I knew there was something suspicious about the Freys.
Claude observed Luca Frey as the black-haired teenager walked forward after him, careful not to get too close to the red orb.
Chase Daylan
Delphine Arvandus
Elrik Thornshroud
Elizabeth North
Sedna Ozeryn
Seraphina Viper
…
The list went on, chronicling the Awakened individuals whose names and details had been provided by the Claude Noire of past iterations. Each tattooed entry indicated whether they posed any significant trouble, warranting avoidance.
However, Luca Frey was missing from the list. His name did not appear. It was peculiar. It was about as peculiar as the complete omission of any reference to Micah Frey.
Three weeks ago, Claude's morning had abruptly shifted from a peaceful stroll through the marketplace to one of hurry. When his body suddenly became clad in runic tattoos, he hastily secluded himself to decipher the revelations. He dutifully read through each and every one of the tattoos, decoding the dangers and opportunities the future would bring. There were many surprises, the most perplexing being the glaring absence of any mention of the Freys.
Given the power of the Freys in the present day and the recent actions Micah Frey had taken, Claude had wondered if it might be a calculated move by Micah. Perhaps he had anticipated adversaries like Claude Noire, purposefully retreating into the shadows to avoid detection through the numerous previous rounds, plotting his move.
But then, that begs the question, why now? Why reveal himself and his Awakened brother now, of all times?
Claude slid his feet backward, slowly inching his way out of the Frey Manor, holding his detached head in one arm. A human head was a far heavier object than most people realized, but Claude wasn't a weak man.
Either there was a mistake. Or Micah doesn't expect me to survive this round and be a beaten man in subsequent rounds.
Claude's mind raced about what to do next, given what he had learned in the last hour or so. Before his capture, he had already recorded a few details regarding this round on his body, warning his future iteration regarding Micah Frey. However, it was not his intention to die here. His plan was to use Micah as a hostage and get himself out of this predicament. However, he wasn't certain about this being a viable option anymore. Luca Frey's existence now posed a different sort of threat.
If I happen to fail and die here, my life won't continue, but Luca Frey will live on. He'll attempt to decipher the runic tattoos, and while there's no guarantee he'll succeed, he'll remember this round after he dies. And even if I kill him here and now, he'll know what has occurred here, but I won't.
Given the seemingly unending number of rounds before, this round was likely to be but a passing number as well.
I, my current self, won't exist in those rounds, but I'll be damned if I let Micah Frey manipulate my life, even if they are my iterations, in future rounds.
He glanced toward Micah, who was walking casually alongside him within the red orb. The blonde-haired man looked far too relaxed for someone Claude could kill at a moment's notice. Until they ran into Luca, he still had a tinge of unease, but now Micah looked perfectly at peace.
Claude's eyes widened.
This man... He's accepted it. He intends to toss his life in this round if it comes to it. He's betting entirety on future rounds.
This made Micah Frey a somewhat troublesome hostage. Claude had taken him, assuming that guaranteeing Micah's safety would guarantee his own, but that plan fell apart entirely if the hostage didn't value their own life.
Fuck. The moment he dies, his guards will have no reason to hold back.
Claude continued his gradual walk backward. The brightly lit hallway, its walls filled with large expansive paintings, was silent except for the slight buzz emitted from the red orb and the sound of the slow movement of the guards, following after Claude, their eyes squarely on him for any opportunity to strike and save Micah. Meanwhile, Luca was evidently taking Claude's tattoos to memory as ordered by his older brother.
That means Luca not having seen my back is the sole reason Micah is continuing to remain as my hostage instead of ordering his people to attack.
Claude didn't know if Luca had an artifact that helped with memorization, but Micah's confidence in his younger brother unnerved him.
But beyond memorization, he'd still have to decipher the meaning.
Claude moved his feet back, one after the other. The stone floor felt cool against his skin; upon capture, Micah's people even took his shoes as a precaution.
This means my top priority isn't survival either—it's to tattoo a message to my next iteration, warning myself about Luca Frey's knowledge. The trouble is, I know next to nothing about Luca Frey and what he might have up his sleeve.
"Grandov Lyman?" Micah's voice sounded.
Claude's ears perked up at the name his tattoos referenced several times. He lifted his heavy head and turned it to see the man for himself.
Standing in the hallway was a tall and robustly built young man with dark brown hair and a chiseled jaw.
Grandov Lyman. So that's the "hero" of the Summoning. He fits the image too.
Claude Noire of the future had no intention of getting involved in the current Summoning and had purposefully avoided detection by Grandov Lyman, whom he had concluded to be the summoned one after the first dozen rounds. Claude of the present agreed with this assessment—getting involved in the Summoning was far too much trouble. It was better to use the rounds for personal financial gain instead, especially given the hero's adversary. Yet, sandwiched in this hallway, avoiding this "hero" was now entirely out of the question.
