Mary was close to having a nervous breakdown. Everything was going wrong, since the moment she had walked into this dreadful place. Why didn't she just stay in the car? She didn't actually need the soft drink, or candy, that she had come inside to buy. She was just bored. They had been in the car for hours, travelling south from their home in Vermont. They planned to spend the holidays at their second property in Florida, and escape the cold weather for a while. Now, because of her own choices, she was trapped, with strangers, during a horrifying emergency. Worst of all, she was separated from her husband!
Patrick was her rock. Her unyielding foundation, that was always right there for her to grasp onto. He provided her with firm footing, from which she could stand tall and confident. She was creative in temperament, her personality was ever-changing, like water, she was always becoming something new. Patrick was the stability she needed, he was the dock she tied her boat to, so that she didn't lose herself in the flowing river. Now, without that support, when she needed it most, she felt herself falling apart.
Mary refocused her attention on the situation in front of her, knowing she could stabilize her mind by focusing on the task at hand, however unpleasant. She was currently stitching up the wound on Jack’s forehead, ignoring the young man’s constant complaints.
"Ah, ow, ow, owww! Can we stop? I think I’d rather bleed to death!" Jack lamented. Mary couldn’t believe he could even talk—she’d seen how hard he’d been hit. Any normal person would be in a coma, if they survived at all. Jack shrugged off her concerns, claiming he’d always had a talent for taking hits. Now, he quite literally did. The first thing he’d done when he woke up, blood still oozing from his face, was cheer at the message waiting for him from the system. He’d unlocked a passive ability called Endless Grit, making his body unusually durable and likely saving his life.
"Settle down. You’ll be fine," Mary consoled him, skillfully ignoring his protests—a talent any mother worth her salt possessed. But it was hard work. Jack’s skin, likely thanks to his new skill, was tougher than an old leather boot, and she had struggled, at first, to pierce it with the needle.
"There, finally done. See? You survived." She clipped the end of the stitching and sprayed antiseptic over the whole thing, for good measure.
You have unlocked the talent “Mend Wound.”
Mend Wound Level 1 – Injuries to which you have applied first aid will heal 25% more quickly.
"Why don’t you help us, instead of playing this stupid game of talents and points?" Mary scolded.
Insufficient data.
"Of course there is. How convenient!" she replied.
Stolen story; please report.
Mary was interrupted from her argument with the system when James ran up to her, pointing back at Lucius. "Mom, he’s moving!"
Lucius had been lying absolutely still for almost an hour. The horrible seizures had finally stopped, thank god, but now he was barely breathing. Mary couldn’t even begin to guess what was wrong with him—he’d been perfectly healthy one moment, and the next, he seemed on the brink of death.
Life seemed to be returning to Lucius’s body. His breathing grew deep and steady, and his bottom lip began to move, like he was trying to say something.
“N-no, b-bad kitty,” he mumbled, though his voice was so soft it was barely audible.
"Weird," said James. "You think he’s having a dream?" James let out a playful "Meow!", after hearing Lucius utter the word kitty.
Lucius’s body suddenly jolted at the sound, and his eyes shot open wide. "Ahhhhhhh!" he screamed, scrambling backward away from James across the floor, as if trying to escape from the young boy.
"Calm down, bud! You’re fine! Take a deep breath!" Jack held his hands out to show Lucius they weren't a threat.
"W-where?" Lucius looked around the store, confusion slowly fading from his face as he realized where he was. "I’m back?"
"You didn’t go anywhere, bud. You’ve been lying there the whole time," Jack suppressed a chuckle. "You alright now? Let me help you up." Jack walked up slowly and took Lucius by the arm, helping him to his feet.
Lucius noticed the freshly sealed wound on Jack’s forehead, as well as the bruises and fresh bloodstains over the older blue ones from the abyss creatures. "How long was I out? Did you get attacked by more creatures while I was unconscious?" he asked.
"Uh, not exactly," Jack said, scratching his head and looking away.
"No, you did it!" James pointed at Lucius, oblivious to the pleading look in Jack’s eyes.
"What? How could I have done it?" Lucius asked, confusion returning to his face.
James eagerly updated Lucius on everything that had happened since he’d lost consciousness.
"Damnit... Are you OK? I can't believe I was so stupid!" Lucius didn't mind putting himself at risk, in fact he could be described as downright self destructive at times. He had never allowed that behavior to harm others though, until now. The fact was, he had almost killed Jack, all because he liked the way gaining attributes made him feel. That realization left a sinking feeling in his chest. Lucius was deeply ashamed of his own behavior, and he couldn't help thinking that the vicious torture at the hands, or paws rather, of Twixy, was what he had deserved.
Jack could see that Lucius was remorseful, the emotions were clearly visible on his face, and in the posture of his body.
"Stop that sulking, you didn't hurt me on purpose, right?" Jack consoled him, and then continued in a more cheerful tone, "Look, I'm fine, AND I earned this amazing ability! I'd say you did me a favor, bud!". Jack proceeded to brag about how he had received the passive ability, 'Endless Grit', from enduring such a hard hit.
Lucius felt a little better, but no matter what Jack said, he knew his behavior had been reckless. Even if he hadn’t hurt Jack, he could have died from mana poisoning. Jack’s sacrifice—letting Lucius take all the kills to grow stronger—would have been wasted. Jack, Mary, James, and Patrick would have lost their strongest ally! Lucius felt a surge of emotions he wasn’t used to. Other people actually needed him! Dormant feelings of responsibility were awakening within him, and he resolved, then and there, that his life wasn’t his to throw away anymore. Twixy had said it: he was the strongest human on Earth at the moment. How many lives could he save if he used his new abilities to protect others? If he died, he’d be taking all those potential lives with him. That was something he could not accept.