Master of the Loop
Chapter 30: That Which Can't Be

Chapter 30

  That Which Can't Be

How did Sylas wind up near a sizzling, crimson-red ‘lake’, a sword in hand, facing a Ghoul directly, completely alone? There was a tale there, he was certain—except he didn’t know what that tale was. In fact, he wanted to scream into the sky and beg for the answer to the question: ‘Where the hell am I?!’ The last thing he recalled was falling asleep and then… he woke up here. Just a moment ago, he was alone. Not so much anymore, what with the gnarly Ghoul staring at him with those eyeless eyes.

He was shaking, like a leaf in the wind, his teeth crackling. He wasn’t ready, far from it, to face the horror all on his own. He’d barely managed to learn enough about the sword to not stab himself accidentally, but certainly not enough to face a Ghoul and live to tell the tale. And yet, despite him calling out dozens of times… nobody answered. His surroundings were entirely dyed in thick fog, and he couldn’t see anything past the lake, the faint shoreline, and the Ghoul.

"Shit, why does this feel like that first boss fight in a game?" swallowing a mouthful, he tried taking several deep breaths to calm his nerves down. Bit by bit, he managed to convince his brain that it didn't matter—even if he lost, even if he was gnawed at and eaten and completely brutalized… he'd simply wake up back in the castle before all of this began.

“T-that’s right,” he mumbled, forcing out a grin. “Treat it as a test. Yeah. That’s it. So what if you don’t know how in the fuck did you end up here? Even if you were kidnapped, so what? I can just off myself. Wouldn’t be the first time. God, that sounded grim. Aah… fuck, fuck, fine. Fine. Let’s go. Let’s fucking go you ugly-looking, cock-sucking, shit-infested fuck. Come on! Come at me fucker!!” revving himself up until adrenaline was burning through him, dispelling fear like a spell, he grabbed the sword’s handle tightly and rushed forward.

The Ghoul replied in kind, stretching out its gaped maw and roaring, some form of liquid dripping out over the edges. It swung its long, bony arm in a wide arch; it was extremely slow, Sylas realized, much slower than the Ghouls that invaded the castle. He smiled and ducked, easily dodging the strike while pushing the sword forward, entering a stabbing motion that he practiced for the Heartseeker’s challenge.

Though the speed of it wasn't anything to write home about—and neither was the power behind the stab—it wasn't as though he was facing the elite defense. It was just rotting flesh and bones, and the sword easily stabbed through. Knowing that the Ghouls didn't die that easily, he immediately yanked the sword back and pushed himself off, gaining some distance. His footwork, though still sloppy, was working. He was fast—or at least faster than the rotting carcass.

With the adrenaline still burning high, he once again dipped forward, ducking underneath yet another swipe of the bony arm, stabbing forward, aiming for the same hole. It was actually counter-intuitive—these tiny holes did little, if any, damage to the Ghouls. He knew that he should just chop their heads off, but this was a golden opportunity to practice.

He hit the same hole—twice in a row. He wasn’t going to match the insane requirements of speed, but that didn’t matter. He was still training his body, learning, remembering, hammering in the stances and the moves. He was a novice, and he—

“Wake up, Sylas.”

And he had promise—

“Sylas, wake up! We need to go!”

"…" Sylas opened his eyes, his expression cold. Tenner winced and backed up; that look was genuinely terrifying, he realized, as though death itself stared at him for a moment.

“W-what’s wrong?” Tenner asked.

“I was having a fine dream,” Sylas grumbled. “Goddammit! I was doing so well, too!”

“I—I—”

“Whatever,” standing up and stretching. “We’re going, right? Let’s go then. Goddammit. Tsk, knew it was too good to be true. Fuckin’ hell.”

Sylas continued to curse as everyone else looked away, unwilling to engage him; if the Exorcist was angry, it was best they left him alone till he cools down. Only Ryne found it amusing, as Sylas rarely expressed anger or frustration, at least audibly.

Hours passed, but not much has changed. The forest seemed eerily repetitive, as though it was copy-pasted through and through. There were only trees and the same four kinds of flowers and shrubs. No life of any kind, even this deep into it. The group made decent progress, but according to Sylas' rough calculations, they've barely dented ten miles.

Even with Ryne around, they’d still occasionally get wrapped up inside an illusion, wasting quite a few hours just running around in circles. Furthermore, the rekindled spirits had already died out; it wasn’t due to fear, but due to boredom. There was nothing here. Even Sylas was growing frustrated and angry at the reality. How could there be nothing inside a forest? He’d never seen anything like this in over forty years of his life.

