The Five-Thousand-Year Grudge

"Wilson, Wilson! You dare touch Wilson. You son of a b—!!"

The thin thread of my sanity snapped, drifting into the abyss. I swung my fists wildly at the boulder before me. Crack, crunch. Every time my knuckles collided with its hard surface, a sickening sound echoed—the sound of bones shattering and veins bursting. Yet, I didn't stop. The thing didn't just sit there, either; it struck back. A massive chunk of rock slammed into my skull. Boom, boom! I was kicked, grabbed, and slammed into the dirt.

"Gaaaaahhh!!"

Still, I didn't stop. When my hands became useless, I rammed it with my shoulders. I couldn't forgive it. I couldn't, but willpower alone had its limits. "Haa, haa." Once I became nothing more than a pile of meat struggling to breathe, I couldn't move anymore. The golem lifted me up. Beneath its feet, I saw the remains of Wilson. I couldn't even reach out my hand. Whoosh. It tossed me aside. I flew for a long time before crashing into the Altar of Beginnings. My vision went black.

I don't know how long it took for me to open my eyes. My whole body burned with such agony that I couldn't move immediately. I had to lie there, rolling around for a week. When I finally managed to stand and survey my surroundings, the exercise equipment was covered in dust, and the baskets had withered away. It felt like months had passed. I climbed up to the altar. A rock sat there—a smooth, round stone without a single scratch, perfect for rolling.

"...That's not Wilson."

I wailed. It took another month to pull myself together and start rolling the rock again. Since I had stopped tracking the days, I couldn't be sure of the exact time. Wilson’s remains were still left behind on the 7th floor. I couldn't even build him a grave. Pushing the rock after so long felt harder than before. Perhaps it was because the wounds on my broken body wouldn't heal, or perhaps it was because I now had to do it alone, in silence. It took another year to reach the 7th floor again.

"Wilson!"

Wilson’s fragments were still there. Rumble! As I approached, the rock rose up, and that thing appeared again. Boom, boom! There was no miracle. Just like a year ago, I was beaten into a pulp and chased away. I don't know how long it took to regain consciousness. I cursed and damned the absurdity of it all countless times. Thinking about it coldly, this wasn't a structure meant to be broken by defeating the golem. It made no sense for a disaster-class monster to suddenly appear after only low-level magical beasts. The golem remained a hidden pile of rocks, unresponsive until touched. It must have meant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for me to find a way to sneak past it. In fact, it probably wouldn't even chase me if I ran. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't accept it.

"Wilson."

It was still trampling Wilson. Driven by the single-minded obsession that I would definitely retrieve Wilson, who must still be unable to close his eyes, I challenged the Lava Golem time and time again.

"...Ugh."

And I was crushed mercilessly. Over and over. I didn't count the times. No, I couldn't count them. There were times when my skull was so mangled that my memories were wiped away. When I came to and looked back at the altar, there it was—the smooth rock, waiting for me as if nothing had ever happened.

"...Gaaaaahhh!!"

When 20 years had passed, something important inside me finally broke. I lay down and spent another year doing nothing. I just wasted the time. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't think I could do anything. My sense of time had been ruined long ago, but I knew for certain that more than 10 or 20 years had passed. I hadn't aged, but the only thing on my body that grew with time was my beard. I could infer the duration from its length.

"20 years..."

What had been happening outside all this time? Who had become the lord of my hometown, Corinth? Was it my brother Salmoneus, or Alcyone? Or had it perished, like so many other poleis that vanished and rose? Had the most famous hero of Greece, Heracles, been born? Did Penthesilea participate in the Trojan War and meet her end, as in the legends? How was everyone living their lives? Imagination was the only act permitted to me.

"I'm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠home, Alcyone. Was Father well? The cattle were quite stubborn today."

When 50 years had passed, I learned how to spend time by talking to myself. Humans perceive information through the brain. If I imagined this was Corinth, wouldn't that become my reality?

"Let us go out together, Tana. The festival is still in full swing. I shall escort..."

I gestured into the empty air, lost my balance, and fell. I had tripped over a stone. "Ah, I'm fine. This much is..." Why was it? That day, I saw her—the one I had tried so hard not to think about. It wasn't even the last image I had of her. She appeared with the face she had when we ran through the hills as children. With her long platinum hair hanging limply, her transparent blue eyes looked at me with resentment.

—A liar who doesn't even keep his promises.

My hands trembled. I forced myself to ignore her and stood up.

100 years passed. Having nothing to do, I delved into mathematics. I squeezed juice from weeds and wrote numbers on the dirt floor. The formulas and proofs grew so long they covered both the Altar of Beginnings and the grassy field. Faint memories from my past life surfaced, and after another 100 years of study, I managed to solve several bizarre proofs. Naturally, they were useless. I erased them all. I tried every activity a man could do alone. I created strategy board games and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠endlessly explored the rules myself. I drew pictures until the rock was full. I made instruments and plucked the strings until my fingers bled. I cut down trees and built a boat. Since none of it had meaning, I destroyed and erased everything after finishing.

