"Do it."

"What?" John jerked his head to the left, his eyes zipping over the open terrain looking for incoming threats.

"Go for it, clear the Nest," Galan'il repeated, looking at him from his elevated position on the half-collapsed wall. "It is clear like the morning sky, what you were thinking about these past two hours."

"But what about you, don't you…"

"Bah, don't take us for weaklings," the Knight-Protector admonished him. "We were well aware of what we were getting ourselves into when we decided to go with you. While I agree that the last Nest was a mess, it was simply a terrible matchup against us. Now, you know the type of the enemies and you have a perfect strategy to both strike at their weaknesses and protect against their strengths. Wasting such an opportunity would be a mistake."

Hearing him say that made the last of his worries disappear, cementing his decision to revisit the accursed Nest behind him.

"Ok, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. If anything unexpected happens, yell out. I should hear your shout through the ruins."

"Worry about yourself," Galan'il laughed, waving him off. "I'll make sure nothing can mess up her evolution."

Trusting him to protect Dilah'ec's sleeping form, John began his short jog toward the center of the destroyed village.

I should probably take my clothes off before I dive in, he pondered.

The ghosts were ignoring clothing and armor anyway and the risk of getting it set on fire was pretty high as well. Especially if he got forced to use the flame on himself to dislodge a phantom from his back.

Hopefully, the queen is as flammable as the rest of those ethereal fucks.

Tossing all his clothes into a rough pile, he could not help but laugh at the ridiculous situation he got himself into. Bare-assed, he leaned down, flexed his Strength-enhanced leg muscles, and burst forward. His Flameling was billowing out a thin stream of fire that scorched the sandy ground black, changing the dead soil into a glowing strip through which none of the phantoms dared to reach.

At first, the phantoms ignored his rapid advance, likely hoping to lure another prey deeper into their territory, but as he passed the halfway point to the center of the Nest, a loud buzz followed by a high-pitched wail assaulted his ears from all directions.

"You don't like that, do you?" John taunted, noticing the pairs of hands reaching out through the undisturbed ground around him.

The screeching was briefly drowned out by a loud crack as his Storm Wisp shot out a lightning bolt, striking the phantom lunching at him from his left. Using that to his advantage, he jumped over the paralyzed monster, evading its reach and ruining their attempt at encirclement.

Feeling his legs sink a few inches into the soft ground, he turned his forward momentum into a roll, saving himself from an ankle injury or an uncomfortable fall. This proved to be the correct response and a moment later he was back on his feet and following the line of superheated sand leading him toward the center.

During their last attempt, his group was walking slowly and paying attention to every step, but since John was rushing through the area in full sprint and given the nest's roughly diameter of half a mile, he was already nearing his goal.

Realizing their failure, the phantoms got enraged and began diving for him like hawks for a tasty fish, forcing him to change strategy and redirect his Purifying Flameling into the center of their formation.

This should be it, he noted after feeling the—already low—temperature drop further, and less than a second later, a new type of monstrosity breached the surface of the sand, flying upward and eliciting a bone-chilling cry.

[Amalgamation of torment {D⋆}]

It was a three-foot wide blop of black substance covered in dozens of human-like faces and even though each was different, they were all contorted from a singular emotion—an indescribable agony. Reacting on instinct, John commanded all four of his minions to attack.

Fuck, maybe this was actually a mistake, he thought after being hit by the disharmonious cry of anguish coming out from dozens of its mouths. Maybe I shouldn't have come here by myself.

Weight down by indecision and uncertainty, he glanced over his shoulder and despaired. There was another group of phantoms prowling behind him and waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

No, I'll…

He was about to gather his wits and fight back, but his mind was struck with another tidal wave of despair, making his knees shake under the heaviness of his tired body.

"It's hopeless," he hung his head in defeat, understanding that he finally bit more than he could chew. The Amalgamation was invulnerable to any… Wait, why is it on fire? Gawking at the unbelievable sight before him, he wondered how it was possible that the untouchable object of his despair was wailing in pain and dropping a tar-like substance into the ground underneath it like wax from a lit candle.

Could there be hope?

His hopelessness was shattered by a spike of danger and his instincts finally kicked in, throwing the blanket of despair draped over his head away. Blinking his eyes in confusion, he realized that the phantoms were no longer prowling behind him, but were winding around his body like snakes and sapping his strength despite his blood's attempts to fight them off.

Understanding the danger, he gritted his teeth and commanded his Flameling to cover his lower body in a stream of azure fire.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Seeing the flames heading his way made him flinch and be hit with a different spike of dread. This one had nothing to do with his odd intuition but was of the ingrained variety to protect parts that all men hold dear.

Turning right to take the brunt of the flames on his side, he also placed his hand over his crotch. At first, the increase in temperature felt like dipping his feet into a warm bath, but the heat continued to climb higher and higher, painting his skin angry red and clouding him in steam as his body tried and failed to protect him by intense sweating.

Guessing by the near-deafening screeching around him, the phantoms had it much worse. They were all blown away and tossed into the air, looking like fire elementals from his favorite game.

Enough! He commanded his minion, ordering it to switch back to its previous target.

