The monsters had gotten wise to his tricks by now though, and the next group that he saw had almost ten monsters in it. They were grouping up for mutual safety, and Jonathan had no choice but to attack. He maximized his initial impact by coming in with all of his skills triggered, except for Smite. His fists claimed two lives within a second, but it all started to go downhill from there.
The other eight monsters rushed him in unison, stopping him from retreating with their bulk. Jonathan lashed out with his fists, drawing upon his newfound martial expertise in order to fend off their attacks. He was like a whirlwind among them, but it was not enough against so many strong opponents, and he began to take rapidly mounting damage. His fists tore through skin and shattered bone, but by the time that he had killed the fifth monster, his left arm was dislocated, and his right leg was fractured. It was more of an inconvenience than anything else, but it hindered his fighting ability.
Jonathan gritted his teeth and upped the ante, shifting to a more aggressive fighting stance, windmilling his hands in and out, with his dislocated arm lagging behind noticeably. Jonathan finished off another two monsters this way, but at the cost of his left arm breaking to a savage swing from one of the monsters’ crude stone swords. At that point, he was running empty with stamina, and every breath was labored. Once one got down to the fumes of one’s tank, they really were not any more different than a normal human, no matter their level.
Jonathan finally finished the fight, and he collapsed to the ground amid the corpses, gasping for breath. Essence rushed into him like a tidal wave, and his injuries began to knit back together. He had another six levels to go until he reached level 50, where he suspected there was something waiting for him.
Jonathan leaned back, and took a few deep breaths, starting to recover. Even with the refresh from the level up, he was still in rough shape, both physically and mentally. That had been a battle of endurance over anything else, and as he sat there, Jonathan began to remember just how much endurance he had been forced to rely on in his past life. He had tried to forget all of the bitter memories from Earth, but now that he had a spare moment, they came back.
He had been a truck driver, not because of choice, but because circumstances had led to him being unable to get another job. He had been a bright student in high school, and had had his sights set on university. However, in his final year of school, he had returned home to find his parents dead, murdered by someone who had come to steal from their safe. Because of a few minor events, such as Jonathan wanting to show them something from school, if he remembered correctly, a test that he had aced, they had been at home rather than off working like they would have been normally at that time.
When he had arrived at the house, he had found two corpses in the place of his parents, and the entire house had been turned upside down by the thief in search of valuables. Jonathan had called the police, but he knew that they would end up doing little good. He had no wish to be sent off to some foster care system until he legally became an adult, and had instead made his own way in life, eventually getting in contact with the owner of his supply service. Jonathan hadn’t known how to drive, but he was a quick learner, and he had been able to pass all the tests with flying colors, eventually becoming one of the best truck drivers in the whole company.
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The first few years were hell, with long days that often turned into nights, but he had struggled through the exhaustion and the mounting aches and pains from sitting in a seat for most of the day. That will to succeed had been instilled in him long ago, and just because he had been transported to a new world didn't mean that he had lost it. No, he was Jonathan Harlowe, master truck driver, and the Hellbreaker all in one. Both of those titles would work to enhance one another.
Opening his eyes, Jonathan felt a spark of resolve such as he had never felt before. He had made the wrong decision by burying the memories, and now that he was remembering everything from Earth, without his mental blocks in place, he realized that he had suffered in both of his existences. However, in one of them, he had a way to make a difference. If there was someone out there that would eventually chronicle his journeys, he wanted this to be seen as the moment that he truly began to fight. There would be no more missed opportunities because of fear like with the thresholds. When those next thresholds came, Jonathan was going to crack them open as soon as he got them, rather than waiting until he had no other choice. If he could make a choice that would lead to him gaining more power, then he would take it, even if it caused him immense pain. Pain was simply the currency of the world that one could use to buy greater power in the end. Why not use it?
Jonathan left the monsters behind, and made his way back towards the troglodyte village. He was now a different man, not in a profound way, but he was sharper, more honed than before. He knew enough about himself to realize that it was not in him to wage a shadow war, striking only at those who were distracted or defenseless. When he eventually barged through the gates to Angranor’s inner sanctum, he would not come as an assassin, but rather as a challenger, here to take the Hells for his own.
Jonathan’s fists began to blaze with power as he strode across the hard packed earth and rock, and Divinity wafted off his gauntlets as he activated his runes. He could hear a rattling noise coming from the village, and he knew that some of the weaker monsters were going this way. Jonathan still didn't know what exactly determined the strength of a rune, but he suspected that it was related to his own strength in some obtuse way, as well as his mastery of Runecrafting in general. Each rune was a concentrated concept, and the more in line with that concept that the rune became, the greater power it gained. As he progressed in his skill he was able to make more exact copies of the runes than before.
The monsters came out of the bushes a few minutes later, slavering at the jaws and looking utterly rabid. Jonathan pulled back his right fist, closed his eyes briefly, and pumped every ounce of his concentrated power into it, drawing up his martial abilities, his mana, and even his Divinity to empower it to the utmost degree. His fist moved as if in slow motion, and it struck the nearest monster’s torso. There was a moment of silence, and then the creature exploded in a spray of blood and gore, only leaving a pair of legs standing in confusion that soon fell as well. Jonathan pulled back his fist slowly, and blew on it, smiling as he saw the troglodytes pause slightly in their pursuit of his rune.