The hundredth loop arrived.
By this point, if Alcyr considered each loop to be the equivalent of a day, an entire year would have passed since he first gained his temporal immortality back during the Battle of the Red March, though in reality, barely two months had passed.
In many ways, the time felt far shorter than a full year. There had been so much pain, repetition, and pleasure-fuelled level-ups that remembering the days sometimes only brought forth a melded mess of blood, agony, and ecstasy.
But he was still sane — by his judgement, at least — and he was much stronger now than he had ever once hoped to become through his time in the military.
Finding a moment of respite after his awakening on the hundredth loop, Alcyr checked on his System.
“Status Screen.”
[Status Screen]
Alcyr Rivers — Age 18
Titles:
GodlessHigh Elite
Sword Fanatic
Butcher of the Red Rime
Combat Skills:
Sword Discipline 47 (Common)
Unarmed Discipline 41 (Common)
Dagger Discipline 45 (Common)
Shield Discipline 41 (Common)
Armour Discipline 38 (Common)
Throwing Weapon Discipline 33 (Common)
Sneak Attack 18 (Common)
Combat Sense 40 (Uncommon)
Missile Deflection 33 (Uncommon)
Paired Blade Mastery 30 (Rare)
Life Skills:
Physical Conditioning 44 (Common)
Pain Tolerance 52 (Common)
Movement 43 (Common)
Natural Resistance 32 (Common)
Leadership 14 (Common)
Field Triage 20 (Common)
Persuasion 22 (Common)
Barter 21 (Common)
Sneaking 20 (Common)
Presence 16 (Uncommon)
Tempered Flesh 23 (Uncommon)
Bleed Resistance 12 (Uncommon)
Restorative Slumber 17 (Uncommon)
Mortal Defiance 38 (Rare)
Slash Resistance 24 (Rare)
Blunt Resistance 21 (Rare)
Pierce Resistance 18 (Rare)
Illusion Discernment 15 (Rare)
Artes:
Cleave 38 (Common)
Red March Swordplay 30 (Uncommon)
Perfect Parry 29 (Uncommon)
Deathbound Dirge 19 (Rare)
Mysteries:
Blessed Blood of Violence
[End Screen]
My age still hasn’t increased, he noted. Does the System really not register each loop as a passing day, despite retaining all the other changes?
A curiosity, but not a concern. He turned his attention to the rest of his status.
The majority of his combat skills had remained largely stagnant through this series of time loops, but his life skills had flourished to an incredible degree. In particular, his utility, charisma, and defensive skills had reached levels far greater than he had ever thought they would achieve at his age.
The key gains here were the three pure damage resistance skills — Slash Resistance, Blunt Resistance, and Pierce Resistance — and the regeneration skill, Restorative Slumber. Alcyr would put these four as the crowning jewels of his Status Screen at the moment. Any single one of them would have been the prized possession of a commoner, or even a noble.
WIth all four, Alcyr was well on his way to becoming a monstrous fighter whose endurance was without equal for his tier. Even the assassin — an abomination with strength at least in the Master tier — had to apply genuine effort in tearing apart his body now.
I’d wager my body is even tougher than any other Regular in the company currently, save for the captains and Commander Faldren. In time, I would become near-unkillable, as long as the damage resistance levels keep pace as I advance through the tiers.
All was well — if one discounted that he was still trapped in a time loop with no exit in sight.
Things could be better, but they also could be worse. When Alcyr woke up on the hundredth morning, he found that he could sit up from the bed and stand with no risk of him passing out from pain, even without the drugs.
Moving was still a chore, however — the best he could do was hobble. Fighting also remained largely impractical. Only once he imbued the pain suppressants that Lenore always gave him in each loop could he realistically pose as a threat.
He wagered that at his current best — with a few extra hours of regenerative sleep and the stimulants in his veins — he could either dish out one or two strikes at full strength or persist in a protracted fight at a quarter’s strength for half a minute.
Neither was nearly enough for the situation at hand, but it was at least better than what he had started out with.
If only I had my dagger…
Killing the creature would be a breeze if he just had that weapon. No defence could ever resist the bite of its mythic edge — one clean stab through the creature's spine would be all he needed.
Sentimentality aside, retrieving the blade had always been the most optimal and obvious solution to the loop.
Yet, even after a hundred loops, he was still no closer to finding the precious blade given to him by his mentor. He had not been idle in his search either, despite the crippling wounds hindering his movement.
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Interrogating the quartermaster through different angles always yielded nothing but consolations. No matter how skilled the man might be with deception, it seemed impossible that he could evade slipping up at least once through a hundred loops if he were hiding the weapon.
After so many tries, the only reasonable conclusion Alcyr could draw was that man’s words were sincere: the quartermaster genuinely did not know where his dagger was.
