(TLO) Chapter 72: This Is Not That Kind Of Fight (Patreon)

Seth stared with an open mouth.

Bonus Quest: [The Hunter and The Hunted].

Your missing brother has been on the run. Now you have realized there is a hunter and a hunted. Find who hunts who and render your aid as you see fit.

Objective Passed: [Find The Hunter: 1/1].

Bonus Objective: [Find The Hunted: 0/1].

Nothing of the notification changed. He had not found the hunted. But that was not important. In the face of what he’d heard, it paled greatly.

Slowly, like the still sleepy, he held his sword tighter, took it in both hands. Before him it trembled. His grip was weak. Knowledge had tested his resolve and found him wanting.

He wanted to speak, to say something. In the end he closed his mouth. He opened it again, made another attempt, closed it again. Like fish in water.

Salem watched him with pity. He saw a touch of sorrow too but wasn’t sure if he saw right. His mind was everywhere and nowhere. Even his minds had been stunned to silence.

“I warned you,” Salem said, apologetic. He lowered his sword, held it out to the side. “You should’ve just let it be.”

The noon day light touched Salem’s hair softly. It was a soft brown where it had once been black, or black and brown, or…

Seth found thinking difficult. He was watching his brother but couldn’t see him. Events of his time spent in the seminary flickered by, a collage of a short life lived. Within it he had spent almost no time with Salem. He had an emotional attachment to the boy as one would have for a class mate. It was the fondness of the living. Like an attachment to a particularly bright clothe or a shiny pendant, it was expendable. He cared simply because the boy had existed around him for a long time.

He did not know why, but the thought calmed him. It did not ease him. It did not lighten the blow of Salem's words. It calmed him. Somehow he knew the boy did not lie. He believed his brother as he believed winter was cold and Igor was cruel.

Salem took a casual step forward, sword still held down and away. “You should move, brother.”

Seth remained, sword held before him simply because there was nothing else to do.

We should move, a mind told him quietly.

Seth nodded once. He should move.

A new notification lit up in front of him.

New Quest: [Decision.]

You have been saddled with knowledge a child should not be forced to bear. Using the knowledge available, an obvious outcome exists.

It is the duty of an Observer to observe. It is also their duty to decide. An Observer can no sooner choose to stop observing than an Infinite choose to become mortal. The same applies to decisions.

As an Observer you must decide.

Decision One: [Stand by Salem].

Outcome: [Timi Suffers].

Decision Two: [Stand by Timi].

Outcome: [Salem Suffers].

…

Type: Personal.

Reward: Mental Fortitude.

Consequence: Nil.

Time Left: [00:00:13].

Of course it was not going to be easy.

“Mental Fortitude,” he chuckled, and Salem paused mid stride. “Why not. No matter the choice, I’d be killing a brother.”

“No.” Salem's grip on his sword tightened. “You will be stepping aside to serve justice.”

The boy’s words washed over Seth like water over stone. He felt none of the emotion that was likely behind it. None of the passion. They were just words. Designed to make the weight of his decision easier on him.

Time Left: [00:00:07].

He waved a casual hand and dismissed the notification. On the other side of it Salem was closer now. Behind him, Timi had said nothing. The boy simply stood there, silent as the dead.

He kept his eyes on Salem, stared at his brother. His brown hair gently tussled in the forest breeze. The scar beneath his eye, a constant in his life in the seminary.

He didn’t want to have to choose, and it compelled him to try once more.

“Is there really no other way, brother?”

Something in Salem’s gaze shifted and he knew the answer was the same: there was no other way.

He ate another human being, Seth, one of his minds thought. You don’t just come back from something like that. He’ll do it again. We should step aside.

But it’s fatso, another objected. Fatso.

And we’ll miss him. But what happens if he decides we look tender enough. What happens when—wait. The mind paused, confused. Are we crying?

Time Left: [00:00:04].

