(TLO) Chapter 47: Time Left (Patreon)

Jason was the first to move as Borriovani put his life at risk, thrashing like a fish out of water. He left his bed with the same speed he always displayed in everything, as if always in a hurry. Seth had barely reacted when the boy was at Borriovani’s side, holding him down by the shoulders.

“Help me!” he barked. “I can’t hold him down.”

Fin reacted almost immediately, a soldier to his commanding officer’s instruction. He moved quickly, securing the Borrivani’s feet with both hands. Salem joined next. But when he arrived there he hesitated, confused at what to do, where to hold. He’d barely made up his mind when Forlorn arrived.

“Move it, twat,” Forlorn barked, shoving the boy out of the way with a shoulder. He joined the fray, holding Borriovani down so that the boy was nothing but a vibrating mess of himself, frothing at the mouth.

Seth turned to find Timi watching him curiously.

It worried him enough to ask, “What’s the matter?”

“Should we help?”

Seth’s brows creased. He looked at the needle in his hand then at Borriovani, uncertain. Then he looked at Timi. The boy continued to stare back, an innocence in his eyes, watching, waiting. Curiosity was the only thing Seth found in his friend. It was as if he could not bring himself to care for their suffering brother, merely waiting for instructions on what was next.

Seth raised his hand so Timi could see it where the needle leading to the drip pierced him. He didn’t want to move for fear of causing complications. It was not his first time being hooked up to a drip, but it was his first time being hooked up to one in the seminary. And if there was anything he had learned in the last year, it was that if he didn’t do it himself, then anything could be anything in the seminary. For all he knew, the drip could be more than just a drip.

The fight to suppress their brother continued even as Igor stepped into the room. With his presence whatever point Seth was trying to make to Timi was forgotten.

“That’s quite enough,” Igor said from the door.

He made his way to Borriovani where the others held him down with slow steps and an easy stride. He carried himself with neither panic nor fear, hurry nor care.

He paused in front of Seth and looked at him. For a moment, he simply stood there while the rest of the children contemplated what they were supposed to do, torn between keeping their brother from hurting himself or suffering the wrath of disobeying a priest.

Uncaring of the confusion in the room, Igor turned a slow gaze on Timi. His lips curled into a frown, disgust riddling it like the Egyptian plague of the Christian myth. There was too much disgust, Seth noted.

Then the man’s attention turned to him.

“I see you made it,” Igor said. “I would be lying to say I am glad.”

Timi stared at the man for a moment, confused. He seemed to think on the words for a while, head cocked to the side as if listening to his own thoughts. Seth knew the moment Timi understood what Igor had meant. It was in the narrowing of the eyelids, the sharpening of his eyes. It was in the clenching of the jaw, the tightening of the shoulders. It was in the way Timi lost all innocence, gave up all curiosity and naiveté. Watching it was like watching a particularly vile thing take of its covering, like watching a Northman take off his cloak, angered in the deep cold of the northern snow.

It was like watching the night break.

Timi lost it all in the space of the time it takes a snowflake to melt in fire.

Then he moved.

Timi left Seth’s bed, to everyone’s surprise. He shot out of it like a bullet from a gun. He eliminated the distance between him and reverend Igor so quickly Seth would’ve missed it if he blinked. He struck at the priest with a closed fist, his aim true as it went for Igor’s jaw.

Igor did not flinch.

The mild widening of his eyes was the only sign of his shock before he disabled Timi. He slapped the boy’s hand away as it reached for him, raised a casual hand, then struck him at the back of the head.

Timi went down immediately and hit the ground with an audible thud, like a tossed piece of clothing.

Igor frowned down at the boy. Seth had no doubt they had both seen the same thing in the child’s eyes. The maddened anger had been unmistakable. They had seen madness, and he knew Timi would have to answer for it to someone. Perhaps not Igor.

A stunned silence followed. It filled the room, disturbed only by Borriovani’s trashing.

Igor raised a hand to his jaw and rubbed it gently. “Too many oddities in this set,” he said low enough for the words to have been intended for himself. Then he turned and continued his way to Borriovani.

There, pathing the children from their brother, he began undoing the thrashing boy’s drips.

“Is he going to be alright?” Barnabas asked from his place on his bed, where he had not moved.

Igor paid the boy no attention as he scooped Borriovani from the bed. The child remained thrashing in his arms but Igor was a steady mountain to the boy’s flailing leaf as he walked out of the room. He spared Timi’s body a single glance as he passed it, but nothing more.

Igor reached the exit, then he was gone.

…………………………..

Seth removed his drip immediately after Igor’s exit and rushed to Timi’s side, panicked. Igor could’ve chosen to kill Timi with the single blow and no one would hold him accountable.

Relief flooded Seth when he reached the boy and found him unconscious and breathing.

“That was close,” he muttered to himself, then sat back on the cold floor.

Too close, one of his minds thought. Any idea what exactly fatso thought he was doing?

Around him, his brothers converged on Timi slowly. They were cautious, too cautious.

