Chapter 3: Day 23- Wilson

Name: Sisyphus
Race: Human
Strength: 4 (+1)
Stamina: 3
Magic: 0
Mana: 0
Objective: Push the rock to the top of the mountain.

“Huff, huff, hah…”

I had been pushing the rock up, but I couldn’t take it anymore and had to stop halfway up the slope.

I wedged the rock against a ledge and leaned my back against it to keep it from rolling down.

Had it been five hours?

Ten?

My arms were numb and I couldn’t feel my fingertips.

After crouching and pushing for so long, my back and neck ached like they were about to break.

“Damn it.”

After about ten hours, I finally looked down—and cursed instinctively.

I’d thought I was halfway up the slope, but I was barely 20 meters from where the incline had begun.

“So this is what they mean by a time prison…”

I had experienced this kind of dragging, eternal time once before—during marches in the military.

Ah, but that was a past life.

Got confused for a second.

In my territory, I had trained a few guards, but it was never enough to be called an army.

When problems arose, we usually put out a request to the guild.

I glanced up over the rock at the goal I had to reach.

At the end of what seemed to be the first floor, there was a clearly marked finish line—like the end of a tutorial.

There were even stakes where you could rest the rock for a bit.

This whole area I’d been climbing… it felt more like a training stage.

Hardly any obstacles, and the dirt ground wasn’t even that slippery.

“So I can’t let go until I reach that point.”

If only I had a status window—it might’ve made things easier.

[Tutorial in progress.]

[Floor 1 Progress: 36% / 100%]

“Let’s go a little farther.”

I’d rested, and now the ache in my lower back from supporting the rock was starting to return.

I turned around and started pushing again, putting strength back into my arms.

[Strength has increased by 1.]

Consistency is key, in everything.

“Don’t work too hard, Sisyphus.”

“Just do what you need to do today.”

That was the habit my mother taught me.

My father is Aeolus Hippoetes.

Hippoetes is my paternal grandfather’s name.

Since surnames or family names weren’t really used yet, people introduced themselves by their father’s name or added it like a surname.

I have six siblings.

We’re seven in total.

It might seem like a lot, but in a time when population equals manpower and power, it was pretty average.

We weren’t a great royal family or prestigious house, but we were nobles, at least.

Minor nobility.

In this era, noble houses generally fell into three categories:

First, scholarly families.

Second, heroic families descended from demigods.

Third, lordly families who ruled cities.

We were the third type.

Thanks to an innkeeping business my grandfather started, we developed a territory called Corinth.

The matron of our house—my mother—is named Enarete.

A wise woman.

“Mom, studying is so hard…”

When I was young, I mainly looked after the cattle.

We needed oxen for plowing fields, and milk was an important source of nutrition.

There were hundreds of cattle I had to watch over.

When you tend cattle, you need to count.

You have to know how to divide feed.

And depending on the season and date, you have to know what needs to be done.

You had to know math.

I thought math was something only great scholars like Pythagoras studied.

Every day, I got sick of looking at numbers written on parchment.

“You idiot, Sisyphus! You lost a cow again? Can’t you even add numbers?”

My eldest brother, Salmoneus, was always good at math.

Even the smallest mistake and he’d scold me.

I hated losing to him, but I also didn’t want to study…

That frustrating, stagnant cycle just kept repeating.

“It’s okay. Don’t work too hard, Sisyphus.”

Whenever I felt that way, my mother would say that.

“It’s okay not to overdo it. People just wear themselves out if they try too hard. As long as you read what you need to for today, that’s enough.”

Even slowly, even at a crawl—just do what you can.

Now I understand.

That 90% of people put off even the things they could do today.

And that just doing what I could today—was already something to be proud of.

From the start, it was only natural that I couldn’t win against my brother, who came into the world two years before I did.

“You’ve learned numbers up to ten thousand. Mommy is so proud of you, Sisyphus.”

And my mother praised me generously for it.

Thanks to her, I discovered the joy of acquiring knowledge.

By the time I was fifteen, I was already known throughout the territory as the most knowledgeable and eloquent person.

That must be why Father chose me, not my brother, as the next lord of the domain.

Mother was gentle, beautiful, and loved her family more than anyone.

And then, she died.

Because of the gods.

“A Demon has appeared!”

“It’s a Bicorn! It’s calling down lightning! The city is in flames!”

“Lord Aeolus, we must offer tribute to Lord Zeus immediately!”

The gods are fickle.

No, they’re just cruel psychos.

One day, when I was fifteen, I learned that truth very clearly.

They bestow abundance upon humans—only to unleash Demons and take it all back in an instant, enjoying the chaos they cause.

