Chương 40: It Only Gets Worse

He awoke to the feeling of softness and warmth once more. He was back in the tavern. Lenore remained asleep at his side. Despite the dreadful phantom pains that assailed him, Alcyr managed to keep himself still. Unlike the previous Well, his body was no longer so wounded that he could not control the spasms. Moreover, he was a lot stronger and resilient now, thanks to the many endurance skills he had gained. Even so, Lenore sensed his unease, even in her sleep. She opened her eyes, frowning slightly.

"Nightmare?" she asked. It took Alcyr a few seconds to respond as he wrestled for control over his body. The phantom pains finally ceased.

"Something like that," he said.

"You can return to sleep if you want." Lenore hummed, adjusting her head to more comfortably rest on his chest.

"You don't seem surprised to see me."

"There's only one bed." She chuckled softly.

"If you already knew that, why didn't you tell the innkeeper to give us another room last night? Or were you perhaps hoping for something like this to happen?" Alcyr looked away.

"You do not seem too upset by it."

"Not really, no." They stayed like that for a few moments. Lenore did not return to sleep. She instead seemed content to lie there close to him, basking in the intimate silence. Eventually, Alcyr sighed.

"I'm not interested in… whatever this is. You are lovely, but I'm not foolish enough to think that this isn't some seduction attempt to bind me to the 4th Regulars or learn my secrets." Rather than being insulted, her tone was curious.

"Do you really think so little of me?"

"I think the rational response here is to avoid engaging in this absurdity at all. What I think of you matters little."

"But you do think of me." Alcyr remained silent, neither confirming nor denying anything. Lenore sat up from the bed, her satisfaction clear.

"Let's go," she said.

"I can sleep later. The morning is already late. I'm sure there are other things you wish to do after we meet with the diviner." Yes, there are. The loops had begun once more. It was only right for Alcyr to grow stronger by abusing it.

The meeting with the oracle was far shorter this time. Aside from briefly checking the description of his new skills — all of whose effects he had already guessed from their names alone — Alcyr spent most of the time with the oracle analysing his newest Mystery.

[Mystery: False Life Adorns You] Origin: Saint (Path of Agony) Potency: Aspiring Current Stage: Dormant Unlike his first Mystery, 'Blessed Blood of Violence', this Mystery by the Flayed Saint was 'only' in the Aspiring potency, meaning the Mystery had three stages of boons to give rather than four.

'Aspiring' was still a fantastic potency for any Mystery to have, however. Minor bluebloods — such as most of the officers in the 4th Regulars — would usually only have a single Mystery with the 'Dormant' potency, giving them only one stage of power to draw upon. Having 'Awakened' was cause to be celebrated, while 'Aspiring' would make the noble a strong candidate for the House heir position, regardless of how many older siblings they might have.

As such, the Mystery 'False Life Adorns You' should have left Alcyr ecstatic. And it would have… if not for its association. Of all the Saints that could bless him, it had to be one of the three Scourges of the Hundred Worlds. Alcyr supposed he preferred the Saint of Agony over the other two, though that was akin to saying he preferred dying to one flesh-eating disease over the other.

The Saint of Agony — Honsu — was at least honest in his pursuit of destruction, and to those few who knew the tragic truth of his origin, they might even sympathise with his need for it. The other two, however… Rapture and Dominion. Two horrors that any sane soul would pray to never interact with for their entire lives. Even Alcyr would be happy if he never crossed their Paths ever again. Though that's probably not possible, given my present situation… He pushed such thoughts aside.

Delving deeper into the Seventh Saint's Mystery with his elevated System Access, he browsed its description. [Mystery: False Life Adorns You] Description: A putrid cloak of power, cut forth from the hanging flesh of the Flayed Saint and given only to the most fervent champions of bloodshed. An Age ago, when only six Saints sat upon their thrones in the Heavens, slave knights were used as fodder in the ruinous war between the new gods.

Though many grew mad from agony — their flesh peeled and their bodies twisted before the horrors of newborn divinity — one knight endured, drinking the blood that seeped from the wounds of dead gods to survive. Effect (Dormant): Gain the ability to amass Blood Echoes from bloodletting. When at least 20 Blood Echoes are gathered, the Sanguine Shroud manifests itself, regardless of the user's consent.

When activated, the shroud grants a major boost to Blood affinity, as well as a moderate boost to all elemental damage negation and a minor boost to all ailment resistance. The potency of all healing increases, with the effects doubled for any healing received from abilities associated with the Red March. The shroud deactivates when all Blood Echoes are spent. Effect (Awakened) — Locked Effect (Aspiring) — Locked Awakening condition: Cumulative Blood Echoes (0/2500) Alcyr frowned. What in the world is a blood echo?

