Chapter Eight
Dylan's back was turned away from Jackson, but as the source of the nightmare sound became visible, Dylan spoke, his voice disbelieving.
“But he promised…” Dylan shook his head and began to move away. For Jackson's part, he took in the nightmare beast that roared its challenge. It was large, and its shape was hard to define. The best his mind could come up with was to call it abstract. Its skin was purple, brown, red, and yellow. The red seemed to bleed out from the brown and yellow, like an infected open wound. The purple looked like a massive, stretched-out bruise. Eyes, red and mindless with rage, were open all over its body. It had many clawed legs, or maybe they were tentacles. All Jackson knew was that his mind was screaming with horror just looking at it. Rows of sharp, jagged teeth opened on its body, and it seemed to turn sideways, like a falling building, and swallowed a player.
Crunching sounds and screams of horror came from that mouth. Blood spurted and sprayed onto the ground in great drops. Jackson had to adapt; if he let his mind break, he would go mad, and that seemed worse than death. He breathed in and out, taking in this horror…this abomination. He needed to get used to it, so he kept his gaze on it, forcing his mind to take it in. It did get easier. Finally, he was able to look at it without flinching or his mind trying to turn into mush. He focused enough to analyze it.
Fledgling Demonic Abomination level 25…Your analyze skill has increased!
A demonic abomination. It was the highest-level thing Jackson had seen yet. As he watched, it ate another couple of players, and it was every bit as gruesome as the last. During the time Jackson had been getting used to looking at the thing, Dylan had strode off, probably to join the fighting. Everyone was trying to take this thing down, fighting each other forgotten. Vines pierced it, and something purplish-green leaked onto it. Warriors hacked at it with blades, mages blasted it with spells, archers shot at it, and rogues darted in with blades, darting out like fading shadows.
All throughout, people were yelling, screaming in terror, and all of it created a cacophony of chaotic noise. Jackson couldn't do anything; he simply lay there, flaccid. The scents of spilling guts, blood, and dirt filled his nose with every breath he took. His stomach roiled, wanting to eject its contents in protest of the smells. He closed his eyes and forced himself to calm his mind. He needed to do something. Simply laying there was not going to help.
Yet, what could he do? He couldn't move…or could he? The Judge's message had said that he was only partially paralyzed. It didn't feel that way, but partially was not fully, and that meant he should be able to do something. He tried to twitch his toes…they moved! It was only a slight movement, the twitch of a snail, but he kept at it. At the same time, he tried to move his fingers, and the fingers of his right hand twitched! He was so excited he almost missed the fact that the demonic abomination was getting closer.
It did not seem to care in the least about all of the players attempting to kill it. It merely gobbled up the ones it could reach, crunching on them as casually as you might a handful of peanuts. Jackson began to panic, trying to move his hand. It would not budge! He could feel the tingle and twitching of his bones, the slight whisper of movement, but it wasn't enough! The abomination shuffled forward, unhurried, and yet inevitable. It was coming his way, he was certain about that now.
Jackson's eyes widened, his heart quickened, and he felt a cold grip wrap around his stomach and squeeze. He closed his eyes tight and tried to move his hand again. If he could just reach it…His hand moved! It was slight, but it was there, just a micro movement, but a surge of renewed energy pulsed through him, and that cold grip vanished. He could do this; it was happening. That demon wasn't too fast; it was content to stop and attempt to eat players every few yards.
The players, for their part, were not giving up. They kept pelting that monstrosity with arrows, spells, and blades. Though they were paying a horrible price, dying in twos and fours, being eaten like pretzels. Jackson could only try to move, and he was making progress. His hand inched closer to his bag of holding, slow as slime down a drain, but definitely moving.
It became a race between the monster and Jackson. The monster was unaware and uncaring about being in one, but Jackson knew, and he would win. He was about halfway there now, and the abomination was closer to him. He did not succumb to the building storm within him. It wanted to overwhelm him, and he refused it. His hand inched closer, but so did the demonic abomination.
Jackson's hand was nearly to the bag, but he had run out of time. The abomination had made its way over to him. Its eyes focused on him, inhuman madness afire in them. Its mouth opened, saliva hit him, soaking him in slimy wetness, a rancid smell like that of rotten meat filled his nose, and he tasted it on his tongue. He gagged and threw up, the wet bile mixing with the slime that coated him, his face resting in the sick now.
The mouth fell on him, darkness swallowing his vision, but his hand had finally reached his bag. He willed out an orb, one of the many he had enchanted with the blood shard enchantment. It settled into his hand, which all the while had been gaining strength as he moved it. He squeezed his hand as hard as he could.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
The orb had been a glass ornament; it had never been very sturdy. In fact, they were fragile, as fragile as these things came. Meant to be smashed with ease, it's why Jackson had enchanted them to begin with. All that meant that even though he did not squeeze very hard, it was enough, and as those teeth attempted to swallow him, the blood shard bomb erupted in a cloud of jagged, crimson shards that exploded with a storm of violence. It pierced the demon abomination, and it shuddered, the vibrations of its answering roar of pain shattering Jackson's eardrums as the demon rocked back, light welcoming his vision once again.
