Chapter 96

  Struggle Begets Change

Sylas nibbled away at the piece of chicken viciously, causing Valen and Derrek to look at him oddly and even for Ryne to wonder what strange noises were. He was hungry. No, describing it as hunger was like saying that the Second World War was just a kerfuffle and nothing more. The hunger burned through him like fire, every inch of his body growling like a beast.

He'd already eaten enough for five people, yet was still nowhere near sated. And this was hardly a new phenomenon. The first time it happened, he actually ended up dying since he went to sleep instead of eating, 'waking up dead', so to say. Every time after, he was prepared. Just as he was today. He'd already ordered what was basically a feast and was burning through it all like fire through paper.

“... what’s with him?” Valen turned to Derrek and asked.

“I don’t know,” Derrek shrugged.

“Hey, food-devourer. Everything alright?” Valen called him out, causing Sylas to put down the freshly-cleaned bone.

"Everything's great," he replied. "Just a bit hungry is all."

“A... bit?”

“Yeah. Just a bit.”

The source of hunger was easy to identify--the solitary change in his lifestyle, after all, was him attempting to freeze his blood in place. He'd been trying for roughly four years now and, in parallel, had managed to coat roughly one-fourth of his total blood reserves with energy in the process before his body just gave out.

He was actually progressing much faster than he expected, and there seemed to be no bottlenecks. He suspected that it had something to do with his absolutely reckless attitude toward it. After all, when other people practiced, they weren't able to push their bodies too far--even hitting the 'limit' was too dangerous as it could lead to some serious long-term consequences. He, however, didn't care for any of that. He pushed the limit and beyond it religiously, leading to every one of his deaths in the four years being the result of the training.

It paid off, however, as he genuinely felt his body's strength skyrocketing. Even with just the 'minute' adjustments, he seemed to be able to break past the bottleneck that he'd hit. Though it wasn't to the point where he could layer ten strikes into one just yet, he did manage to hit eight--and it wasn't just once or twice, but consistently, actually, and without causing his arm to implode in the process.

“Well, you seem healthier, at least,” Valen commented. “And you drink less.”

“Right, I noticed it too,” Derrek nodded. “I guess it’s hard to drink when your mouth is perpetually stuffed with food.”

“You lot are just jealous ‘cause you ain’t got a stomach like me,” Sylas commented. “I’m bulking up. This is what it is. Bulking up. Getting ripped. And stuff.”

“Aha, sure. Oh well. Whatever makes you happy,” Valen shrugged, not prying any further. “How go the plans for reconstruction?” he asked Derrek.

“Slowly,” Derrek sighed. “Most of our veteran builders have unfortunately died. As such, we need to take it slowly.”

“Prioritize patching up the holes in the castle,” Valen said. “Over the wall. Rather, just ignore the wall. There’s no point in rushing it since it’s too destroyed. We’ll request assistance come spring.”

“I--I could probably draw up some talismans to act as temporary barriers,” Ryne said suddenly.

“It’s alright. Don’t push yourself.”

“Huh? I’m not!” she protested Valen. “Just... just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything! Besides, because of Iun... I can make much stronger talismans. Though it will take a bit longer. And it doesn’t seem as though I can ask this hungry husk for help, either.”

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“Hm? Who? Me?” Sylas voiced out. “Of course you can. You can ask me for anything.”

“Help me draw up some talismans.”

“Uhmmm...”

“Pfft, ha ha ha ha,” the trio burst out into free laughter, causing Sylas to finally snap out of the seeming hypnosis and look up. Their faces... were joyful. It wasn’t laughter born out of pain. Out of force. They laughed freely. And a faint and very brief smile emerged on his face.

“Fine, fine, you don’t have to help,” Ryne said. “Focus on, what did you call it? Bulking up. Yes, bulking up.”

“Hey!” Sylas called out. “Why do you say it like that? You know, most women would appreciate me trying to build some muscle! It’s a desired trait! I think? Tsk, no, next to the Prince’s handsome voice and tender touch, I just look like a brute.”

“Aah, why are you dragging me into your fantasies again?” Valen sighed, shaking his head. “Why not drag Derrek in?”

“Because he can beat my ass. You? You can’t,” Sylas said. “Too kind.”

“Even I’m not that confident in beating you, anymore,” Derrek said. “What, with your bulking-up and all.”

