Chương 40: Time Loop Book 2/3 Chapter 20.5/0.5: Epilogues/Prologues: Those Without Faith/The God-Slayers

Lebowski woke up with a groan, barely remembering what had happened last night. His bleary eyes looked at the wooden ceiling of the cabin, then at the stacks of empty wine bottles scattered on the floor. His semester supply of the family wine. Gone. Just like that.

"Why do I keep doing this?" he asked with a groan as he stood up, shook his head once to clear the hangover and went to open the window to his cabin. Sredina was slowly getting bigger over the horizon.

"One semester, big L," he consoled himself.

"One more and back to the vineyard, how hard can it possibly be?" -/-"The vagrants are here again, right at the gates of South Oslar," the grey-haired official reported, reading aloud from the scroll of information Frykt had composed for her every morning.

"Enough with the vagrants," the empress grunted as her attendant violently scrubbed her back with the sponge, just the way she liked it.

"They have no food and nowhere to go, it's only natural for them to come to the capital thinking there's a solution. Next."

"The land-leasing plan on the northern islands has failed," the official reported next.

"The locals killed the merchant with the land deed after he tried to enforce the labour demands he was paying for." Frykt raised her hands in her air and sighed. The bath continued unabated by the problems of the Empire. That, at least, grounded her. She looked around the marble-tiled bathhouse and the rivers of suds flying around. The heat of the Flame tugged at the back of her mind, causing a migraine to flare up. Only thirty minutes after waking. It wouldn't be long before she'd lose control.

"Give the deed to someone else. Keep it quiet just like last time," Frykt demanded coldly, likely sending another merchant to their death. She snorted. Who told merchants to be so greedy and plentiful, becoming emissaries of the Empire in the most direct way possible? If one of them managed to tame those northern islands and produce even one grain of corn, good. If they kept dying? Less parasites draining the lifeblood of the people.

"Your daughter, princess Nephelem has once again requested to be allowed to find a husband," the official read next while the Empress stood up to get hosed down.

"What, just so that she can give birth to an heir and contest her brother's place as the first in line?" Frykt said as the young girl behind her started toweling her off and dressed her in a fluffy bathrobe.

"Tell her to fuck off and show up to court to serve as main attendant." She stood up, wrapped in the bathrobe and walked towards the exit of the bathhouse, where she stepped into a small basin of water, and officially finished her free time for the day. A nod to the two stone-faced guards standing at the door took care of the washing girl. A scream, a gurgle, and another mouth silenced put her in the mood necessary to plan the inevitable. Grim, depressing, unavoidable.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Just like life. -/-"We're there," Headmaster Leigh said through a hazy mind and out of a tired mouth as he looked at the many pages of ritual magic he'd drawn up. He looked up at the white-armoured paladin who'd stayed up the whole night to hear his proposition. Albun seemed… concerned. Although exhausted certainly fit as well. The blonde man was wearily leaning back on the plush chair in the underground laboratory.

"To prevent all future calamities," the man eventually said.

"It's a tall task."

"You're the only one who can do it," the Headmaster replied.

"All the other archmages have already gone into hiding. We won't risk anything."

"The king could," Albun replied.

"So could the second prince."

"The throne is empty," Leigh said coldly.

"And what if the calamity isn't an issue that can be fixed?" Albun asked.

"What if I just get stuck. Forever, going insane in a never-changing world." Leigh didn't say anything, simply staring, vision blurring in that poorly lit chamber. An uncomfortable minute passed.

"That is a sacrifice you are willing to make," Leigh eventually said.

"What if the calamity is the will of the gods?" Albun asked next.

"What if promising such a thing puts me at odds with my divine patrons?"

"Then," the Headmaster muttered.

"Then it truly must be you. Out of anyone, you are the best positioned to change their minds."

"That's heretical."

"But you are willing to do it…" Albun nodded, stood up straight, put his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"The blood of innocents must be preserved."

"You won't be able to go to Mitelos to search for the Shepherd, you must stay safe. He's one of the few creatures in this kingdom capable of killing you," Leigh reminded the paladin. The man gritted his teeth, but nodded with a jerk.

"That old vampire will live to see another day for now." he said bitterly with closed eyes.

"Or, if you go back before this moment, he will already be dead," Leigh comforted the man.

"The last solace of those forced to watch their people suffer needlessly," Albun said sarcastically.

"For the greater good, right?"

"Unfortunately… yes. For the Greater Good." -/- Quatzel's skull suddenly jerked in place in his shack as he felt an attempted geass bind itself to his soul. He rejected the insertion with the wave of a hand and snapped his fingers to light a blue flame at the candle on his desk. Two cold skeletal feet clacked on the floor as he walked over to a bookshelf and removed his notes on the Time Loop ritual that the headmaster was using his help to complete.

He flipped open the book, looked at the charts he'd drawn proving the theoretical feasibility of conditional release looping.

"So it was the right decision to work on that vow," he said in a raspy voice.

"Had I known the loop would work I would have cast it myself, using the infinite time to resolve this conundrum through infinite attempts." He closed the book, put it back in its place. He walked over to the window of the shack and looked at the reflection cast back at him.

"It's not the paladin," he determined, feeling the direction of the person whose soul was now connected to his in that delicious one way street he'd created.

"Fortunate, Albun is hard to manipulate." He snapped his fingers again. The reflection in the glass immediately shifted, revealing a boy jumping out of his bed and starting a rather ridiculous altercation not soon after. The lich stood there, watching as the sun rose in the distance. A soul geass was the perfect connection to base a divination spell on.

"Divine interference?" Quetzal eventually muttered, trying to find a reason for why this particular individual was the one who'd been on the receiving end of the brand. He wasn't truly as smart as most people thought. He just had a lot of time to think and had lived a long life during which he'd accumulated a lot of knowledge. That came to his advantage now as he formed a theory.

"The gods need our creativity and thus must grant us power," he muttered.

"But they are afraid of any of us using that power to rise beyond our station. Thus, magic gets banned and inexplicable conflicts arise." He raised a hand to tap his finger on the glass. Right on the face of the young man who would be his key to unlocking the future.

"Albun, given enough tries, would have managed to identify the core of the issue, so they replaced him," Quetzal eventually determined.

"This candidate…" he hung his head, deep in thought, having quickly gained an understanding of what sort of person had stumbled into the center of the situation.

"It is somewhat lacking…"

"It all hinges on one thing," Quetzal eventually determined.

"If the brand succeeded in creating a conditional release clause instead of a reality dependent one. If so then the matter will inevitably be kicked up the chain of causality." He watched the academy awaken with the soon, professors starting to arrive, one by one, blinking into existence on the academy grounds safe in the knowledge that the students did not yet have access.

"If the gods are almighty," Quetzal eventually whispered.

"Then all the pain and suffering in the world can only be laid at their feet.

"If all the pain and suffering in the world are their responsibility, then the only way to achieve peace is… to kill them."