Chương 21: Shadows Crawling

Things played out more or less the same for the first few hours. To avoid questions, Alcyr told Lenore he had simply been disorientated when he first woke up and had been speaking nonsense. Though the apothecary didn't believe him, she didn't push him for answers. The fact that his convulsions seemed serious probably gave him more leeway. That leniency wasn't enough to get him out of the impending interview with Commander Faldren, however.

Once Alcyr recovered sufficiently, he was once more escorted to the command chambers by Lenore for questioning. The terms of their arrangement were mostly the same as before, though Alcyr made one small adjustment.

"Should I succeed in reaching the Master rank within a year, I want a gratuity equal to double the total wage of my remaining months of service." Despite asking for twice the gold as before, the commander still agreed easily enough. It gave Alcyr ideas to barter for more concessions in the future. In truth, the money wasn't that important, but the act of haggling and influencing the Grandmaster gave rise to other more immediate and arguably valuable benefits.

[Persuasion has improved to 2] [Barter has improved to 2] [Presence has improved to 8] It was the same with the quartermaster. Though the deal he secured for this loop wasn't that much better than the last — on account of the quartermaster's far higher haggling levels and unwillingness to yield even a single coin more than he had to — Alcyr still managed to gain another level in his Barter skill. Night came. Everything proceeded the same as before, with him ending up on the infirmary bed, alone and in great pain.

Alright. Now what? Alcyr had spent the day pondering how he might have died in his sleep, and he came to two possible conclusions. Either he had died from unexpected complications arising from his injuries, or someone had sneaked into the room and killed him. The first one seemed more plausible. Alcyr's injuries were severe, and without Lenore to monitor him through the night, it was possible that some unforeseen variable in his body had led to his death. As for the second…

While Alcyr's lowborn background might garner great scorn from the other blueblooded soldiers in the base, he doubted that scorn alone would be enough to drive them to kill him. The base was also reasonably well fortified and guarded, despite its depleted garrison, making the odds of a barbarian assassin even less likely. Regardless, to ensure his survival, Alcyr was forced to stay awake throughout the night, monitoring his situation and waiting for the moment when things inevitably went wrong.

It was a task more difficult than he had expected. The combination of pain and exhaustion constantly lured him to the brink of unconsciousness. Lenore had not been lying when she told him his body still required extensive rest to recover. To keep himself distracted, he decided to check on the hard-earned gains he received from his last battle with Warlord Bjorn.

"Status Screen," he muttered. The System interface appeared.

[Status Screen] Alcyr Rivers — Age 18 Titles: Godless Low Elite Sword Fanatic Butcher of the Red Rime Combat Skills: Sword Discipline 47 (Common) Unarmed Discipline 41 (Common) Dagger Discipline 43 (Common) Shield Discipline 41 (Common) Armour Discipline 38 (Common) Throwing Weapon Discipline 33 (Common) Combat Sense 39 (Uncommon) Missile Deflection 33 (Uncommon) Paired Blade Mastery 30 (Rare) Life Skills: Physical Conditioning 44 (Common) Pain Tolerance 42 (Common) Movement 43 (Common) Natural Resistance 32 (Common) Leadership 14 (Common) Field Triage 8 (Common) Persuasion 2 (Common) Barter 2 (Common) Presence 8 (Uncommon) Mortal Defiance 32 (Rare) Slash Resistance 1 (Rare) Artes: Cleave 36 (Common) Red March Swordplay 27 (Uncommon) Perfect Parry 22 (Uncommon) Deathbound Dirge 1 (Rare) Mysteries: Blessed Blood of Violence Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve.

Read this novel on the original website. [End Screen] All those martial skills… And right now I can't use any of them. Alcyr couldn't remember the last time he had been this vulnerable. It was infuriating. With little else to do, he took his time analysing his spoils. Killing the warlord had granted him an explosive amount of skill experience, but more importantly, it had resulted in him earning a boon most would gladly pay a lifetime's fortune or kill thousands for. A Mystery. An actual, genuine Mystery.