“What was he thinking?” Forlorn asked when they were close enough. “Attacking one of the Reverends is suicide.”

“And punishable,” Jason added casually.

All of them turned to look at Seth.

“Did you know he was going to do this?” Fin asked.

Seth shrugged. “How was I supposed to?”

“He attacked after Igor spoke to you,” Forlorn said, as if it explained anything.

“And so?”

“What did you say to him?”

“And why would I have said anything?” Seth asked, slowly growing tired and angry. Forlorn was being unreasonable, and quite simply annoying him.

“Maybe because you don’t like Igor and needed someone to do your dirty work for you, you cowardly oaf!”

This was who Forlorn was. The child who could not hold his tongue. A child that was angry at the world for some unfairness he believed had been done to him. So he lashed out at everyone and everything he could. He spoke with a sharp tongue and harsh words. He belittled and bullied, mocked and taunted. This was not the first of its kind, and it would not be the last. However, something was different about this time, and Seth felt it before anything else.

Anger was always a fuel, ignitable by anything, and the ignition need not be related to the fuel.

Put him in the ground! His minds barked immediately, spurred on by a volatile mix of anger and frustration ignited by simple words. Seth obeyed and charged Forlorn.

He braced himself as he came up from where he was, but the vertigo he expected to hit him did not come. So he continued on his path of violence, propelled by an accumulating anger and frustration that was not entirely Forlorn’s fault, propelled by the need to punish someone for it. Forlorn was his target now.

Forlorn would take responsibility.

Seth closed the distance to the boy and an arm came up to bar his way. He ducked under it with a precision born of months under the tutelage of Domitia and another arm came up just after. Seth spun into this one, caught it in both hands and threw it over his shoulder. It weighed more than an arm had any right to, but it did not hinder him.

He heard a thud, then a grunt, and ignored it. Rather than return his attention to his path, he continued his turn and darted to the side. His minds caught attention of Forlorn as he did and they guided him.

Every action was precise, guided. Something was different and it grew from within Seth. His minds had already agreed that Forlorn needed to be put down. That alone had been more than enough to direct his anger. Whatever else supported him rested within Seth like a mild hearth seeking escape, and he gave it leeway. He pushed it out and it felt like forcing a breath through shut nostrils, the kind that blocks the ears. It reacted, rising from somewhere within his stomach, and moved through him like a trickling fountain, barely noticeable.

But it was just enough for him to feel its effect.

Skill [Fractured Mind] is in effect.

[Fractured Mind]

An awareness of mind. Unity in division.

An observer is cursed with a fragmented mind, separated for the purpose of carrying out varying tasks individually. However, Observers come to learn that unity of mind puts things into greater focus. An Observer with fractured mind in effect is a deadly opponent to stand against, as none should face an opponent with naught but a single minded will.

Seth’s vision tunneled on a startled Forlorn. Everything of his expression was unreadable, unnoticed to Seth’s eyes. The defeat of his opponent remained all that mattered.

He stepped on the bed to his side and pushed himself off it, propelled himself with the force of it so that he changed direction instantly, regaining the force and speed he had lost from the shoulder toss. He was so close to Forlorn when someone stepped into his path at the final moment. Seth struck the person with a brutal force, running straight into him.

While the person merely staggered back, Seth fell back. The shock of the fall pinched at his mind so that it jarred his apparent focus.

His anger and frustration lost their focus, responsibility became loose. He was no less angry, no less frustrated, but the emotions had no focus now. Whatever illogical justification had led them to Forlorn was gone. There was no one on whose shoulders they would rest now.

Seth, frustrated by this but not angered, raised his eyes and met Jason staring down at him.

“Fighting each other will help no one,” Jason said, anger coloring his voice. “We’ve already lost three of us.”

Behind him Forlorn was pale.

What was that? One of Seth’s minds asked.

Seth frowned. “I don’t know.”

It was a rush, another piece of mind said, then paused. We don’t think we like it.

“What do you mean you don’t know,” Jason asked at the same time one of his minds thought: We don’t think we ever want to agree that much ever again.

“Three of us are gone,” Jason pointed out. “Igor just took Borriovani, and no one knows if Silverfang is ever coming back. I don’t think…”

Was that a skill? One of Seth’s mind continued. Not something anyone would expect from something named ‘Fractured Mind’ don’t you think?

Seth agreed. He hadn’t paid attention to much when he’d woken up. Even the notifications his minds had called up when he’d come awake had been barely skimmed through. Luckily they’d been brief enough to note at a glance.

The thought of notifications brought a new dread to his mind. Somehow it brought the gnawing feeling that he’d forgotten something important.

Seth paled, fear creeping up on him. “No.”

What else could he have missed?

On it, a mind stated, growing wary with his realization. Through it all Jason was saying something he was not listening to.

A moment later another thought came.

Shite!

“What is it?” Seth asked.

