A week later, I reached the final step of a long stone staircase. At the top of the staircase was a small shrine to a local god of blizzards. No one still worshiped the god, but the shrine was maintained as an act of national pride. It was said that Etron worshiped this pagan god, and standing at the shrine was supposed to make one feel closer to the national hero.
The shrine was located about a mile outside the gates of Northwind, and simply reaching the shrine without outside help pushed me to my physical limits. As I took the final step at the top of the long staircase, my breathing was ragged and uneven. I had walked all the way there and stopped several times, but I still felt like I was dying.
Waiting for me on a bench near the shrine was Beltane. He held a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. With a smile and a faint hint of surprise, Beltane closed his book and looked over at me.
“You made it this time, good job,” he said.
My breathing was far too unsteady for me to even begin a retort, so I merely took a deep swig from the flask of water I had brought with me. I drank too fast and some of the water got stuck in my throat, causing me to cough violently. A moment after my coughing fit passed, I flipped open the pocket watch gifted to me by my mother. It had taken me more than three hours to walk the two miles from Castle Northwind to the shrine.
My own reflection peered back at me from the pane of glass in front of the watch’s face.
[Observe, Lvl. 7]
Nothing had changed since the last time I checked. In fact, the only stat that seemed to have any intention of going up was my mana reserve, and I already had plenty of that.
One statistic I found darkly humorous was my Healing Potential. I had gone after the Red Knight with everything I had, and I didn’t even manage to scratch him. If I had done any damage at all, it would have harmed my healing potential. The text immediately in front of my eyes showed me incontrovertible proof of the cavernous gap in power between me and the Red Knight.
“None of my physical stats have gone up yet,” I complained loud enough for Beltane to hear. “What’s the point of this?”
“Strength training takes time, and you just started,” Beltane said as he walked toward me.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
I briefly regarded the pocket watch in my hand as Beltane stepped toward me. Inside of this pocket watch was an entity of pure knowledge, a daemon. They existed all around the world, invisibly listening and accumulating knowledge. Catching one, binding it to an object, and convincing it to do a task in exchange for mana could not have been a simple task. If I could get it to carry out other tasks automatically, then it would be an even greater tool.
“Come on, let’s have a seat before we head back.” Beltane gestured to a bench that was closer to me.
Without a word, I trudged over to the bench and sat down on it heavily. A second later, I felt Beltane sit down on the bench next to me.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Thale. It might sound a bit… strange,” Beltane said, a thoughtful look appearing on his face.
“Go ahead,” I responded. A small amount of worry creeped into my voice. Did this have something to do with the warning the original gave me all those months ago? I knew he dabbled in dark magic, and the usage of such forbidden magic often came with other baggage.
“When the Red Knight left, after you healed me, you mentioned that this had all happened before,” Beltane said.
“Yeah,” I exhaled loudly. I really shouldn’t have said that in front of somebody.
“When I heard you say that, I wasn’t surprised,” he said, a faint smile playing across his lips.
“Huh?” I grunted, legitimately confused. I had professed a knowledge of the future, and he wasn’t surprised?
“Your words on that day were a confirmation of what I had known all along.” Beltane continued to speak, and a strange emotion appeared on his face. I couldn’t immediately place that emotion. “I should explain. In my homeland to the south of the Jagged Coast, there is a legend of the end of the world. We call it Ragnarok. It is said that the gods will descend and judge the people of Ferrum. Should they be found lacking, the gods will destroy the world. It is also said, however, that one person can prevent Ragnarok: a child of noble birth with wisdom beyond his years. I have been looking for this child for many years. Every time I hear you speak, I hear a new confirmation of the legend.”
As Beltane reached the end of his speech, I could place the emotion that appeared on his face. It was religious zealotry.
“After all of this time, after hearing what you said at Sableton, there is no doubt in my mind. You are the Messiah who was sent by the God of Death to stop the end of the world.” When Beltane spoke that final sentence, he held out the divine symbol that he had worn on his neck ever since we met. As he said “God of Death,” I recognized what the symbol meant. It was the holy symbol of the nameless, neutral god of death who would collect everyone’s soul at the end of their life. On the forums, we called it Thanatos.
In response to Beltane’s fervent outburst, I burst into a fit of painful laughter. The damaged state of my lungs gave the laughter a hollow, wheezing quality that made it sound more like a death rattle than a child’s mirthful outburst.
“You’re exactly right! I wouldn’t have put it that way myself, but that is a perfect explanation of what I am!”