Master of the Loop

Chapter 172

Truth Perfected

Silence fell heavy on the pool, with Sylas repeating the sentence inside his mind into infinity, and the girl patiently waiting, a faint smile hanging on her face. There was some strange light in her eyes that danced like on fire, merging and surging at his changing expressions. And, perhaps for the first time in years, Sylas’ expressions couldn’t keep up with what was happening inside of him.

His breathing became ragged and quick, eyes widening, lips turning dry. There were a thousand things he wanted to do at that moment—jump at the girl and strangle her, stab her with the sword, cut her into millions of tiny pieces, chain her on a cross and set her on fire, push her head into the pool and drown her… but he didn’t do any of those things. The only thing he could do was sit and stare.

“You’ve grown well,” the girl said with a smile. “Just a few decades ago and you would have lunged at me to kill me by any means necessary.”

“… it’s still an option,” Sylas’ voice was heavy and deep, as though there was something stuck in his throat.

“It’s always good to have options,” the girl nodded, tossing her legs back and forth in the pool’s water. “What do you want to ask me the most right now?”

“Why?” Sylas fired off immediately. “Why me?”

“Timing,” the girl shrugged. “Just when I went looking, I saw you. Took a peek at your life and got intrigued.”

“Rather a shitty reason to uproot someone’s entire existence and ream it in the ass beyond all reason.”

“Does it matter, anyway?” the girl tilted her head. “I am older than the number you can imagine. I have seen everything. Should I wonder whether someone would be satisfied with what I do?”

“… suppose not,” Sylas shrugged. “Still. Shitty thing to do.”

“You keep saying that,” the girl said. “But was it really? From what I recall, you have wasted your life. You have always wanted to go back and redo so many things you haven’t done well. Here, you can do exactly that. Nothing was permanent. Well, unfortunately, you were too large of a moron to figure it out before it set your life on fire.”

“Who are you?” Sylas asked.

"Nothing you can comprehend," the girl replied. "Perhaps, someday in the distant future, you might savor a glimpse."

“I don’t plan to have a distant future.”

"Why not? I have noticed the obsession humans have with death—be it in your world or all others. But death is merely a state of being—or, rather, non-being. The light shuts off and the room goes dark. Not forever, not for now—as the energy dissipates, and time no longer exists. It's truly strange. Even those biding for eternity and immortality grow tired of it and come begging to undo it. Finicky species, indeed."

“Why are you here?” Sylas probed further.

“I’m always here,” the girl gestured broadly. “If you’re asking why in the dead’s city specifically, I got curious. Levon—the guy in the sky, you might know him as—whined that you were wrecking his home again. So, I came to see why.”

“Because they deserved it.”

“I don’t play platitudes I’m afraid,” the girl said.

“You don’t think they deserved it?”

“Why should I?”

“Because they’re using the brokering as an excuse to continue invading the lands of the living. Surely, you see that, right?” Sylas’ voice remained relatively calm, though it was hardly a reflection of his inner state.

"They are living too, though?" the girl tilted her head. "If being 'living' is the qualifier to live within the borders of your Kingdom, then they have just as much right as anyone else."

“…”

"Conflict is eternal, Sylas," the girl said, looking up as though seeing beyond the ceiling. "You have met the man who would want to be a God. Though he spoke a lot of lies, he also weaved in some truth. There's a strange, almost symbolic relationship between life and conflict—where there is the first, there is always the second too. This used to be a larger world at one point, not in terms of the landmass—that hasn't changed—but in terms of diversity. Unlike your world, three distinct humanoid species evolved independently over time. The wars, thus, began, and never truly ended, not until this day. Gods emerged victorious, though back then they were called One-Eyed Ones, simply because they were the first to ask."

“Ask for help? From you?”

“Those like me,” she replied. “We who roam the cosmos. Sometimes, we settle upon a world like this—perhaps to rest and sleep for a while, or perhaps to entertain ourselves. But, we are merely accelerators. Whatever happened would have happened without us, eventually.”

