Rewind: A Grimdark LitRPG Series (Pyresouls Apocalypse, Book 1) James Callum (best large ereader .TXT) 📖

the chance. While a blocked physical hit would deal zero damage, it still ate up a large chunk of Stamina to block the attack.

Without enough Stamina to absorb the blow, the rest transferred to HP. With enough Stamina and a good shield, it was possible to shrug off an otherwise mortal attack.

At only 86 Stamina, Jacob was far away from making that a reality.

Jacob performed a series of warm-up exercises, getting used to the new armor and its range of motion. By the time he was done, he had worked up a decent sweat despite the cool air of the storeroom.

But something was wrong. He moved just as freely as he did with his robes.

Glancing at his stats, his total Guilt was at 2. A number that didn’t add up whatsoever. With everything equipped, he should be at 5.

Each tier of Guilt was broken up into 25% breakpoints. Guilt was divided by your Temper, and that percentage was the amount of total Guilt you had to bear. Possessing 1 Guilt with 10 TMP meant you were at 10% Guilt. Easy enough to grasp.

The first tier, 25% and under incurred no penalty or movement degradation. That was the goal for some but it took too much Temper to reach it with stronger weapons and better armor.

Tier 2 was 25% to 50% Guilt, and it had a slight 10% penalty to movement and Stamina.

Jacob was used to tier 3, 50% to 75% Guilt. At that stage, it was a 25% penalty to both movement and Stamina cost.

He should have been at 5 Guilt. With his TMP at 9, that would place him at 55% Guilt, or just into tier 3. After all, 4 pieces of the knight’s armor and his [Mace] all added up to 5. Instead, he was at 2.

And despite the fact that he wore a full loadout of knightly armor, he moved around as fast as any Savage would.

Breathing hard from the exercise, Jacob found himself amid the broken crates and barrels that littered the floor. Among them was a shattered mirror.

Jacob saw himself in its broken reflection, the look of a knight but the heart of a coward.

He was glad to be alone at that moment but he wished he had a helm that properly hid his burning face. Try as he might, he could not lower the visor. Alec would have found a way to help her, wouldn’t he?

Nothing he ever said to Jacob even hinted that the other man knew the woman existed, nor the Minos down below. The only Minos Jacob ever heard Alec talk about was the one in the torture chambers of the asylum.

It would seem that the creatures preferred to linger in places of deep suffering. That thought only made Jacob feel worse.

Twice, he nearly turned back for the dark hallway that would lead to the woman. And each time he turned for the stairs and the way forward, he never got passed the first few steps. His guilt wouldn’t let him.

But he still had no way to free her. No key, and though he had a [Mace] it wasn’t magical. Not without significant work, though one of the [Minos Horns] could likely enchant it if he strengthened the weapon enough.

Altering the essence of a weapon, making it magical in one way or another required a weapon to be reinforced to at least +10. And he definitely didn’t have the Souls or items to reach that level of reinforcement.

The thought of the [Minos Horn] made him curse to himself. If he destroyed one, the resulting impact could possibly dissolve the magical bonds that held the woman. Or they would break a single chain and she’d still be chained with Jacob down one very rare ingredient.

Pacing back and forth, he was unable to make up his mind. If Alec had encountered the woman and was too ashamed to admit that he failed, or worse left her to die, would he have buried that truth?

Stuck in the same situation, Jacob wasn’t sure if he would blame him.

Jacob looked up to the ceiling above as if he could somehow see across space and time to Alice and Alec. “You picked the wrong person for the job,” he grumbled.

Clenching his fists, Jacob stalked back toward the room with the woman. His new armor clanking noisily along the way.

12

When the woman saw Jacob, her eyes widened with hope and then seared him with rage. But behind that was a faint glimmer of fear. He hated seeing that most of all.

“Come back to taunt me?” she asked, her words dripped with venom despite the hoarseness of her voice.

Jacob had tried again on the way there to lower the visor on the helm but found, much to his annoyance, that it was still stuck in the up position, leaving his face open and vulnerable.

Not the best helm to wear, but better than nothing.

“Did you think a change of clothing would fool me?” she asked, a tremor threaded through her voice as Jacob came within striking distance of her.

Up so close, he could see the elven features clearly on the woman. He still wasn’t sure what he could do to help her. He hadn’t been lying when his goal was first and foremost to his people. To humanity and to Earth.

But he couldn’t get her out of his head. He had never been the sort of person who believed the ends justified the means. What good was saving humanity if he lost his soul in the process?

The odds were staggeringly high that he wouldn’t be able to help her. But the last sentient person, Brother Aker, had helped him immensely. A merchant so soon was a godsend and the [Bladed Whip] he provided even more so.

It was interesting thinking of all the little changes, the events that rolled downhill like a snowball gathering into a massive boulder to change his course.

Without the bridge being broken, finding that ring, talking to Brother Aker, buying the whip, or the many other