes actually land. And, well, you do it with such indifference... that in and of itself is kinda funny.”
“... oh, you’re a masochist.”
“W-what? No I’m not!” she exclaimed.
“...”
“...”
“You’ve got no idea what that is, do you?” he asked.
“Something bad! Since you called me it! So, what is it?” she asked.
“... hm, I don’t think you’re ready quite yet,” he said, smiling wryly. “Anyway, I actually have a job for you until we depart.”
“A... job?”
“Hm,” he nodded. “You can ask Valen to help you since he’s done it before. Go over the history books we have in the library and see if you can spot some inconsistencies. Even if you’re a Prophet of the Wild, you should, at least instinctively, pick up on some things.”
“What about you?” she asked, surprisingly not firing back, sitting down once again.
"Train, of course," he said. "After all, I gotta be ready to break some bones when we get to that village. For now, I'll try without talismans to see how far I can push my personal strength, but if I fail, I'll probably have to ask Ryne to help me make some talismans the next time. Unless, of course, you became a godlike fighter overnight."
"A godlike beauty need not be a godlike fighter," she said with a smile.
“Ah, at least nothing breaks that silly spirit of yours,” Sylas chuckled.
“Oh, no, you do. All the time,” she said. “In fact, each time I look at you, I feel like a part of me dies.”
“... because I’m ugly?”
“Because you’re ugly.”
“Ah, what can I say,” he said. “It adds to my charm, you know?”
“What charm? Never seen none.”
“Go to the library,” he grunted. “I need to go cool off in the snow. See you tonight.”
“Wait--we’re really going to share this room?” she asked, pulling back. “But... what... what if you attack me?”
Sylas merely cracked a smile toward her, mystifying her further, before leaving. He wanted to try and make some final preparations, pushing his body as far as it can go for the time being, before departing for the village. Though he wouldn’t be taken unaware and sapped of all magic the next time, it was an experience that made him realize something: without magic, he was, at best, an above-average swordsman with very limited moveset.
If he were a character in a game, he wouldn’t be a boss, but a random mob in a sea of same-looking mobs that have two ways of attacking and get killed rather quickly. Though he trained with Tenner a lot, with even Derrek pitching in frequently, most of what they taught him were the basics--how to hold a stance, basics of stabbing, sweeping, slicing, how to move his feet laterally, use his entire body to swing, dodge by using minimal movement...
All of that was extremely important, but it also made him predictable. If he ducked to dodge a sweep once, he'd do it again. He wasn't good at parrying, so he didn't really have a choice. While magic allowed him to overcome some of his shortcomings, the lack of moves still held him back. He only had 'Heartseeker' in the end, and one strike at that, repeated over and over. And though a dangerous and lethal strike, if somebody dodged it once, they'd dodge it again.
Additionally, he'd come to realize that none of the classic 'sword-fighting fantasy' actually worked in this world. If he tried to do a spin-attack, everyone immediately stabbed him in the spine and killed him. If he tried to be fanciful, his strikes wouldn't be lethal and others would just exchange blow for blow and kill him. In fact, most 'duels' were erroneously short. Rather than minutes-long epic clashes of skill and strength, they were ten seconds long, simple-seeming, even boorish-looking fights that determined who lived and who died.
It took a lot of adjusting, but he'd become strong, that much he knew. Still, there was much, much more room to grow--magic-wise and otherwise. He was merely touching the edges of reality, he knew, as the current peaks that he had witnessed outshone him by the speed of light. Going as far back as to when he witnessed the clash of the two shadows, to when Ryne 'exploded', obliterating the entire castle, to the army of the dead beyond the membrane of reality, and finally the hand that swept from the void and abolished his psyche.
Not many things still made much sense as they were hidden in the dark. The gears and wheels and the tiny little mechanisms that controlled this world were still hidden from him, covered with a shroud beyond which he could not peer. In time, though, he was confident he would. He was getting stronger, faster, and though not smart, at least smarter. Beyond just being a swordsman, he was also on the general cusps of becoming a basic-level Exorcist, even according to Ryne. Then there was also the fact that his stubbornness and single-mindedness created a completely new Way, an entirely unique school of magic that likely nobody else in the world could study except for him.
It was a world of magic, but it was a world grounded; there were rules and laws and guidelines and he wasn’t above them. The only thing he could do was learn them in detail and understand how to play within them. And it all began with becoming the strongest version of his current self. And as for where it ended? He couldn’t even venture a guess.