A thousand years passed like that.

"It's strange."

I had spent far more time in this space than the life I had lived before. That included my past life. It was clear that I, as a human, had been created solely to exist in this space. If asked which was the real life, the life spent in Corinth might as well have been a butterfly dream dreamt by the me in this place. Yet, why...

"Why do I want to go back so badly?"

Even if I escaped now, no one I knew would be left. It was just as I muttered that.

—Swish.

I saw something. In the gap between the trees. "Clea...?" She looked at me with an expression that seemed to condemn me, yet she was frustrated because she couldn't voice what she wanted to say. My heart ached at that look. But only for a moment. Clea’s figure turned her head and vanished.

"Wait!"

What on earth did she want to say to me? What was the meaning behind that expression? I couldn't stand the curiosity, so I blindly chased after her.

—Rustle!

But as always, the moment I dove into the forest, I popped out on the other side. Unable to control my momentum, I fell disgracefully and rolled for a long time. When I lifted my head, the slope greeted me. It was the starting path of the 1st floor, which I had climbed hundreds, thousands of times.

"...What do you want me to do?"

—Boom!

Unable to contain my rage, I slammed the ground. "Honestly, I've done enough! What more do you want from me here!"

Boom, boom, boom! Blood flowed from my fists. As I struck with all my might, the stone floor cracked and began to form a hole.

"It's not like there's anything up there anyway! Do you think I endured this because I wanted to? I wish I had been born a hero, or a god!"

—Rumble!

Unable to withstand my pounding, the floor collapsed.

"Ugh?"

In that moment, I felt the sensation of falling.

—Crash...

I fell somewhere along with the pile of rubble.

"...What is this place?"

I stood up and looked around. Examining it closely, it was structured so that the slope of the 1st floor continued downward. Was there a basement? It was a small, dark stone chamber. In the center stood an altar for offerings, and a single book lay upon it. It was an architectural style I had seen many times. It was a building used by priests or high priests when making offerings.

"Quite archaic."

It was a structure from at least several hundred, no, over a thousand years ago. I opened the dust-covered book. The smell of mold filled my nose.

"Cronus."

Faint memories revived. Even though a thousand years had passed, there was no way I could forget those names.

—You shall be imprisoned in the time prison of Cronus.

Those were the words Zeus had spoken to me. "Cronus was the second ruler of the Golden Age." I also remembered he was the strongest Titan. "He killed the first ruler, the sky god Uranus, and succeeded to the power. But what does that have to do with this space?"

"Zeus tore Cronus's authority to make this place?"

The authority of the Sky must have been received from Uranus, and now Zeus holds it. He rules the heavens and casts down thunderbolts. Agriculture was succeeded by the goddess Demeter. Did he create this prison with the remaining authority of Time?

"Here, the laws of time are... different."

A body that doesn't age and heals on its own. Grass or deer that reappear the moment you look away. It was a very bizarre space. Even though a thousand years had passed for me, "Outside... it might be the same."

In the first place, Zeus imprisoned me here to enjoy watching me suffer. If he had only wanted to torture me, there was no reason to lock me in a prison imbued with the authority of Cronus. Because if time didn't pass outside, he could watch me suffer even if my perceived time flowed infinitely.

"Conversely speaking."

It also meant that I had been granted infinite time here. Suddenly, my mind cleared. I would climb back out. "So, I have infinite time." I pulled out the remains of the training equipment that had long since rotted away. "If I become infinitely strong."

I can even take revenge for Wilson.

—Swish.

The sound of grass blades brushing. Once again, Clea’s silhouette watched me blankly from afar. It was probably a hallucination created by the shame of my subconscious. I hadn't been able to forgive myself for avoiding my goal. The phantoms in my memories often appeared like this. When I climbed the mountain, Pente would usually pass by and remind me of her teachings. Now, Clea, whom I hadn't even bothered to recall, appeared and stared at me.

"I know, I know."

I knew what she wanted to say now. I stood up. But wait, was Clea’s hair red? Old memories were mixed up, making me confused. I knew well that I had gone completely mad. "Good."

—Thump!

I brought the rock from the altar and tied it with vines. Familiarly, just as my body remembered. "Let's do it like a madman."

I started again. "Hup."

Starting with squats.

***

A long time passed.

How much training would a normal human need to build enough strength to take down a disaster-class monster?

Since no one had ever done it before, no one would know.

A thousand years passed.

Two thousand years passed.

I experienced the agony of my body twisting hundreds of times.

"I'm ready."

Thinking this was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enough, I began to push the rock up. I arrived at the 7th floor.

"Hey."

—Rumble.

It rose from the pile of rubble. The Lava Golem, flashing its red eyes toward me. It was exactly the same as the image burned into my brain 5,000 years ago.

"Let's go."

I said that, and—

—Whoosh!

I picked up the rock I had been pushing and hurled it at the thing.