“Now, what were we talking about again?” Zyl asked Mors while watching the scuffle between Jacob and his Alter. “Ah, yes, the conditions you have for his resurrection.” Zyl put one finger up. “The first was him losing two chances of resurrection.” He put another finger up. “His gift shall be suppressed until he meets certain requirements.” Zyl held two fingers up in front of Mors. “But what will be the third?”
Mors gave him a cold stare, the inn’s once serene atmosphere now replaced with the sound of tables breaking and glass shattering next to them.
“What is the point of your deal with Jacob?” Mors questioned Zyl’s generosity towards Jacob. “You never give this kind of assistance to a mortal,” —Mors rested his arms on the table, his hands loosely intertwined together— “without some objective in mind.”
“Why do you want to know?” Zyl countered with a question of his own. “I get that you’re curious.” Zyl tapped his finger on the table, TAP—tap-tap. “The deal between me and Jacob is separate from our deal with you.” TAP—tap-tap. Zyl smiled, but his tone wasn’t friendly. “Let’s keep that curiosity in check.”
Mors’ gaze momentarily turned cold. He didn’t take Zyl’s words kindly. He acknowledged that the deal between Zyl and Jacob wasn’t something he needed to know. “Ahhh!” —Crack! Their brows furrowed in response.
Someone crashed into their table, wood chips flying everywhere, but Zyl and Mors didn’t bother to avoid it. The wood chips fell to the ground whenever they got close to touching their bodies, leaving a small pile in front of their feet. They looked down to see who had crashed into their table.
It was Jacob’s tattered and slightly bloody body laying between them, his golden hair having an orange tint from the blood that came from the former small cut on his now-bleeding forehead. His patches fell off his clothes, revealing the holes and stitches that held them together. There was an indent in the shape of a fist on Jacob’s torso. They looked in the direction Jacob had been sent flying from—it came from where the ghostly barkeep usually was. Fifteen meters away from them stood Jacob Alter behind the bar, the top half of the wood gone from where he was standing. He was shaking his left hand up and down as if after washing his hands.
“That’s for punching me in the face!” Jacob Alter shouted. Jacob Alter looked no worse than Jacob; his nose was broken, his teeth slightly red from blood dripping from his mouth. “Ughhh,” Mors and Zyl heard groaning coming from Jacob. They looked back down at him; he was struggling to move a bit. They saw him reaching his arms near their feet. They looked at his hands—Jacob was collecting the wood chips. He grabbed a handful and closed his fists. Zyl and Mors didn’t know what he was going to do with a handful of wood chips, but they were curious.
“That’s… what… you get,” Jacob barely managed to get himself up, trying to stand up straight. “For getting in my face earlier,” Jacob said gauntly. Jacob Alter took a big step over the broken bar. He had a hard time standing as well; his leg was shaking just from putting his foot down. Jacob Alter put his hands on the table next to him to support himself.
“I admit that it wasn’t surprising that you would react that way,” Alter spat blood on the wooden floor, “but I didn’t expect you to be this violent about it. I mean, look at me.” Jacob Alter ripped off his shirt, revealing the large bruises covering his chest and stomach. Definitely, internal damage was caused by Jacob’s blows, causing blood to spill from his mouth.
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“Well, I didn’t expect you would punch me across the fucking room,” he retorted. Jacob’s back hurt. Just breathing hurt. His ribs were probably broken, causing the tightness he felt in his chest. He slowly limped past Zyl and Mors, stopping ten meters away from Jacob Alter.
Zyl and Mors could see that they barely had enough energy to fight. Stopping this would be easy, but they wanted to see the outcome of the fight more than stop it.
Jacob knew he needed to end this fight quickly before he passed out. He relaxed his arms and made a slow motion similar to when practicing before throwing stones. Jacob Alter was confused about what Jacob was trying to do. He looked at Jacob’s hand, focused on what he could be trying. He saw something stick out of Jacob’s hand—it was a wood chip. He saw that Jacob was winding up his arm, his eyes widening in realization of what Jacob was going to do. Jacob Alter quickly lifted the table and used it as a shield—WOOSH!
