She is trying to sneak on the octagon.
Jeff’s voice was like the hit of a defibrillator, bringing back life to Albert’s mind. His eyes widened. It was true. She had activated her Stalk skill and was trying to circle back to the octagon while it was focused on Albert. Assuming the crystal could not see and focus on multiple things at once.
No use in overthinking. We go all in.
And so they did. Albert pulled all the stops, willing his weapon to develop a ranged attack that he immediately used on the flying crystal. Developing such attack soon proved to be the most expensive thing he did in the whole fight, his Power craving for something to be exchanged. If Albert wanted to gain something for himself, he needed to sacrifice something of comparable value. That was just how his Power worked, demanding things not because of a law in the universe or conservation of energy but because that was how Albert thought his power worked and thus it worked like so.
Having no more Focus to spare, no more mental energy to sacrifice, Albert had little choice.
“Stakes.” He muttered. “Whatever happens, I lose my weapon after this attack.”
The Power agreed. It was such a strange thing, to have his own power act something like a sentient being, but he had been making deals with it all the time without realizing it, and now was no different than when he simply used up his own energy, or struck some other sort of bargain with it. In time it would not be so anymore, the raw number representing his Power enough that he could do things with negligible expense of personal belongings. But weak as he was now, he had to wager something. He wagered his weapon, and in response the axe shot a beam of shadow at the monster. Albert did not think, instead moving the shaft of the weapon in order to fend off more attacks from the statue.
But the weapon crumbled.
It didn’t matter. Albert wasted no time, instead blocking them with his own arm.
It was true that he was more powerful here in the space of the mind than he was outside, but he was out of fuel. Running on empty. And whatever these projections were made of, they were fighting on their own turf. He was powerful, but they were king. Albert could have wagered something to save himself, but he found that he had nothing he was willing to part with that was less painful than what was about to happen. At least, nothing he could think of in the space of a millisecond or so.
His arm was nearly severed.
Nearly.
Then the crystal exploded. The statue crumbled.
In an instant it was all over. The projectiles vanished.
Albert felt whatever feverish strength was keeping him on his feet flee his body, and he collapsed. Careful not to put weight on his mangled arm, he felt Scrappy rushing towards him. She was there not a moment after, cradling his head.
“Wheew.” Albert winced. “Hard one.”
Scrappy nodded. “I have never seen anything like this, Sir. That I have not.”
Albert pushed himself to his feet. Annoyedly, he wiped away some blood dripping from his nose, noting with even more annoyance that it had left a clotted trail all the way to his chin. A sharp pang of alarm shot through his system when he realized he barely felt the prickling of his stubbly beard against the skin of his hand, drowned in the static sensation of a loss of sensation. All around the world swam, but still he pushed himself to where the shards of the ice monster and its enthralled statue were sublimating into a cloud of dense Doom with traces of mana.
A swipe of his hand… and nothing happened.
Albert frowned.
You are running on empty. His AI supplied.
Well we can’t leave this here. Albert complained.
You should. You risk an aneurysm.
Jeff, when I say help me I don’t mean—
You have cores in your pocket. Use them.
Indeed he did. They had no use in a fight, hence why they had been sitting in his pocket all this time, but he could use them to reduce the burden on his Power. Another sort of exchange, of bargain struck with whatever controlled his Power.
Except it was not just a random whatever, a superior power he deferred to, no. He was the one who controlled his Power. Or perhaps his subconscious. Was he trading with himself? Or was it the Universe, perhaps?
He decided to trade pain for power. Pain was a currency he could always spend and never run out of.
He took the cores out, holding them in his hands. Before he could overthink what he was about to do, he thrust his hands in the growing cloud.
If what had hit him back in the real world had been pain level one, this was pain level one hundred.
Distract me Jeff. He thought, wincing in pain and feeling his forehead grow cold and hot at the same time. How it was possible, he didn’t know. His bad arm tickled, but Albert could not spare much attention to the fact that the wound he had sustained was sealing itself.
Sure. Jeff said. Scrappy is perfectly fine and unharmed. Her skill worked wonderfully. We did a good job when we created it.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Lovely.
You also gained some Power. +7 to be precise, for a total of 88. You are constantly breaking my current understanding of both your Power and of your mind in the process too. By all accounts, you should be dead, not just mildly incapacitated. Ah, see what I mean? You just gained another point, bringing the total to 89. You should not be able to withstand mana and Doom coursing through your unattuned body.
Albert smiled. I had an epiphany. He said, that’s all. You should try them too, Jeff, they are nice.
The process was over, eventually. The cores felt slightly bigger, heavier, denser. There was no telling how much raw power they possessed unless Albert was willing to use his own Power, which he wasn’t. Not when the headache was reluctantly receding.
“You okay Scrappy?”
“Yes, I am okay, that I am. Are you okay? You look like you are always in pain now... Sir.”
Albert shrugged. Winced. “Don’t mind me. Pain is training, okay? I’m getting stronger here.”
Scrappy did not seem convinced. “I’m not sure many would call it training, that they wouldn’t.”
“I know.” Albert said. “Why do you think I am the only one we met so far who can bend reality? Everyone would do it if it was easy. Now let’s go. Something tells me that throne over there, a throne that definitely was not there until we killed knockoff Cryogen, might be a hint.”
Before the duo could take three steps towards the high throne that had suddenly appeared in a shroud of clouds and crimson energies, they found the way barred by row upon row of statues. These, unlike the statues Albert had just fought, were deep red and liquid, made of blood barely held together by unknown forces.
