Master of the Loop

Chapter 2

  Castle of Ethwar

"Ghouls!!" Sylas screamed as he leaped from the bed, appearing maddened. "Ghouls everywhere! Everywhere!"

"Recruit! Calm down!" the bearded men reprimanded quickly with a strangely hurried tone but Sylas was of no mind to listen. He reached forward and grasped the middle-aged man's collar, his eyes wide like saucers, and began to shake him.

“Ghouls! They are everywhere! They are killing everyone! Everyone’s dead!”

“Wake up, Recruit!!” the bearded man hollered loudly as he swung his arm and squared his fist against Sylas’ cheek. The latter felt an immense pang of pain pulsate throughout his entire body as he found himself aflight backward. He fell, ass-first, onto the rough floor and rolled further back, slamming directly into the wall. His organs jerked violently, and he was forced to cough; pain, though deeply uncomfortable, did help wake him a bit. Looking around, he realized he wasn’t at the top of the tower but back inside his ‘room’.

All the same, however, he was unable to calm down entirely. The feeling of having his throat crushed was still fresh and the cold claws of death were still right on him. He was shivering and shaking like a leaf in the stormy wind, entirely unaware that his nose had begun to bleed from the sheer force of impact. The middle-aged man walked over, mumbling something under his breath, as he crouched in front of Sylas and sighed.

“’twas a nightmare, Recruit,” he said. “Did you wake yet?”

“… y-yes.” Sylas replied meekly.

“I understand that Ghouls are a scary bunch,” the middle-aged man continued. “But that is why we’ve got to be brave. So that our wives and sisters and mothers back home won’t have to worry about none of this. You understand, Recruit?”

“I do,” Sylas replied mechanically, replaying everything.

He recalled the window that appeared just before he ‘died’—it mentioned something about a save point and, a mere few seconds later, he was back here, being woken up by this old fella. He experienced that ghoulish nightmare—he didn’t just fabricate that, no way. It all could only mean one thing—he is ‘saved’ to this point in time, at this moment, and should he die… he would be brought back here. That, more so than the bearded man’s empty words, calmed him down considerably.

Nonetheless, that ‘answer’ only brought up a myriad of new questions, prime of which is—just how many times is he ‘allowed’ to die before he can no longer load the save point? Twice? Thrice? A hundred times? Not knowing was half the mental struggle. Whatever happened to him was well beyond his limited comprehension, but all he had was that very limited comprehension—and his was telling him that he can’t joke around.

“You ready to go up the watchtower and start your shift?” the middle-aged man quizzed as Sylas came back to his senses, somewhat. One thing he needed more than anything else in the world right now is information. He was effectively blind and deaf and mute with how little he knew. Whether it was about who he was, what this place was, where it was, or how the hell can something like a ghoul exist… he knew effectively nothing.

“Yes,” he nodded, standing up and dusting off his behind. “Apologies. I dreamt a ghoul ate me.”

“Scary stuff, I know,” the bearded man said, leading him outside and down the same path as before.

“Have you… have you ever seen one?” Sylas probed carefully. Right now, his only connection to this world, for better or worse, was this old man. And his priority was to bleed the man dry of all the possible information.

“Aye, a few times. Killed one, actually, in my adventurous youth,” the man boasted with a bellied laugh.

“Was it strong?” Sylas continued probing, liking the fact that the man looked to be a boastful chatterbox.

“Aye, aye, plenty strong—I wrestled with the thing for nearly half an hour before finally lopping its ugly head off.”

“Wow. That sounds terrifying.” Sylas played along.

“It was,” the old man nodded. “So, don’t worry. If any of ‘em ghouls show up, I'll be right here to kill the bastards. You just need to stand on that tower and ring the bell inside here if anything goes wrong." He pointed at the very same bell Sylas had already rung once, but to no avail, as it seemed since, by the time he returned to the top of the tower, nearly the entire castle had already fallen.”