Alcyr had assumed the warlord was bluffing when he said the Twelfth Saint's eyes had been upon them. Even if it were true, he had expected the warrior deity to gift a new skill or Arte to the victor at most, not a full-blown divine blessing.

'Mysteries' was the category where bloodlines, blessings, and other ridiculously powerful boons fell into. Unlike skills or even Artes, one did not simply earn these gifts by performing exceptional feats. A large majority of Mysteries were strictly hereditary or required a direct connection to the Saints or Corpse Gods to manifest, such as in the case of bluebloods, the clergy, or the royal family.

However, cases like Alcyr's, where he had gained a Mystery directly from the Saints by catching their eyes through exceptional feats, were much rarer. Such fresh blessings from the Twelve were usually more powerful, and their potency meant they stood a higher chance of being inherited by the next generation. If news of his newfound gain spread, there would be people scrambling to get their hands on him — not for his talents, but to add his blessed blood to their family tree.

The fact that he might not consent to it would not matter, especially to the more powerful noble families. Though announcing his new Mystery would no doubt boost his social standing and bring about useful connections, it might be better to stay silent for now until he gathered sufficient strength to properly defend himself from highborn avarice. There was also the matter of what his Mystery did. As per usual, the Status Screen refused to provide context on his newly acquired gains.

A surface-level understanding can be glimpsed through the blessing's names and by experimenting, but thorough comprehension of a Mystery's inner workings could be attained only by consulting the kingdom academy's library, having a divination skill, or by hiring the service of Diviners. Alcyr didn't have any of that at the moment. It was frustrating to operate purely off guesswork, but there were no other options. Blessed Blood of Violence…

It probably enhances the growth of skills related to the Twelfth Saint, like weapon disciplines or combat Artes. There might be other beneficial effects as well, such as martial-orientated passives. I'll have to figure it out as I go. Either that, or I have to look into hiring a Diviner for myself. The latter option might be difficult, given that most Diviners were in the employ of nobles, but he was sure he would figure something out given time.

His other gains from the duel were less exquisite than his new Mystery, but were very much welcomed all the same. The new skill, Slash Resistance, was a deceptively powerful boon. Known as one of the three 'pure' damage resistance skills, despite its unassuming name, Slash Resistance was one of the most sought-after defensive skills among warriors, alongside its siblings 'Pierce Resistance' and 'Blunt Resistance'.

As the name implied, it provided a permanent reduction against one of the most common forms of damage on the battlefield: slashing damage. Whether Alcyr now faced swords, axes, or claws, the skill would passively reduce the impact of incoming slashes without consuming stamina or requiring mental activation. The key aspect that made it earn its 'Rare' designation was that anything that constituted a 'slash' would be affected — even Artes, magic, or arcane weapons.

That last part was what made the pure resistance skills far more valuable than other more mundane physical defence skills, as anti-magical protection was exceedingly difficult to obtain. Moreover, the skill functioned both with or without armour, and any cutting strikes that did wound the body would always be noticeably less severe, with the skill itself reducing blood loss stemming from fatal injuries. It probably saved my life two weeks ago, he thought.

Lenore mentioned one of my skills had kept me breathing even when I should have died from that fatal slash Bjorn's silverite axe gave me. The other gain was more exotic in nature. Alcyr still remembered the message he saw when he received the Arte, Deathbound Dirge. So, even the Saint of Nihility has now looked my way… Well, he would not turn down a gift from Xun, the Peaceful Death. Of the twelve Saints, Xun was one of the few he genuinely respected. Deathbound Dirge seems to be a wide-range stun effect.

It must be quite powerful too if it could stagger a High Elite like Warlord Bjorn even at level 1. The backlash seems significant, however. Using it now might even kill me… How does the effect work? Is it purely acoustic-based, or does it affect the target's soul itself… The last of his gains was his new title: Butcher of the Red Rime. Like his other title, 'Sword Fanatic', Alcyr could only theorise about its effects. Without a Divination skill on hand, he had no way of analysing the title's impact on him.

