Chapter 88: Sword Meant to Cut, Heart Meant to Bleed

Chapter 88: Sword Meant to Cut, Heart Meant to Bleed

Chapter 88

Sword Meant to Cut, Heart Meant to Bleed

Sylas remained in place rather than turning around and running away. It was pointless to run, after all. He'd have to reset the loop anyhow. Besides, he was curious--curious of the kinds of the dead that lived within the city.

He felt expectant rather than afraid. Eighty years of fighting the dead and wrestling with death... numbed him to many emotions, fear chief among them. At least fear of the things that had begun to make sense to him.

Withdrawing the sword from the scabbard, he waited for a few more seconds before the first few shadows eclipsed the light and emerged from the walls of the city. They weren't Ghouls, unsurprisingly, as they moved with the agility of a fox rather than a rotting corpse. All the same, Sylas was unable to discern just what kind of the dead they were--all of them, fifteen or so, were hooded and cloaked in black from head to toe, hoisting a pair of daggers each.

The only thing about them that he could distinctly see were their eyes--and they all sported the exact replicas, slanted, harrowingly azure eyes that appeared faintly aglow, tendrils of smoke whizzing out from their corners. They circled him quickly, though didnt attack immediately--just like he was inspecting them, they were inspecting him.

... a living? a voice murmured. Are you lost, little boy?

Lost? Sylas glanced toward the direction of the voice. You could say that. Would you kindly gentlemen show me the path, then?

Kill it, a voice spoke from the void, causing Sylas to look further into the city, identifying the source through the trace of magic. Fifteen heads nodded in unison, slithering slightly forward and prepping the daggers. Sylas remained seemingly indifferent, his gaze glued to distance. He already knew the dead had hierarchy--even culture. But seeing it... was still mind-shattering. Rather than the dead, they simply appeared to be a different kind of culture of humans.

The shadows lurched forward, their daggers tinted in dark, ashen gray. The first one came streaming toward his neck immediately, causing Sylas to finally re-focus. Bending back, he dodged the swipe as he pushed his sword forward, feeling the beat of the undying heart. Seemingly with no effort invested, he managed to pierce the attackers heart in one motion, skewering the figure before lifting his leg and kicking it in the abdomen and toward another approaching assailant.

Spinning, he ducked and swiped at another attackers feet, kicking him off-balance before grasping the blade with both his hands and stabbing forward, once again piercing through the heart. Without resting, he kicked the ground beneath and dodged an attack from behind, causing him to vault around the figure hed just stabbed, using it as a shield as he pushed forward, diving a dual frontal attack, using the figure to shield himself from one end while parrying the strike of the other with his sword effortlessly before stabbing forward cleanly through the heart.

Stop, the voice murmured yet again and all the attacking figures retreated immediately. There was no shock or fear or any emotion, really, within their gazes. Sylas exhaled, looking toward the distance once more, the source of murmur. A Child incarnate visits us. It is an honor.

... this place has changed, Sylas mumbled, deciding to play along.

Oh? Youve been here before?

What for? he scoffed. Your magic is already tightly wound round my tender heart.

... such a shame, she sighed. Youd make a fine General. Alas...

Alas...

You have died.

Save point Death has been initialized.

AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Sylas sat in front of the crackling flames, occasionally sipping wine, wrenched deep in thought. A city... potentially even a Kingdom of the dead lay somewhere, slumbering, waiting. What inspired him, however, was the knowledge that this place wasn't the only one that held. The inspiration, however, was quaint--compared to what army they seemed to have, just a band of Ghouls seemed more like a scouting force than something worthy of being called an 'army'.

Sighing, he took yet another sip before putting down the gourd, losing himself in the roaring fire. That woman, dead or alive, or something else entirely, was... strong. In fact, Sylas wasnt even certain exactly how strong she was--the closest comparison he had were the Shadows from early on, but as hed never seen her fight, he couldnt be certain.

At the very least, she was much, much, much stronger than someone of Derreks level. Her control of magic... was beautiful. The only reason Sylas even realized what she was doing was due to his sensitivity to hearts--his own included. Until then, however, he was entirely unaware of how or where she managed to do it.

More headaches kept piling up, but it didnt matter. No matter how many of them came, hed have to deal with them all. As for the crow and the doe... he chose to ignore them. They didnt express any feeling toward him, negative or otherwise, and seemed entirely removed from the concept of his reality. The city of the dead, on the other hand, was something hed have to keep an eye out on.

His conjecture, at the moment at least, was that the city either existed far, far, far away or in an entirely different dimension, not unlike the crow and the doe. The fact that the woman mentioned other places being attacked calmed Sylas somewhat as it meant they weren't the solitary focus.

Still, having a fucking hell that close to home... not good," he sighed, tossing himself back on the sofa. "We'll have to sprint south as soon as the winter passes," he concluded. "All of us. I can send Derrek ahead to feel things out... but I have to stay back with them. Either warn the King or find a way to usurp him. Right. Usurp a tier-four mage. Someone who could slice me up like cheddar. Haaah..."

Unlike before, he didnt let himself get overwhelmed. Though many things and ideas and knows loomed over his head, he kept them all at bay, not letting any one in particular take over him completely. Hed have to start knocking some of them away soon, however--starting with confirming that the hooded man was, indeed, dead. Though he did care for the knowledge the man held, he perhaps cared even more for the book that burned.

After, I can go over there once more. I can use them to practice my swordsmanship, he mumbled. And try and squeeze some information from the woman along the way. One by one. Just... one by one.