You have used a Blood Shard Bomb (Apprentice Rank). You have been injured and slightly deafened. You have critically wounded a demonic abomination level 25.
Jackson nearly laughed, madness building in his mind. This was terrible! He tried to giggle, but instead, he removed another blood shard bomb. He would not relent. He couldn't say whether it was him or the massive amount of damage the demon had taken from the other players, but it was close to death, and now was the time to capitalize on that. He squeezed the bomb again, and once again it exploded into a storm of bloody shards that lanced outward, jagged bits of crimson death that pierced the demon's skin and sank into it.
Jackson had not expected that. He knew the enchantment was a powerful one; it was infused with weaves of blood and destruction, after all, but he expected something different. Once the shards sank into it, however, that was when it seemed to do the most damage. The demon's painful roar split the air, seeming to cause reality itself to warp.
Jackson's mouth twitched, and though he could not smile, he wanted to. Now, instead of wanting to giggle in madness, he wanted to chuckle with grim satisfaction. He was killing it. The demon thrashed, and Jackson squeezed a third blood shard bomb.
That did it. The storm of dark crimson shards dealt deadly destruction, and it was simply too much for the demon. It slumped to the ground, deflating like a popped balloon. Steam rose from it, and it moved no more.
You have defeated a demonic abomination, level 25! Congratulations, Jackson, you have increased from level 4 to level 10! Your enchanting skill has increased to level 22. Reminder: You have 10 attribute points.
Six levels. Killing that…thing…had netted him six levels. Jackson wasn't sure if it had been worth it, though. He decided since he could not move, he would spend these attribute points. He brought up his attributes with a thought.
Attributes: Mind-11, Strength-10, Dexterity-14, Constitution-10, Will-13
Jackson tried to rub his chin, but his hand only moved an inch. Right, still paralyzed. He decided to spread out his points as evenly as he could, though none went to strength. He willed two to dexterity, two to constitution, and two to willpower. It struck him as a little odd that he was doing this after just avoiding being eaten by a demonic abomination straight out of a nightmare, but he felt his heart settle, his hand unclenching. The familiar actions were calming, and his mind eagerly focused itself on the task.
The paralytic poison has run its course, you may now move again.
Jackson laughed, and this time the relieved sound echoed through the air. He stood up and threw back his head, cackling.
He was alive!
----------------------------------------
It took Jackson a bit to actually look up and take stock of the aftermath. He was still weak, still bleeding, Jackson was covered in rancid demon slime, and he smelled revolting, like rotting eggs and sewage. Around him were corpses, and bits and pieces of flesh and torn ropes of guts that littered the ground. He walked through it all, looking for anyone that might be alive. He made it to the entrance, and there, where the two guards had confronted him, were Melanie and Riselle, kneeling over the fallen form of Adaran.
As Jackson drew closer, Melanie looked up, and on her face was not relief, not happiness, but raw, undisguised anger. Her eyes were blazing, and they were directly on him. She stood up and stalked towards him, her stride that of an angry leopardess on the prowl.
“You!” she thundered, her features twisting with even more rage.
“You did this! You killed Adaran, you undisciplined murderer!”
Jackson stepped back, eyes widening, holding up his hands.
“What? No? I was paralyzed! I couldn't do anything!” he exclaimed.
Melanie screamed at him, jabbing her finger into his chest with force as she made her way up to him.
“HE WAS ON HIS FINAL LIFE AND YOU UNLEASHED THAT BOMB!”
She was hysterical. Jackson tried to back up, but she stalked towards him, unrelenting. His breath came faster, and he shook his head mutely.
“WHAT? NOTHING TO SAY!” she demanded, screaming into his face. His ears popped from the force of her voice.
Jackson didn't have anything to say. How could he excuse it? Sure, he could explain that he didn't have much of a choice, and yes, he could explain that he was about to die if he did nothing, but it would not change anything. He had taken the action that led to Adaran's death; it had been his choice. It did not matter that Adaran might have died anyway; that isn't what happened. What excuse could he possibly offer? So he offered none.
Melanie's blazing eyes bored into Jackson's face, but she took a breath.
“Just go, Jackson. Get away from me.”
She walked away, leaving him to his haunted thoughts.
Melanie did not show Jackson where the exit was. It had been a part of their deal, but that was clearly shot. However, it took him a surprisingly short amount of time to find it. He wasn't sure if it was luck or perhaps fate deciding he had been through enough for the moment, but as he walked the corridors of the catacombs, it was a couple of turns, and he found himself facing the stairs before he knew it. They led upward, and he eyed them with a blank expression. His muscles were slack, and moving them caused a jolt of pain to shoot through him, like a tiny shock.
Jackson did not want to go up the stairs. He wanted to sleep for a week. Pain was a steady friend at the moment, and he just felt done with it all. He stared at the stairs, knowing that going up them represented facing more challenges, putting himself in further danger. Thoughts of that abomination swirled around his mind like rancid toilet water. If something that so clearly defied comprehension existed, what more was out there?
With a heavy sigh of resignation, Jackson headed up the stairs, each step heralding the challenges to come.