Chapter 82: Hellscape

Chapter 82: Hellscape

Chapter 82

Hellscape

Sylas groaned audibly as his eyes began to flicker. The pain quickly assailed his head in addition to the burning of his throat. Even still, opening his eyes completely was difficultan gargantuan task for how groggy he wasnot to mention that what awaited him was a hazy, blurry sight he couldn't make much sense of.

Water he mumbled to the world and yet, to his shock, a hand helped him sit up and offered him a cup of water.

Here you go, Valens chirpy voice broke past the haze as Sylas quickly took the cup and gorged it down whole. Just how much did you drink? You must have outdrank us all last light.

Uuugh, Sylas bent forward and grabbed his head with both his hands. It was a nostalgic feeling, actually. Its been a long while since hed gotten that drunk. And he was also reminded just why it has been so longthe feeling wasnt that great. In fact, it was awful. Beyond the headache, his stomach was atumbling, and he felt like spilling his insides out and yet couldnt. It was an awful feeling.

"In any case," Valen said. "Take your time. I'll station a guard outside of the tentif you need anything, holler at them."

Wait, wait Sylas briefly woke from his stupor and reached over, pulling at Valens sleeve. Last night did, did you see who carried me in?

Carried you in?

Yea, Sylas nodded. It was, uh, it was a woman. I think. Did you see who it was?

Cant say I did, Valen replied. I already found you passed out on the bed by the time I returned. But, if youd like, I can ask around.

No, no, its fine, Sylas said. Was probably my drunken imagination, anyway.

Will you be alright?

Yeah, yeah, go on ahead, Sylas said, pulling back and lying down on the bed. Ill need a day. Or two. Or three.

However many youd like, Valen said before he departed, leaving Sylas lonesome with his thoughts once more.

Last night was hazy, but he recalled a few momentsnotably him whining like a little child to what was likely a phantom, spilling his grievances and soul-buried complaints. Nonetheless, it was a good, therapeutic even, session of sorts. He needed itespecially after witnessing the scope of the attack.

Ah, the attack, he mumbled, finally recalling why hed gotten stupendously drunk in the first place. The sea of the dead, the shredded walls, the banquet of blood and gore, the penultimate end of the world. Hoooh, he blew air through his lips as though he was trying to blow his troubles away, rubbing his face in a delirious attempt to wake up and make sense of things. But he couldntbecause things didnt make sense.

He was asked to be the hero, but he didnt have even an iota of strength a hero should have. He didn't have the tools, the means, nothing, really, but the inability to diebut the inability to die was worthless in the face of the perpetual death. In the face of something even a hero would struggle to defeat. To be a hero, yet not heroic; savior, yet not salvationall with the scarred, broken, drifting mind that kissed the health a lengthy farewell.

Sitting back up, he reached for the bowl of water once again, drinking some and using some to wash his face and neck. It was pointless to make up excuses, to wallow in pity and the sense of impossibility. Hed have to do it, one way or another. What was the alternative? Taking the few dozen good seeds and trying to escape the castle in the middle of the worst winter hed ever seen? Could he even do it? He was uncertain. Possibly.

But could Valen? Could Ryne? Could Tenner? Would they? Hed have to lie and deceive every one of them and then escape, leaving hundreds to die. That was why he held on to hopehope for the talismans based upon the ancient characters. Ryne was excited when it came to them, citing unimaginable possibilities. He had to be excited tooand he had to pray. Pray that they could undo the death itself. Because even if there was another solution he couldnt see it. He wasnt clever enough or cold enough or brilliant enough to see it. He was a petty man tasked with being a hero in a world that he knew nothing about.

He recovered for the rest of the day practiced for the next few before resetting the loop, befriending Derrek, informing Valen, and then rushing back to the castle to deal with one death hed already solvedIun.

After Valen captured the boys attention, Sylas immediately shoved Ryne and him in the same room and forced the ancient characters out of Iun. This was the only way, he believed. And even if it was he couldnt possibly comprehend just how long it would take. He studied for just under three months relentlessly and then the dead came. And the dead won. The darkness swallowed the light, and the spirit of man was unkindled.

You have died.

Save point Pups Blood has been initialized.

It could be Tenner, it could be Cyrs, it could be Derrek, it could be hundreds of others hed watched die and die and die and die. They would all die. There would always be bloodeverywhere. Bits and pieces of what made a person whole.

It was a hellscape. It was his personal inferno, a cast made out of the sinners chains. A molten grasp of the cruel that held him amidst the fires and amidst the pain and amidst the suffering. He couldnt escape. He couldnt save them.

You have died

You have died

You have died

He stopped watching. He could watch no more. He would kill himself before it all began. Shaking. Shivering.

You have died

You have died

Lifetimes are a passage of eternity. Boundless merit, he learned. All of the world was within an hourglass, and he would flip it. Over and over and over again. He knew everything. Hed seen everything. Learned everything.

He knew how every maid and every servant and every bandit and every prisoner would react to everything. If he yelled, if he mumbled, if he did nothing. He knew where theyd be, whatd they do, everything. Sasha would be in charge of potatoes and would spend every day mashing 'em at dawn, from the first croak of the cock to the mid-morning. Sam would broom the stairs, up and down, every day, at the same time. Every time. All the time. Forever. Hardin, Byle, Sylca, Fetyl, Sio, Greg, Cod hundreds of names swirled in his memories. He knew everything. Everything.

You have died

You have died

You have died

Sylas recounted. He knew he was wrong, but he recounted nonetheless. Many years hed completely erased from his memory, but he recounted nonetheless. Many more hed blended together as they were all the same, but he recounted nonetheless. And many more simply vanished, like wisps of smoke, never to be seen again. Sixty-four. Sixty-four

sixty-four, he mumbled into the wind. Sixty-four years, altogether, he recounted. And yet he wasnt a day older. Not a wrinkle to show for it. Not an iota of change for others to see. As every time, they celebrated. They danced. They sang. They drank. He'd forgotten most of life's joysbeyond occasionally drinking to prevent his mind from completely cracking like glass and shattering into millions of shards. He was a statue, a cold, boorish, limp, soggy, wet paper. He was nothingand nothing was him.

You have died

You have died

You have died

Sylas stood on the wall, staring, waiting, anticipating. The tiny wisp of flame that continued to burn in the depths of his soul all this while was gently rekindled. The talismans the talismans were done. Some, at least. Four in total, to be precise. That was ithe knew. Four was as many as they would be able to make in the time they had. He'd tested itspent over five years, actually, testing it, time and time and time and time again. Four. They had four grenades for the army of tens of thousands.

Please, God, please, he mumbled a prayer. I cant. Not anymore. Not anymore. Please. Please. Give me tomorrow. Please. Please please give me tomorrow give me tomorrow give me tomorrow his prayers went off with the whipped winds as the atmosphere of magic changed. They've come. The dead, once morelike all the times beforehave come. "Just once. Just once, please. Just once"

You have died

You have died

You have died