Chapter 52

Answers at Last

Dyn and Sylas sat opposite of one another inside the cramped room, with the former shakily looking about and the latter processing Dyn’s answer still. What followed Sylas’ seemingly innocent question of ‘what were you planning to do with the Shard?' was a rather long and complex narrative that wound its way back to 'Shard was for imprisoning the Prince, for some ritual I think, I'm not too sure'.

In fact, Sylas wanted to go back in time and start with another question. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to waste another month just waiting. As such, he summarized Dyn’s overly complex narrative the best he could.

From what the young man told him, he was recruited some few months before Derrek supposedly killed him. Dyn skirted around the details as to why he accepted, and Sylas didn’t bother asking since he didn’t care. During the few months, he… ‘extracted’ a few minor artifacts from his Order’s Treasury and handed them over to the ‘Shadows’ as he called them—they were men, sometimes women, without faces, often appearing in the walls, and in the night.

After being 'killed', he was woken in some underground Temple, alive and well. Furthermore, he'd learned his attunement with energy had grown exponentially, and his strength was far greater. 'Revival', however, didn't come without the price; he was quickly sent off to various corners of the Kingdom in search of the supposed 'missing Shards'. Eventually, his search led him to Ethwar Castle.

It was around the time Sylas showed up in this world that Dyn had begun planning the ‘heist’; his plans were, naturally, interrupted by the Ghoulish invasion and the subsequent arrival of the Prince. After he relayed the new information to the Shadows, they had a new order for him—to imprison the Prince in the Shard. Part of the reason why he informed Sylas of everything he did was simply his own amusement, but also because he suspected Valen would send away some trustworthy men to be on the lookout which would ease the access to the Prince himself, especially during the battle.

That part Sylas still found strange as it made little sense but was not the most important part. The one that intrigued him the most, at least for the moment, was what Dyn was mumbling about whilst leaving the castle.

“What wasn’t there?” Sylas asked again.

“It… another Shadow,” Dyn replied, lowering his head. “A deserter.” H-huh? “A traitor.”

"I've seen him," Sylas said, causing yet another bout of a shock to emerge on Dyn's face. "He wanted to kill the Prince. Why? If he's a traitor, shouldn't he want to protect him?"

“I… I’m not too sure,” Dyn replied. After all, he wasn’t a Shadow himself—just a grunt. Even most of the information he had he came to know through his own means rather than outright being told everything.

“Did you know that Derrek is in the castle?”

“… what?! He—he’s here?! How?!! Does… does he know about me?!”

“No,” Sylas shook his head. “He still very much believes you are dead. He told me that the Shard can be used to permanently imprison members of his Order. Is that true?”

"What?" Dyn scoffed. "I mean, yes, I suppose? But not uniquely members of the Order. As far as I can tell, the Shard is just a remnant subspace. It's… it's like a mini, pocket dimension. Anything, if it fits, can be stored in there indefinitely. Not alive, but indefinitely nonetheless."

“These Shadows,” Sylas asked, moving the conversation back. He knew that his time was limited—though faint, because he had trained with the natural energy quite a lot this loop, he actually ‘felt’ a trail of it emerge from Dyn into the mirror, likely summoning whatever he was terrified of once more. “Do you even know anything about them? Or are you just a pawn?” being called a pawn seemed to set Dyn awry, causing him to bite his lower lip for a moment before replying.

"I—I know they're powerful," he said. "So powerful that they have some people in the Palace. I also know that they have at least one tier-Three Mage. They have numerous artifacts. I've seen them. A whole treasure chamber of 'em."

“Did you know they worship the Condemned?” Sylas asked, but judging by Dyn’s lukewarm reception, it appeared he was unaware.

“No,” Dyn shook his head. “I only heard a few call themselves ‘Children of the Condemned’ once or twice, but I thought they only meant it in the ‘outcasts’ meaning.”

“…” Sylas fell silent once again even if he didn’t truly have the luxury to do it. There were many, many questions he wanted to ask. But wasting a month each and every time for 10-15 minutes of Dyn’s half-baked attention… “Before you realized that the Prince was alive,” he asked. “What were you supposed to do with the Shard?”

“I… I was supposed to hand it over,” Dyn said.

“To whom?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re starting to yank my balls.”

“I—I really don’t!” Dyn exclaimed. “I… I just know that I was supposed to wait in the abandoned mine and that a ‘man in a cape’ would come and take the Shard from me.” A cape? Again? “I swear, that’s all!”