“Of course,” Sylas paid some lip service to the man as they reached the top, whereupon the latter bid the former a laughing farewell. At least, Sylas mused, he learned how to play the man. “It’d be a bit strange if I asked where are we, eh?” he glanced back at the castle. There weren’t many people roaming about; if he was careful enough, he could sneak in there, but to what goal? He had to do one last test tonight and see whether the ‘loading up to the save point’ was just a one-off event or was it something that would stay. If it was one-off, it was pointless to try anything since he’d die anyway. And if not… he began concocting plans, slowly.

First on the list, naturally, was to get all info out of that old guard. The second was to figure out where the hell he landed and if possible, just… how. That bothered him greatly, but he could only ascribe it to some act of divine intervention. A man of no faith ascribing something to the act of divine intervention sounded like lunacy, but that was where his head was at; all he could do, inevitably, was to bear down on the surging terror.

The image of the rotted face inching closer to his, the cold, dead fingers digging into his throat, and the eyeless socket peering into his soul were all permanently etched into his memory, its top layer even. He couldn’t forget. Couldn’t erase it. Couldn’t yet move on. It truly would have been a miserable way to die, he mused, looking at the inner castle once again. He had to map it out—at least very roughly.

For any type of scam, laying down proper foundations was the most important thing. He once spent an entire summer normalizing his existence for a fairly rich girl before even trying to scam her. In the end, those months during the summer painted him, at least in her head, as someone trustworthy since she saw him on the daily basis. She firmly believed she knew who he was and that he would never dare try to pull a fast one on her—except he did. And she wasn’t the only one in his numerous exploits…

The same thing applied here—except it was many magnitudes more difficult. If nobody in this castle knew who he was, that would be perfect. Starting with a blank slate was like giving him a cheat. However, if somebody did know whomever he inherited, it would be a problem. Especially considering that the world he landed within was one of magic. If he was not careful, he could be accused of witchery and such and burned at the stake.

“Tsk,” Sylas clicked his tongue and rubbed his hair in frustration, only now realizing he wasn’t even wearing a helmet. “The best thing to do… would be to figure out a way to either run away from this hell or to hide and ride out the ghoulish invasion. Then again… there’s that stupid quest…”

To save the ‘boy’… if there was ever anything vaguer, he wished to hear it. It was likely someone important in the depths of the castle, especially since the notification that he failed didn’t come up until the ghouls had already swarmed the entire castle. Some noble son that would likely spit on him if Sylas ever approached… the more he thought about his circumstances, the more he lamented them.

In those laments, the night crept in and dug deep. Before long, the scenery from the last time returned; the whole world swallowed in absolute darkness, only the edges barely framed by the faint moonlight, absolute silence dominating everything. And within those encroaching shadows, soon enough, he saw them. Just like the last time. They were slow… but absolute. Unlike the last time, however, he didn’t screech and ran to ring the bell. He wanted to see them in action, to see how they broached the tall walls.

He swallowed a mouthful, with it pushing back down the terror that nearly overwhelmed him. Flashbacks of his gnarly death once again shocked him, like a bolt from the clear sky. Gnashing his teeth, he kept his eyes wide open and focused on the swarming numbers. A minute… two… eventually, their slow crawl led them directly to the walls… and they began to claw and climb on top of each other.

They all fell, without a fail, until, some five minutes later, just as another bell elsewhere in the castle rang, a bright flash of light blinded Sylas momentarily. In that same moment, the world beneath him shook and quaked as the sound of an explosion froze the blood in his veins. Before he could register anything else, a window appeared in front of him.

You have died.

A ‘Save Point’ discovered.

Loading…

You will be returned to the ‘Initial Save’ point.

"On your feet, maggot!" a harsh and loud and mean voice jolted Sylas from his rather confused and short-lived sleep. Ah, here we go again... he mumbled inwardly, slowly opening his eyes into the new, yet old day.