But Claude smiled, realizing the opportunity amidst the setback. An unexpected chance to escape the current predicament presented itself despite the additional complication.
I can force the next round to start early. But before then, I need to get a warning out to my future iteration.
Claude set his head on the floor and pulled on what appeared to be a tendon or a part of his tattoo on one of his forearms. He had to prod it slightly to come out. Cleverly incorporated into one of his existing runic tattoos, the black needle was nestled within the intricate design, invisible to the naked eye. The Claude of Round 8 came up with the contraption, allowing for quick runic tattoos in the case of an emergency.
"Luca! Don't let him tattoo himself!" Micah called out, lunging toward Claude himself.
Bzzt!
The red orb sounded, activating, and Micah's body slumped down lifelessly to the stone floor.
"NOOOO!"
"Master Micah Frey!"
Yells of shock sounded from the guards, the least of which were Luca's own incoherent screams.
Micah didn't stand a chance. However, Claude was now working against the clock, having lost his valuable hostage. He ignored all the distractions, focusing on the singular task of inscribing a warning about Luca onto his left wrist.
Claude inspected the hasty work, running one finger over the protruding skin, confirming the message was as intended. He couldn't see as he inscribed the characters; he had to work off of instinct and memory as his head was at his feet. It would have appeared as a set of shapes and lines to anyone else. But Claude alone understood the message he so hurriedly inscribed to his future iteration: Luca Frey is awake. Danger. Kill him.
Wooosh!
Claude saw Luca fling a small dagger toward him and moved out of the way. The orb protected against other lifeforms but was ineffective against conventional weapons. That was why he had taken Micah as his hostage in the first place.
A wince escaped Claude as he felt a slight cut on his wrist. However, the injury was trivial, akin to a bothersome paper cut. The cut itched, hinting at potential poison, but the dagger lacked force, its edge barely surpassing that of a butter knife. If poison was at play, it would have had to be incredibly potent to have any real effect. Besides, Claude had already etched the crucial message for his future self. All that was left on his agenda was to end this round.
"Get him!"
Invigorated by Luca's throw, the guards charged with sharpened daggers and proper strength. Their attacks landed well, but due to Claude's ability, the pain was subdued.
As long as he dies, it doesn't matter if I'm about to die, either.
Claude nudged his head with one foot, shifting his perspective onto Grandov, confirming the Summoning's hero was within range of his impending self-destructive attack.
Here goes nothing.
***
Claude hunched over the vegetable stand, scrutinizing the vibrant leafy greens laid out in wicker baskets. He ran his fingers lightly over the crisp leaves, feeling the textures beneath his touch. Morning sunlight filtered through the overhead orange canopy, casting a warm glow on the vegetables and intensifying their colors.
"I'll take two bunches, along with everything else I picked out earlier," he told the merchant, handing him a few copper coins.
"Thank you for your business, as always, young man!" the bushy-bearded man replied with a smile.
The merchant didn't know Claude's identity, nor did any of the other people wandering the marketplace. Claude wore plain clothing, and besides a few hidden guards, he didn't appear to be anyone of note.
That was how he preferred it: hiding in plain sight.
The merchant handed over a box of produce to Claude when his eyes widened suddenly.
"Young man, something appeared on your arm just now!" he cried out.
Claude looked down at his wrist and noticed the intricate tattoo that had formed. He had felt a strange itch take over the whole of his body.
A summoning had occurred.
He set down the box of produce and pulled his tunic away from his chest, noting that the whole of his chest was covered in tattoos as well.
Just how many years' worth of knowledge is this?
He took the box and quickly walked toward a plain-looking carriage.
"Belestris. We're heading back. Now. And gather more guards to cover my ride," he ordered, settling quickly inside.
"Understood," came the reply, and the carriage door closed behind him.
Claude's mother had prepared him for this moment for many years, and now that it had occurred, there was no telling what awaited him. He sat in the carriage and ripped his tunic and pants off. Tattoos covered practically every area of skin, and he began to read through the contents.
Round 45.
"Ah, god-fucking damn it," Claude swore, seeing the inscription.
Just how many rounds did I go through?
Claude inspected his skin, trying to find the largest number and figure out what the most recent round had occur in it. With so many rounds, recency was key.
Round 75.
He read through the tattoo inscriptions, nodding along to his predecessor's findings regarding Micah Frey's growing power and concerns. However, as he reached the summary's end, he frowned. He couldn't understand it. The last tattoo was hastily inscribed, and the contents made no sense, especially given the prior concern about Micah Frey.
But it's evidently my writing.
Claude sighed and put his tunic and pants back on. He gazed out the carriage at the bright blue sky. It was a perfect sunny morning.
Luca Frey. Just what happened in the previous round?
AlekAundra
Heh heh heh heh.... :D
Thanks for reading and following the story!
