Chapter 68: A Moment of Reflection
Simon woke slowly, unsurprised, to find himself in his own bed. He didn’t even leap to his feet to check the mirror. He already knew what he’d see. His hair would no longer be gray, his hands would no longer be wrinkled, and his life would no longer be at its end.
The ring he’d worn since his wife had been murdered would be missing, though, and he couldn’t bear that disappointment just yet. Instead, he lay there contemplating what the goddess had told him while it was still fresh in his mind. Magic was fueled by life force. Specifically, it was fueled by his life force. It was a grisly but not entirely unexpected outcome.
“A year seems kinda steep, though,” he mumbled to himself as he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
Miracles apparently did not come cheap, but Simon wasn’t really sure if that was going to change how he did anything. That realization hurt. A moment ago, he’d assuaged his rising grief with the fact that at least he’d asked a more useful question than demanding the truth about Freya. It wasn’t, though.
Dead was dead as far as he was concerned, and there were a lot worse ways to go than old age. He still didn’t know the truth, though, and it was going to eat at him until he did, which made getting to level 30 the priority. The sooner he got there, the sooner Helades could tell him the truth.
Getting on his feet and moving around was a chore and a half, though. He could barely squeeze into the leather armor that he’d had to bring in with some tighter lacing and a few alterations months ago. Now he really needed to cut some slits into the damn thing just so he could move right, not that he could really move right until he dropped 40 pounds.
“I’m like that dude in Hades, only instead of pushing that boulder up the hill, I gotta just keep losing weight for fucking ever,” he sighed.
It was a frustrating and, at this point, undeserved punishment. He’d already gotten into great shape twice in the last year or two, and now he was going to have to do it all over again.
“Fucking sucks,” he complained as he belted on his sword, grabbed a few odds and ends, and tried to remember if he was forgetting anything.