Chapter 110

Shades of Corruption

Amidst the piles of snow that lay adrift the drylands, a tiny patch of fire burned, its smoke filtering out into the gray, open skies. Surrounding the fire was a snowless patch of land, though barren of life still, with two figures sitting in a circle, nibbling away at some meat in silence. Both wore clothes unfitting the skin-peeling cold, looking as though they were set to become sailors rather than snow-hulking travelers.

Sylas was the first to finish his meal, downing it with some ale right after the fact. He'd brought a pinch with him on the journey, though the castle's reserves were bare and barren. Nonetheless, it tasted better than the watered-down wine, though it was hardly grand praise.

Looking around, he sighed. They were back under the rigged protrusion, just near the river cutting the north off from the rest of the Kingdom. The journey’s been naturally quicker with Agnes by his side, forcing him to take more frequent breaks since he didn’t wish to arrive any sooner than before, trying to replicate the experience as closely as possible.

“How is your meat this much tastier?” she suddenly asked, causing him to choke on the ale he was drinking and look at her with a gaze askew. However, there was nothing odd about her look--it was draped in innocence, forcing him to simply cough away his own little musings. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing,” he quickly said. “It’s, uh, ‘cause I smoke it and add a pinch of salt. Plus, castle’s cooks tend to overcook it, making it harder.”

“That’s right! I noticed that! Your meat is much softer and easier to swallow!”

“P-please... please stop saying ‘your meat’,” Sylas pleaded.

“Hm? Why? Is it not?”

“... never mind,” he sighed, taking a sip of ale. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Even your sincerity comes off as insincere,” she commented. “How’s that possible?”

“That’s got nothing to do with me. It’s all on your skewed view of me. Anyway, we should go. Finish up.”

“Aye, aye...”

Packing everything up and putting out the fire, the two stood up and began walking, disappearing through the snow and into the wilderness abandoned by the world for the whole of the winter. Just like the last time, save for when they were in need of something--when that something would just miraculously show up out of nowhere--there was nothing and nobody beyond the two of them.

It truly felt as though they were the last remaining pieces of the world that was buried beneath the snow-laden storm, stripped of life and meaning in a single night of horrors. In the despondent silence overcast only by the violent winds, the two stood out as though they were relics of a past that was no longer there.

With each step they took, each pressing of their boots into the snow, it was as though they were leaving behind the final footprints of mankind, the last of its kind, the vestiges that would resolutely echo the species forgotten. It was a silence heavy, a burden loathsome, and yet neither seemed to think much of it. A paradigm at play put the two least interested in the philosophy of it together, as they both had their own ideas and means and desires independent of the story at large.

Peeling back the curtain of trees, the duo once again reached the edge and landed upon the plain separating the forest from the village. In the distance, they saw nothing, despite it being a day. As Sylas suspected, there was no chimney smoke, no hubbub, nothing of note. It looked like an abandoned, decrepit, ghost village forgotten by its fief. A paradise in making for some, an infernal hell for most.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, eating some plums that she’d just found randomly scattered on the ground a few minutes ago.

“Like the last time,” Sylas replied. “Sneak in, wait ‘till the boy finds us, follow him, wait ‘till those creeps show up and then...”

“... and then?”

“And then I stab them real hard while you incompetently watch.”

“... was that second part really needed?” she grumbled.

“Of the few joys I have in my life,” he said. “Making fun of you is pretty much at the top.”

“Oh well. As long as I keep your demons at bay, I guess.”

“Said she thinking she wasn’t one of them.”

“Gods, you suck...”

“Alright, let’s take a nap,” he said. “Long night awaits us.”

“Or a short one,” she said. “Depending on how good a fighter you are.”

“True.”

“Tsk...”

Just like the last time, the two slept till the night crept in the darkness swallowed the world. He didn’t leave anything to chance, electing to go at it slowly, replicating it all until they found themselves pressed against the wall. The atmosphere, undoubtedly, tensed up. They were no longer ignorant. And though Sylas could still shrug it off, she seemed to be incapable. He chattered on randomly, mostly to draw the boy in like the same time, but also to try and calm her down.

“Hush,” the voice arrived right on cue. “You’ll wake them.”

Looking to the side, Sylas saw the same boy as the last time, hugging the same doll, his eyes peeled to them. And, just like the last time, he began speaking shortly after.

