108 Those Who Sing

Chapter 108

  Those Who Sing

The two identical-looking women stepped forward amidst the surrounding sea of souls, both their expressions exactly the same--ones of indifference and frigidity. Behind them, the tiny boy followed, his expression unchanging as well. There was truly something strange, yet Sylas was unable to pinpoint what. Nonetheless, he hoped that they'd tell him.

"We applaud you for seeing it through," the two spoke out. "You can die knowing you died smarter than most."

"Well, considering that most are absolute morons with no thinking capacity," Sylas replied with a faint smile. "It hardly makes me feel better."

"Tell us who sent you and who knows about this place," they said. "And we will make your death painless." Oh?

"We had only suspected that something was happening," Sylas' reply caused the Prophet to look at him oddly for a moment. "But never that it was this bad. Truly, when the eyes venture blind, darkness swallows."

"Who suspected?" they asked.

"As if I'll say," Sylas shrugged his shoulders. "My only solace in dying is that you'll follow me soon after. And then, I get to rape your ugly faces with my fists for all eternity down there in the hell."

"You didn't send out a signal," the two said. "Which means that nobody will be hurrying here, especially as it's deep in the Cold Snap. By the time anyone bothers looking for you, we'll have left already. Apologies for the lacking solace."

"... I still can't seem to determine who you are," Sylas said. "You aren't exactly the brightest lot, so I doubt you are all that important. Still, taking over an entire village... at least, you're ruthless, I'll give you that."

"Since you're unwilling to answer our questions," the two said, withdrawing slightly. Tsk, looks like they aren't the chatty type... "We shall bid you an early farewell. It was a pleasure, Exorcist. Kill him."

"I'm gonna test them for a bit," Sylas turned to the side and spoke. "Hurry and hide. If you do remember, find me before I depart from the castle. If not... well, I'm happy I'll get to see your many rosy expressions as I once again enjoy messing with you."

"... you're an evil man," she grumbled, though smiled in the process. "Good luck."

Sylas drew out the sword from his scabbard and ran back, easily ducking in-between several attacks and slashing out repeatedly until he cleared a path, allowing her to run away. At the very least, he didn't want her to die an unnecessary, painful death. Plus, this way he'd have more room to operate and move. He had no dreams of escaping; without magic, a good chunk of his body's stamina was actually missing, and he regressed to just 'really athletic man' from a 'magically enhanced tank'.

All the while, he continued to move, slicing and stabbing with immense precision. He'd gotten extremely proficient at the Heartseeker, one stab short of completing the second quest. The nine superimpositions were so strong that he was able to make a hole in a fifteen-inches-deep wall, but the attack also rattled his bones and muscles and even broke several tendons in his arm, making it nigh-unusable.

As such, he didn't use it here--in part because of that, but mostly since it was necessary. Though the men and women attacking him weren't Ghouls, they were somewhat similar. Rather than a rotting corpse, they were like puppets--admittedly ones of flesh and blood, which made them even creepier.

It felt like he was stabbing into human flesh, which he suspected was made to be a deterrent for the well-minded. He, however, hardly felt a thing cutting down bodies like wheat. Their utter numbness to horror did, however, aid that lack of emotions considerably.

He managed to last about thirty seconds before he was simply overwhelmed. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't his stamina that betrayed him--but the fact that he was swarmed by dozens of souls and no matter what was incapable of beating them back. Pushed to the ground, they went after his eyes, throat, limbs, slowly digging holes into his body, killing him.

You have died.

Save point 'Death' has been initialized.

"AAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!!!"

It was a productive venture, all things considered, especially taking into account that he'd even given up on reaching the village. Even though he didn't get any true answers, he didn't mind; he planned on traveling to the village quite a few times anyway, and now knowing what awaited him made planning for it all that easier. For the time being, however, he once again had to re-learn his own path.

He'd gotten numb to the pain, easily managing to coat the entirety of his blood reserves in energy, empowering himself. Step by step, he was coming closer to completing the second transformation--one that was the gateway, he suspected, to also completing the second quest of the Heartseeker. To reverse the blood flow... wasn't easy. No, in fact, the way he was doing it was likely impossible for ordinary people.

