Story 5 - A Sisyphian Tale, written by: Owry (Second Place Winner)

Three days.

That's all the time I was given before I was set to be executed. The judge seemed almost satisfied with giving me so little time left in this world. In his mind, I figure, he was giving me a speedy and merciful death. To me, it felt like the whole of Root City wanted nothing to do with me anymore.

It's a funny thing, really. I was never particularly conceited person. Just a simple man, really. It's just that I fell on hard times, was made to steal to get by. Being a Dragonair made it surprisingly easy. I could fit through things that other Pokémon of my size couldn't, you see. Stealth and power were my only allies. Soon enough, I longed for more. Started shooting for bigger and better prizes. And then, I was noticed for my work. Picked up by a local ring of thieves. It was fun, for a time. I even became their leader at some point. We stole, celebrated our work, and plotted for more. And more. And more.

Eventually, we bit off more than we could chew. Screwed with the wrong man. Made one mistake too many. Some rich kid died. The rest escaped, I'm sure of it. Because I was the one that stayed behind, the one that gave up everything. I kept my lips tightened, even at the cost of my own life. And I don't regret it, not really. I don't think I'd be able to live without regrets if I did. But as a result, here I am. Facing the death penalty.

I groggily stretch awake in my cell. My cell mate stares at me. He's an Arcanine with shaggy fur. Time to make some conversation.

"Hey."

"Hello."

"Name's Greyson," He says. "Yours?"

"Archie."

A silence follows.

"So, what're ya in here for?" He asks.

"Murdered a nobleman's son," I say, life drained from my voice. "My buddies got away, luckily. Gave me the death penalty for not talking."

The Arcanine snorts. "Well? Gonna tell me anything more? Or ask me anything?"

"What's the point?" I reply. "I'm dead in three days, anyway."

Another silence follows. I have no interest in continuing this conversation, anyway. It's no big deal.

After getting breakfast—just some slop and a bland salad I don't care for— I loiter around in the prison library for a while before being rather rudely interrupted.

"C-U-L-O-ONE-Z-R-I-U-TWO-S! You have a visitor! Get over here!"

Of course, I'm expecting this. The death penalty is quite rare in The Eyelash Isles, even more so in the towns and cities governed by the Neoh Crown, which is most of them. My execution is a testament to how far my group really got, and was always bound to stir up quite a bit of attention and drama. And I have a funny idea I know exactly who's come to see me.

I open the door to the meeting-room. A guard stands just outside the door, looking in with a watchful eye. Inside is none other than Archbishop Steven Snorlax, head of the most influential religion in all of the Eyelash Isles, The Holy League of the Heavenly Kings. Quite the mouthful, so some just call it 'The Pokémon League', but that's a terrible name, so Steven discourages that. He wears a plain brown cape and shirt and a golden medallion with the symbol of the religion on it, a crown over a closed eye. In any case, he's quite the outspoken critic of the use of the death penalty, and is the primary reason it's so rare. He's even managed to reduce the sentences of those who've received it using his broad influence. Although not always. That's why he's here, I imagine.

"Archbishop Steven, I beseech you," I begin, not interested in anything but the highest of flattery, "You must be here because you think my life is worth sparing. Please, would you get them to reconsider?"

"I will do what I can," He replies. "But with only three days, it will prove difficult to make the necessary arrangements."

I lower my head in… disappointment, perhaps? I'm unsure in the moment. "…I understand, Archbishop."

"Don't lose hope yet," He assures me. "It may appear grim, but there is a sequence of events where you rise on the fourth day out there somewhere. Trust in fate, and it will reward you."

Little else comes of our meeting that day. I idly proceed on through the day, and soon, night falls for me. I try to ignore the voice at the window as much as I can before I drift off to sleep.


The second day came and went without much of anything happening, too. Which led me to the third day. My execution date. I grimly walk down a hall, led by an executioner, who happens to be a Machamp. He seems almost impersonal as he shoves me along, not wanting to even look me in the eye. I don't blame him. Being an executioner in the Neoh Kingdom must be a rather thankless job. He surely isn't well liked, and must be numb to the pain by now. Best to act professional.

We arrive in front of a nondescript door. For a moment, I consider fleeing, but there's no point. With a powerful enchantment blocking the use of moves or abilities that only the guards can defy, there's no hope for my escape.

"Any last words?" The Machamp solemnly asks me.

"Let the masses know that I stood for freedom," I mechanically reply. "Nothing more to say."

"Very well," He says, opening a door. The room is empty, save for a table with a needle on it, and a comfortable-looking chair. The needle is poisoned. Wordlessly, I sit down in the chair. Before long, the needle is stabbed into my underbelly. Within seconds, the world goes hazy, and I slump down into a chair. I Sink deeply into unconsciousness as the sweet release of death takes me. It's an almost pleasant coldness as I —

Three days.

That's the length of time that these loops last. A mere three days, for that's all the time I was meant to have. Until Archbishop Steven decided to change that. It's been a few times; four, I think. The very first time I went to sleep in that cell, I heard a voice at the window, from outside. From freedom. I'll always remember what it said, how I responded.