“What do you mean?” Jason asked. “Forlorn was wrong, but so were you. I understand that Timilehin looks up to you, but you should also learn to keep him in check. What do you think will happen if—”

—We have bigger problems than Fatso and what’s their names, a mind told Seth.

Seth’s frown left his lips but not his brows. “What’s wrong?”

How long were we out?

“How would I know?”

For the love of religious differences, ask!

Seth returned his attention to Jason, wondering why his minds even bothered to ask. The boy was still talking, but he didn’t care.

“What day is it?” he asked.

“W—what do you mean?” Jason stuttered, confused by the sudden change in subject.

“What day is it?!” Seth repeated hurriedly, an idea of what was wrong dawning on him. “It’s important.”

Fin got up from the floor, groaning. “Monday.”

Seth couldn’t understand what the boy was doing on the floor but couldn’t bring himself to care. Something more important worried him. “We had the test…”

… On Sunday, his minds finished for him.

“Shite!” Seth swore.

Shite! His minds agreed.

“What’s going on?”

Seth ignored Jason’s question as he got up and made a mad dash for the door. He bumped into the side of it as he ran and it sent a throbbing in his shoulder. He fought against it as he scaled the length of the stairs. He took two in each stride, then three. The darkness of the staircase did not hinder him as he did this. He had been running and walking up and down these stairs for over a year now and he could do it without thought.

He scaled the last flight of stairs in a single leap, hit the ground awkwardly and rolled where he stumbled. In his continued hurry, he darted past Igor still carrying a now quiet Borriovani in his arms.

Igor said something Seth did not hear as he ran passed the priest, mind searching for the fasted route to the training ground where he would be out of sight. Time was not on his side and it screamed in the notification his minds had now placed in front of him. He had really hoped to never go through this again.

Daily Quest: [Road to Power].

You are a child on the path of the soul. Power is no stranger to the Struggling Ones and thus is a requirement of all. Attain success in building yourself in body before the dawn of the soul and attain power where all else fail.

To do this, you must master the way of the draw, the breath, and the step, advancing as is required till you are as much a part of these techniques are they are of you.

Daily Objective: [5,500 draws 0/5,500].

Daily Objective: [5,000 steps 28/5,000].

Daily Objective: [50,000 breaths 50,000/50,000].

...

Time Left [00:00:29].

Seth sprinted down a straight path, darted a sharp right into a corner between two buildings where the normal route would have had him going around them.

Time Left [00:00:26].

He moved through the buildings, and escaped on the other side. His attention told him that, for whatever reason, Igor had not followed after him, though he had his focus on other things. He crossed the small court yard he came to with a stretch of carpet grass a luscious green and took another left as the timer counted down at the edge of his vision, strategically placed courtesy of one of his minds.

Time Left [00:00:18].

He was surprised by a boy passing by. The boy was one of the older seminarians, two years older than himself in the seminary, if Seth’s memory served him right.

That’s not important right now, his minds complained as Seth darted around the boy.

He executed the evasion poorly and bumped into the boy. It was like bumping into solid rock. He staggered from it as if struck, and fell. He scrambled back up quickly, trying to make up for lost time as the boy turned to look at him. He met eyes the color of amber and knew the boy was souled immediately. The boy’s sturdiness made him guess the boy was likely of Iron authority.

“You’re a first year,” the boy said, voice accusatory as his gaze narrowed. “Why are you out so late… and how are you already souled?”

Seth ignored him as he scrambled away. Turning, he picked himself up into a run. Time remained a constant reminder at the edge of his vision, like a cancerous tumor, constantly worsening, constantly killing.

Time Left [00:00:02].

Seth darted into the training grounds and ran faster. Covering a distance, he made his way behind the weapon’s shed so fast that to anyone watching he might as well have dived.

Time Left [00:00:01].

The world failed around him as he crashed behind the shed. Colors contrasted, then blended into each other. In the dark he saw the white bend then split into red. From the color red, blue emerged, birthing a dark shade of purple. A cascade of colors came alive in his vision, splitting and dividing, one from the other, begotten yet not made. Then, as was expected, the world before him cracked. The space around him grew lines of fractures like breaking glass. Then it shattered inward.

Seth frowned, then grit his teeth as he trembled. He prepared himself as dread took him by the heel as it always did and stared into the dark space before him.

Time Left [00:00:00].

…

Daily Quest: [Road to Power]

Daily Objective Failed: [5,500 draws 0/5,500]

Daily Objective Failed: [5,000 steps 282/5,000]

Daily Objective Passed: [50,000 breaths 50,000/50,000]

Consequence: Lucid Dreaming.

...

Daily Quest [Road to Power] is now [Lucid Dreaming].

Consequence Quest: [Lucid Dreaming].

You have failed to uphold your duty. The way to power is paved in hardship and determination. To fail is to prove oneself less. On this path every failure is consequential. It is your duty to survive the horde of creatures coming your way until penance is deemed served.

Objective: [Survive The Horde].

Reward: Freedom.

Consequence: Possible Death.

Then the hole in the world swallowed him.

Darkness reigned.