Seth raised a hand to his left eye and wiped it. It came away wet. He didn’t think his decision would weigh on him this much.

“Step. Aside. Brother.” Salem was closer now. Seth was within the reach of his sword.

When Seth spoke again, he was not certain who it was to, he was not certain who he addressed. “I’m sorry, brother.”

He moved his back foot further back by a single step.

Time Left: [00:00:02].

“Timi,” he said.

Salem’s sword blurred through the air.

Seth’s resolve was steel.

“Run.”

[Decision Made].

Decision Two: [Stand by Timi].

Outcome: [Salem Suffers].

Timi turned and bolted. Seth stepped into Salem’s swing, turned his sword to the side, and deflected his brother’s blow.

“THIS IS MADNESS!” Salem screamed at him and struck again, a downward slash with both hands.

Seth raised his sword and caught the blow on the flat of the blade, tilting it so that Salem’s blade slid down its length. Whenever Igor showed them this technique he always maneuvered his way to the other side of the opponent. Seth did not. Instead, he took a step back, increased the distance between them so that he remained between his brother and Timi’s fleeing form.

“Madness.” He sheathed his sword and took stance for the draw. “Yes. But he’s my brother.”

“And what does that make me?! What was Bartholomew?!” Salem pointed his sword at him. “What are the rest of us?!”

Seth smiled sadly. “Children of the seminary.”

Salem stared at him. His anger had shifted. His hatred realigned itself. What had once been solely for Timi now split itself in two. A healthy portion of it was now for him.

It was unfortunate, but Seth had expected it. One did not stand in the way of vengeance and expect to step out unscathed. Untainted.

Salem took a cautious step forward. Behind his brown eyes, behind the anger, Seth saw the calculative boy that watched everything. He saw the planning. With Salem, he would have to be extra cautious.

He ran through how many times he’d sparred with the boy in the seminary, how many times he’d trained alongside him, honed his skills against him. He scanned through them in search of victory and found none.

His grip on his sword tightened. Could he survive here?

Yes, a mind answered with all the bravado of the incorporeal. This time we have our life on the line.

“This is not the Lucid Dreaming!” he hissed.

Salem took another step forward. This one was less cautious, and sudden.

A finger length of Seth’s sword left his scabbard.

Salem kicked up snow in his face.

Seth struck and missed.

Then Salem was on him.

“Do you think any of us have forgotten that stance?” Salem struck high, then low. “Do you think we’ve forgotten your first day.”

Seth deflected two strikes and staggered away from a third. It missed him by the skin of his teeth. He missed his footing as he did, stumbled back and fell in the snow.

Salem darted forward with a downward slash and Seth forced his fall into a roll. He felt the cold snow on his exposed skin where his cassock was cut up and torn, but it did not pierce him.

Salem’s strike met snow and Seth came up with a strike of his own, slashing at the air. Salem leaned away casually and he missed.

Once more they stood facing each other, waiting. Many would think a fight should be extended. A lot of slashes and deflections. Strikes and parries. Many would think a sword fight should last long. In truth, it does not. No matter how long one trains, the pressure in the face of life and death is vastly worse. It weakens the muscles and tasks the mind. In the face of death even breathing is a battle.

Seth moved and Salem responded in kind.

They met once and the din of clashing steel honed in fire filled the air. Seth parried two blows and weaved a thrust through his brother’s defense. Salem stepped deeper into his reach, evading the point of his blade with a tilt of his head. Seth’s blade nicked his brother’s cheek, drew a line of blood, but he suffered for it.

Salem closed the entire distance between them so that they met nose to nose for the briefest moment. Then he made a move, tangled up their arms and turned to the side.

Seth felt pain in his arms and was forced to turn with his brother. It is the thing about throws. Not all of them are done by the strength of the thrower. Sometimes it is about inflicting enough discomfort that the opponent is forced to oblige; to throw themselves.

Seth winced in pain. Salem turned again, and threw him.