And for the ability to manifest without the user's consent? If the power emerges as an obvious blessing of the Flayed Saint, then hiding it is going to be impossible. The other effects, however, were quite significant. While the Mystery did not give healing, it at least boosted it, especially for the likes of Red March Swordplay. If Alcyr ever received another passive regeneration skill — one that did not require him to sleep — then he would be an unstoppable force on the battlefield.

Elemental and ailment protection is also great. I already have high physical defences, so once this 'shroud' is active, all my bases will be covered. It was too early to say how beneficial or detrimental this Mystery would be to him. While the combat bonuses looked amazing, the inability to hide it was a fatal problem. I'll have to test it out tonight and see how it goes. Maybe the effects won't be too obvious.

As it turned out, the effects of 'False Life Adorns You' were extremely obvious. In hindsight, the Mystery's name should have given that away.

"What the hell is that?!" Nerma screamed. She was not the only one horrified. The other barbarians and Regulars fighting on the gate ramparts were looking at him in shock and awe. Even the blight wolves's feral assault faltered. [Mystery Activation: False Life Adorns You] Blood burst from the corpses of men and beasts alike, crawling across the ground in thick crimson streams.

They drew ever larger as they drank upon the various sanguine pools already split on the stone floor — the gruesome consequence of Alcyr's relentless bloodletting. Without warning, the streams rose into the air, spiralling toward him. The noxious blood coiled around his body, solidifying and weaving itself into a sanguine shroud. Crimson ribbons twisted about his limbs and shoulders, trailing behind him like tattered robes. A few drops remained suspended in the air, orbiting him like a swarm of scarlet flies.

It was very clearly and undeniably a power of the Flayed Saint.

"I can't believe this! You're a blood cultist!" Nerma accused.

"Not by choice, if that helps," he sighed.

"I'll explain later! Close the gates!" The battle resumed, as fast and frantic as before. The enhanced protection afforded by the shroud didn't really contribute much here, since none of his current foes were using elemental weapons or ailment effects. The boost to Red March Swordplay, however, was very keenly felt.

He never had much difficulty cutting through people anymore, thanks to his Artes and the silverite blade, but when the shroud was active alongside Red March Swordplay, there was barely any resistance felt when his blade slashed through bone and flesh. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Moreover, the healing effects of Red March Swordplay — previously only capable of mending minor wounds — were much more potent now.

Any slashes he took that drew blood sealed itself almost instantly. The ache of his bones from his earlier fall receded with each foe he violently butchered. By the time the battle for the gates ended, Alcyr had no injuries whatsoever. [Red March Swordplay has improved to 33] It seems I have vastly underestimated the Mystery's intensity, in ways both good and bad.

"Explain yourself!" Nerma demanded when he returned through the gates.

"Why do you have the abilities of the Flayed Saint?"

"There is an explanation for this, but now's not the time. I'll submit myself for interrogation after the battle is over and present my case to the captains of the company. But for now, you need my strength." Nothing he said was necessarily a lie. The Regulars desperately needed all the help they could get, and Alcyr already anticipated dying in the current loop, so that interrogation he 'promised' was never going to happen. All the same, he was still surprised when Nerma reluctantly nodded.

"Alright. But I'm keeping an eye on you…" [Persuasion has improved to 25] Huh, that worked. He should remember to weave truth into lies the next time he needs to deceive someone.

The rest of that loop didn't go too well. The battle with the cyclops actually went worse this time around. The sanguine shroud dissipated halfway through the fight with the giant, giving only one notification. [Blood Echoes spent.] Even without the shroud, Alcyr had initially been optimistic about killing the cyclops, but a split-second mistiming in his dodge caused both his arms to be smashed clean off by the chained pillar. He died soon after.

Just because I killed it once, it doesn't mean I will be able to kill it everytime… Looking back, his previous victory might have been more of a result of luck than skill. If Fated Hand hadn't activated when he tried punching the sword through the cyclops's eye, would he even have won? Irritated but humbled, he proceeded to try again. Again, again, and again. His afternoon hours were either spent with the oracle or Ural — the latter proving a decent sparring partner to improve his newer skills.