“I wouldn’t,” Sylas said.

“But the story of the Kingdom would have remained almost unchanged,” the girl said. “The Kingdom was meant to burn and restore the conflict that had died for over a thousand years. It would become a kindle of the new-age war between the mortals and the gods. It will still be exactly that, though in different forms. Besides, you have nothing to do with any of that.”

“… I don’t?” Sylas asked curiously. “What’s my purpose, then?”

“Can’t disclose that—no, I can, but I won’t. Courtesy, you would call it. One day, and that day isn’t too far off, you’ll learn.”

“Or I could do nothing and repeatedly restart my life,” Sylas said. “I wonder whether you’d be alright with that?”

“Knock yourself dead,” the girl chuckled. “You are not that special, Sylas. The universe is beyond vast, and its scope should humble you. Within it, endless souls beg and ask. And every so often, I reply.”

“I don’t get it,” Sylas sighed, looking down. “Why even show yourself? This is pointless. I always knew something beyond my comprehension dragged me here. Just meeting you means jack.”

“Your imagination truly has dulled,” she said. “You have access to answers to every question that can ever be asked… and you see it as pointless. Well, not every. But vast majority.”

“… how… how was I found?” Sylas asked.

“You weren’t,” the girl replied. “You mysteriously disappeared. Pronounced dead ten years after. Long forgotten by everyone since.”

“Just as well,” he sighed. “You mentioned that the war would be rekindled. How? Wouldn’t destroying the last cairn effectively end any potential conflict?”

“Have you ever wondered where exactly Gods are?” the girl asked instead of replying.

“Huh? Uh, some… some other world?”

“What gave you that impression?”

“Uh, I don’t know—common sense?”

“How come?” she asked again. “What common sense dictates that they need to be on some other world?”

“… they’re on another continent or something, aren’t they?” Sylas’ shoulders dropped as his expression became shallow.

“The deal was simple—we would grant them powers,” the girl said. “The ability to fight off others. In turn, the source of their powers—the cairns—would be placed in the territories of those they enslaved. Cairns aren’t some realm-to-realm conduits. They’re the source. And so long as one cairn stands, the gods are not allowed to encroach upon the enslaved lands. And should it fall…”

“The war would begin. Right. What do you mean it has nothing to do with me, though?”

“Hmm? Didn’t you memorize it?”

“Memorize what?”

“Your main quest.”

“Ah. That,” Sylas smiled bitterly. “So… that’s really it? My sole purpose for being brought over was to put Valen on the throne?”

"… nothing is set in stone," the girl said. "The truth is, none of my kind is omnipotent, Sylas. If we were, if we could see the future perfectly, we would have just found some corner of the universe and slept forever. That's why we mingle. Because, to this day, we can get surprised. The cosmos is not bound to any one will—everyone can make any choice they want. I, for example, know what choice you will have to make. Or, rather, choices. But… I don’t know what you will choose. In fact, I’m quite expectant of it, truth be told. We have a small wager going on between the few of us.”

“Us? You’re those Immortals, right? Or do you have another name you prefer?”

“We call ourselves Voyagers,” the girl said. “Though it is hardly important. You can call us sacks of shit, if you’d like.”

“I’m tempted.”

“I know you are.”

“How long do I have? To ask questions, I mean.”

“Why should there be a time limit?”

“Shouldn’t there?” Sylas frowned. “Don’t your characters in stories usually go ‘you shit-brain, you have 2 minutes to ask me anything you want. After that, I’m kicking your ass out!’.”

“… I was wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Your imagination is quite vivid indeed.”

“So, there’s really no time limit?”

“No. However, I am being warned to be careful with what I share with you,” she suddenly chuckled. “So, ask away—though preferably about things other than your quest or your stay in the kingdom or any of people in it. For example, would you like to know where the first ever humanoid civilization evolved? Here’s a tip—if Earth had evolved just 200 million years prior, you would have caught glimpse of their last sigh!”