A Tired Troupe

Screams, much like the assembled Awakened, began to die out. From thirty screaming men and women, they had been reduced to fifteen, and very soon after that, they were made eleven, and now, only a measly five remained.

Aldric had already set the checkpoint, so as absurd as it sounded, even if he were to be killed, he'd still return unharmed. And if that were the case, he could take the risk of remaining completely still and seeing if that was enough to help him survive.

He watched as Chest plate scurried to one side of the room, shock mixing with his already settled dread as he wondered how the man was still alive, even when he was one of two who led the rest of them against the Knight and ultimately to their death.

Perhaps when they ran defiantly, he sneakily backed away. He had managed to make everyone present believe in his words except himself.

Although, the real question was if his mischief would be enough to aid his own survival. As Aldric watched him tumble and narrowly escape dying to the swing of the Knight's sword that wasn't even aimed for him, he doubted it likely.

However, it had aided him to be one of three survivors, but unfortunately, now the only one of the three who was still moving. And soon enough, with a swiftness just as deadly as it was expected, the Knight sliced through the body of Chest plate.

As Aldric watched the final flicker of life leave the man's eyes, he realized now was the moment of truth. He glanced at Alzine, who like him, had not moved an inch since. Whether this was because of a higher intelligence than the lot or maybe he just knew something they didn't, both mattered less to Aldric now.

Instead, he watched with rapid heartbeats as the Knight, with the same slow and eerie grace it possessed, moved towards Alzine who stood closer to it.

This alone already terrified Aldric. It meant the Knight wasn't blind and relying on sound alone as he had originally thought; it knew Alzine was there, and that would also mean he knew where Aldric was as well. Now, it was simply a matter of what it was going to do about it.

Could it simply spare those who remained still, or could it be they were left for last, after the squirming ones were taken care of? With every resounding thud of a step the Knight took closer to Alzine, it was as though a countdown to what could either be a horrific realization or a comparatively pleasant discovery.

The internal question hung heavy with their own hitched breaths.

Then, with a gesture that made Aldric's blood run cold, the Knight raised its long sword, and before he could even process it, he watched it arch down with a decisive swing, snuffing the life from Alzine.

As the Knight looked up from his kill to turn his gaze to Aldric, there, bold and as clear as day was the answer to Aldric's earlier question, simply: He was a dead man.

That could not be changed, and he was blatantly incapable of doing anything about it. So as Aldric watched the Knight approach, only a singular thing crossed his mind: when he did die, would he return as it was said?

The Knight, large and imposing, now loomed before Aldric, who couldn't even bring himself to look at the monstrosity.

Aldric waited a few seconds for his death, but it didn't come. The Knight hesitated? Not once did Aldric see it do so; it always killed with a detached sense of duty and an almost robotic feel. It simply killed—nothing more.

So what exactly was going on?

"The lost men whisper to the gods pleas of redemption, and for that sin, The First spill the blood of the gods on the very altar they worshipped them... Why?"

The Knight's question hung, and on the surface level to Aldric, it made no sense. But still, it somehow resonated with him strongly—not that he understood it; far from that. But something else, almost as if he had heard the question many times over.

'No... Something's wrong.'

Why would it resonate with him? Why would he feel that way? It all made no sense, as he couldn't remember ever being asked that specific question in his life. And it wasn't just the question itself that felt off to him; there was something about the knight's voice and how it spoke the question—everything had an eerie familiarity.

Then, that's when Aldric realized, with a horror that made him tense and shudder: he had indeed heard that question before—in a future he had forgotten. And although he didn't remember, this could not be the first time any of these things had happened.

'Since I set the checkpoint... I've already been dying?' Aldric thought, his face contorting into a grim expression.

Now, it was less about if he had died and come back already; there was no question about that. What was far more terrifying was how many times he had done so. How long had he been stuck in this loop?

Then Aldric watched crimson spurt—it was his own blood. With eyes slowly going pale with lifelessness, he fell back, hitting the floor with a thud, leaving his lower half standing.

[You Have Died.]

[You have obtained realization.]

[You have saved new Core memory.]

[Core memory slot has been filled.]

[Memory upgraded +0.1.]

---

Screams, very much like the Awakened, began to die out. From thirty screaming men, they had been reduced to fifteen, and very soon after that, they were down to eleven, and now only a measly five remained.

Aldric had already set the checkpoint, so as absurd as it sounded, even if he were to be killed, he'd still return unharmed. And if that was the case, he could take the risk of remaining completely still and seeing if that was enough to make him survive.

"Wait..." Aldric muttered as he froze, looking at his hands in disbelief.