Ch 84 - I haven't cleaned this up yet.

In the months this world had changed violence and death had become familiar to me. Part of me felt a thrill as the wind buffeted my robe as my stat enhanced legs pumped against the rough earth. 

Another part of me fought back at that thrill, that part of me was just a whisper now though. I had made my choice. I would exchange the lives of those I judged unworthy to grow stronger. 

A massive bolt fired from a crossbow whistled in front of me. Over a hundred well armored and armed Cyclops each over level thirty rushed me, the earth shook as their heavy feet pounded. 

I must seem like a child before a crashing wave. But my enemies were not taken by surprise, they had watched their comrade fall. 

They were as ready as they could be.

It didn’t help. 

I raised Tranquility with both my hands and swept her out in a wide massive strike. An ethereal blade extended outward–it cut twenty cyclops deep on the left flank. 

The attack was fast and powerful. 

Weapons raised. 

Solid blue smoke smashed into cool steel. The end of the fifty foot wave hit first. 

Three weapons braced in tandem in an effort to slow the skill enhanced swing. The first unlucky fighter had no chance. 

Skill bit through weapon and armor alike before biting into flesh. The second didn’t fare much better–it wasn’t until the third Cyclops braced himself behind a massive shield that the skill was halted and the ethereal blade evaporated to mist. 

[you have killed level 29 Cyclops bladedancer]

That was all. One kill. 

A skill I had grown accustomed to cutting down massive swaths of enemies was stopped after one kill. 

No matter. 

My real blade wasn’t stopped. It wasn’t easy to engage with the massive cyclops and my target had a huge advantage in reach. 

It shoved its halberd forward directly into my stomach. The attack stopped dead on my barrier but it also killed my momentum.  

I spun and Tranquility lopped the head off the weapon, I twirled and swept upward into the huge body. 

A slight tug–blade met steel at the thigh and ripped through the body until it exited just above the left hip in a spray of blood. 

Body separated and I ended its suffering as it fell to the earth.

[you have killed level 33 cyclops bracer]

Skills and attacks bounced and ricocheted off my barrier and I threw up my dome now that I had moved. 

As large as my enemies were, they had distributed their stats well. I spun through their ranks as best as I could but it was impossible to avoid them all. The only thing that stood between me and certain death was my barrier. 

I never stopped casting it. 

Something felt off though. And not just that I was at my very limits just to keep from being dog piled by all my enemies. 

Surrounded, I was forced to launch myself through the air to avoid being flooded. A hand shot out and grabbed my leg. On instinct I cut downward and separated the hand that grabbed me.

The damage was done. I dropped back into the swell of bodies and rolled just avoiding being snagged. 

If they got their arms around me it would be all over. That wasn’t what bothered me the most though. 

As I ran to adjust my position and clear some space the air seemed to be hotter. At first I thought I had been imagining it, now though? I was sure. 

Whatever the change was I didn’t have time to dwell on it. They were on me again. 

The thrill of the fight crept up my spine. Dodge, swing, dash. Our dance across the forest painted a red tapestry with my foes blood. 

Marksmen, shield brother, boltcaster… on and on bodies fell. Tranquility vibrated as she spread my judgement with her deadly song. 

As the fight wore on the heat intensified. As the heat grew so did my resolve. 

I thought about my friends. Alex, Damon, Nick, Jared, Elise, Ellison. Monsters like these would kill or subjugate them. 

Another massive body crashed down. The heat grew. 

Sweat began to bead on my brow. I can’t slow. 

Attack after attack. I gave as much as I got. More. 

What is with this damn HEAT! It had grown to an inferno. It was so intense now. 

I stopped my attacks. Instead I focused on evading. This has to be some kind of spell at work. 

Of course it was. 

From where. Worry began to settle in my chest. I dodged attacks and searched wildly. Who could be doing this?

From what I could tell there weren't any magic casters among the cyclops. None that I had seen yet anyway. 

There. 

A figure. Not a cyclops. 

A person. A woman. 

I froze for just a moment and we locked eyes. 

She stood alone–wooden staff held at her side that seemed out of place in contrast to her simple mom jeans and floral button up. 

Time seemed to slow. 

Then the pain came. All at once my body was consumed in a blinding inferno. My bladder released as my body was racked with standing convulsions. 

The woman–who looked just like a soccer–mom smiled. 

Barrier fizzled, then died. The pain vanished as soon as my barrier fell. 

Relief rushed in and I gasped in a massive breath, the only thing on my brain was that the pain had stopped. 

Then I remembered where I was.

Shit. 

Air left my lungs, bones snapped, and my body went airborne. I wasn’t even sure what I had been hit with. Two thoughts struck me as I flew through the air. 

The first. Well at least whatever hit me wasn’t sharp.

And two. How did I keep hold of Tranquility? In a moment of clarity I stowed her away. 

It was just in time. My body hit the ground. I tried to count the number of times my feet and head alternated slamming the dirt ground. I stopped at seven. 

I might still be flipping through the meadow if it wasn’t for a boulder that was mostly hidden in the long grass aggressively stopping me. 

Ears rang, limbs twitched, and my mangled chest refused air. The world spun even with my eyes closed.

I needed to heal. I allowed the mana to flow. It was a mistake. Before the spell was released my body locked into convulsions.

Pain. Torturous and immediate racked me. I wanted to cough but there was no air in my lungs. My mouth contorted into a silent scream.

But the sweet relief of healing mana never came. 

Time crawled but slowly–much too slowly–the pain gradually faded away. My skin was clammy and sweaty. 

The aftermath left me in a pile on the ground–tears flowed in streams down my cheeks. 

Whatever spell that soccer mom had used it seemed that I wouldn’t be able to use my mana. Desperately I opened my storage and searched for something that could help me.

