Loopbreaker

“So… you weren’t lying,” Michael said, grinning like a fool.

Francis finished chewing the bite of food in his mouth and nodded at his brother. “Remember how I promised you what would happen with those two women and the life you would be living?”

“Well, yeah, but I mean who's to say this isn’t a dream?” his brother asked.

“Do you want me to kick you in the crotch and try to wake you up?” Francis replied.

His brother laughed and shook his head, waving his fork, which still held food waiting to be eaten. “No… please don’t, it’s sore enough down there already, but in a good way,” Michael replied. “I… I just can’t believe your stats and your skills are where they are. All that time we spent training and I’m still stuck in the basic and novice side for most things.”

And I’m still not telling you the real truth.

Part of him felt a little guilty at not sharing everything, but the other part had witnessed Michael singing like a bird when under the influence of magic. Francis wasn’t certain who in camp might have that ability, so he lied about his stats and skills. If someone did try to acquire knowledge that way, they would learn quickly they were not as prepared as they hoped. The early loops Michael had been the anchor that pulled back some of the memories he had lost. Each memory regained helped Francis hold on to who he was. The knowledge that the parasite or whatever it was had that ability to devour his own memories was a scary thing.

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” Francis replied. “Still, the General said he would keep you safe. I’m certain Bella and Lucy will continue to seek you out.”

“Well, of course,” Michael replied, motioning to himself. “Who wouldn’t want to keep coming back to this?”

Rolling his eyes, Francis continued to eat.

He wasn’t as hungry as he thought he might be. His endurance helped to minimize hunger, but the truth was he enjoyed eating. There had been far too many days when neither of them ate much, and nothing had ever tasted this good in the last six years. So he stuffed himself because he could and because it gave him some time to think while spending it with his brother.

“Any idea on what happens next?” Michael asked.

Francis shook his head, finishing off the last bite on his plate. “No. We’ll have to wait and see. Part of me thinks we should attack as soon as possible. The other part of me wants to see how long we have before they attack us.”

“Well, now that I’m officially a lover and not a fighter,” Michael sighed. “I guess I’ll leave that up to you and the rest of those people who make big decisions. I don’t think I can…”

His brother paused and Francis knew what he was thinking about having heard him mention it in a different loop.

“They’re gone,” Francis whispered. “Henry, Gregory, all of them. If I could have saved them, I would. I even asked Stenson and he said that removing our whole group would cause problems, not because of the loss of men and warriors but explaining why a certain group was absent. The worst part is I don’t know if them not being on the battlefield would cause something else to happen. Right now, I just need to focus on keeping as many things as I can consistent and perhaps later I’ll get a chance to save them.”

Michael bobbed his head a few times, staring at the food on his fork. He sighed and set it down. “Just makes me think about how crazy all this is. You and I… we would have been out there and dead like them.”

“But we’re not,” Francis said, tapping the table to get Michael’s attention. “Look at me. We’re not. No matter what happens, I’m going to ensure you live.”

“But I don’t always live. You already told me that.”

It was his turn to sigh and Francis shrugged. “That was also your idea, Michael. I’m caught in this vicious cycle. Save you, don’t get as strong. Abandon you, get stronger. Even now I’m… not strong enough to change things enough.”

“Please,” Michael snorted. “Somewhere on the other side of that battlefield is an army of beasts all telling nightmares about the naked man who slaughtered so many and ran off to fight again.”

Both of them laughed for a moment before Francis pushed his chair back and stood.

“I need to go. I’ve got some things to do.”

“Don’t mind me,” his brother said, stretching and groaning. “I’ll just sit here and experience what true living is. You go and save the world, alright?”

Giving his brother the middle finger, Francis made his way toward the tent flap, ready for what was about to come next.

As Francis left a pair of guards nodded at him.

Stenson really went overboard putting these men here. They aren’t lightweights like the ones outside Vella’s tent.

Francis moved through the camp, those who recognized him giving bows and he struggled with the sensation of having people fawning over him. Even after the time at the Spires, this was different. These were grown men, hardened by battle and yet they looked at him as some figure that inspired. Francis could see it in their eyes as each one nodded and acknowledged his presence.

There was a sense of pride that came with the realization of earned respect. The fawning of a few lesser nobles who looked past his birth order and recognized his power felt cheap. Francis didn’t believe those nobles had earned anything. Luck had placed them as one of the first three sons. Positions that had given them the chance to be where they were. Sure, they trained hard, but since the day they entered this world, their lives had been laid out to be in the Spires.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

But these soldiers around Francis were not like them. Almost every one of the warriors present was born after the third. He knew some officers had a higher birth order, but the warriors still alive after yesterday's battle earned everything they had through blood, sweat and sacrifice.

They received a nod back and Francis held his head high. He made his way through the maze of tents, arriving at the one he knew held the next part of this loop.

Inside was Kels, shirtless once more, the man’s body moving through motions he recognized more every time. He could see the balance and flow as the knight bent low, weapon ready. A few seconds passed and then Kels moved, a flurry of upward and outward strikes moving so quickly, Francis wasn’t sure he could follow them all. Five rising and outward slashes, each flowing from the man’s wrists and elbows, with no threads visible, didn’t indicate which way the blade would go.

“Sage Francis, welcome,” Kels said.

Francis chuckled as the blond-haired man turned, flashing a smile before moving across the square section.

“The Way of the Shifting Seasons… very nicely done.”

Kels stopped his advance, eyes widening and blinking rapidly, locked upon him. “You… know of it or know it?”

