Master of the Loop - Chapter 157: Berserk

Chapter 157

Berserk

Sylas deliberated for a long while between walking back up the mountain and over the hurdle and simply resetting the world. In the end, however, he chose to walk–in part because he felt he was approaching the breakthrough in his Way, and in part because he simply wanted a simple hike to gather his thoughts.

“I’ll be ready, soon,” he said as the group reached the summit once again, electing to take a break.

“Ready for what?” Valen asked curiously while Asha winced.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I know you’ve grown stronger…”

“Sure? Not really,” Sylas shrugged with a bitter smile. “Like most things in this world, it will be a gamble. Well, can we even call it a gamble if I have infinite re-rolls? I’suppose not…”

“Gamble? Stronger? What are you guys talking about?” Valen mumbled in frustration. “Don’t keep me in the dark! I’m one of those in the known now!”

“You are, eh?” Sylas grinned. “If you’re ‘one of those in the known’, what will your all-knowing self do about Ryne?”

“…”

“They’re still young,” Asha slapped the back of his head gently. “Leave them alone.”

“Valen,” Sylas’ tone grew serious suddenly. “You’re clever enough, so you must have realized it. This Kingdom… will beget ashes. No matter what we do, I don’t think we can circumvent that story beat. You will inherit a wasteland that you will have to rebuild grounds-up.”

“It’s fine,” Valen said. “With you by my side, building it back up will be easy enough. That aside, what were you talking about? Sounds like you’re about to go off and fight someone.”

“Aye, someone… ye, that’s one way to describe ‘im, I guess,” Sylas shrugged, taking out a gourd of water and sipping it down his parched throat. “If it erupts as far as I think it will, there’s a genuine chance you might see some aftereffects all the way in the castle.”

“Are you serious?!” Asha exclaimed in shock.

“Hm,” Sylas nodded, glancing at her. “That’s why you won’t be able to follow me far. It won’t be a fight between people, after all. No amount of Gods’ luck will save you there, I’m afraid.”

“… you hid just how strong you’ve gotten, eh?” Asha sighed.

“It’s not the matter of hiding,” Sylas said, looking down at his fist. “I… I’m not sure myself, really, how strong I’ve gotten. Every new reset, my efficiency in the Way becomes better. Because of it, there are fewer and fewer mistakes I make from the foundations and up. At this point, it’s effectively… perfect. Well, as perfect as it gets. I’m pretty sure even being beheaded wouldn’t be enough if you just put my head back onto my neck. Even that notwithstanding, if I manage to evacuate the secondary heart quickly enough… I’d probably be able to regrow the entire rest of the body from my head alone. It’s pretty insane.”

“…” while Valen looked about dumbfounded and horrified, Asha sighed once again, a look of sorrow in her eyes. “Doesn’t that just mean he’s going to be able to torture you more this way?”

“Dunno,” Sylas shrugged, stretching. “I’m pretty confident in myself. I held back considerably fighting that ghost ‘cause I wanted to practice my swordsmanship. And because I wanted to see if I could squeeze some more information from him.”

“I wondered why you never seemed to use energy to empower yourself,” Asha said while Valen shook in shock. “Soon, I’ll be more human than you.”

“Nah, that ain’t possible,” Sylas laughed. “I’d have to go white-haired and age down some thirty years for that to happen.”

“You do look inordinately old,” Asha teased with a grin. “No, perhaps… it’s only appropriate.”

Way of Madness held roots in the Way of Blood, at the end of the day. Even still, over the course of many lives, Sylas had begun to pluck at the varying possibilities that the remade way offered. Namely, he’d figured that beyond simply ‘sacrificing’ parts of himself to funnel it into an attack, he could slow-burn his blood for some temporarily permanent upgrades.

Additionally, though his defense was definitely a tier above his offense in a vacuum, in truth, while fully engaged and especially while fighting with a ’cause’ in mind, his body instinctively sacrificed some of its defensive capabilities to fuel the attacks. While he couldn’t be certain that it was enough to face the Shadow, someone who could eradicate the castle with a few moves, he was confident in actually fighting the man rather than just surviving the few attacks for the shock value.