“It’s the dead of winter—how are we supposed to offer grain?!”

“Why now, of all times?!”

I saw it with my own eyes: Demons invading our lands, burning our fields, destroying our buildings, trampling people to death.

And above us, mocking us from the skies, was that guy.

A beautiful young man with winged shoes.

Hermes, messenger of Olympus and god of thieves, watched us with glee.

“Hah! This is hilarious. Look at them, scrambling around in a panic. No need to bring in a full drama troupe… Hmm?”

In a flash, Hermes flew straight toward me with a bizarre grin on his face.

“So it’s you? The little brat who humiliated my son Autolycus.”

Autolycus was the lord of a neighboring city-state.

He was a middle-aged man who didn’t get along with my father, and they often clashed.

He would sometimes sneak into our territory and steal things.

I noticed this pattern and started predicting what he’d take, marking items with numbers and signatures in advance.

This time, it was cattle.

I’d hidden my signature on the cows’ hooves.

Caught red-handed, Autolycus had to repay double the value of the twenty cows he stole and kneel before my father and me to apologize.

I didn’t know Hermes was his father.

And that he’d learned his thieving skills from the god of thieves himself.

So Autolycus—someone with the potential to be a hero—had chosen a life of mere theft?

It was also incredibly strange that the father of that greedy old man turned out to be this young-looking man.

At that moment, I realized that gods, though they may appear human, do not age and are bizarre beings who take pleasure in killing people.

“I won’t kill you, Sisyphus. Otherwise, my son’s fun would come to an end.”

Hermes sent Zeus’s beast to our house, then cackled as he vanished high into the sky.

I ran home in a daze, but the tragedy had already happened.

Father had been gored by the beast’s horns and lost both legs, becoming crippled.

Mother… never opened her eyes again.

My siblings, who hadn’t been home at the time, were spared, but the sorrow was all the greater because of it.

It took several more days before the beast was subdued by the heroes who were sent.

In place of my immobile father, I became the head of the family and the lord.

Fifteen is a young age, even in this era.

So I lived all the more desperately.

Day by day, living faithfully in the moment, just as Mother used to say.

Fortunately, amidst the misfortune, Corinth was able to recover and flourish again.

[Strength has increased by 1]
[Strength has increased by 1]
[Strength has increased by 1]

Push, rest, push again.

The sun rose and set once more—another day had passed.

Bit by bit, I push the rock upward.

This monotonous labor leaves no room to focus on anything else, so all kinds of thoughts flood my mind.

“Mother used to say this too…”

Without meaning to, I drift into old memories.

“No matter where you are, make good friends.”

I failed to keep that promise.

I was too busy with lordly duties.

There was one friend… but after that beast attack, it became hard to treat him the same way again.

Hermes.

Just thinking about that bastard’s face makes my blood boil.

But what can I do?

If even heroes can’t lay a hand on him, what hope does a mere human have against an almighty god?

When I saw him again at the palace of Olympus, my vision turned red—but after all the torture I had endured, I didn’t even have the strength to be angry anymore.

“Ah.”

Was it because I got distracted by my thoughts?

The rock caught on a protruding rock with a dull thunk.

I lost the balance I had been holding with both hands.

“No, no, no—!”

Disaster struck in an instant.

-Rrrrrumble!

The rock, oblivious to my desperate heart, rolled all the way back down to the starting point.

“…Ha.”

I stared blankly at the scene.

How do I feel right now?

Absolutely miserable.

Just a little further and I could’ve made it past the first level.

I trudge back down to the beginning.

The rock, reflecting sunlight with a smooth gleam, was waiting for me.

“Goddamn it!”

Bang!!

Unable to contain my rage, I slammed my forehead against the rock.

Bang, bang, bang!!

Headbutting it again, and again, and again.

Maybe it was because the shadow of myself on the rock reminded me of Hermes’ face.

As I began to feel faint from the blood loss, I sank to the ground.

For a while, I just stared into the eyes of that rock.

“…Kuh-hat.”

The bloodstain I left behind looked just like a human face.

I got up and, swish swish, drew a face before the blood dried.

“No matter where you are, a friend is always needed.”

Mother was right.

“From now on, your name is Wilson.”

Wilson looked happy too.

“Let’s try going again, Wilson.”

As I pushed with both arms, draggg, Wilson rolled across the ground in response.

“You know, this is getting easier. Either I’m getting used to it… or you’re helping me, Wilson?”

Such a good little guy.

[Strength +1]

Name: Sisyphus
Strength: 10 (+5)
Stamina: 5 (+2)