Chương 44: Stake What You Cherish

I had kept doing it when the available choices were miserable and when I already knew how little chance they gave me. Now I caught myself waiting for the number to finish falling. I tried to stop. [-50] [Health: 100 / 310] The next loss occupied all my attention. I began calculating how little remained after it, and the calculation came more easily than any attempt to survive.

'Stop doing that.' I wanted to be angry enough to act. Instead I kept returning to the same small, humiliating possibility that I had reached the end and was making the wait longer by refusing to admit it. [-50] [Health: 50 / 310] I tried to shout. The impulse went nowhere. I had no mouth I could use, no sound to force out. I attempted to tense my forearms, remembered they had stopped answering some time ago, and did it again because I could not think of another movement. [-10] [Health: 40 / 310] Ten that time.

I counted the difference again. Forty remained. The losses had changed, but I had no explanation for it and no sensible reason to assume the smaller amount meant the attack was ending. I began assuming it anyway.

'It might stop.' That was a poor plan. I held on to it while trying to produce a better one. [-10] [Health: 30 / 310] Dying here would mean doing all of this again. I could remember learning from her, making the same approach until I could complete it properly, correcting mistakes I had once been certain were unavoidable. I had brought those lessons here. I had used them. This was beyond embarrassing. I wanted to explain that to someone, which made it worse.

The Sword Saint had no reason to listen to an explanation about what I had intended to accomplish. [-10] [Health: 20 / 310]'I can't end here.' The words were becoming difficult to hold together. I tried my name instead. Carlos was familiar. Carlos had somewhere to go after this, and I concentrated on that until even the idea of a destination grew indistinct. Something warm moved close to me. I almost missed it while waiting for the display.

[-10] [Health: 10 / 310] [DANGER: YOUR VITALITY IS LOW] The warning seemed to come from every direction. I attempted to face it and found the other presence again. It moved around me. I could distinguish its warmth from the attack, though I could not explain how. There was something intrusive about it, something almost snarky in the way it came close while I was busy trying to remain myself.

'That is a stupid word for light.' It stayed the only one that fit. I followed the movement. The presence passed beside me, curved away, then returned close enough that I tried to reach toward it. The attempt seemed to alter something. We began turning around each other, and I could no longer tell whether I was following or being pulled. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

[DANGER: YOUR VITALITY IS LOW] An image from the human archives came back to me. Two black holes circling, their paths drawn around a centre that kept shifting. I had watched the illustration repeat because I had missed part of it the first time. This movement reminded me of that. I had no way to test the comparison. The other light came closer on the next turn.

I tried to keep track of the small distance between us, but we were moving together now, and the place I thought of as myself had become difficult to separate from its path. [DANGER: YOUR VITALITY IS LOW] [-10] [Health: 1 / 310] I tried to follow the other presence through one more turn. It had come close enough that I could no longer tell where its warmth ended or where I was supposed to begin. There had been distance between us a moment ago. I kept looking for it after it was gone.

We turned once more, and it passed through me. Something familiar settled in its wake. I reached for a name and received a notification before I could finish the thought. [You have been bestowed the Benevolence of Mimir.] Light covered the words. I tried to blink it away, still uncertain whether I had eyes with which to do that.

"YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!" My hands struck something solid. I stayed where I was, fingers spread, because moving them would mean losing the first useful contact I had managed in what felt like a very long time. There was pressure beneath my palms. My knees were close to my chest. I could account for both feet, although one had ended up beneath the other.

"You and your pride!" The voice came from inside me. I turned my head toward my left hip anyway. Habit had put Mimir there long enough that the movement happened before I remembered what had just passed through me.

"Look where you've landed us!" I opened my mouth, closed it, then tried a breath before attempting anything more demanding. My chest moved. That was worth checking again. A white surface extended beneath me. Beyond my knees, it continued until I could no longer decide whether I was looking along a floor or into the distance. I knew this room. I had disliked the absence of corners the first time I entered it and apparently had enough attention left to dislike it again. I had survived the neutron star.

The encounter continued here. I remembered that much clearly, along with the fact that arriving had never meant I could relax. This was where my swordsmanship had to carry me through whatever remained. I pressed harder against the floor and began getting up. My legs objected halfway through. I paused with one knee still down, which gave Mimir time to make an irritated sound somewhere behind my thoughts.

"You could stay still for a moment."

"She's here."

"I haven't gone blind, lad." I lifted my head. The Sword Saint stood in the distance, orange hair visible against the white. I could make out her shoulders and the placement of her feet, but little else without concentrating. At least there was something to judge distance by now. I stood, slowly enough that I had time to correct when my weight shifted too far. My clothes and equipment were gone. I looked briefly toward my hip again, found nothing useful there, and brought my hand up instead.

Gold moved across my palm. The light followed the creases when I curled my fingers. I held them open, then closed them farther, watching it collect near the knuckles. The colour differed from the mana I usually channelled through Spellfist. I knew that output well enough to recognise the difference without invoking it.

"Are you admiring your hand?"

"I'm checking it."

"Good. Check whether there's any sense left in the rest of you." For an almighty god, he talked a great deal. I turned my palm away from my face and tried to place his voice more accurately. It had no direction I could use. Looking at my hand simply gave me somewhere to look while he spoke. The Sword Saint raised her arm. I stopped examining the light. Flames gathered near her hand, pale at first, then red along the edges. A length of metal began to emerge within them.

I watched the grip take shape and shifted my feet, preparing to receive it. My balance was still poor enough that I wanted numbers before committing to any movement. [RESOURCES] [Health: 1 / 310] [Mana: 220 / 300] [Stamina: 12 / 100] I lingered over the health value. The one had plenty of room around it. I disliked that. A second digit would have fitted comfortably, and I kept looking as though the system might have been slow to finish writing. Twelve stamina explained the effort of standing.

My mana remained almost untouched. I had carried it through the last part of the encounter while insisting on doing things a certain way, and Mimir had already supplied his opinion about that. I dismissed the display before he could supply it again. [Mimir bestows Mental Fortitude.] I winced. The room became easier to follow. I could keep my attention on the Sword Saint without losing the thought that had made me look toward her.

The difference was abrupt enough that I tried recalling what I had been doing just before the notification. I had been counting something. Fingers, perhaps. I left it alone. My legs steadied beneath me. I tested the change with a small shift of weight, then reopened the window. [RESOURCES] [Health: 1 / 310] [Mana: 220 / 300] [Stamina: 100 / 100] The stamina had recovered completely. I read the health value again, less hopefully this time.

"I can't heal you," Mimir said.

"There's something sketchy here, pal."

"You can heal?" He made a noise that lasted longer than my question.

"That is what you took from that?"

"You never mentioned it."

"We can discuss my talents when you've stopped putting them to the test." The system appeared while I was considering a reply. [Wrath of the Sword Saint] [Health reduced to 1. Healing sealed. Stake what you cherish. Fight on your final breath.]