"You've met a terrible fate, haven't you?"

"…Who's there?" A bluff on my part. I recognized the voice right away. I'd heard in earlier in the day, after all.

"Come now, my name is not important. Why bother with that?"

"Well, then let's cut to the chase. Why are you here?"

"You're desperate."

"Funny thing for the head of a religion to say."

"I suppose so," The Archbishop replies with a yawn. "Charity is my image. So I shall offer you my charity."

"…What's the catch?" He's right, I am desperate.

"You're getting ahead of me. Why don't you calm down, my good man? Listen to what I have to say, for there is a path open to you."

"Then let's hear it already."

He laughs, albeit quietly. "Alright, Alright." Then he reaches his hand into the window of the cell, and looks directly at me inside while resting his hand on the sill. The bars are just barely big enough to fit his hand, perfect for keeping me in. "Here's the deal. Making the necessary arrangements for your reduced sentence will be difficult indeed. The odds of my success in this endeavor are slim to none. Hence, so are your odds of survival. I anticipate I will fail."

"Then why are you here?"

"Just listen to teacher…" He chides me. At this point, I'm really starting to get tired of his stalling. "Here's the idea. What if I could try again?"

I squint my eyes suspiciously. "…That would require bringing me back from the dead. That's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible with faith, my friend…" He says with a smile. Then his hand is suddenly surrounded with a dark maelstrom, similar to a shadow ball. Thinking back, the medallion he wore gently glowed purple as well. "Take my hand, and you'll come back from the dead, waking up on this same morning every time. You will truly never die."

"That's… Insane."

"And it's also a guarantee for your survival. You'll be able to come back as many times as is necessary for you to survive."

"…And the catch? You said you'd get to that."

"You may not speak a word of this to anybody. Ever. I also gently request you assist me afterwards, although that is not strictly necessary. I'm fine regardless of what you decide to do when the day comes."

I stare at the sinister blackish-purple vortex for what feels like an eternity. His logic is absolute, and yet there's a looming unease I can't shake. Surely, I'd be a fool to refuse such an offer? Isn't this practically immortality he's offering me? I'm practically robbing him blind with this, aren't I?

"Will I need to keep coming back here?"

"You won't."

"Will you remember my deaths?"

"I won't, only that I gave you this in the first place. Perhaps it will motivate me a little more."

I pause for the longest time, before reaching for his hand with my tail. "…You've got a deal."

I wrap up his hand, and immediately, I can feel something creeping into me. My world grows hazy, and then…

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At the time, I must've thought it would be quick and easy to find the loop where I make it to the fourth day. Oh, how wrong I was.


Three days left.

It's been a while now. Maybe ten loops. I'm feeling desperate, so I decide to try telling my cellmate about my newfound power. Well, by now, it's not really 'new'.

"Hey, what if I told you death wasn't the end for me?"

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Three days left.

Well, shit. Guess that plan's shot. I suppose I shouldn't have thought it'd be so easy to break the agreement.


Three days left.

It's been… Thirty loops? Thirty one? Shit, I'm losing track. Anyway, It's getting to the point where I'm considering just breaking out myself. I have all of the time in the world after all, and I'll never truly die. Might as well try working out an escape route, assuming there is one.

Three days left.

Trying to bust myself out of prison did not go well. I've lost count of the number of loops that got thrown away trying. I'm pretty sure I'm higher than fifty loops now, but I have no idea. I never even got close to leaving the prison grounds itself, let alone properly escaping. The security here is way tighter than I initially gave it credit for. The worst part is, I know for a fact that I could probably do it if I had, say, a week. Three days simply isn't enough time to setup an escape and then execute it.

Hah, 'execute'. How strange my life has become.

On the bright side, I did learn a lot about how the power the Archbishop gave me works. Any information I give away, no matter how slight, will trigger a new loop, so long as it's direct. Indirect information can also trigger it, but it depends on how. What matters is that it works out such that it's extremely difficult to communicate what's going on with me to anyone else. More importantly, this also applies to things that I learn because of the power. If it's something I shouldn't know yet, I can't share it directly, lest a new loop start. All of this even works if someone gets the info against my will, so long as it's directly from me. It's an isolating feeling.


Three days left.

Arceus knows how many loops have happened. I completely lost track somewhere around fifty, and that was while I was still trying to break myself out. I'm losing my grip on sanity.

Help me.

Three days left.

It's nighttime, which means it's time to converse with the Archbishop again.

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"Well?" He asks me. "Anything interesting to share?"

"Nothing that would interest you," I reply, barely able to mumble to him. "I eternally await for my sentence to be reduced."

"Oh dear," He says with just a hint of insincerity, "You must have suffered through an enormous number of loops. My apologies, my indolence seems to get the better of me at inconvenient times."

I mirthlessly chuckle. "You know, I regret taking your hand with all of my heart. I've come close to the cold embrace of death so many times, yet I can never truly feel it. That's your gift."

"Sadly, I cannot take it back."