Chuckling, Francis shook his head. “I wish I knew it, but alas, I do not. Still, you appear to have that one move down rather well. Stenson must be proud.”

A few coughs came as his training partner and teacher started walking again, head shaking slightly. “I… I wish I could say that I did, but the truth is I haven’t mastered that one technique yet. There are supposed to be seven strikes, and I cannot accomplish them all in the allotted time. Perhaps one day I will get it and then the General will grant me another lesson to spend hours practicing every day for years.”

“No one complains that you spend that much time practicing?” Francis asked, surprised to hear such a thing.

“My… position grants me some perks, but the truth is the General is far too kind and does not require me to do other tasks within the camp,” Kels replied, stepping outside the square training area and giving a slight bend of his neck. “He sponsored me to attend the Spires even though I come from a family that could not afford such a thing. So I dedicated my life to becoming what he wanted me to be.”

“And what is that?”

“You would have to ask him,” Kels said, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat off his body. “Sometimes I think I know but that answer seems… beyond me. Still I do everything I can to pay back the debt I owe for the life Stenson has given me. Even if it means dying or training every person he sends my way.”

“Including Sages who run around the battlefield naked and covered in blood?” Francis asked.

The young man’s laughter filled the tent as he grinned. “My men were a little hesitant to allow you to approach but I couldn’t resist finding out if that was really you. The General told me what you were doing and I’ll admit it seemed… foolish, yet there you stood, buck naked, sword and shield in hand and covered in blood.”

“I do try to make an entrance.”

“And that you did. Now tell me, are you serious about wanting to test each other?”

“I am, though I suggest we send for Dawn and perhaps another healer? Even though I know I’ll probably lose, I’d rather not have you get in trouble for killing me.”

“A wise plan,” Kels replied. “Give me a moment to summon her.”

***

The sound of metal on metal filled the tent as their swords connected again and again.

Every time Francis felt he might land a blow, Kels showed his true potential. Only once had Francis landed a sneak attack using Riposte and Quick Attack simultaneously. Since then the knight didn’t hold back.

This bastard held back even when we dueled the first time. He was never in danger and just let me believe I was that good!

A smile never left the knight’s lips as they danced around the square, drops of blood falling from the cuts on Francis’ arms and legs. None were deep, just enough for him to know that had Kels wanted to injure him, it would have happened.

Every attack that came at Francis was so fast that by the time he sensed a thread the blade was upon him, unable to be diverted as they fought at his skill level.

Stenson’s eyes felt heavy upon his back, the older man having joined Dawn in coming to the tent.

“You’re not paying attention!” Kels called out.

Francis grunted as Kels’s sword darted forward, nicking his chest, drawing blood and pulling back before he could counterattack.

He breathed, maintaining his balance and tried to stop predicting attacks like Francis had the beastkin. His weapon skill was far above those animals and that was why he could easily read them.

Dozens of more cuts came and Francis endured them, waiting for it, praying it would come. Slowly but surely, his body was covered in blood, and Francis knew Stenson was waiting to see what happened when he got low enough.

Finally, Death’s Dance answered the call as his vitality dropped beyond the halfway point. Power surged through him, and Francis held back, trying not to tip his hand as he had done before against the beasts.

Kels’s eyes narrowed slightly, so Francis went for it, not yet revealing the power, but trying to keep the knight off guard.

[ Quick Attack ]

[ Power Strike ]

His sword’s path adjusted, yet the Knight’s blade intercepted the new path, forcing it away, allowing Kels to punch at him.

Francis blocked it and moved back, the dance continuing as the power swelled within.

When a third of his health remained, Francis went all out.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

Three times in a row, Francis activated Riposte, managing to stop Kels’s attempt to counter him, their blades grinding against each other. He could feel the force of the knight’s strength as they fought and just when Francis believed the third strike would land, Kels showed just a little more of his ability.

Francis’ sword twisted in his hand, from the strike that came, and then four quick strikes from the knight struck him in the chest, each one sinking deeper than before.

“Stop!” The general’s voice boomed throughout the tent, and Kels danced backward before Francis could react, bobbing his head but never lowering his sword.

“Fools,” Dawn muttered.

“Well done, well done! I’m unsure what ability you used, but the power added to those last three attacks was impressive!” Kels exclaimed. “For a moment, I’d almost think you advanced to the elite tier of sword play but I can tell you’re on the cusp. No wonder you were able to toy so easily with those beastkin.”

“And yet you’re still holding back, aren’t you?” Francis asked, waiting for the healing Dawn would provide.

“No more than when Stenson grants me a chance to experience what you just did,” the knight replied. “Trust me, I’ve used more of my true ability against you than I have in a while. You actually made me use a skill I rarely show.”

The general cleared his throat and both men nodded, driving their swords into the ground before turning toward the older man. “Francis… I am impressed. Your skills are exceptional.”

“Sage Francis would be a great candidate for the Spires but I’m not certain what they would teach him,” Kels said. “I don’t think I was near the same level as he is when I left.”

Stenson nodded slowly, biting just the tiniest part of his lip. “It is true. A few might teach him a couple more tricks, but you have an advantage Francis is unaware of,” the general replied.

Francis watched as both men stood there, neither saying a word.

“Alright, I’m done,” Dawn muttered. “I’ll be outside and you can call me in when you’re ready. It doesn’t take a genius to know you won’t talk in front of me.”

“You always were a smart one,” Kels said.

“Always with a kind word toward me. Some might think you like me,” the healer replied.

Francis and Stenson both laughed as the slightest hint of red ruined the knight’s perfect complexion.