Minute Mage: A Time-Traveling LitRPG Progression Fantasy

Chapter 223: The Clash of Ideas

Chapter 223: The Clash of Ideas

I arrived in the previous timeline not too far in the past. I hadn’t gone the entire six and a half hours back that I was capable of, instead opting to go back to the moment the time struck midnight of the current day—not even a minute beforehand. The reason I chose to do this was a specific quirk in the way Time Loop worked and that Index had explained to me a while back.

Essentially, Time Loop only gave a certain number of uses that could be expended during any given day. Yesterday, I had used all three of my Time Loop uses in my fight against Jon, and now today, I’d used one of my three. But that meant that if I went back to yesterday, I’d go back to having no more uses of Time Loop, and only once the time passed back to being today would I get access to my two remaining Time Loop uses. So, if I went back my full complement of time, I’d suddenly go to a time where I had absolutely no safety net, and would have to wait until today in order to get it back.

Now, I did know that it was possible to go through yesterday and survive just fine by retracing all of my old actions, but quite frankly, I still wasn’t interested in going any more time than I had to without Time Loop to keep me safe. If I accidentally messed something up or forgot where I needed to be at a specific point, then I’d run the risk of dying. Not a good idea, especially during such a high-danger situation as I was currently in.

So I only went back a portion of time, to the moment Erani, Sylvie, and I set off back to town from our meeting spot up the road. I more or less went through the same steps we’d done before, using the idle time spent walking to try and think up a solution to the Jon problem. As usual, it felt like he always had a plan to get ahead of me the moment it felt like I might be winning.

Or, no, maybe it was less of him having a plan for every contingency, and more of him thinking up a new solution to every problem I threw at him. It would have been ridiculous to assume he’d planned ahead for a situation where I’d recruited people who knew my identity but hadn’t been allied with me for enough time to be unable to be swayed by a stranger’s words, and where I’d used those people to keep him from reaching me, and was in a battlefield chaotic enough for them to turn on me without me instantly realizing it.

It was just so frustrating to go up against someone who happened to be capable of figuring out all these strategies to beat me. Like he was just out-thinking me at every turn.

“I wouldn’t say it’s your fault,” Index said, responding to my thoughts. “Quite frankly, I’ll say that I’ve also been pretty surprised at what he’s been doing.”

What do you mean?

“Well, think about it. He’s clearly an accomplished fighter; his Level is high, he knows how to use his power, and he’s developed a solid strategy for defeating his opponents. But then, on top of that, he’s got all of these resources at his disposal to bring troops in from the kingdom—troops with unique modifications done to their bodies to make them better soldiers—and not just one platoon, but enough to make up several squads that he can keep in reserve. And then, on top of that, he’s also completely ready and willing to take adventurers that aren’t his soldiers and haven’t come with him from the kingdom, it seems, but rather come from the empire, and hire them at a moment’s notice to kill you in the guild lobby. And now, not only is he doing all of that, but he also is some sort of master orator who’s capable of manipulating the masses into doing his bidding? It was surprising to me, so I think it’s reasonable for you to not have been expecting all of that out of him, too.”

Well, I guess it’s good to know we both agree that he’s bullshit. I guess now, we just get to go and see what stupid new plan he pulls out of his ass the moment we beat his surprise persuasive abilities.

“I wouldn’t think of it like that. It’s no more likely—”

I know, I know. Just ranting, I guess.

“Well I know you don’t fully mean what you’re saying, but it’s still not good to think like that. Hopelessness can be a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know.”

Sure, I guess.

The beginning of the battle went off without a hitch, just as planned, just as last time. We arrived, some of the external forces attacked immediately, we took them down, ambushed Jon, pushed him back behind our forces, and then did our best to keep his reinforcements from within the building from causing much trouble.

The real test came when he opened his mouth and shouted at me.

“Do you see the destruction being wrought around us, Arlan? Surely you know how much suffering you cause by fighting. Surely you see that some people here will not make it out alive. Your selfish decision to fight an unwinnable battle will cause the deaths of countless innocents, as it already has, and it won’t even save you in the end. What is the point in fighting?!”