The night battle was consistently chaotic. Multiple times Alcyr had tried to prevent himself from falling off Lenore's drake, but the Rocfiend always appeared out of nowhere and perfectly executed its ambush. It probably has some sort of stealth assault skill. I couldn't even hear its wings flapping even though I knew it was coming. Even Combat Sense — the ever-reliable perception skill he had come to rely on heavily ever since the time-loops started — was useless here.

It was a stark reminder that his opponents were now in the Master ranks. Their skill sets would not only be a lot more varied, but also a lot more powerful. He wasn't dealing with low-tier fodder who barely had a Common-rarity Arte to their names anymore. His enemies would employ all manner of deadly tricks, and he needed to counter them accordingly. More loops passed. By the tenth loop, Alcyr had killed the cyclops a few more times, but in each victory, he was way too severely injured to move afterwards.

The damned monster was powerful, and Alcyr was always just one mistake away from having his limbs crushed and his entire body encased in ice. At least his skills were rising rapidly. Frost Resistance and Tempered Bones, in particular, had reached over level 20 in merely ten loops. He took some time to analyse what he had learnt of the battlefield. The 4th Regulars numbered around twenty Elites, most of whom were in the Low Elite rank. His strongest allies were Lenore, Ural, Nerma, and the two drakes.

Senior Lieutenant Garron should be in the base as well, and Lenore once mentioned the man was close to the Low Master rank. However, Alcyr wasn't sure where exactly the powerful mutant was. Even Nerma did not know when he asked her. Unfortunate. Another powerful fighter would go a long way here. His thought process for this particular loop had shifted from previous ones. With how many parts were at play, there was absolutely no way he was going to resolve everything on his own here.

This was no longer a duel or a personal matter for him to deal with — it was a full-on battle, with multiple time-limited problems that needed to be tackled. A Well that requires strategy, rather than just overwhelming force or crude trickery. He wouldn't say he missed the days when his obstacles were more straightforward, but it was interesting how the difficulty of the Wells not only seemed to consistently increase, but also grew more varied in its challenges as well. Thoughts for another time.

Focus on the problem at hand first. There were four issues he had to resolve in this series of time loops: First, the Rocfiend in the air and the shaman — shamans? — riding it. Second, the frost cyclops on the ground and the various lesser forces swarming the gates. Third, whatever unholy abomination it was that tore its way in from the back of the fortress and caused the whole mountain to collapse. Fourth, the assassin-turned-manticore that he had sworn to kill.

I have to prioritise the more urgent threats and deal with them first before I move to the next. Lenore can handle the Rocfiend and the shamans. I'll deal with matters on the ground, starting with the gates and cyclops. The monster causing the mountain to collapse only comes some time after I arrive, so I can leave the matter to be dealt with a little later. He would need to strike hard. More importantly, he would need to kill fast. But to do that, he needed levels. A lot more levels.

Thankfully, the time loop had just given him the perfect Well to train himself in — a battlefield filled with overwhelmingly powerful opponents. Time to see how far I can really push myself.

By the fifteenth loop, he could somewhat take down the cyclops consistently, though ensuring he stayed alive past that was a lot more troublesome. The higher levels in Dodge Counter and Acrobatics were key in that fight. Blocking or relying on armour alone was dangerous. Even if the hit might not kill him immediately thanks to his high physical resistance skills, the damage to his body would assuredly slow him down. He had also learnt several things, key among which was to make use of fire.

The blightwolves were afraid of it, and the frost cyclops's ice armour could be weakened by heat. Alcyr had the Pyrotechnics skill, and he had taken to purchasing throwable incendiaries from Lafmere's weapon stores to complement his arsenal before heading to the battle. On the matter of his skill growth, his lower-level skills were rising rapidly, but those above level 40 or 50 were progressing along at a glacial pace.

He had mentioned this briefly to Ural during one of their afternoons training together, and the shock trooper shared his insight into the matter.

"That's nothing new. Most of the Regulars I know had their skills bottlenecked past level 45. It gets even worse past level 55," the giant explained.

"You should already know skills require exponentially more experience to grow as the level rises. Taking a skill from level 55 to 61 could take entire decades, even for Regulars. You absolutely need some sort of experience-boosting effect to see any appreciable growth within a handful of years, rather than half a lifetime."

"But most of the Regulars have Mysteries," Alcyr pointed out.

"It's how they got to become Elites at a relatively younger age in the first place."

"True, but as you pointed out, it's only good for getting them to the Elite tier faster than what peasants can achieve. Past that point, a single weak Mystery is not enough. You need something more — multiple Mysteries, innate affinities, prodigious talent, legendary Relics, or even just a trainer with high-level teaching skills — to get anywhere." Alcyr didn't exactly have any of that. What he did have was a monster-filled battlefield and an endless amount of attempts to test himself against it.

