[Skill Upgraded] - [Summon Flame (1) → (2)]

I hardly registered the message as Davion grew silent, agony racing through my body. He walked towards me, taking a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back.

“Blood of the Creator, hm? Only in this case, there are two of them.” He scoffed. “How could I have missed it?”

It seemed I had only helped Davion, and I cursed at my stupidity. Perhaps if I had not been so confident in a skill I had never used before and blinded by anger towards the patriarch for meddling with my mind, I wouldn’t have been on the edge of death once again. I was still underestimating this world and its inhabitants, but some would say I was only a newborn, just barely learning to walk.

I felt as hot power began to course through Davion, and his back creaked as he stood taller, his palm growing smoother against my sensitive scalp. New strength seemed to fill him, his hand painfully squeezing before he let me go. Energy radiated from the patriarch, and it was as if he had been born again.

Slumping into the rough skin of Lewis’s arm, the smell of burnt flesh entered my nose. It was acrid, the putrid scent of burning plastic mixing with burnt steak and drying blood. The taste settled on the back of my tongue, and I could hardly register its implications, my mind overloaded.

“I thank you, Cain, and for it, I will not finish you off myself. Death may find you without my assistance, but that is up to you.” Davion began to walk away, feet sloshing through the blood. He stopped, and the sound of stone grinding against stone rang out, filling the chamber.

The patriarch ascended a set of stairs, each step growing farther and farther away, leaving me to rot underneath his stronghold. Distantly, I registered that the exit had been found, but that was a concern for later.

It was almost laughable, the way he left so quickly. Everything that had happened up till now still felt like a fever dream, and I could hardly believe that I was still alive. However, as Davion had implied, that might not be the case for long.

With effort, I straightened my upper body, knees digging into the hard stone of the platform that was raised above the lake. The steady drip of my blood was now the only sound, its rate worryingly fast.

With my left hand, I lifted the hem of my shirt, slowly pulling it over my head. My coat had long been lost when I had fallen into the river of blood. The soaked fabric of the shirt dragged along my wound, and my open mouth released ragged breaths from the pain. I twisted the shirt into a longer piece to create a makeshift tourniquet and wrapped it around my upper bicep, bending my head to take the other side with my teeth.

My hand pulled the knot tight, and I could barely feel the pressure. I slumped from the effort, placing my palm against the ground to hold myself up. Most likely, the only thing keeping me conscious and alive was my increased vitality, its number much different from what it had been on Earth.

The thought that maybe vitality increased the amount of blood in my body errantly entered my mind. Or maybe it decreased the amount needed to live—I wouldn’t know. Stats were still a mystery, and I was still baffled about how they worked. My knowledge was greatly lacking, and the thought of the impossible task of gaining any understanding about this world made my chest ache—but that might have just been me dying.

My stump had stopped bleeding, and I took a deep breath before turning to Lewis. I reached over to where I assumed he was, my fingers brushing against his wrist. A gaping cut ran up his forearm, most likely a wound gifted by Davion. It was no longer bleeding, surrounded by burnt flesh that seemed to crack as I lightly touched it.

Moving my hand upwards, I placed it on Lewis’s neck, feeling for a pulse. I could find none beneath his damaged skin. It was highly possible I had contributed to his death, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

I rolled off my knees, sighing, my head throbbing along with my body. The coffin seemed mostly intact as I leaned my back against it, and I scoffed, wishing I still had mana left in me to try and destroy it completely.

With a groan, I stretched out my legs in front of me. Despite the feeling of urgency to get out of here as fast as possible, I didn’t want to move. A break to rest didn’t feel earned, but I couldn’t find the gall to care. My body had been through hell, and now I was a blind cripple. It was pathetic, but there was no one to blame but myself.

There was no one but me.

As if to mock my assumption, the lake of blood directly in front of me began to swirl, liquid lapping at the dry stone I sat upon. I watched as a creature rose from the blood, and it flowed off his shoulders. I knew he was another hallucination of mine because I could see him.

He stood straight, his extreme size making itself known. The delusion’s height must’ve been twice that of mine, but in contrast, he was extremely skinny, and his lengthy arms seemed to be made of two bones that twisted together.

Intricate antlers extended from his deer skull-shaped head, and they continued to drip blood. His entire personage was dark red, and it was like the blood had yet to roll off of him. The bony shoulders on his emaciated body led to a narrow neck, and it twisted, large black eyes moving to look directly at me.

They were deeper than the pits of hell, blacker than the void that I looked into day after day. I watched as those eyes wept blood of their own, drops rolling down his face. Sorrow filled their depths, and the agony they held pierced into my very being. I could not look away.

