Chapter 32: Pouring Skies

Chapter 32: Pouring Skies

Chapter 32

Pouring Skies

The reason why the man who wrote the diary was abandoned and never contacted was likely because his plight coincided with his home's plight, Sylas suspected. The invasion by the people who eventually founded the Ethernia Kingdom might have occurred right about the same time the man had to uphold his duties of defending whatever he was supposed to be defending.

There was a story there, Sylas was certain, and though there were some discrepancies and inconsistencies, it was nothing that couldnt be remedied. And all of it, somehow, had something to do with the Ghoulish invasions. It wasnt a stretch to say that the man was defending from the Ghoulsin fact, it was really a logical extension. The question was, however where was the portal? Or the gate that the Ghouls came through?

Sylas looked around and there was nothing nearby that indicated it could be used as some form of a portal for an army. While the others mulled over the diary and the mans undying love for some random woman, Sylas was more concerned with how he would go about obtaining actual records from before the founding of the Kingdom. By now, he was beyond certain that a sprawling civilizationpossibly even an Empire-level oneexisted on the peninsula long before Valens forefathers showed up.

Though it was in decay, as most Empires inevitably end up being due to the sheer number of self-interests, that didnt mean its history was erased. They knew about the Ghouls, which was why they sent someone to keep an eye out on it. As it was just one man, it likely meant that the portal or whatever was inactive at the time and that it is possible that the conflict itself somehow shook it awake. No, wait, is it possible that Valens ancestors knew of a way to use Ghouls? Could it be thats how they won?

Sylas heart kept beating rapidly, even accelerating. If his conjecture was true, then it was even more likely that someone from the royal family had something to do with the invasions as they were the only ones who could possibly know how to control the Ghouls. It was all just a thought still, however, and one he didnt dare say out loud lest his head be, yet again, lopped off.

By now, it was certain that the expedition was in no way a mistake; hed learned from it about the world almost as much as he did from Valen. It wasnt that the Prince was shy with sharing, but that Sylas couldnt completely trust the records he was referring to. History was mostly written by the victors, and those whove lost were usually the villainsif they were even written about in the scripts.

You have died.

Save point New Friends has been initialized.

Sylas woke up in his room, just after Cyrs left. His mind was still reeling. It was impossible to recover. He wasn't certain he would ever recover. The pain was gone, but the agony wasn't. It was still there, bleeding through his veins, seeping into his heart, corrupting his soul. What he saw nobody would believe him. No, he didn't believe it himself. How was that even possible? It was one thing for the dead to fall out of the skyif he took enough hard drugs, he might have even bought itbut in those numbers?

No, he mumbled, his lips shaking. No, no, no, no, no, no, no

An army of the dead, thats what that was. No, not an army. Armies. Dozens of them. Enough to level this Kingdom and all other Kingdoms beyond recognition. Swordsmen, Mages, Blademasters, all those experts who could shift the world with their words they were irrelevant. Pointless. Theyd die. Theyd all die. He would die. And die again. And again. And again. Hed be stuck in a loop with no end. He couldnt go forward; he couldnt go backward. Hed be condemned to the eternity of dying and yet living. His personal hell.

Its impossible, he uttered. It should be impossible. After all, in nearly seven hundred years, the worst invasion ever recorded barely had twenty-thousand Ghouls. And it was just Ghouls. Though the records indicated the existence of other Unspoken, that ilk never invadedhanging out at the fringes, rarely seen.

That rain it felt more like a depository, as though the heavens were replenishing the number of enemies in the world. Not just for the tiny peninsulabut the world itself.

Yes, thats it, he tried to convince himself. Thats it. That has to be it. F-f-f-fuck I I have to go back, dont I? he realized the conundrum, tears gathering in his eyes at the thought. Fucking fuck. I cant go back. No, I have to go back. Confirm it. Stay in the forest. Time it. Avoid that boom that killed us. See what happens after. I have to. Shit, I cant just leave that out there. If theyre truly coming for us we gotta fuckin run. F-f-f-uckin hell, whatd I get my ass into?

Sylas immediately went to the kitchen and brought back a whole basket of winefour bottles in total. Their alcohol contents were surprisingly low, but he was hellbent on drinking himself to death. If he could force alcohol to slightly dull that memory, he would. Every time he closed his eyes, after all, hed see itthe swarmed skies. The bleeding skies. The pouring skies. The rain of the dead consuming the entire world in its unfeeling wake.