Chapter Twenty-One

Melanie was not thrilled with the plan.

“You’re crazy!” she called to Jackson as she dodged another grab by the cyclops. Jackson rolled away as well and came up in a standing position.

“Do you have a better idea?” Jackson asked, panting. All these rolls were starting to add up. Melanie pursed her lips but shook her head a moment later, pinging the demon cyclops with two arrows. She may as well have been hitting it with stuffed toys. Jackson eyed her.

“Can’t you do anything more?” Jackson asked. She shot him a glare.

“I could, but I was trying to conserve mana. I only have one mana potion; if I run out of mana too fast, all I am going to be doing is this.” Jackson nodded. It wasn’t bad thinking; he couldn’t fault it. Still, her arrows just didn’t seem to be slowing the demon at all.

“I’m going to enact the plan now.”

Melanie gave Jackson a furtive glance but nodded. Jackson wove blood mist, obscuring the demon's vision. It roared, but at this point, Jackson was paying no mind to its roars. Then he ran towards the cyclops. Getting close seemed to be the only viable option; Jackson had gotten the idea from how he had handled the goliath earlier. Lazarus spoke to him as he ran; he seemed to have pieced together Jackson's intent.

“It’s not going to work the way you think, fledgling,” Lazarus said to Jackson.

Jackson spared him a quick glance.

“What do you mean?” Jackson asked. They were getting closer to the cyclops's giant form. It was twisting about, trying to see in the mist. Something told Jackson the demon was not very bright or so enraged that it wasn’t thinking very clearly.

“You’re thinking of feeding on it. I understand why you would think that, dear fledgling, but demon blood is different. It’s not…natural. It is a corrupted life force. Drinking it will cause intense pain, possibly madness. I would not recommend it.”

Jackson nodded, filing the information away, but could not spare it more of a response than that. They had come to the cyclops. Jackson rolled underneath its massive legs and then promptly grabbed onto its massive right leg and began climbing. The cyclops's purple skin felt like... well, it felt slimy. Firm, but definitely slimy. The demon cyclops, for its part, absolutely noticed Jackson trying to climb it. It roared and kicked its leg.

Jackson had been prepared, however, and held on for dear life. The only reason this worked was because of the blood mist covering the area. The cyclops could feel him, but it was also confused. That didn’t stop it from feeling where he was; it had no trouble trying to reach him. It was having trouble, though, given that Jackson had reached its midthigh.

The cyclops had nothing for Jackson to grab onto on its back, so he wove blood lightning and slammed it down into its skin. The lightning sank into it, and the cyclops hollered a ferocious howl. Dismissing the weave, Jackson had created what he needed: a small burned hole in the cyclops's back.

You have dealt a minor wound to the demon cyclops.

Your blood lightning has increased in level.

Jackson dug his hand into the wound and climbed farther up the monster. He had to duck a bit as the cyclops's grasping fingers tried to reach him. It was shaking now, trying to dislodge him, but Jackson dug his hands deeper into the hole. It began to move, and Jackson figured he had only a little time before it made it out of the mist. Jackson created another hole with lightning and climbed farther up, then he did it again and again until he reached the cyclops's shoulders. He swung himself up and rested on the creature's shoulders, almost like he was a child getting a ride from his father. Jackson held on tight because the cyclops was charging out of the mist. He did it a favor and dispelled it himself. Which is when Jackson was met with a message he did not particularly enjoy seeing.

Your mana is low.

Jackson scowled in frustration. He knew that he had been weaving a lot of spells, but that was supposed to be all he did. He had hoped for a little more mana to play with. Now, of course, he had to think of another option. Given what Lazarus had told him, Jackson knew that consuming the demon blood that coursed through the cyclops was a very bad idea. The cyclops tried reaching up and grabbing Jackson, but arrows pierced its hand, followed by even more arrows. They didn’t do much to the demon, but they still must have caused some pain because the monster stopped thinking about Jackson and focused on Melanie. It roared at her and took several steps forward. It tried to swipe at the ranger, and Jackson held on for dear life as its head ducked forward, nearly throwing him off.

Jackson held on firm, however. The issue was mana; he couldn’t do what he needed to do without it. Mana. Jackson's eyes widened, of course! He shouted to Melanie, who had rolled out of the way of the cyclops's grasp and was pelting it with more arrows.

“Mana potion!” Jackson shouted at her. She glanced up, confusion etching her features.

“What?!” she called. Jackson growled in frustration and tried again.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I need your mana potion! Throw it to me!”

She finally understood and frowned.

“What if you don’t catch it?!” she yelled out the question. Jackson sighed. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have to explain everything.

“No choice! Just throw it!”

Melanie scowled, shot more arrows into the enraged cyclops, dodged more of its attempted grabs, and tried to move a little closer to Jackson. The cyclops did not make it easy; it tried to grab her every chance it got, and with every movement, Jackson struggled to hang on. Finally, Melanie was able to get into position.

“Get ready!” she yelled. Then she produced a vial filled with blue liquid and tossed it at Jackson. Hard.

Jackson saw the vial turning in the air, end over end. He reached out and felt confidence build. He was going to catch it. This was going to work.

Then the cyclops stomped, rearing back to roar as it had been doing a lot all of this time. Jackson saw the blue vial sail over his head, to the right. He tried to reach it, and he honestly did. He felt the tips of his fingers touch the glass.