A handful of wood chips sped towards Jacob—THUMP! Crack! The strength of Jacob’s arm sent the handful of wood chips at breakneck speeds, almost breaking holes in the table. Jacob Alter calmed down a bit and was about to put the table down until he saw the throwing motion again, but this time Jacob used his other arm—WOOSH! He lifted the table in front of him again—CRACK! Cracks were all over the table. No more chips came, but it was close to breaking. Jacob Alter’s arms were tired from holding up the table. He was about to set it down, but before he could—CRACK! The table broke, and a fist came with it. The fatigue in his body stopped him from defending himself. Jacob Alter fell to the ground on his back, causing him to cough blood.
Jacob was standing over Jacob Alter’s body, his knuckles bleeding. He set himself down to his knees over Jacob Alter’s body. He was feeling lightheaded, the blood falling down to his left eye, painting his vision red. He could only keep one eye open, but even that was starting to tire him. He wanted to rest, but he couldn’t. Not because he probably wouldn’t wake up or what Jacob Alter would do to him, but because he really wanted to beat the shit out of his Alter. He needed something to vent out the feelings he’d built up, not counting what he experienced for making a deal with a god. He saw Jacob Alter’s fingers moving and his eyes open. He started punching Jacob Alter’s face, causing blood to spit out with each punch. Seeing his friends and family suffering from poverty—CRACK! Resorting to stealing from food markets just to end up fighting other starving kids trying to feed themselves or their families. SPLASH! Seeing Leo in that trial, he knew Leo was dead. POW! He never got over it. Seeing Leo again was great… CRACK! But seeing him disappear, reminding Jacob that Leo was gone forever, brought those feelings back. “Ahhhh!” Jacob clasped his hands together, winding his arms behind his head, sending them down on Jacob Alter’s face like a hammer repeatedly. THWACK! Again! SPLASH! Again! CRACK! Until finally… CRUNCH! A tear shed from Jacob Alter’s eyes before his fingers stopped moving. Jacob let out a sigh as he saw this, his body falling to the side next to Jacob Alter’s lifeless body.
“I won,” Jacob smiled with bloody teeth, looking up at the ceiling. “I”—KHOFF! Blood spat from his mouth, but he still kept smiling through the pain. He tried to stay awake, scared to close his eyes, but his vision started darkening. He heard footsteps coming towards him and near Jacob Alter’s body. He turned his head to see who it was. It was Mors looking down at Jacob Alter’s body. His jet-black eyes showed pity. Mors crouched near Jacob Alter’s face, putting his finger between Alter’s brows. Mors closed his eyes before speaking words Jacob couldn’t understand. A minute later, he stopped. Jacob Alter’s wounds started healing. The burns disappeared, replaced with smooth skin, bones repairing, putting the body in perfect shape. The dirt and grime disappeared, showing his youthful features. His body was the same as Jacob’s before he died. Mors closed Jacob Alter’s eyes. The body was lifeless, but it was at peace now.
“You don’t look so good,” Jacob heard Zyl’s voice. He turned his head, seeing Zyl standing at his side. His charming smile would have soothed Jacob from his pain if he didn’t remember what Zyl did that led up to this. Zyl crouched next to him, looking at Jacob’s body head to toe before looking back at Jacob’s now pale face. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain are you in?” Jacob rolled his eyes in response but still answered truthfully, “10, but it’s starting to feel like a 5.” Jacob’s pain was starting to lessen, but he didn’t think it was a good thing because his vision was getting darker by the minute. He felt cold like he would every time he slept. Zyl put his finger between Jacob’s brows. “Let’s make that a 0,” Zyl spoke unintelligible words. Jacob’s body was healing the same as Mors did for his Alter. The cold went away, replaced with comforting warmth. “Rest now, don’t worry, you will wake up,” Zyl assured. Jacob did as Zyl told. He thought that maybe Zyl wasn’t that bad after all. Jacob closed his eyes feeling that the next time he wakes up big changes will happen.