It didn't help that they couldn't exactly afford proper rest; they effectively slept four-five hours, at most, and even that was in shorter chunks. In part, it was because Sylas wanted them to cover as much ground as possible, but in part, it was because it was safer. Due to the sporadic schedule, nobody's bodies were ever in the 'full rest mode' and were a trigger away from being jolted from their sleep. In case they do get ambushed, whoever's keeping guard would have a much easier time rousing up the entire camp than if they were completely relaxed and in a full lull.

And it would have worked, Sylas knew, if it weren't for the damn forest ruining their plans. Perhaps the most shocking aspect of the forest wasn't even its complete lack of an ecosystem—it was that it stood on completely flat ground. There weren’t any bumps or dips or anything of the sort. Just flatness, on and on, as though it was standing on top of an ocean.

"There's a pattern here," Ryne warned suddenly, causing everyone to pause and glance at the strangely patterned trees. They had all, collectively, begun despising trees. In fact, some couldn't wait to hurry home and burn some away as firewood. Not even to get warm. Just for fun. "Wait—this one's a bit different."

“How so?” Sylas asked, glancing at the boy(girl).

“It’s… give me a second,” she took a parchment and a quill and some ink from the backpack, jotting down the pattern’s shape. Sylas, Tenner, and even Tebek joined her, crouching by her side and looking at the pattern. Naturally, to them it just looked like a slightly odd shape—it was like a curt ‘S’ with elongated edges that were bent more outward than inward. “Yes, this isn’t a mild-altering talisman. It’s a marker!”

“A… marker?”

“Yes,” Ryne nodded. “They are used as one of the anti-measures for illusions. You can think of them as the ‘you’re on the correct path’ talismans.”

“Oh? So that means we’re on the right road?” Sylas mused, stroking his chin. “That’s quite a switch-up, isn’t it?”

"Y-yes," Ryne calmed down swiftly, realizing as well that it truly was strange. The pattern of trees in front of them was like a lighthouse—but who would build a lighthouse here, this deep into the darkness, after so many other patterns were meant to send them away?

“Well, this has all the major markings of a trap,” Sylas said, standing up and yawning. “In case anyone somehow managed to stumble their way here. It’s like replaceing a cabin in the woods with a sign above the entrance reading ‘come in, we won’t eat you, promise~’.”

“So, what should we do?” Tenner asked, frowning. “Turn back? But it would be wasteful…”

“Why would we turn back?” Sylas glanced at him strangely. “Yeah, it’s a trap—but it’s also a confirmation that there is something here. Isn’t that why we came to this godforsaken place? Ryn—I mean, Ryu, right? Yea, Ryu, can you tell how long has this pattern or whatever been standing around?”

“I don’t know,” Ryne replied. “At least a few dozen years, but even that’s uncertain.”

“Hmm,” Sylas hummed for a moment, stroking his chin yet again and looking at the trees. He was actually excited—after all, after so many days of literally nothing new or exciting… there it was. Something new and exciting. “I plan on going forward. If you guys would like, you can turn around and walk back home. I’ll send Ryu with you so you don’t get lost.”

“No, no way! What about you?!” Tenner asked. He knew just how much the Prince valued this man—not to mention that the man was an Exorcist. If something were to happen to him… the Prince would likely behead them all! “If you’re going in, so are we. No discussion!”

“… yeah, okay. Whatever. Let’s go then,” Sylas shrugged it off and confidently stepped forward.

There was some pep in his step, and corners of his lips continued to twitch as he held back a smile. Something new, something exciting! He was honestly considering offing himself and just delaying the expedition until some time in the future. Luckily, he still had some reservations about ending his life, even if he wasn’t truly ‘ending’ it.

He walked at the far front, with Tenner rushing to meet his pace, as though he were his bodyguard. Some ten minutes later, there was finally a change—the trees began to thin out, more and more, until, eventually, they vanished, leading way to a massive opening. And yet, the moment Sylas stepped into the opening, his mouth gaped, his brain fried, and his eyes rolled so far back into his skull that he could see the back of his head from the inside. After all, what he saw before him completely broke him. And he certainly wasn’t alone.

“HOW CAN THERE BE A FUCKING MOUNTAIN VALLEY HERE?!! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!!!!”