For this new hallucination, I could think of no name other than “the pained,” and even then, it did not seem to convey the amount of suffering that seemed to fill him.

The pained moved, his bones groaning and his narrow hips shifting as he walk forward. He came to a stop in front of me, and my neck painfully bent backward as I looked up at him.

With a soul-shaking sigh, his right leg bent, and he kneeled in front of me. His antlers seemed to sway, sweeping branches expanding outwards.

“Today, we are the vanquished,” he told me. His voice was extremely deep but soft and almost breathy. “There seems to be no victory in defeat and only pain is to be found.”

At his words, the priest appeared next to me, his black robes fluttering over his body. “The curtain… it does fall in quite a disappointing manner,” he stated.

The pained shook his head, eyes blinking slowly. “Defeat is not the end. Agony does not mean it is over—it has only just begun.”

My throat felt tight. “Does that mean I can expect even more pain?” I asked.

“Yes,” the pained affirmed. “Torment is a constant, and we know it very well. Wisdom is gained through suffering, and for why else would we shed blood?” His voice rumbled through me, making my remaining hand shake. I clenched it into a fist where it rested on top of my thigh.

His hand reached forward, long fingers stretching towards me. His red fingertips brushed my face as he spoke. “Blood streams down our face and body—if we fall, or if we stand. Does the agony leave if it is washed away?”

I shook my head. “No.” My voice was only a whisper, cracking on the word.

The pained hummed, standing. “No. We have entered eternal darkness, and to the darkness, we shall forever belong.”

***

I ran my hand along the stone wall, searching for the exit that had appeared for the patriarch. There didn’t seem to be an obvious break, and I wondered if it could only be activated by Davion.

“More to the left,” the priest guided from behind me. I did as he said, and my fingers ran over a straight crack that broke through the stone bricks. Digging my fingers into it, my nails scraped along its edge.

It was unmovable as I tried to pull it like I would a sliding glass door, and even that small effort left my body feeling weak and shaky. My breaths escaped me in ragged puffs, and I pressed my forehead against the wall.

If physical force wouldn’t work, perhaps another type would. I had to remember that this world was not the same as earth, and treat it as so.

My pool of mana had begun to recover from the strain I had dealt it, and a sliver of power seemed to swirl inside of me. I drew a little bit out, acting as if I was about to summon a flame. Directing it to my fingertips, I let it pour onto the stone.

I jerked back as the wall began to grind, thankful that this part had been easy. Turning my head around, I found the pained gazing at me, black eyes focused and sad. He bowed his head, antlers dripping blood. Then, he disappeared. I wondered when I would see him next.

The priest had also left, and I began to ascend the stairs that had been hidden behind the wall. Each of my steps was labored, my feet dragging behind me.

The stairs seemed to go on and on, and my progress slowed as I continued. After an indiscernible amount of time, I found myself leaning against the wall of the narrow passage, right leg shaking on the next step up.

Who would’ve thought that climbing stairs would almost feel worse than my arm getting cut off? At least that had been instant, over before I could try to breathe. Still, I soldiered on.

I finally reached a plateau, and I stretched my arm out, finding a wall in front of me. Activating my mana as I had done down below, this wall also began to move. Exiting the stairs, I found myself at the back wall of the stronghold.

Snow was still falling, and the chill that hit my bare skin made me shudder. I could not tell if it was night or day since the clouds might’ve been covering the sun as it snowed.

Moving away from the wall, I kept close to buildings as I walked, listening for any signs of movement. People did seem to be active inside their homes, but no one was moving along the streets.

As I had lived here, I had made no effort to talk to anyone else. My days had passed peacefully in Lewis’s home, and I had found no need to venture out. I was unsure if the citizens of Drixstead were involved in Davion’s plot, but I found it unlikely. The outcome of the ritual had seemed to solely benefit him, but I had no way of knowing for sure.

As a result of my lack of connections, I found myself making my way towards Aleya’s home. Perhaps I could find some direction there, and maybe a chance to recover. My feet still dragged, displacing the snow that had piled on the ground.

I was not too familiar with the layout of Drixstead, so it took me some time to reach the front wall. From there, I traveled the path I had walked before to where I would hopefully find Aleya.

Knocking on the door of the building I had stopped in front of, I leaned against the frame, my head thunking against the wood. Steps rang out inside the house, and the door opened, accompanied by Aleya’s gasp.

I could not seem to register what she was saying since now that I had stopped moving, my wound flared up in agonizing pain. A burning hand brushed against my back, guiding me forward, and the heat of the building sent needles through my skin as it tried to chase the cold away.

Gently, I was guided to sit, and then I remembered no more.