He sought alternative paths. Investigating the massive armoury bit by bit over the loops similarly gave him no clues, even though Alcyr had been obsessively methodical in his search. Likewise, he had just about scrutinised every individual in the undermanned mountain fortress — soldiers and auxiliary staff alike — for any sign of his stolen dagger on their person.
He had found nothing.
At this point, the only thing left he could do was to start breaking into dorms or barracks to see if someone had stashed the weapon away somewhere. Ridiculous as the notion was, he would have done it were it not for his incapacitated state.
It wasn’t just his weakness that held him back from a more thorough or invasive search. He always woke late in the day, with scant hours of daylight left. Half of it had to be spent talking to Commander Faldren first just to get permission to wander the base at all. That left barely any free time for him to hobble around the enormous base before night arrived and he was firmly forced back into the infirmary to rest under guard.
Looking at the situation rationally, he was forced to admit that there was not much else he could do to find his dagger — not when he could barely walk and when the limiting circumstances of the loop gave him so few clues or leeway to probe deeper in his search.
Any further attempts would be driven more by impotent rage rather than logic. His best chance was to advance the loop, recover his strength, and use the opportunities brought about by a new day instead.
It was difficult to accept. The anxiety and anger brought forth by the dagger’s loss still acutely remained. But he was not one to throw a tantrum or surrender because reality did not bend to his whims.
Heaven and Hell would switch places before he gave up on his dagger. That weapon would be returned to him one day, as surely as the sun that rose with each dawn, even if he had to kill and loot every soul in the north to find it.
On the side of skill progression, things weren’t looking great either. The skill growths he could gain in each loop were really starting to reach their limits as they ascended to higher levels. Restorative Slumber hadn’t gained a level in several cycles, making his hopes of eventually attaining full recovery within the loop a fool’s dream. Even Pain Tolerance had only gained a single level after nearly thirty loops of agonising torment, despite being only a Common-rarity skill.
One of the big problems impeding his progression was that he hadn’t inflicted any wounds on his opponent. In the Battle of the Red Rime and in the ambush led by Warlord Bjorn, Alcyr had always been an active participant in the life-or-death violence. In this set of time loops, however, his status had been reduced to little more than a glorified punching bag, to be tormented at the assassin’s leisure.
Agony alone wasn’t enough for skill growth if the aspect of combat was missing. Alcyr had been relying upon the enormous experience multiplier brought forth by his weakened condition and the opponent’s vastly higher levels, but the lack of damage he dealt each loop meant there wasn’t much experience the higher multiplier could work on.
And so, for the first time in this series of time loops, Alcyr seriously began considering seeking outside help. Though the mere thought of it was distasteful, he could no longer deny that he was making little headway on his own.
He could, maybe, eventually kill the creature by himself. His skills were still improving — albeit at a glacial rate that was much, much slower than what they had enjoyed in the previous sets of time loops — so theoretically, it wasn’t impossible he would one day overpower the creature and kill it.
He had even once considered learning the Axe Discipline skill and levelling it to the Elite tier so that he could wield the silverite axe effectively against the creature. It would take a lifetime — especially since he could neither rely on expedient growth from combat nor the aid of tutors given his wounds and the limited hours of the day — but it was technically possible.
Either method, however, would easily take thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands, of loops to be successful. While Alcyr considered himself a patient man, even those tortuous paths of progression seemed too impractical for him to thread, especially since better and faster solutions were available.
In a way, I had already compromised once before, during the Battle of the Red Rime. I had eventually caved in and resorted to rallying the soldiers around me to use as meat shields instead of bullheadedly rushing into the battle alone. This will be nothing different.
He still wouldn’t explain the time loop to anyone. That was the adamant rule he refused to break. But there were ways to manipulate others to aid him unknowingly, as he had done before.
Trying to secure Lenore’s or Faldren’s assistance comes with its own risks. Those two are too sharp for me to manipulate carelessly. One wrong move, and I might accidentally gain their suspicion and risk exposing my secret.
But there is one more option — a person who always dies with me in each loop. Someone whose rank and power are just unimportant and weak enough for me to make use of.
Someone who would be easy for me to dispose of if necessary.
But first, before he could set his plan in motion, he needed to make sure everything was ready.
***
On the afternoon of the hundredth iteration, he made sure to take steps to ensure the loop went as optimally as possible.
He feigned his pain to Lenore, making it seem worse than it was so that she would not suspect he had a healing ability. He met with Commander Faldren, making mostly the same ‘bet’ in his first loop, but with his Persuasion and Barter skills ensuring a much more favourable reward should Alcyr succeed.