“Follow me. Hush your lips. Hush your eyes. Hush your feet. Hush your lies. Hush. Hush. Hush.” the lips did not move, and the voice spoke into his mind. It was still eerie and strange, but Sylas fought back the instinct to jump at the boy and kill him. He stood up, intending to follow the boy, when he saw that Agnes was still rooted on the ground, appearing frightful.

Hurrying, he bent down and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and dragging her forward, hand-in-hand. She seemed to abruptly wake but didn't let go, holding even tighter instead.

The boy led them through the village and toward its back, down the same cellar doors and the same stairs and the same corridor and into the same room before leaving them. Watching him leave, the two sat down onto the couch of sorts, seeped in silence.

“You’re gonna have to let go at some point,” he said. “I know I’m a good fighter, but I ain’t good enough to fight with you as a weapon. Not that you’d make a good one, anyway.”

“Why?” she grumbled, letting go. “All you had to say ‘can you let go of my hand?’--literally, that’s all you had to say. Why complicate it?”

“’cause it’s more fun that way.”

“Haaah... why am I even putting up with this abuse?” she said, leaning onto her arm. “I could be living elsewhere, on my own. I don’t need you, you know? But you need me! It wouldn’t hurt you to be nicer to me from time to time.”

“Isn’t it more fun?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Bickering with me, even if on a losing end,” he glanced at her. “Than talking to the trees and birds and watching everyone else live their lives blessed by altruistic ignorance.”

“... it is fun,” she said. “Could be funner, though.”

“Funner’s not a word. More fun.”

“Funner is a word.”

“There ain’t many hills I’m gonna die on,” he looked at her. “But if you say ‘funner’ one more time, I swear I’ll dye your hair in piss-yellow and make constant jokes about how many birds pissed on your head ‘cause you reminded them of a pisshole.”

“... a very strange hill to die on,” she fought a creeping smile. “But very well. I shall afford you this victory!”

“What a lovely scene,” a calm, quaint voice interrupted the two suddenly. Sylas turned slowly, facing the group of people that was not there just a moment ago. The boy that led them here stood to the side, playing with the doll, while three others stood to the front--two elderly women and a young man. The latter seemed to be the guard of a sort, draped in scrappy, leather armor, sword in hand. The two women were identical, slightly hunched, appearing to be in their late sixties, white-haired, with half-closed eyes and white robes that dragged along the floor slightly.

“Is it?” Sylas replied quaintly as, just like the last time, Agnes moved closer to him and tried to ‘hide’ from the newcomers. It was strange, he mused, as she appeared completely fine with Valen and others.

“Of course,” the women spoke at the same time, though it didn’t sound like two voices. “Young love in full bloom is always a beautiful thing to see.” the two moved forward and sat down opposite of them, with the man standing guard to their side. Though Sylas was slightly worried about him, it didn’t alter his plans.

“Yes, she does radiate the beauty of love,” Sylas changed the response, granting himself a swift jab into the ribs that he ignored. “Though loveless still she’s beautiful.”

“I can imagine,” Agnes had changed her appearance once more, to the same, black-haired woman she was before. “Though a dash of loving sheen never hurts the woman’s skin. Nonetheless, we are--aaah!” Sylas was quick, quicker than anyone--even Agnes anticipated.

Charging his muscles with the hidden energy in his veins, he crossed the distance between the two in less than the blink of an eye, a dagger in hand stabbing precisely and perfectly into one woman’s heart. Eerily, both cried out and, within a moment, began to shrivel up like aging fruit, even more so than before, until they deflated like balloons, entirely unlike how any human dying would.

Another moment later, and a shrieking cry swept through the room as a violet-dyed, ghostly apparition arose from the two corpses and was flung toward the boy, seemingly sucked in by the doll in his hands that began to shiver and shake and violently spasm. At the same time, a window appeared in front of Sylas, confusing him further.

You have killed a Shade of Corruption!

New quest has been discovered: Liberating the Haunted

Context: you have discovered a nefarious plot of one of the Kingdom’s most notorious murderers, a long-standing legend believed by many to simply be a family of murderers carrying on their legacy. However, the grand secret is far more evil and heinous. Uncover this secret and defeat the murderer.

Reward: preserve a single change of your choice through the loop’s reset

The reward abruptly shook him, his mind reeling. He didn’t hear Agnes calling out his name, didn’t see the boy standing up, didn’t see or hear the wailing ghosts burst through the wall. All he saw were opportunities... so many that it was impossible to narrow it down to just one.