“Man in a cape? Who’s that?”

“I… I don’t know,” Dyn replied. “I only heard rumors. Some people talk about him, you know? Like… how he can do things, inhuman things.” It doesn’t make sense, Sylas sighed inwardly. If their goal is to entrap Valen for whatever reason, why did the caped dude off him that night of the ambush, then? And who the hell is so easily identified via the fucking cape?! “Like turning the living into the dead.”

“That’s murder and… and, well, we’ve all done it,” Sylas sighed, shaking his head.

“No, not that,” Dyn replied quickly. “Living… into the dead.”

“… wait. You mean… Ghouls?”

“…”

“Could he be the source…?” Sylas mumbled indistinctly. Dyn mentioned they had someone in the Palace. Maybe it’s him? Someone from the Royal Family who’s easily identified by a cape… I’d have to ask Valen. “Hm? Looks like your Master is back,” Sylas said, glancing at the mirror. “Took him long enough.”

“Y-y—you knew?! But… but why—”

“You should leave, Dyn,” Sylas said. “This no longer concerns you.”

“…” without needing to be told twice, Dyn sprinted out of the hole in the ground and vanished. A mere moment later, Sylas saw the mirror crack slightly as a phantom appeared within, a featureless face, a form of smoke.

“Who are you?" just like the figure held up by the harness of chains in the sky, the phantom spoke directly into Sylas' mind. The difference, however, was that the figure in the sky nearly broke Sylas' psyche completely and turned him into a… thing, while the phantom's was a whole lot akin to Sylas' own inner voice.

“A concerned third party,” Sylas replied, cracking a smile. “Wondering why half the Kingdom seems to have a hardon for my castle and my Prince and my people.”

“… ah, you must be the fake messiah I have heard certain things about,” the phantom said. “The man who foresaw the invasion. Who guided the Prince’s hand. The charlatan who fancies himself a swordsman.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about that charlatan. As though you were keeping an eye out for me,” though Sylas said it casually, inwardly, he was actually quite shocked. If he was already drawing the attention of the figures larger than life, then Valen wasn’t as good of a blanket as he thought.

“Merely hearings,” the phantom said. “I am quite curious, however, as to where my servant is and what you had done with him.”

“Nothing,” Sylas replied. “I’ve no use for the terrified boys. It’s the men who loom over them that interest me. Like you. And the caped cock. And the deserter who nearly offed the head of my Prince.” Though there were no evident expressions to be seen, the lengthened pause before the phantom spoke told Sylas that he had shaken the figure considerably.

“For a charlatan, you seem to know an awful lot.”

“And much more,” Sylas said. “Condemned, I have to inform you, hardly care for their supposed children. They’re breeding an army, an army that won’t care that a cult bends over for their gods. An army that will devour us all without compromise.”

“… you have witnessed the Well? Ha ha ha, you have witnessed it! It… it is true, then. The Old Writs are true.”

“…” Ah, this must be the part where I get confused. Goddammit. Just wing it, juuuust wing it. “And because I have witnessed it, I can boldly proclaim you all are fucking morons who should have been aborted before birth. Though I hardly can imagine your little rituals had any impact on what I had seen, if they did… you have condemned the whole world, yourselves included.”

“Humph, brainless mutt. Spare me your sophistry. You cannot possibly imagine the world we wish and the world we shall have. It doesn’t matter. You won’t live to experience it, anyway. But, as you have truly, resolutely made my day, I shall grant you a swift, painless death. It is more than I grant to even my favored Generals who disappoint me.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Sylas rolled his eyes, sighing. “Looks like one time is hardly enough to learn everything I need to know. At least, tell me—who’s the caped cock? Just how deep does your venom run in the Royal Blood?”

“… to the roots,” the phantom crackled, though didn’t elaborate. “Now farewell, o' fake messiah. May your fake gods grant you eternal rest.” A few tendrils of smoke escaped the mirror and shot toward Sylas’ eyes. He didn’t resist, knowing that resistance would just prolong his suffering.

Following a mild headache and slightly scorched throat, he found himself dying, once more. At least, he mused, this death was quite fruitful. He’d finally gotten some actual answers and could begin to piece the puzzle whole. After a few more loops of this, that is.

You have died.

Save point ‘Ignorant Awakening’ has been initialized.