It would have to be enough. By the twenty-first loop, after narrowly killing the cyclops once more, he finally received the notification he had been waiting for. [Mystery: Blessed Blood of Violence] Awakening condition: Slay Monsters (10/10) Mystery Stage: Dormant → Awakened Finally. Alcyr exhaled as he wretched his silverite longsword from the cyclops's neck. Its body was covered in countless wounds — dozens of deep slashes across its thighs, forearms, and neck.

The repetition of the loops had allowed him to adapt to the monster's speed and attack patterns, letting him slowly cut the cyclops down by dodging and bleeding it to death before delivering the final blow to its head once the exhausted giant fell to its knees. He was also alive and standing — a first after twenty loops battling the monster. His left arm and shield were broken, and he felt half an inch from death, but he could still move, and he was not at risk of immediate collapse.

"I thought for sure that would be the end of us," Nerma panted.

"By the Saints… You might be a heretic, but there's no denying you're strong." Rather than the other Regulars, Alcyr had opted to take Nerma along for the cyclops fight. She was the only one who could contribute meaningfully at all, as the other usually died during the opening seconds of the battle.

"I'm not a heretic. Not by choice, anyway." Alcyr hefted his longsword.

"Come. We need to head to the inner sanctums." Nerma blinked.

"You're retreating? Shouldn't we go help the others at the gates?"

"There's another monster coming up from behind us. We are going to see what it is before it destroys the base." Ignoring the shock trooper's alarm, Alcyr began making his way deeper into the fortress. The ground was already shaking by the time he reached the storage area. He could hear the shouting of the auxiliary staff and the injured soldiers shuffled there for safety. Along the way, Alcyr ran into the quartermaster, who was supporting a crippled Regular as they rushed to the exit.

The stout man looked taken aback when he saw him.

"Alcyr? What are you doing here?!"

"I'm going to try killing whatever it is back there," he said.

"What happened? How did a monster get into the back of the base? Did it dig its way through the mountain?"

"Dig?! No, that bloody bastard swam!" It took Alcyr a few seconds to understand what the quartermaster meant.

"The glacial melt. It swam upstream through that raging river?" Within the Regulars' base was a mighty river born from the glacial melt of the mountain. The stream not only supplied fresh water, but was also the driving force behind the enormous water wheels of the forges. It was the primary supplier of motive energy for the industrial component of the company — and by extension, most of the campaign. In short, the rushing river was absurdly powerful.

For anything to swim upstream against it and enter through the base that way was insanity. Insanity for anything except a Grandmaster, that is. A colossal roar erupted from deeper within the mountains, so loud that the ground trembled beneath the force of it. Even from so far away, the sound battered against his ears like a physical blow. The tunnels started shaking, signalling their imminent collapse. Alcyr didn't bother asking any more questions.

Rather than flee to safety, he made a mad dash towards the source, determined to see the monster before he died. He could feel the temperature rapidly dropping. The tunnel walls grew thicker with hoarfrost the deeper he went. He soon emerged into a giant cavern — the space where the 4th Regulars' industrial workshops occupied. Broken machinery was scattered everywhere. Forges were destroyed, and no matter where Alcyr looked, the floors and walls were covered in a massive layer of brilliant azure ice.

The rage of the rushing river was subdued, as giant slabs of frost now covered its surface and choked its flow. Inside this impossible glacial nest, a dragon rose. No. Not a dragon, Alcyr corrected himself. Though in this case, the creature could boast of a stronger connection to those ancient sky gods than most. The creature uncoiled itself. An immense, serpentine body greeted him, covered in overlapping scales of pale blue and white that gleamed like frozen glass.

Jagged spines ran along its back, crusted with ivory-hued rime, while a crown of frosted horns curled from its skull like shards of ancient ice. Its draconic gaze met Alcyr's, burning with a deep, azure light. Icy breath spilt from its reptilian maw, coating its surroundings in even more frost. Wherever its enormous snake-like body dragged across the earth, ice crystallised in its wake. Alcyr, despite the horror of the situation, laughed.

"A Frost Wyrm." By the Saints, he was going to be trapped in this Well for a while. He raised his longsword. Futile as the act was, he charged. The Grandmaster-tier monster snarled. It opened its mouth wide and rushed him. To Alcyr's credit, even with his broken arm, he still lasted twenty seconds, drawing a spray of blood from the creature's eye with his sword before its vicious maw snapped him in two.