“Ha ha ha...”

“Laugh all you want, but I can now bend steel with my hands,” Sylas bragged. “Huh? How about that?”

“... dammit. That is pretty badass,” Ryne commented.

“Right? I’d hire him as a guardian,” Valen nodded.

“I’m sure a lot of women are looking for a man who can bend steel with his bare hands. After all, lots of things to bend around the house.”

“Alright, the first two seemed like genuine praises,” Sylas said. “But yours makes me think you lot are just fucking with me!”

“No, no, I’m serious,” Ryne quickly added, though there was something strange with her voice.

“Yes, me too, me too,” Valen said. “Wholesome praise.”

“... Ryne.”

“Y-yes?”

“I hear a fluttering heart,” Sylas threatened. “And I may just expose its wings.”

“... please don’t. I--I think you are wonderful. Amazing. The best.”

“That’s more like it. Wait--I just sounded like a really bad guy, didn’t?”

“Yup. The worst.”

“I got the chills,” Derrek reaffirmed Valen’s point.

“Haah,” putting down the plate, Sylas stood up and stretched. “I need to go and reflect.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Fine! I’m gonna go bulk-up! Have a problem with it?!!”

“No, no, go ahead.”

“More muscles, more strength.”

“Go Sylas, go!”

“Don’t bother me for a couple of hours,” he waved them as he left, shutting the door behind him, leaving the trio to stew in silence for a little while.

“That was... nostalgic,” Valen commented with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Derrek nodded. “I haven’t seen him that relaxed in months.”

“He was still very careful, though,” Ryne said, drinking from a cup.

“Baby steps,” Derrek said. “At least he laughed with us, instead of brooding and apologizing.”

“Yes,” Valen nodded. “How goes your investigation?”

“Nowhere fast,” Derrek sighed. “Though I picked up on some trace energy, it’s impossible to really assess anything. All I can tell you is that there were three types at play--temporal, spatial, and some form of body-modification, likely layered.”

“So, at least a tier-three Magi?” Valen frowned at the thought.

“I--I don’t think so,” Ryne voiced out suddenly. “I... I sensed at least two different types of energy.”

“Yes, me too,” Derrek nodded. “It’s likely at least two, probably three people who were responsible for it. Only one thing is for certain, really: that hand... had nothing to do with the dead.”

“... you’re... sure about that?” Valen asked, in part because he wanted to believe that wasn’t the case. If it weren’t the dead who were responsible... then it was the living. And that thought was far scarier.

“Yes,” Derrek nodded once more, sighing as well. “The spatial trace guides southward. As to where... I don’t know.”

“Haaah,” Valen audibly sighed, taking a sip of wine and playing with the cup after the fact, seething in the momentary silence. “We need to figure out who. Even if it is the Shadows, the fact that they are southward...”

“We should work under the assumption that they consider we have all died,” Derrek suggested suddenly. “That will afford us some reprieve. However, when the spring comes...”

“We still have a few months until then,” Valen said. “For now, focus on recovering. I’ll wait a bit longer and consult with Sylas. Hopefully... he’ll be fine with it.”

“Yeah...”

Meanwhile, well outside the castle, in the snow that should have frozen, Sylas sat with his eyes closed. He was once again guiding the energy through his veins, going one-fourth of the way through before hitting a wall. But he didn't care. He pushed. Pushed. And pushed.

His body seemed to be doused in a strange haze, as though a heatwave spiraled--further evidenced by the melting snow around him. There was a strange, almost invisible-sheen coating the surface of his body and the mist borne from the melting snow surrounding him.

He felt strength surge through him, starting within the depths of his soul, cruising through him, and heating up his heart. The limit... was there, he realized. He managed to push it a bit further, but not by much. He still smiled, however. Smiled and pushed. Pain assailed his senses, but he ignored it. Just as he'd gotten numb to many other things, the pain barely registered anymore. It was like a distant, numb bell that rang slowly.

Coughing, veins in his arms were the first to rupture and burst, blood flowing out of his nose, eyes, and mouth. He was a horror show for that brief moment before his heart, once again, gave out. However, he realized something else--more and more, his heart grew resilient. Whereas it used to take just a few seconds for it to give out, it now lasted a whole minute in the state of absolute disrepair. But, in the end, it still collapsed, dragging him into darkness.

You have died.

Save point ‘Death’ has been initialized.