Alek Aundra
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CH 145 - When Life Gives You a Wobbly Pebble (Part 5)
🕑 Added 2023-10-17 18:43:07 +0000 UTC// Author's Note #1:
Welcome Casimo Yap! Thank you for supporting Player 0.4.
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"Eh-excuse me?" I stammered out, searching for some hidden meaning in his words.
Perhaps I misheard him?
I squinted my eyes at Chase as if that would help my hearing. The Rose Room was dimly lit, and outside was even darker, with the evening having arrived.
Chase leaned forward, his intense golden eyes locked onto me.
"Luca, I need you to die, preferably sooner than later," he spoke with a strange seriousness. But then, he blinked, seemed to realize the absurdity of his words, and burst into laughter.
As he roared with inexplicable laughter, I poured myself more of Jarvis's chamomile tea. The calming and relaxing effects were clearly not working yet, and I needed it to kick in soon while in the company of this lunatic.
"Don't you worry," Chase said with a smile. "I'm not going to kill you again. I promised, remember?"
"But you want me to die?" I sipped the hot tea and held the porcelain cup in my hands, letting the warmth flow into my fingers. The soothing scent of chamomile floated to my nose.
"Well, yes," Chase leaned back, his features softening as he explained, "You'd be doing me a great favor if you died and restarted life to the next round."
I raised a brow.
"Is this about someone you care about? Did they.... die?" I asked.
I couldn't help but recall the multiple restarts I'd done whenever Micah had died. But Chase didn't strike me as the type who cared enough about anyone to prompt a world reset himself.
Chase took a moment to answer. His gaze now fixated on his tea, which shimmered with a soft yellow hue.
"As a matter of fact, yes, something to that effect," he replied, his tone tinged with sincerity. There was a hint of vulnerability in his words, making his request all the more bewildering.
However, he ruined any opportunity for pity by suddenly perking up and beaming at me with a grin. "But, if it's inconvenient, I understand. I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities for you to die. I can hold out till then," he said.
What a complete nutcase.
"Who is it that died?" I asked. "It's not your mother, right?"
A few days ago, he seemed interested to know if I had anything to do with Queen Yadana's death, but having brought about her death himself in one of the rounds, he had little love for his mother.
But who's to say what 'love' is to him? Perhaps he has changed his mind and wishes to make up with her?
"It's my favorite sister," Chase finally revealed. "Well, there's only one that I liked. You're probably well aware, but my family does not get along with one another, so I don't care much for the lot of them. They can all rip each other to shreds for all I care, but Deanna was different."
"Deanna?" I frowned.
The poem of the Daylan royals replayed through my mind.
One was poisoned.
One had drowned.
One went missing; only his leg was found.
One got trampled by a mass of sheep.
Three were stabbed while in their sleep.
One jumped off a castle wall.
One collapsed at a fancy royal ball.
One was strangled by their scarf.
One choked and died on their own barf.
One tripped and broke her neck.
One passed away in an unfortunate shipwreck.
Only two Daylan royals remained alive.
One crowned King, while the other lost his mind.
The one crowned was Desmond Daylan, the second youngest prince.
"Isn't she the twin sister of King Desmond?" I asked. "She's the one that drowned."
Chase nodded. "Desmond lacked Deanna's personality and charm, but he did look like a mirror image of her, so I helped crown him King."
I blinked.
Were his unique looks the sole reason Desmond became King of the Dayaln Dynasty? It was ridiculous enough that it made sense. While Chase was the youngest Daylan royal, Desmond and his sister were the second youngest and thus second to dead last in line for the throne.
"As for her drowning," Chase continued speaking. "It occurred before the original loop, so there was nothing I could have done then. Besides, I had always presumed it to be a tragic accident. However, her death this round was sloppy. I've confirmed that she had been murdered on the orders of one of my other dear siblings."
Chase gazed outside the window toward the black rose thorns that looked eery in the evening lights surrounding the manor grounds. His hands absentmindedly tapped the teapot and reheated the water.
"And there's no way for you to use dark magic to bring her back yourself?" I asked as I watched him pour himself a hot cup of chamomile tea.
He waved about and used dark magic as if it were an everyday common chore. I didn't know much about it, but what was to say he couldn't use it to bring his sister back from the dead?
"That would go against the three commandments." Chase's golden eyes met mine, and he smiled. "The basic principle of dark magic is that you pay with your life source, not mana—which are arguably one and the same, just in different containers and flavors. However, one of the three commandments states that dark magic cannot be used to bring forth life."
"Aren't rules and commandments meant to be broken?" I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms. I didn't see Chase to be one to follow any decrees and regulations.
"The commandments are not suggestions. It's more about what is possible and what is not," Chase responded. "The price of breaking them will not result in what is hoped for."
"I assume then that you can't even make a blade of grass grow faster?" I asked.