It was the same way he’d opened the dialogue between us last timeline. Now that I was looking for it, I could see the subtle manipulations in his speech, as Index had said. He was sowing hopelessness in my allies, telling them that they’d die, and so would I, and also telling them that I had already caused the deaths of innocents. It was the perfect morale-killer, declaring that not only would they die in this fight, they’d also die for a terrible cause.

I mentally went through his points, deciding on ways to counter each one.

“What’s the point of fighting?!” I shouted back. “To keep motherfuckers like you from killing more! You say my fighting back has ‘caused’ the deaths of innocents, and yet you fail to mention who was the one to kill them. No battle is pointless if you’re fighting for something good, and this fight sure as hells isn’t unwinnable, because I will personally be the one to bury you in the ground!”

He scowled at my words. “Oh, you love to do your moral grandstanding the moment the conflict is brought public. But I know you never even considered the lives you were endangering every second you stayed alive in the past. Only now, when your evils are brought before you, do you retroactively justify what you’ve done. Just what will you decide to justify in the future? When will you decide that it’s not enough to just let people die for your sake, that perhaps you should begin actively murdering people in order to further your strength and your chances of living? Your ambition to survive will only lead to the suffering of more and more, and it will bear no benefit for anyone else in this world.”

“Oh,” Index said, “that’s a logical fallacy. You can’t say that just because something has happened, a completely different escalation of that thing will happen later on. Just because other people are killing innocents doesn’t mean you’ll go and start killing them. There’s no logical throughline there.”

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I nodded, and pointed exactly that out. “You have no proof I’d ever do something like that. It’s completely baseless as an accusation. Unlike the things I can say against you and the Demons, which entirely hold weight. Things like you smuggling these military forces into the empire in order to slaughter me and the citizenry, and things like the Demons you work for killing countless people in the kingdom just because they could!”

The battle raging around us was still going strong, my hired help showing no signs of defection, this time. In fact, I could even see a couple of them seeming to fight harder now that they learned that this battle was bigger than a paycheck.

“You keep speaking of the evil I represent, but you never answer the simple statement that you being alive causes more suffering than if you were dead. And you cannot answer it because it’s that simple. You can’t wriggle around it or shout over it; it’s a fact. The fact that your death would be doing the world a favor. Yes, the Demons are causing that suffering; I hate them just as much as you do. But I am at least realistic enough to understand the fact that you cannot fight them off. They’re here, and the best way—the only way—to get them to stop killing is to allow you to die. You are simply too stupid, egotistical, and self-important to understand—”

“Ah, he used personal insults in his argument,” Index said as Jon finished his spiel. “You can get him for that, it’ll make his whole statement seem pointless.”

“Resorting to personal insults to my character is proof you’ve run out of things to say,” I called back. “If you just want to kill a man for no reason, then admit it!”

“Yeah!” I heard a voice call from across the battlefield, still raging amidst the argument between me and Jon.

Glancing over, I saw Sylvie pumping her fist in the air, standing by a run-down house she could duck behind for cover.

“Go burn in hell’s flames, evil-doer!” she shouted, pulling her bowstring back and sniping someone through the face.

Next to her, someone ran up from behind the building and glanced around frantically. It was Entismo. I saw him lean over and speak with Sylvie, obviously completely panicked at the sight of such a large-scale battle happening within the town’s walls.

At this point, there had been a good amount of destruction, mainly by the hands of Jon’s forces—the ones who wouldn’t be forced to live in the town they’d just destroyed. Stray explosions blew buildings to rubble and left craters in the streets, powerful Melee-Types would strike each other so hard they’d go flying through walls, and plenty of other Spells that left behind residual effects, whether that be torrents of water or hunks of stone being shot through the streets.

There had been a few people I’d seen that had come to see what was happening—some of them Classers who had obviously come to try and break up whatever fight they’d heard from afar. But when they saw just how massive the battle was in scale, they fled. I even caught some guards running around a corner, taking one look at what was happening, and then turning around and leaving. Of course, more powerful reinforcements would be arriving soon to break up the fight, but for now everyone who realized what was happening simply ran.

Thas is, except for Entismo. Evidently, once he noticed Sylvie was here, he decided to try and get an explanation of what in the hells she was doing here—and what was going on in the first place—rather than running off like a sensible person.

