Chapter 96: The World Shall Know Pain
What is pain, exactly? Well, it’s one of those fiddly concepts that are easy to understand but hard to quantify; everyone knows it, yet no two people experience it in exactly the same way. Differences in biology, psychology, even something as simple as mood in the moment changes how we interpret pain, to the point that an objective standard proved all but impossible, and remained something of a running joke in the medical and pharmaceutical community. Every decade or so, some new development in a lab would claim to solve the problem, before promptly disappearing, never to be heard from again, while clinicians continued to ask patients to rate their pain on a scale of 1 to 10.
I was a solid 9 out of 10 in that moment; getting ploughed straight through a wall tended to do that. I couldn’t move my arms or legs at all, everything below the neck felt like a massive bruise, and I was pretty sure the pool I lay in was neither water nor wine. Even that counted as good luck, because given the wall had been made of solid brick, I could only thank my enhanced physiology for being alive at all, while also cursing it for leaving me awake rather than blissfully unconscious from shock.
“Oops, my bad” I heard someone mutter.
It wasn’t something I ever liked to hear, even in circumstances that didn’t drive daggers through my assuredly ruptured eardrums and into my brain.
“Mass Revive. All Heal.”
The next four works were much more pleasant, coming alongside four waves of light that washed over me, two of the real and two the product of my double vision, as bad as it was after eight pints at the pub. The golden light did nothing for me, except maybe reducing the autumn chill just a touch. A good sign, I decided, since it meant I wasn’t dead. The green light did its job the next moment, seeping into my broken body and knitting it back together. Magic truly was wonderful, I reflected anew, as injuries that would have left me a lifelong quadriplegic back on Earth were gone in the blink of an eye. Even my clothes had been restored to pristine condition, as a hurried patdown informed me, even though I’d been sure they were torn and no spell had been cast to repair them; a hidden component to one of the two spells cast, or a Trait to that same effect, I could only speculate.
Another roar split the sky; I flinched, eyes instinctively seeking out the threat above, because I was only human, and anyone in my position who claimed they wouldn’t was a liar or a fool. It wasn’t as loud as before, I realised, nor did the sky light up anywhere near as brightly; meaning I got an actual look at the Dragon as it unleashed what could only be its breath attack. The purple barrier overhead held, blocking a gout of white hot flames, while a second layer behind it that hadn’t existed before rippled, concentric waves spreading across it entirely but failing to penetrate. That was what took me for a ride, I realised; not the flames themselves, but the shockwave that was far less visible but still deadly even at such a distance. It hadn’t even been a proper attack that nearly killed me, just the spillover on the edge, one the Archmage hadn’t even considered a threat, if his muttered apology was any indication.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“So that’s why Archmage is such a prized Class,” I shook my head ruefully, feeling only a faint vestige of nausea as my body finished healing
It was one thing reading about them, or having the orphanage workers express their hopes that we could receive it on Class Day, and another matter entirely to see one in action. One day, I promised myself, I too would fly through the skies, and all beneath my gaze would be my dominion. I had a lot of work to do before then, however, so I banished that dream to the distant future and finally refocused on the here and now. The street lay in ruins, every rooftop blown away and many walls toppled or left barely standing with holes blown through them; clearly, whatever had worked to restore my clothing hadn’t done the same for the infrastructure. Some people ran around aimlessly, collecting trinkets and belongings from the ruins, while others stood stock still, shocked into immobility by the force of the attack. There weren’t many of the latter, thankfully, because this was Heaven’s Reach, humanity’s front line in the long war; basic protocols for evasion and evacuation were probably drilled into residents from the day they were born.
That said, we were in much better shape than expected in terms of human resources; only a few mangled bodies remained on the ground, beyond the reach of resurrection for whatever reason, and largely ignored by those who lived. I found myself approving of the stoic pragmatism on display; get your belongings and get to safety, leave the mourning for when it’s safe to do so. Similarly, that was my cue to get a move on, before my idle moment passed the threshold from acceptable to suspicious. The Dead Horse was still mostly intact, though the iconic sign was nowhere to be found. The inside was mostly deserted, only the single innkeeper to be found, kneeling behind his desk with both hands clasped in prayer. A faint golden aura surrounded him, seeping into the walls, floor and ceiling, likely contributing to the superior durability of the inn compared to its neighbours. I ignored him and headed upstairs, back to the room booked what felt like a lifetime ago, ostensibly for a peaceful night’s rest.
“You made it!” Pumpkin exclaimed, leaping from the bedside table onto my shoulder, swiftly returning to his position as my favourite scarf. “Who’s that?”
Kyle made it too, I realised belatedly, having lost track of him in the chaos. At least that was one bright spot out of the madness of the day.