'Red Rime' could imply a boosted affinity to aspects like Frost and Blood. As for 'Butcher', maybe it hints at an intimidation effect? Or perhaps it provides a growth bonus to axe-related skills… The hours passed. Exhaustion and pain kept threatening to pull him over the edge into sleep, but Alcyr held on, forming skill theories in his head and replaying the battle with Warlord Bjorn over and over in hopes of gleaming new insights.

He occasionally heard movement and murmuring from the guard outside his infirmary and the rustling of the window shades from light breezes, but nothing beyond that. Then, approximately six hours after he first lay on the bed… He heard a wet and heavy thud. That came from the door. Instantly alert, Alcyr forced his battered body to reach for the scalpel he left on the desk next to the bed. He kept his eyes on the door. Seconds later, a dark liquid seeped under the door. The familiar scent of blood reached his nose.

The guard's dead. Not even a struggle. He felt a flicker of disbelief. The guard would have been a Low Elite, at least. To be taken out in an instant… There was a creak. The door slowly opened. Then came the sound of dripping blood. Clutched in misty claws, a severed head greeted him. The decapitated body of the guard bloodily slid off the door and flopped into the room. A shadowy figure calmly stepped over the corpse. The guard's severed head was in its hand, blood flowing sluggishly from the sliced neck.

The hazy darkness clinging to the person's — or creature's — form writhed and blurred every edge and curve. Clad head to toe in that shifting black, its silhouette was roughly humanoid, yet every attempt to further focus upon its features sent a nauseating ache behind Alcyr's eyes. It was as though his mind were recoiling at the sight of the creature, refusing to acknowledge its presence. He wasn't even sure if the figure was tall or short, or if it even truly had two arms and legs.

Its details were impossible to discern, with every thought conjured from its appearance queasily sliding off his mind. Unlike its form, however, the objects it was holding were easily identifiable. One hand held the severed head of the Regular guard, and in its other… was a silverite axe. Warlord Bjorn's silverite axe, Alcyr recognised with a start. For several heartbeats, the two of them just stared at each other — Alcyr in shock at its freakish appearance, and the creature seemingly in surprise that he was awake.

Move! Alcyr was the first to react. Hissing in pain, he drew his arm back and prepared to throw his scalpel. The weapon didn't even manage to leave his grasp. There was no time to react — no time to even think. With speed beyond his means to perceive, the creature blurred before Alcyr's bed and casually swung its axe. [Slash Resistance has improved to 2] The last thing Alcyr saw was his own decapitated body spewing blood all over the infirmary's ceiling before he died.

What… in the world was that? Alcyr's awakening into the third iteration of that set of time loops was even more unpleasant than the last. In his experience, being decapitated brought about some of the worst neuropathic pains at the beginning of each loop. The situation was made worse by the existing wounds on his body, which turned the convulsions from something temporally troublesome to ones that were potentially dangerous. As Lenore rushed to sedate him, Alcyr's thoughts wandered elsewhere.

So, my theory was wrong. I hadn't died from my wounds previously. I died from assassination. That revelation was as unwelcome as it was baffling. Even while mired in pain, his mind whirled with questions. What was that creature? Where did it come from? Why did it kill me? Eventually, Lenore was able to stop his violent convulsion before they overwhelmed him. The sedation made him feel weaker than ever.

The physician's expression was the most worried he'd ever seen it — which was to say, her eyebrows were a little more furrowed than her usual expressionless self.

"I thought you were going to die," she confessed later.

"Your heartbeat was so erratic, it nearly gave out." The stress of death, even if it was false, already placed a heavy burden on a healthy body and mind. During his previous loops, for particularly violent passings, Alcyr could find himself paralysed by convulsion for minutes on end. But now, with his badly damaged body, Lenore was saying that the convulsions might actually just kill him. Still, despite the pain, despite the seriousness of his situation… Alcyr found himself strangely invigorated.

Another Well to test myself in, so soon after the last. How much stronger would he become once he climbed out of this one?