By now, the skin on his left leg was covered by blisters and palm-sized spots of blackened skin were flaking away like bark from a few places that took the most of the heat. Luckily, just like it was crippling, the fire was also somehow nourishing and his grey blood was pooling around the worst injuries and greedily absorbing the remaining heat and using it as a fuel to hasten his recovery.

Five clumps of blue ash struck his body from all directions and were soon followed by another three. All phantoms were burnt to dust.

With the threat to his back gone, he could refocus on the main danger up ahead, yet as he did, his eyes widened in surprise.

I must have lost track of time, he realized after seeing the drooping form of the Amalgamation of torment. From the burning blob of liquid substance covered in faces was now only a pitiful chunk floating a few paces above ground. It looked now like a basketball-sized scoop of ice cream that was left too long under the summer sun.

As the rest of its body melted away, a small ball of bright-yellow ball of ash formed at its core and shot toward John's chest.

That sucked, he sighed, and a moment later his vision was filled with an expected message.

[Congratulations!

You have slain the queen of the Tormented Plain.

Reward: Fate increased by 1

Note: You have gained 3/3 Fate points awarded for repeatedly achieving this feat]

This was it. His third point for clearing the Nests, leaving his group to clear one more time for Dilah'ec and three more times for Galan'il to squeeze the maximum benefits.

Once again, he was reminded of how dangerous enemies capable of emotional manipulation were. Sure, lacking a team of friends made it that much worse because there was no one capable of grounding his spiraling thoughts, but still this was a glaring weakness that was far too easily exploited and was now on the top of his priorities.

If only the Unbreakable Mind card was also capable of protecting my mind from myself.

That was the crux of the problem, his mind was an impregnable fortress when faced with direct assault, but when someone created a dangerous situation and fanned his fears and despair instead, it was John's own thoughts and insecurities that caused the entire structure to fall apart.

Feeling the cracking of his burnt skin was making his mouth twisted in disgust. The worst part wasn't even the pain—pain, he was able to endure—it was the knowledge that his skin was tearing itself apart. The only thing keeping him moving was the absolute certainty that soon his body would repair itself and leave no scars or aching injuries behind.

Moving his eyes between the pile of his clothes and the raw patches of burnt skin on his legs, he decided to retain his nudity and limp back to camp with the clothes draped over his uninjured arm.

At least the soles of my feet are in perfect condition, he noted with a small smile, doing his best to ignore the rest.

"I am back," he announced as he neared the position of the camp and walked around the solitary collapsed house at the very edge of the ruin.

"Oh, I am glad you are alright," he heard Dilah'ec's voice coming from a tent before him and a moment later she pushed her head through the open flaps. "Were you succe… huh?" Her voice hitched in the middle of the sentence and he watched her eyes moving downward from his face.

"Ehh… Yeah, I was." He answered, but then frowned, seeing her trying and failing to suppress a tinkling laugh.

"S-sorry, it's just…" she waved her hand at his midsection in the 'look for yourself' gesture, and burst into another choking laugh.

"What is going… Oh," Galan'il stepped into view from behind the same tent, gave him a quick look over, and winced. Looking at him, John could also spot the signs of barely repressed laughter.

Ok, what the fuck is going on?

Taking a more careful look at himself, he finally realized what they were finding so funny.

His red-colored skin around his waist looked like he stayed too long under the sun, yet leaving a pale silhouette of pale skin in the shape of his left hand leading from his left hip all the way down to his balls.

"Oh, fuck off," he grumbled and marched to his own tent, doing his best to ignore their stupid jokes and subsequent laughter. "It really sucked, you know?" He added just before closing his tent behind him and gently lying down on his right side.

It took him a couple of minutes before he even realized that Dilah'ec being awake meant that she successfully reached the D-grade.

I think I'll leave my congratulations for later.

Closing his eyes, he drifted into a restful sleep.

"John? How are you feeling, is everything alright?"

Coming out from his sleep, he gently stretched his left leg, testing the state of his body.

"I… Yes, I feel much better. How long was I out?"

"Three hours. I've been checking up on you every now and then, making sure that your wounds keep healing as they should and I must say, the speed and quality of your self-healing is truly impressive." Galan'il answered from somewhere to the far left of him.

"After you lied down and fell asleep, I wanted to wake you up and give you one of our potions, but Galan'il convinced me to trust your self-recovery cards and let you sleep through it despite my worries," he heard Dilah'ec explain his situation in a tense voice. "I am glad you are well."

Pushing himself up to his knees, he rummaged through the discarded pile of clothes and began dressing up.

I think I've been naked long enough, he chuckled.

Fully dressed, he crawled out of his tent and stood up, moving his legs and testing the range of his movement.

Hmm, seems mostly healed, he flowed through a couple of exercises to see if everything worked as it should. Apart from the few bloody wounds that were a few hours from fully closing up, his body was recovered.

"You were right, I do heal fast," he smiled, but then added in a more somber tone of voice, "but I appreciate you watching over me and making sure I was ok."

"That's what companions are for," Galan'il clapped him on his back. "You'd do the same for us."

"Let's pack the camp and head out. Oh, I almost forgot, congratulations for reaching D-grade, Dilah'ec. Did you get the meritorious reward you were hoping for?"

Seeing her warm smile was all the answer he needed.