I knew there was something suspicious about the Freys.
Claude observed Luca Frey as the black-haired teenager walked forward after him, careful not to get too close to the red orb.
Chase Daylan
Delphine Arvandus
Elrik Thornshroud
Elizabeth North
Sedna Ozeryn
Seraphina Viper
…
The list went on, chronicling the Awakened individuals whose names and details had been provided by the Claude Noire of past iterations. Each tattooed entry indicated whether they posed any significant trouble, warranting avoidance.
However, Luca Frey was missing from the list. His name did not appear. It was peculiar. It was about as peculiar as the complete omission of any reference to Micah Frey.
Three weeks ago, Claude's morning had abruptly shifted from a peaceful stroll through the marketplace to one of hurry. When his body suddenly became clad in runic tattoos, he hastily secluded himself to decipher the revelations. He dutifully read through each and every one of the tattoos, decoding the dangers and opportunities the future would bring. There were many surprises, the most perplexing being the glaring absence of any mention of the Freys.
Given the power of the Freys in the present day and the recent actions Micah Frey had taken, Claude had wondered if it might be a calculated move by Micah. Perhaps he had anticipated adversaries like Claude Noire, purposefully retreating into the shadows to avoid detection through the numerous previous rounds, plotting his move.
But then, that begs the question, why now? Why reveal himself and his Awakened brother now, of all times?
Claude slid his feet backward, slowly inching his way out of the Frey Manor, holding his detached head in one arm. A human head was a far heavier object than most people realized, but Claude wasn't a weak man.
Either there was a mistake. Or Micah doesn't expect me to survive this round and be a beaten man in subsequent rounds.
Claude's mind raced about what to do next, given what he had learned in the last hour or so. Before his capture, he had already recorded a few details regarding this round on his body, warning his future iteration regarding Micah Frey. However, it was not his intention to die here. His plan was to use Micah as a hostage and get himself out of this predicament. However, he wasn't certain about this being a viable option anymore. Luca Frey's existence now posed a different sort of threat.
If I happen to fail and die here, my life won't continue, but Luca Frey will live on. He'll attempt to decipher the runic tattoos, and while there's no guarantee he'll succeed, he'll remember this round after he dies. And even if I kill him here and now, he'll know what has occurred here, but I won't.
Given the seemingly unending number of rounds before, this round was likely to be but a passing number as well.
I, my current self, won't exist in those rounds, but I'll be damned if I let Micah Frey manipulate my life, even if they are my iterations, in future rounds.
He glanced toward Micah, who was walking casually alongside him within the red orb. The blonde-haired man looked far too relaxed for someone Claude could kill at a moment's notice. Until they ran into Luca, he still had a tinge of unease, but now Micah looked perfectly at peace.
Claude's eyes widened.
This man... He's accepted it. He intends to toss his life in this round if it comes to it. He's betting entirety on future rounds.
This made Micah Frey a somewhat troublesome hostage. Claude had taken him, assuming that guaranteeing Micah's safety would guarantee his own, but that plan fell apart entirely if the hostage didn't value their own life.
Fuck. The moment he dies, his guards will have no reason to hold back.
Claude continued his gradual walk backward. The brightly lit hallway, its walls filled with large expansive paintings, was silent except for the slight buzz emitted from the red orb and the sound of the slow movement of the guards, following after Claude, their eyes squarely on him for any opportunity to strike and save Micah. Meanwhile, Luca was evidently taking Claude's tattoos to memory as ordered by his older brother.
That means Luca not having seen my back is the sole reason Micah is continuing to remain as my hostage instead of ordering his people to attack.
Claude didn't know if Luca had an artifact that helped with memorization, but Micah's confidence in his younger brother unnerved him.
But beyond memorization, he'd still have to decipher the meaning.
Claude moved his feet back, one after the other. The stone floor felt cool against his skin; upon capture, Micah's people even took his shoes as a precaution.
This means my top priority isn't survival either—it's to tattoo a message to my next iteration, warning myself about Luca Frey's knowledge. The trouble is, I know next to nothing about Luca Frey and what he might have up his sleeve.
"Grandov Lyman?" Micah's voice sounded.
Claude's ears perked up at the name his tattoos referenced several times. He lifted his heavy head and turned it to see the man for himself.
Standing in the hallway was a tall and robustly built young man with dark brown hair and a chiseled jaw.
Grandov Lyman. So that's the "hero" of the Summoning. He fits the image too.
Claude Noire of the future had no intention of getting involved in the current Summoning and had purposefully avoided detection by Grandov Lyman, whom he had concluded to be the summoned one after the first dozen rounds. Claude of the present agreed with this assessment—getting involved in the Summoning was far too much trouble. It was better to use the rounds for personal financial gain instead, especially given the hero's adversary. Yet, sandwiched in this hallway, avoiding this "hero" was now entirely out of the question.