Albert looked up with a frown.
“Lina.” Albert growled. “Up there, sitting upon a crimson throne of your own making, like a king ruling on a kingdom of nothing. Come down and let’s get out of here.” He said.
Lina’s voice was small, soft. “They won’t let me.” She said, and she sounded pained and sad, almost as if she wasn’t the one at fault for all that was happening. Albert wanted to believe it too.
“I can—”
But she didn’t let him finish. “Besides. Why would I want to give it up? Here, I am free. Out there, I am nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Albert growled, “and you know it. We came all the way here, we aren’t leaving without you.”
“Who said you were leaving?” Lina smirked, a red light shining in her eyes. The statues at the sides of the throne seemed to shift, and Albert realized with no lack of apprehension that Scrappy and him were surrounded, their metaphorical escape routes blocked. The whole space had shrunk around them, limited by a ring of solid shadows and red billowing thunderclouds, and all was left was the throne and the statues and the two of them standing in the middle of it all.
“I know why you gave in to temptation. Hell, I was in that very same place not too long ago. You don’t have anyone to fight for. No cause worth dying for.”
“You know nothing about my past.” She snarled.
“I don’t care either. But I know your present. There’s me, there’s Scrappy. We did come here just for you. Your body is out there, defenseless at the bottom of a cave. We could have walked out. Left you alone to die sooner rather than later. Or perhaps you would have turned into an incoherent, enraged monster like the B-ranker. Nothing left of his own sanity, just a bundle of semi-sentient rage.”
“So what? You want me to call you a good man? You’re a fool.”
“Guess I’ve always been an idealistic fool then. I found out that I can’t pretend to be ruthless and uncaring. I just can’t.” He looked at Scrappy poignantly, and for a moment, his eyes lingered on hers.
“It’s weakness.” Lina had said, but Albert didn’t even hear her.
“It’s strength beyond anything magic could ever wish to accomplish. To have something, someone worth fighting for. Be it an ideal, a person, a community. The whole fucking world if you’re a megalomaniac like me. Let me show you, seeing that you don’t seem to get it.”
Suddenly his presence grew. It was as if he was a giant among ants, his Power growing suddenly and vertiginously, without sign of stopping. The others could not, did not fathom what he was doing. Not even Jeff did, the AI unable to even guess at what Albert could be sacrificing to gain so much Power in such a short time. All the AI could do was watch, and quantify.
+1 Power.
+1 Power.
…
You gained the ability to… absorb mana and Doom? How?
…
+1 Power.
+1 Power.
…
It went on and on. Albert’s fueled the transformation with his own emotions, rage at his impotence, the desire to change how things were, the annoyance and powerlessness of a man forced through circumstances by something bigger than him, the promise to be better. The strength of it all made him a titan looking over the small island of a world Lina had carved for herself in the recesses of her own Doom-infected mind. The energy responsible for its existence, Doom itself, quaked and shivered, as if shying away from the monster in its midst. But it had nowhere to go, and swirling and turning it was all sucked up in a vortex, Albert at its focus.
The cores in his pocket shattered, mist billowing out of them only for it to be added to the vortex, streaking it blue and crimson, lightning and grey clouds of pure negative emotion sucked up in the vicious currents.
Until there was nothing left.
Power is at 128 now. I don’t know what you did, but you are not stable, Albert. You need to leave.
Albert squared up, ignoring the signs that his own body was shutting down. It didn’t matter, he would be whole again once he left this place and his mind would have a chance to repair itself.
He took a step towards the throne where Lina was curled up on herself, the blood statues crumbling behind and around it, the first rays of sun beginning to shine through the dissipating clouds while stubborn hints of crimson lightning still struck the charged air, only to be lapped up by the same force that had deprived the whole space of its nightmare fuel.
“It’s time to go.” Albert said, offering a hand.
Lina took it limply, unable to muster any resistance to the overwhelming force before her. Albert was once again the size of a normal man, but his presence was fierce and gigantic, like a miniature sun of energy and resolve. She felt hollow, her strength gone along with the Doom that fueled it, and her body responded passively, like it wasn’t even her own, like a puppet but with cut strings.
She struggled to open her eyes, feeling the weight of her eyelids like that of her sins.
When her vision finally focused, several long seconds later, she saw the blue light of the cave. The biting cold made her shiver, but the comforting warmth and weight of a blanket fought the worst of it off.
“I fear we will see more and more of this happening as the Doom takes over this world.” A weak voice spoke beside her.
It was Albert’s. He was standing up, barely. Funnily enough the small, diminutive form of Scrappy was the one supporting him, steadying his swaying. Lina smiled, but only saw hurt and pain on the other face.
“This is goodbye Lina.” Albert said, and the weight of what she had done crashed upon her.
“But.” She began, then stopped herself. She wanted to say that she had moved to save Scrappy. That she was a good person. That the Doom had done something to her. But Albert’s eyes bored on her, and she felt bare and naked.
“The Doom energy only heightened what was already there. You had already deemed me dangerous enough to potentially attack me well before any corruption touched you. The Doom simply made you act on it earlier than you would have otherwise.” He said with finality.
A spark of anger made itself known. “Can you blame me?”
“No. I would have done the same.”
“Please.” She cried. And she hated herself for crying.
“Fine.” Albert said after a long time spent utterly silent, looking at her. Lina was prepared to argue some more, to plead that the man had to give her a chance. What he actually said took a moment to register.
Then she cried, and did not hold back.