I could feel the damage bad. I tried to breathe but it came in ragged gasps and my knee was bent at a strange angle. 

Blood seeped through my robe at my chest. I was afraid to even look at my health bar, but I knew I needed to see. 

[24/153]

This was very bad. Even as I watched the number ticked down to 23. Very Very bad. 

With renewed vigour I sorted through what items I had collected. The system had stocked me up with mana potions which I assumed were as good as a health potion with my healing abilities. This was a situation I never ever considered would be a possibility. 

A cold dark feeling began to settle in my gut and a single thought entered my mind. 

I didn’t want to die. 

Vaguely my ears registered the clink clunk of the Cyclops feet. They were on their way to finish me off.

My mind wandered to my parents. I should’ve tried harder to find them. Maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess if I had just ignored everything and found them instead of playing hero here?

Emotions swirled in a jumble of confusion. Anger, sadness, disappointment. It was like a dice that rolled in my mind–each side represented a different feeling. 

When the dice landed it showed embarrassment. How stupid. 

What would my dad think of me? Crumpled up in a heap just waiting for my end. That isn’t how I wanted to go. 

I wanted to face it. I grit my teeth. In a moment of sheer will I forced my ruined body upward, my head and chest just above the grass. It smelled like summer as the wind danced across the valley carrying the fresh scent of pine I loved so much. 

My body was in shock. I couldn’t my crushed ribs or twisted ruined leg, I could just feel the sunlight as it kissed my cheek. 

A strange calmness settled over my mind, it washed away the embarrassment. If I stood in front of my parents now I would do it with my head held high. I never let this world change me. I hoped they would hear about this, how I helped my faction grow.

The cyclops were so close now. It will be over soon. Maybe I’ll still get to watch this world in the afterlife?

-

Tom watched Layton from across the meadow. The young man was a legend. 

He moved through the Giants like a vengeful spirit. Body after body fell to his blade–while Layton himself remained impervious to any and all attacks. 

Swords, spears, arrows, it didn’t matter. Nothing could touch him. 

It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t Tom have started this new world with a man like Layton? This was someone that Tom could follow with his head held high. 

But no. That isn’t what fate allowed. He had been stuck with a sociopath and a liar. 

If Tom had started with Layton things would’ve been so different. He’d be a hero too–not some broken sniveling worm. 

Jordan had ruined everything for him. He had tricked him into killing his own wife, forced him to abduct innocent people, and even made him murder his own friends in cold blood. 

Jordan had transformed him into something that he didn’t even recognize anymore. 

The voice had called him a coward. What was He supposed to do? If he hadn’t done all those things he would’ve been killed like all the rest. It was self preservation! He shouldn’t have even had to make those choices. 

This was all Jordans fault. 

Tom wanted all of that to be true. As he watched Layton heroically stand alone against an army of giants, he knew the truth. 

A man like Layton never would’ve allowed Jordan to do the things he had. Layton had shown Tom what it looked like to stand up for good. To face it unflinchingly. 

Now Tom stood and watched that man fight alone, too scared to help. The worst part? Layton didn’t even need him. Whether Tom helped or not Layton was going to do what he had to in order to protect someone else's faction. 

Tom wanted to be a hero like that. But it was already too late.

Then something changed. Layton no longer cut down anymore of the giants. He was on the defensive. Why wasn’t he still attacking?

He seemed to be distracted by something deeper into the woods.

“What’s going on?” Tom muttered as he strained to see, he held his breath. Layton stopped dodging and stood frozen. 

“Come on, move damn it.” It would be fine he still had whatever shields had been protecting him. 

Layton still didn’t even budge, he just waited. He waited all the way up until a Giant–one of the largest in the group–wound up and smashed some kind of steel club right into Laytons chest. 

This time the attack hit. 

The robed boy was sent rocketing across the meadow. He sailed through the air a good hundred yards before he hit the ear and whipped head over heels before he disappeared into the tall grass. 

The attack had almost shot him all the way back into the village–it had struck him so hard. 

No. Tom couldn’t believe what he had just seen. Layton had seemed untouchable. There is no way he could lose this fight. 

Then he remembered the young man's class. Of course, Layton would just heal himself. Any second Tom would see the young man with messy brown hair and a healer's robe pop up from the grass and finish what he’d started. 

What was left of the Giants, maybe fifty or so in total, began their pursuit across the meadow. 

They’d be in for a rude awakening when Layton jumped up fully healed.

Any second now…..

What is he waiting for? The giants were getting closer, he needed to get up. 

The grass didn’t move. 

Tom’s grip tightened around his sword. Why wasn’t Layton moving? He couldn’t have lost this fight. 

Despair began to creep into Tom’s heart. It can’t be like this. Not after everything. Layton was Tom’s chance at redemption, he needed Layton. 

He can’t die here. But what was Tom going to do? He couldn’t face this. He would die against just one giant, let alone fifty. 

Then finally the grass stirred. Brown hair–a muddy face and bloody shoulders revealed themselves. 

He was still hurt. Why hadn’t he healed? Something wasn’t right. 

Tom began to cry. Damn it, get up Layton! You can’t do this. 

Tears began to flow again. If only Jordan hadn’t been here, if only…

Tom felt a tug. A motion. Like the soft flow of creek water against smooth rocks. It seemed to push against his very soul. 

It seemed to whisper secrets Tom had already known. He stood taller. It wasn’t Jordan who pulled the knife across his friend's throat, it wasn’t Jordan who left his wife to face the trial alone. 

It was Tom. Something inside clicked into place. All pain, all the guilt, it was his. He owned it, he accepted it. 

The current grew stronger. He didn’t have to wait to redeem himself, he just had to step out of the Jordan's shadow. 

And when he did?