But Claude smiled, realizing the opportunity amidst the setback. An unexpected chance to escape the current predicament presented itself despite the additional complication.
I can force the next round to start early. But before then, I need to get a warning out to my future iteration.
Claude set his head on the floor and pulled on what appeared to be a tendon or a part of his tattoo on one of his forearms. He had to prod it slightly to come out. Cleverly incorporated into one of his existing runic tattoos, the black needle was nestled within the intricate design, invisible to the naked eye. The Claude of Round 8 came up with the contraption, allowing for quick runic tattoos in the case of an emergency.
"Luca! Don't let him tattoo himself!" Micah called out, lunging toward Claude himself.
Bzzt!
The red orb sounded, activating, and Micah's body slumped down lifelessly to the stone floor.
"NOOOO!"
"Master Micah Frey!"
Yells of shock sounded from the guards, the least of which were Luca's own incoherent screams.
Micah didn't stand a chance. However, Claude was now working against the clock, having lost his valuable hostage. He ignored all the distractions, focusing on the singular task of inscribing a warning about Luca onto his left wrist.
Claude inspected the hasty work, running one finger over the protruding skin, confirming the message was as intended. He couldn't see as he inscribed the characters; he had to work off of instinct and memory as his head was at his feet. It would have appeared as a set of shapes and lines to anyone else. But Claude alone understood the message he so hurriedly inscribed to his future iteration: Luca Frey is awake. Danger. Kill him.
Wooosh!
Claude saw Luca fling a small dagger toward him and moved out of the way. The orb protected against other lifeforms but was ineffective against conventional weapons. That was why he had taken Micah as his hostage in the first place.
A wince escaped Claude as he felt a slight cut on his wrist. However, the injury was trivial, akin to a bothersome paper cut. The cut itched, hinting at potential poison, but the dagger lacked force, its edge barely surpassing that of a butter knife. If poison was at play, it would have had to be incredibly potent to have any real effect. Besides, Claude had already etched the crucial message for his future self. All that was left on his agenda was to end this round.
"Get him!"
Invigorated by Luca's throw, the guards charged with sharpened daggers and proper strength. Their attacks landed well, but due to Claude's ability, the pain was subdued.
As long as he dies, it doesn't matter if I'm about to die, either.
Claude nudged his head with one foot, shifting his perspective onto Grandov, confirming the Summoning's hero was within range of his impending self-destructive attack.
Here goes nothing.
***
Claude hunched over the vegetable stand, scrutinizing the vibrant leafy greens laid out in wicker baskets. He ran his fingers lightly over the crisp leaves, feeling the textures beneath his touch. Morning sunlight filtered through the overhead orange canopy, casting a warm glow on the vegetables and intensifying their colors.
"I'll take two bunches, along with everything else I picked out earlier," he told the merchant, handing him a few copper coins.
"Thank you for your business, as always, young man!" the bushy-bearded man replied with a smile.
The merchant didn't know Claude's identity, nor did any of the other people wandering the marketplace. Claude wore plain clothing, and besides a few hidden guards, he didn't appear to be anyone of note.
That was how he preferred it: hiding in plain sight.
The merchant handed over a box of produce to Claude when his eyes widened suddenly.
"Young man, something appeared on your arm just now!" he cried out.
Claude looked down at his wrist and noticed the intricate tattoo that had formed. He had felt a strange itch take over the whole of his body.
A summoning had occurred.
He set down the box of produce and pulled his tunic away from his chest, noting that the whole of his chest was covered in tattoos as well.
Just how many years' worth of knowledge is this?
He took the box and quickly walked toward a plain-looking carriage.
"Belestris. We're heading back. Now. And gather more guards to cover my ride," he ordered, settling quickly inside.
"Understood," came the reply, and the carriage door closed behind him.
Claude's mother had prepared him for this moment for many years, and now that it had occurred, there was no telling what awaited him. He sat in the carriage and ripped his tunic and pants off. Tattoos covered practically every area of skin, and he began to read through the contents.
Round 45.
"Ah, god-fucking damn it," Claude swore, seeing the inscription.
Just how many rounds did I go through?
Claude inspected his skin, trying to find the largest number and figure out what the most recent round had occur in it. With so many rounds, recency was key.
Round 75.
He read through the tattoo inscriptions, nodding along to his predecessor's findings regarding Micah Frey's growing power and concerns. However, as he reached the summary's end, he frowned. He couldn't understand it. The last tattoo was hastily inscribed, and the contents made no sense, especially given the prior concern about Micah Frey.
But it's evidently my writing.
Claude sighed and put his tunic and pants back on. He gazed out the carriage at the bright blue sky. It was a perfect sunny morning.
Luca Frey. Just what happened in the previous round?
AlekAundra
Heh heh heh heh.... :D
Thanks for reading and following the story!