While he couldn’t collapse the castle in a few moves, he could, similarly, easily take over it all on his own–so to say that while he lacked the burst in terms of his attacks, he had the battle of attrition down-pat, and was likely unmatched in the area. So long as whoever he was facing was unable to completely obliterate him within a few seconds, he would take days to die through normal means.

The group slowly made their way down the mountain, finding it much easier as it wasn’t the climb but rather the descent. Along the way, Sylas’ attention was broken between two worlds–one in which he’d soon be going out to fight an anomaly, and one in which he was going through what he learned from the one-eyed ghost.

The story, he’d begun to realize, had slowly begun to unwind; that is to say, he felt as though it had reached its peak complexity some time ago, and every time he learned something new these days, rather than it growing more complex, it was mostly filling up the gaps. He had the whole frame written out, it felt–like an outline of a book that still had to be written.

He’d also come to realize that the crux of the entire matter was likely only known by the King himself–and while he could continue to chip away at the body from the outside, slowly learning more of the world’s history from the Shadows and such, the story that mattered to him traced back to the King directly. Why was he summoned? What for? And, simply, what was the end game of it all? Those questions, at the end of the day, had no answers outside asking those who instigated them. Gods didn’t. Shadows didn’t. Valen didn’t. Asha didn’t. Even the Dead didn’t. Only the King, it seemed, knew the story. Knew the reasons.

As such, there was only one path forward–south. Once he was confident in being able to defeat the Shadow, he’d march south, after winter’s end. Nothing else mattered but getting Valen to the castle, army in tow. While the Prince fought to convince others of his birthright, he’d finally get the answers he desperately wanted.

The question was… what then? Looking up through the mist, he pondered. For innumerable years, all he’d known was… this. Fighting. Dying. Living. Dying. Training. Dying. Crying. Dying. Dying. Dying. Dying. He couldn’t even fathom the kind of life without it. Not anymore, at least. Most of his life on Earth was all but gone from his mind. He couldn’t recall a single face from back then. Couldn’t recall more than 2-3 distinct memories that shaped who he was at some point in time.

For all intents and purposes, he may as well have been born upon coming to this world. All he’d known since was the struggle. And if that was suddenly taken away from him… he’d be lost. Should he stay by Valen’s side and guide the young Prince through the Kingdom’s rebuilding? Should he take Asha and start a family with her somewhere far away from it all? Should he continue to explore the world? Should he stick around to see the possible ‘war with Gods’ happening?

He couldn’t know–not until he knew the past, anyway. He sighed, wondering just how much he has changed. The worst part of it all was that he had no frame of reference. Even Asha, who likely knew him the best out of everyone, all knew his past self in sporadic flashes and her own little conclusions. If he met someone who knew him from Earth… would they recognize him? No, rather, did anything of his Earthly self even remain thus far?

There was a growing doubt in him that all of it was gone. It wasn’t strange; it’s been over a hundred years–a whole century. Unprecedented, really. It would be like asking someone whether they were the same person at 110 years of age and 10. There’s nothing left of that ten-year-old boy in the husk of a 110-year-old man. Similarly, there’s nothing left of that jumpy youth he thought he was. The few memories he retained… were mostly of him being traumatized by things that he completely ignored today. No, some of which he even committed without a second thought himself.

Suddenly, as though a dam was broken within him, he felt his blood boil for a moment as a surge of energy enveloped him. Just as he was about to question what happened, a window popped in front of him, elaborating.

You have successfully evolved Way of Madness!

Even in Madness, there is Method, there is Modus, there is Reason

Madness born of Lunacy is hollow

Madness born of Desire is greedy

Madness born of Clarity is holistic

…

New Mantra Gained: Berserk

–Berserk– The longer you fight, the more ungodly you become. Careful, however–surrendering yourself entirely may lead you to darkness!