“You think your self-conception of ‘decency’ excuses the trail of destruction left behind you,” Jon shouted at me. “There’s blood on your hands, and no amount of fighting will wash your evils away!”

“His argument’s breaking down,” Index said. “He’s repeating himself now, so it’s barely even necessary to refute the points he’s making. Now’s the moment to go in for the kill. Metaphorically, that is. Though, if you can also find a way to end his life, that would probably be helpful, too.”

“You’re a murderer!” I yelled, projecting my voice across the entire battlefield. “You kill without thought, without consideration, you just see someone who’s convenient to kill and—”

I was interrupted by a battlecry coming from my side, and turned to see a stray soldier charging at me. One of them must’ve gotten behind our lines, and was now running right at me, the squishy Magic-Type.

Only, I wasn’t the typical squishy Magic-Type that sucked in close-range combat. He swung his longsword down at me and I stepped back, absent-mindedly hitting him with my curses—Crippling Chill and Gravity Well to start with, and when that seemed like it would just barely not be enough, I shot him with a Ray of Frost and then stepped forward to grab his neck and activate Noxious Grasp.

He collapsed, gasping from the sudden draining of both his capabilities and his life. I lowered his frozen body to the ground and kicked my leg up against his face to keep contact so Noxious Grasp would stay enabled.

Entismo arrived just as I took the guy down, his sword raised, apparently having charged in to help. But he slowed in his charge and lowered his blade as he realized I definitely didn’t need any. With an awkward motion, he stuck his sword into the ground and leaned on it, like that was his plan all along. “Y-you are an acquaintance of Annor’s, correct? P-pleased to make your…acquaintance. My name is Entismo, I am…I have come to offer my abetment in this endeavor. G-good sir.”

I nodded. “Good to know. You’re with Sylvie, right? Where are the other two? Aliss and Boy.”

“Ah. W-well, it seems you have been informed of my attempts to locate the pair. Er, those attempts have ended…unsuccessfully, un-unfortunately. I, I suppose I haven’t the slightest idea where they could be…or, where they have been…for the last while…or what they’re doing together, or…” his voice began to trail off at that point.

I looked over at Jon after that and continued in my speech. “You see my death as the pragmatic choice, the easy choice, and so you decide I have to die! It’s depraved. You act like you’re morally superior when all you’re doing is what you find convenient.”

Jon looked at me for a moment, squinting. Eventually, his stare morphed into a scowl, and he muttered something I couldn’t hear.

I frowned, gazing at him. Entismo seemed inspired enough by my words, though, so at least I seemed to be making some persuasive enough points. I didn’t really care how they sounded to Jon, honestly, as long as they convinced the crowd to kill him and not me.

“Arlan, just a heads up,” Index said, “Jon’s been using that Spell of his for a while, the one that lets him infuse elemental properties into mundane items. He’s been holding onto a coin for most of your debate and putting more and more fire magic into it, so it’ll burst into short, intense flames at will.”

Jon let out a deep breath, his face settling into grim determination. He called out to me, “You don’t believe a word that you’ve said, do you? You don’t care about what I’m saying at all. Like you’ve come into this assuming I’m wrong.”

I scoffed. “As if you aren’t doing the same thing.”

“I am not.” He seemed genuinely upset by the accusation. “Just because your arguments are completely illogical, and thus do not shake my faith in my own, does not mean I am disregarding you. But it seems that you aren’t speaking to me at all. You never have been. You are speaking to the crowd.”

He spread his hands, gesturing to the dozens of people fighting all around us.

“Surely you are spreading your ideas to them because you truly wish to see them do the right thing?” he asked sarcastically, as though he already knew exactly what the correct answer was. “Surely you would never simply say whatever it took to discredit me and keep yourself alive? Surely, you don’t see my ideas as a threat. As something that, if these people actually heard what I had to say, they might agree with, and come to my side. You call me despicable. You say I do whatever it takes to win, without even considering the morality of it. I could never find more fitting words to describe you. Let’s see how much you truly care about your precious allies in arms—your audience.”

With that, he twisted his body, then unfurled, pelting a small coin through the air—the coin Index was talking about. At first, I thought it was aimed at me. But then I realized it was aimed just a couple paces to my side—straight at Entismo.