It sailed past him and crashed somewhere behind them. Melanie saw it, and her frustration as she watched the vial sail past Jackson could actually be felt, even from where he was. Unfortunately, her loss of focus cost her. She saw the kick coming at the last minute and tried to dodge, but it was too late. The blow was glancing, but enough to send her flying several feet. She crashed into the ground. Jackson swore, but there was nothing he could do. The demon would be turning its attention to him here at any moment now.

Jackson needed mana. He only had one option. He steeled himself.

“Jackson…” Lazarus trailed off.

Jackson shook his head at him. He had no choice. There was no other option.

As he had with the goliath, Jackson dropped himself down, holding on to the demon's shoulders, and he bit down on its neck.

It did not burn, not at first. When Jackson swallowed it, though, that is when the pain started. It was slow at first, a small fire, but as Jackson drank more of the demon's blood, it grew, and very soon it was an inferno. It was too much. Jackson couldn’t do it. It felt like his insides were burning up, as if the raging inferno inside of him were using his intestines as kindling. Jackson was screaming; he knew, but he kept going.

Jackson had no idea if the cyclops was trying to get him off; it very likely was. All Jackson could do was hold on and focus his thoughts through the inferno of pain that wracked his body.

That was when Jackson's mind began to be assaulted. Images formed in his mind—images of horrible, unspeakable things. Words echoed through his thoughts; from the deepest, darkest corners of himself, the words came,

“Monster,” they said to him. They showed him images of the fears he had been walling off of himself. Images of him sucking on Riselle, swelling up like some disgusting black leech. Images of him throwing blood-sharp bombs and killing Adaran over and over again.

“Monster,” said the whispers.

Images of him feeding on Melanie, his veins showing, twisting that same corrupted purple of demon skin.

“Monster. Monster. Monster!” The words were a roar now, and the pain was a storm. Jackson tried to pull away. He tried to stop. He wanted to stop. Images of him being tortured by powerful gods. Images of him being burned alive.

“Die Monster! Die!”

Jackson wanted to. He really wanted to. Why couldn’t he stop? For the love of everything, let him stop. Jackson was weeping in his mind now; images swirled around him, hammering into him. Jackson tried to push them away, but they were a hurricane within his mind. He couldn’t get around them; they were insurmountable walls.

“Monster!” The words echoed from every image—an accusation.

Yes, Jackson was. You killed monsters; that’s what you did.

Except Jackson wasn’t one. The thought pierced his mind like a needle popping a bubble.

All Jackson had done was try to survive. Sure, he was responsible for Riselle, somewhat. It was possible that he could have stopped himself. Yet, really, hadn’t she accepted the possibility of death by trying to kill him? Wasn’t it true that she bore some culpability? Yes, she did. So did Jackson, and he would carry that, but he was no monster.

Hadn’t Jackson engaged this demon in order to save people? Yes, he had, in fact. That was the whole reason he was here—doing this, fighting this true monster. These images were just his fears, and everyone had them; his were just born of his guilt. Jackson would not allow them to break him. With that determination arose a fury, and like a hammer of his own, Jackson cast it against the images, shattering them like glass.

Jackson pulled away from the cyclops. The pain was still there, but he no longer found it overwhelming. Jackson knew his mana was there; it had been restored every time he fed. The cyclops was on its knees, not dead, but weakened. Melanie, from somewhere, had appeared, and her two arrows were glowing with vibrant green light.

Now was the time. Jackson had always been told that weaves responded to his will and his imagination. He couldn’t bind the demon; that was impossible, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use the weave or manipulate it. It just meant he couldn’t use it to bind.

That was fine with Jackson. He wouldn’t. Jackson formed the weave, just as he had always done to bind a creature, and the crimson rope appeared just as it had in all other instances of him using the weave. Instead of wrapping it around a leg or an arm, however, Jackson wrapped it around the cyclops's neck and yanked the weave tight.

You cannot bind this creature! You are suffocating this creature!

Jackson growled in satisfaction and began to laugh. Melanie, seeing that the plan had worked, sent a vibrant, glowing green arrow right into the demon's eye in a shockwave of sound and fury that echoed the wrath of nature itself.

So, Jackson thought, this is what a nature aspect wielded by a ranger could do. The arrow pierced the demon cyclops's eye, and it tried to roar in pain, but Jackson had constricted its airflow. It thrashed, and it bucked. Raising itself high, it slammed backward, slamming Jackson against the ground with tremendous force in an attempt to squash him.

Your minor regeneration skill has increased in level.

The demon's blood was still coursing through Jackson, and it accelerated his regeneration skill. While Jackson was afire inside and pain wracked through him at the cyclops's attempt to squish him, he lived, and more importantly, he held on.

Jackson felt it when the cyclops stopped thrashing, but he did not let up; he kept the pressure on, his crimson rope of weaves constricting its throat as a snake would its prey.

Finally, Jackson got the message he had been waiting for.

You have killed a level 50 demon cyclops. Experience has been shared with your party members. Congratulations, Jackson! You have advanced in level! You are now at level 28. Your blood-binding weave has increased in level.

Jackson smiled, pushing himself slowly until he was out from underneath the demon. Lazarus clapped, a smile of his own on his face.

“Now you just have one more thing to do, dear fledgling.”

Lazarus was right. Just one more thing.