After all, it wasn't just reversing the blood itself--he had to take into account the organs, the change in travel time, and a myriad of other anatomical things that he was too dumb to know and realize. What he did know was that the ache was immensely greater than when he was 'just' stopping it. The difficulty, similarly, spiked--namely it was in the way that the rest of the blood behaved in relation.

When he was trying to freeze the blood flow, the rest of the blood in his veins would directly belt against the frozen part, making it harder to hold. However, in this case, not only did he have to freeze and endure the rush of the rest of the blood, but he also had to push back against that flow, making it all that much harder.

"I am getting there, though," he mumbled, stretching after a brief practice session. He was about a quarter way through, and it didn't really take him that long. Though he complained about the difficulty, overall it was easier due to the fact that he already had a good foundation and he wasn't rushing in blindly. In fact, he suspected that he should be done with it in about a year, tops, if he kept at this pace.

He didn't care for the timeline, however, not anymore. However long something took, that's how long he'd take to complete it. He'd learned to compartmentalize time itself, in a sense.

As night fell over the frosted landscape, he returned to his room, seeing that Valen wasn't there. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary; he often stayed late with the council, deliberating over this and that, and ending up sleeping in the adjacent room.

Taking off his shirt, he went over to the bucket of water and picked up the loincloth straddled to the side, wiping himself. Though the water was cold, frigid even, he didn't mind. If anything, it helped since his veins were on fire from trying to reverse the blood.

"Peeking makes you a pervert, don't you know that?" he spoke out suddenly.

"What? A girl can't admire a fine piece of art?" a voice replied from the windowpane, causing him to look up and see the same, white-haired head peaking from the hole in the wall, smiling at him.

"Ah, to be considered a piece of art," he said. "Woe is me. Then again, I wouldn't mind admiring your piece of art either, you know?"

"Hold your horses."

"I don't have any horses."

"My art piece, though, is many legions more valuable than yours, I'm afraid," she said gingerly, vaulting over and into the room. "There are men millions of miles away who desire me, you know?"

"No there aren't," Sylas said, finishing up and drying himself with a fresh piece of cloth. "In fact, you could probably count the number of men who even know that you exist on one hand."

"A-are you denying my beauty?!" she grumbled.

"No, you're very beautiful," he said, putting on a shirt. "But all that beauty is being sapped away by naivety, vanity, and a tad touch of just pure stupidity."

"... I really want to punch you. You're even meaner than you were in my memories."

"So, you remembered?" he asked, turning toward her.

"Fragments of it," she replied, sitting down. "A touch here and there. Not everything. A lot of blanks. I did remember you asking me to find you, though."

"So, you didn't remember the addition to that ask in the 'when I'm about to depart'?"

"..."

"Oh, you do. You just chose to ignore it."

"What?! I was excited! I didn't think even for a second I'd remember!"

"I didn't either, to be honest," he said, sitting down opposite of her and popping open a jug of wine, pouring her a cup. "Here's to your one positive: a good memory."

"... why did I even come here?" she sighed. "Just to be abused? Ignored? I am too beautiful for that. If I wanted, I could walk out into the castle right now and get fifty men to worship my beauty."

"You have a really, really, really fucked up view of men," he said. "Here's a piece of advice that will last you a lifetime: the kind of men that would kneel to your beauty... are the kind that you want to avoid the most."

"Hoh? Are we getting jealous?"

"Stop," he said. "You're not fourteen anymore."

"Ugh..."

"Wow. It hurt that much?"

"You basically called me a kid!" she exclaimed, drinking a sip of wine. "Bah, this is godawful. What the hell is this?!"

"The wine that the rest of us mortals are forced to drink 'cause we don't have gods fulfilling all our desires and whims."

"... haaah. You're really bitter. A petty, bitter, little man."

"I really am," he said. "So, how about it?"

"What?"

"Will this bitter man finally get to learn the beauty's name?"

"Hmm... I wonder," she smiled, fingering her lips. "What should I do? Hmm? Hmm?"

"Fine, I'll just call you... Agnes. Yes, Agnes suits you perfectly."

"E-eh? Wa--wait. What are you--"

"Agnes, Agnes, thine beauty is literally timeless~~pfft, ha ha ha, damn, I love making myself laugh, ha ha ha..."

"W-wait, what--what's going on? Hey. Why are you laughing? Sylas. Hey. Sylas?" alas, Sylas remained silent, too engrossed in the sensation of laughter that his mind seemed to have been missing desperately.