I was hoping to ask for that. Now I've lost even that hope. I would lash out at him, but I don't have the energy for that right now. "Well, I've nothing more to say. You can go now."

He chuckles. "Well, I'll do my best to save you."

I wait quite a while, until I'm absolutely sure that the Archbishop can no longer hear me.

"I'm sure it'd be no skin off of your back if you failed, anyway."


Three days left.

Arceus.

Oh my Arceus.

Something has finally changed.

No, I'm not free, don't get your hopes up.

But now I've started to get a visitor. Prince Maxie, from a noble house whose name I've long forgotten by now. He is apparently considered something of a prodigy among high society, and the only other thing I remember about him is that he went out of his way to ensure he wouldn't distract from his sister's own challenge to the throne. The old me wouldn't have cared, or maybe even jeered at the royalty that decided to visit, but I'm so thoroughly broken by now that getting my usual routine disrupted like this is cause to hang on his every word, at least for the time being. After speaking with him once or twice, I've got to say, he's got a bit of… quirkiness to him. He's strangely analytical, and, quite frankly, he behaves not at all like I would've expected from a royal. His appearance only solidifies this in my mind. He's a Zangoose, you see, and that means he has very thick and shaggy fur. A royal would take the time to properly comb and groom it, but he seems perfectly happy to carry whatever state he woke up in with him for the rest of the day. Most of it is also combined with his horrible fashion sense, which includes a shirt with flowers on it and jeans. Not to mention those strangely rectangular spectacles he's got. My current theory is that this is part of his ploy to avoid becoming an obstacle to his sister.

…I am afraid of when he, too, becomes boring and monotonous. It's been two loops. I give it another five.


Three days left.

Something strange is happening. Prince Maxie shouldn't be doing… anything he's been doing since that first loop where he contacted me.

For starters, the questions he has asked me have changed from loop to loop.

That by itself would be odd, but he takes it a step further.

The nature of the questions is peculiar, too.

In one loop, he will ask me about a specific event, and then in another, he will ask me to elaborate on that event, despite me never bringing it up.

He couldn't be reading my mind somehow. I know for a fact by now that if he did, it would immediately trigger a new loop. I mean, he's a Zangoose anyway. He couldn't. How does he know?

It's starting to keep me up at night.


Three days left.

I'm sleeping on the second night, as I normally do. Or at least, trying to sleep. Then I hear his voice.

"Hey, can we talk?"

I shoot up in bed. It's Prince Maxie. He's here. At this hour. I have so, so many questions. "Who are you really and why do you seem to know everything?" I hoarsely croak. What little sanity I have remaining hinges on his response.

"A-Alright, my guy, slow down. Just… Breathe, okay?"

I immediately start taking several deep breaths. Some leader of band of thieves I am, taking direct orders from a prince of all people.

"Alright, have you calmed down yet? If you have, come over to the window, and keep your voice low, got it?"

I do as he asks. Whatever deal he's about to strike with me, he can go ahead and give me whatever lopsided terms he wants. I'm that desperate for a change. I get as close to him as the just-tight-enough bars will allow and look him directly in the eye.

"You're under the effects of the Archibishop's curse, aren't you?" He asks me.

He doesn't know what a weight off of my chest that is. It takes everything I have left to not break down completely.

"F-f-finally…" I wheeze. "Someone who knows." After a few moments, I achieve some semblance of lucidity. "I-I-I didn't know we could speak to each other like this."

"I regret to inform you that you're probably one of the more sane ones I've encountered. We all exist in the same loop, even if we start and stop it at different times, you see. The others have all lived countless lifetimes, to the point where they're completely detached from the world around them. Old age seems to be just another way to restart, unfortunately."

Slowly, my sanity is creeping back. "I suppose having loops that only last three days is a mercy, then…" I realize something. "Wait a minute, then you—"

He holds a paw. "Let me finish. After so many loops, most can only cling to the Archbishop. Follow his commands. It's the only thoughts they can have anymore, after living so many lifetimes." He sighs. "But not me. I'm a moron whose never even seen a loop longer than half a year because I'm stupid enough to pick a fight with him."

I take a moment to drink in the words, but not really understand. "…Why?" Is all I can manage.

"Two reasons. One, he ruined my life by forcing it on me when I got too close to uncovering his secrets. Two, because it's the only way to break the loop. The only path to freedom is his head."

He's already got me. "How are you planning on breaking me out, then?"

"Oh, that part's easy. My noble house owns this prison. I've got way more sway around here than someone like the Archbishop. I've already made the arrangements, you're walking free tomorrow."

I can barely understand what he's telling me. "I… Thank you."

"Don't mention it," He tells me. "You're my partner in crime starting tomorrow, after all. I need your expertise in thievery. It'll make the coming weeks go much more smoothly than they otherwise would."

I would object to him saying that had I not thoroughly bought into what he's said already. "By any chance, do you happen to know how long it's been?"

"This would be attempt one hundred and forty seven."

"I— wow."

I don't regret pledging my allegiance to him that day. He saved me. In more ways than one.