“So, in summary: A gratuity equal to triple the total wage of your remaining months of service, a letter of recommendation from me to smooth your enrolment into the kingdom’s academy, and a written endorsement from House Vayne allowing you to employ the service of any high-ranking Diviners that are usually restricted to the noble houses," Commander Faldren noted down, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Anything I missed, Private?”
“No, sir,” Alcyr replied without a hint of shame. One of the guards to the side was silently laughing. He remembered that one; In every loop, that individual’s lack of discipline compared to the rest of the soldiers in the room made them slightly more memorable.
“You haggle like a mercenary rather than a soldier,” Lenore said, eyeing him curiously. “For your sake, I hope your sword arm is as proficient as your silver tongue. Killing a High Master in a year will not be easy.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Alcyr said drily.
Because the readings of the appraisal orb were recorded a few days before the loops, neither of them was aware of his recent skill growths — a fortunate stroke of luck, since it would be difficult to explain his inexplicable jump to the High Elite tier when he should have been unconscious.
The next stop was the armoury, and here, Alcyr took a private pleasure in turning the tables on the shrewd quartermaster.
“Twelve gold pieces for the bounty, six gold pieces for the axe, two gold and forty silvers for the manticore armour, one and a half gold for the war bow, and finally, sixty-five silvers and eighty-five copper coins for the rest of this worthless junk here,” the stout man grumbled unhappily. “Did I get everything?”
“You forgot to waive the storage cost,” Alcyr added mildly. “For friendship sake.”
“Yes, yes. The storage cost’s waived,” the quartermaster sighed. “Saints preserve me. You’re worse than the merchants back in the capital. I’m barely making a profit here, and that’s me being sincere this time.”
“I’m not that gullible. If you’re smart with how you sell the silverite, you can easily make up half the coin you paid me today,” Alcyr said. “I’m not a fool to be cheated through price negotiations.”
Or rather, he was not a fool to be cheated through price negotiations anymore. While it was true Alcyr had been inept at the art of haggling at the start of the cycles, one hundred loops of bargaining would improve anyone’s ineptitude at barter.
After a bit more price-wrangling, Alcyr paid the quartermaster for the tools and items he needed for the assassination that night, as well as a hefty commission for a new custom-made arsenal of equipment.
“At least you have enough sense to pay well for quality gear,” the quartermaster nodded in approval. “I’ll start personally working on your new set of wargear. Should have it ready in a week. As for that precious dagger of yours, I’ll look into it myself, as promised.”
“Thank you.”
All in all, it was pretty much the best deal Alcyr could make, and it would ensure his finances and inventory were healthy in the coming days should he survive.
Night came. Alcyr had his dinner in the infirmary once more, while Lenore did her final checks on him for the night.
Things were going smoothly — until Lenore decided to ask him a question.
“Why are you faking the pain?”
It took Alcyr aback. He had spent previous loops preparing for this planned final iteration, carefully ensuring each action he took went favourably while arousing as little suspicion as possible. Everything up to this point had gone exactly as he had conceived it.
He hadn’t done anything different in this loop — not to his knowledge, anyway. Yet, there was now a sudden deviation in the script.
Why would Lenore suddenly ask that?
Alcyr kept silent, unsure of what to say.
“I’m not a fool. Nor am I your enemy,” Lenore said, her tone mired in its usual indifference. “I am simply curious. Your body had been slowly but steadily recovering from its injuries over the past two weeks. There was nothing abnormal in your physiology — certainly nothing that could have prepared me for the sudden spike in vitality when I checked your condition this morning. Your demeanour this afternoon was also interesting — a confidence and guile that is quite unlike the reports I read on you from your time in the Irregular.”
He decided to be direct. “What are you implying?”
She looked at him for a moment. The cold, blue-steel hue of her eyes stared into his, piercing in its intensity.
Alcyr glared back at her, unfazed.
Surprisingly, she was the first to look away. “Nothing. Perhaps I just wanted to tell you that if you’re trying to hide your secrets, you shouldn’t make yourself so interesting.”
He chuckled slightly. “In my defence, that is exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“Try harder. Others will not be as discreet or polite with their interest in you as I am. Once they start to make their move… You may not find me as patient to wait then. I might just steal you for myself before others can take you from me.”
She left him alone in the infirmary soon after that. Alcyr thought over her words and briefly pondered whether it was worth resetting the loop to try and reduce her suspicion.
That’s unlikely to work, he eventually admitted to himself. The main source of her interest comes from my sudden recovery. I can’t stop Restorative Slumber from working while I’m unconscious.
The problem was out of his hands. He would figure out a way to deal with her after he resolved this loop.
It’s time to move on. This Well has already given me enough.
He had prepared himself as best he could. Whether or not this would be the last iteration would depend greatly on luck and skill.
Now, all he needed was one last thing.
Bait.
And it just so happened that he had the perfect candidate just standing outside the infirmary door.