What I suggested was an elementary sort of magic that all mages were capable of. Their ability to help crops grow was a core reason why their enslavement and a black market for mages had sprung up. For some nations, using mages was the only way to prompt the land to produce food. Adovoria was one of the lucky nations, with much of the land still fruitful and untouched by the land's infection. For others, the use of mages was needed for their survival.
"Precisely," Chase replied. "Tying back a soul to its damaged body is perhaps within the realm of possibilities, but I would hardly call it bringing someone back from the dead. At that point, you have created something else entirely."
Until this point, all I knew of warlocks and dark magic was that it was rare and that the cost was one's own life. It was considered a rare, forbidden, and evil form of magic. But arguably, the enslavement of children mages was more deplorable in order to utilize the more 'pure' magic of mana.
"What are the other two commandments?" I asked.
I could have stopped by Lisa's Books and Tea to answer my questions, as Chase had implied, but why bother when I had a real warlock in the flesh?
"They are all related to the same idea of not meddling with life," Chase said and explained them.
"The second commandment is: No communication with the deceased. It essentially prohibits warlocks from attempting to communicate with or summon the spirits of the deceased. It's meant to prevent the living from disturbing the peace of the afterlife and meddling with forces beyond our understanding."
I nodded at this. There were con artists across Genise promising to connect you to your deceased loved ones, scamming away fortunes from the grieving.
"The third commandment is: No creation of sentient beings. In other words, it restricts a warlock from using dark magic to create life, whether human, animal or another form of life entirely. Similar to the other two, it prevents a warlock from being able to summon a spirit into our world before they are ready to enter it."
I frowned.
"How does a Summoning work then?" I asked. The commandments seemed to be specifically against what a Player summoning allowed.
I had presumed that dark magic was at play since they occurred infrequently and were forbidden.
But if it's not dark magic, how are Player Summonings enacted?
Chase shrugged and stood up from his seat, taking a stroll through the Rose Room, taking in the paintings of my family's ancestors.
"The old lady in East Genise might have a clue or have a book on the matter, but it was never something I bothered to look into myself," he said, pausing before a large painting of my grandmother.
"I hope that quenches your curiosity. Now, getting back to the original subject at hand." He turned to look toward me. "My friend, I don't wish to inconvenience you, but if you die—preferably soon, you will be doing me a great favor, one that I will certainly return a hundredfold in the future."
I rolled my neck, stretching it out.
While a favor from this lunatic did seem attractive, the prospect of restarting wasn't as appealing on this round as with previous rounds. After all, I had finally managed to get through fifteen days, and no one I cared about had died unexpectedly. Sure, my grandmother had passed away, and one of Elda's guards was killed, but these deaths were insufficient for me to restart the Game.
There was also the issue of the Game Store. By the rules of supply and demand, I was causing price inflation in the goods sold to me. In just a few days, what had initially cost me a mere 1 Nexus Coin now cost triple that amount. If I continued at my pace, the price of the junk metal armor would rise beyond what made profitable sense to purchase to be resold in my world. Moreover, while the Asford bakery goods that I put in sold at a comfortable profit, there was no guarantee the demand from the other realms would remain as it were.
The System didn't restrict how many of my realm's items I could sell away, but there was nonetheless an invisible ceiling called 'demand.' Thus, using the Game Store and restarting the Game itself had to be done more thoughtfully.
[ Intelligence: +1 ]
I frowned at the notification.
By accessing the Game Store, I had done away with most notifications and the ability to review my stats. I had yet to even see any Ability improvements, though I was sure I was overdue for at least one or two.
However, for the System to explicitly put out a notification for my train of thought, it was evident that the continuous selling and purchasing of goods needed to be better evaluated.
I shifted my gaze at Chase Daylan, who was casually inspecting a portrait of some red-bearded individual that Professor Whistle covered in one of our history lessons but whose name I was blanking out on now.
"Chase, you said there were two reasons." I realized. "The first is to prevent your sister from being killed. What about the second reason you urgently needed me to restart?"
In all fairness, even if he loved and cared for his sister, with the seventy or so rounds he'd lived, it must have been countless years since he had last interacted with her. While I had trouble grasping how Chase's mind worked, I didn't see any urgency needed now all of a sudden.
"Ah!" Chase broke away from the painting and gave me a bright smile. "See, a rather troublesome character had gotten hold of my lucky coin."
I blinked in confusion.
"Your.... coin?"
"It's not just any old coin," Chase said, walking back to the chair across from me. He sat down and adjusted his silk white robes. "See, it's an other-realm artifact that my father had brought with him."
"What does it do?" I asked.
Chase smiled conspiratorily at me and picked up his cup of tea to finish the remainder of the now-cold liquid.
"Let's just say that the sooner you die, the better it is for everyone involved."
// Author's Note #2:
Lucky or perhaps not so lucky coin. ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )
Comments
Alek Aundra
😏😏😏😏
Undead Writer
Thanks for the chapter! Heads he keeps his head, tails, he dies. Sound fair? XD