Seth went through the air, kicking up dirt and snow as he did. He scaled sideways and the snow cushioned his fall.

His mind refused to dwell on it and his body scrambled away from where he fell. Salem’s blade came down on it a moment after as he brought himself back to his feet. Unarmed.

He had lost his blade somewhere in the throw and didn’t have the time to seek it out. His hand reached for his second sword only to flinch away from it as Salem’s blade struck the hilt. He darted backwards, trying to build a distance between them.

Salem followed after him, cutting low. He raised his leg to avoid the blade and it broke his rhythm. He staggered again and threw himself to the side. When he came up again, Salem was close but not attacking.

“I’m not going to let you draw your second sword, brother,” Salem told him, then flicked his sword to rid it of the snow. “This is not that kind of fight.”

Seth’s breathing had not changed. It was still heavy. It was still fast. His heart pumped as if supplying blood to three people.

“You’re unarmed and out-skilled,” Salem continued, holding his sword in front of him with two hands. “Do not continue to stand in the way of justice.”

“What you’re trying to do isn’t about justice,” Seth challenged, trembling hands inching towards his sword. “It’s vengeance.”

“Careful, brother.” Salem’s gaze moved to his hand and back. “I don’t want to cut you down.”

Seth’s hand stopped. “This isn’t justice, Salem. It’s not. It’s vengeance.”

Salem clenched his jaw. “Sometimes,” he took an offensive step forward, “They are the same thing.”

He attacked again.

Seth’s arms came up in a defensive position, hands held open and scrambling as he backed away from his brother’s strikes. He weaved and ducked, seeking out survival in evasion. He stepped to the side and slapped Salem’s sword aside by the flat of its blade. Salem turned it quickly and the sword came back deadlier. Seth ducked back, rolled, and came back up.

Salem, changed his stance, held his sword down and to the side. He stepped forward and cut a vicious upward slash. The attack struck no one but Seth was forced back.

“Just how long do you think you can protect him from me?” Salem spat.

Seth’s arms were trembling now. The fear of death was closer than it had ever been, closer even than when he’d been starving.

“He’s already long gone,” he replied. “You won’t be able to find him now.”

“I found him before.” Salem struck again, and he barely avoided it. “I’ll find him again.”

“And what happens when he finds you’ve harmed me?” he asked, taking another cautious step back as his brother took one forward. “Do you think he’s just going to stand down? It’s me we’re talking about. He’ll fight back. And I don’t think you believe you can win if he chooses to fight back.”

Salem sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth. Seth saw a soft realization dawn on the boy. Harming him would make it so that he could not kill Timi. Which meant his brother would not be able to carry out his twisted justice.

Some of the vengeance in Salem’s eyes guttered out. He lowered his sword.

The pressure of death eased its grip on Seth’s spine.

“Then,” Salem hesitated. Then his resolve steeled. “Then I only have to survive the test. Once they come for us, I’ll let them know what he’s done. There’s no way the seminary would allow a cannibal continue to live within its walls.”

Personal Quest [Decision] Updated.

You have been saddled with knowledge a child should not be forced to bear. Using the knowledge available, an obvious outcome exists.

It is the duty of an Observer to observe. It is also their duty to decide. An Observer can no sooner choose to stop observing than an Infinite choose to become finite. The same applies to decisions.

As an Observer you must decide.

Your decision has been made, however, your brother has chosen a path beyond what you feared. If he cannot exact justice himself, he would leave it to the seminary. His resolve is steel. Defend your decision till the end.

Ensure your brother’s safety.

Prevent your brother from informing the seminary of your brother’s Folly.

Decision Two: [Stand by Timi] is now [Stop Salem].

Outcome: [Salem Suffers].

…

Reward: Mental Fortitude.

Consequence: Nil.

Open hands held out in front of him, Seth took an attacking stance and answered his brother.

“I fear I cannot allow that.”