The autumnal wind blew against Peter’s skin as he desperately ran through the cracked, abandoned streets of the old-world suburbs – his breathing quickly becoming like the ruins, empty and rapidly disappearing. However, unlike the inanimate homes that had no choice but to decay over time now that no-one wished to sustain them any longer, through sheer willpower Peter forced himself to continue running. He would not give in; he would not stop running.
However, the more distance that elapsed, the closer his pursuers got to him. It was clear that they had far superior physical stats than he did, and thus, in the end, they’d be able to capture him once his body just failed to execute his mind’s commands any longer. Realising what this meant, Peter felt his blood go cold as he realised that with the situation being as it was, it was either: fight off his pursuers, or just give in to them now.
And, knowing that his pride would never allow him to do the second of those options considering its inevitable drawbacks, he prepared himself to fight the three older teens who were chasing him.
With his only conceivable advantage over the three boys chasing him being his tentative ability to manipulate magic, Peter knew he’d need to try and use magic if he wanted to have even the slightest chance of defeating his foes today. However, the use of magic had its own risks – ones he carefully filed away into the back of his mind for now – hoping he wouldn’t need to face them now or in the future.
His mind resolved, Peter suddenly turned on his heel, and ran straight towards a rather unsuspecting looking teen who seemed to be only a few years older than him.
Peter strained every brain cell he had and formed a bolt of raw mana and, to the great surprise of the boy charging right at him – fist charged and at the ready – the bolt then flew from his hands and hit it’s intended target with full destructive force, resulting in a medium-sized explosion of raw magical power.
Peter didn’t allow himself to witness the explosion of mana, as he quickly turned towards his next enemy – however, this one had seen his attack and seemed to have abandoned any notion of taking Peter in alive to his boss.
The red-headed teen withdrew a dagger from his belt, and at an incredible sprinting pace ran towards Peter – dagger ready to cut open Peter’s flesh.
However, unfortunately for this opponent, Peter’s use of mana had awarded him a particular skill and so the casting time and effort was reduced by a lot and thus a magic bolt hit him head on – killing the boy instantly.
This time, however, Peter’s head didn’t turn fast enough, and he watched as blood rained down on the asphalt road as the teen’s chest had a hole torn in it by Peter’s magical bolt.
Yet as the bolt had left him, Peter had also felt his mind almost empty out of willpower, and he had dropped to his knees.
He had expended almost all of his mana, and it was a terrible relief that he was even still awake considering that fact. Terrible because it meant he got to see first hand the full devastation that his magic had caused to the one he’d fired at, but a relief as it meant that he potentially had a
“Arghhh!” Peter screamed in sheer agony as every bone in his right leg was crushed by what felt like the weight of a building. Then, his left leg, and after he’d dropped to the point of lying on his stomach, his left and right arm were soon summarily crushed.
Peter was certainly going to black out, or at least he thought he would, but then an eerily blissful feeling rushed through his body, and he felt his body almost instantly recover its former strength. Only for his appendages to endure crushing once again.
Amidst the fog of sheer excruciating pain, Peter realised who his third pursuer was. The bastard, Fred, himself. There had never been any chance of escape – not from the man who was called the strongest thug in the city.
A brief respite from the crushing-healing-more-crushing saga, gave Peter the ability to make out the fact that Fred was talking.
“You’re a mage now, huh? Whodda thunk it? A scrawny rat previously only good for wiping down tables and serving my customers, a powerful mage capable of dealing with two of my guys?!” The insane monstrosity mused, before bringing his foot down on Peter’s right leg with full force, and screaming, “DID YOU THINK YOU COULD HIDE FROM ME YOU FILTHY RAT?!”
Peter felt his consciousness be pushed to its very limits of pain tolerance before he felt it. He had levelled up, his HP had been restored, as had his mana, and in the split second that Fred was confused about why Peter’s leg had suddenly healed without a potion being applied, Peter managed to cast a mana bolt right at the thug leader – it hit him square in the jaw.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The bolt exploded with an impressive amount of force, but unlike the others he had fought, Fred was no low-level grunt, and so was only sent flying back by the magical blast and not instantly killed, though he did seem disoriented.
Peter used this moment of peace to check out the flashing notification, and he saw he had been given a choice of class spells, and not having enough time to properly think everything through properly, he simply selected the spell that sounded the most helpful in his current situation and cast it right away.
His hand began to move in a clock hand-esque fashion, and suddenly the world around him froze though he could move – but only slowly. He waded through what must have been temporal sludge, and eventually found himself behind Fred.
Once he was where he wanted to be, he cancelled the spell, and cast a mana bolt that once again struck Fred right in the skull, but once again, it failed to do anything more than disorient him, but the mana exertion also caused Peter to drop to his knees as well.
A confused, concussed Fred accidentally smashed his own supply of healing potions in his attempt to grab one from his pouch – causing glass shards to shatter upon contact with his skin as he did so. Peter realised then that the man must have an incredible Endurance stat but pushed that thought to the side as he needed to focus on dealing with Fred.
Using the thug’s terrible state to his advantage, Peter managed to sneak over to the body of the thug with a dagger and take the weapon for himself. However, he was quickly spotted by Fred, and the hulking monstrosity of a man came charging at him, a boiling rage clear and present in his eyes.
Peter, surprising the man, decided to meet the man’s charge in a seemingly suicidal miscalculation. However, a moment before the thug’s fist collided with Peter’s body, Peter used the last remnant of his mana to cast his new [Freeze (User)] spell, and time slowed all around him.
Peter’s arm thrust up and forward – the dagger held in his hand aiming for one place and one place only, Fred’s mouth. The dagger buried itself deeply into the man’s mouth and brain, but the spell cancelled as soon as Peter ran out of mana, and the boy felt teeth bite down hard on his arm and a punch crater his chest cavity.
Both the mana deprivation and physical obliteration were enough to finally cause Peter to black out.
----------------------------------------
“How much longer are you going to stall Jar?” The obese slaver asked indignantly, before gesturing at the man in front of him with an open palm and saying, “I am not saying I don’t enjoy these weekly chats we’ve been having, old friend, but we both know neither of us are going to budge when it comes to what we both are asking for in this dealt. So, maybe it’s time we just void the whole idea altogether.”
Jared snorted in response, “Nice try, Jer, but you know as well as I do that a kid with high magical potential is far more valuable than the price we initially agreed upon in our first contract. The kid’s value far exceeds what I’m asking for in terms of payment and you know it. I’m not one of your shady regulars unfamiliar with the business, I know what I have for you is worth its weight in pure adamantium and I ain’t budging.”
For perhaps the first time in his career, Jeremy Foram felt utterly floored in this negotiation. He didn’t know if it was the other man’s simplicity of intellect or sheer arrogance, but none of his usual mercantile tricks of the mind and or personal ploys ever seemed to have an effect on the brute’s ridiculous boldness.
Though, he guessed, he was dealing with a rather despicable man in a rather desperate situation, who was going to use this one bit of good luck to extract from Jeremy every ounce of worth he could get. He didn’t know the specifics, but he was pretty sure that the man opposite him was close to timing out on his pact with the dark triad – which meant that if he didn’t rank up soon, he would suffer a horrific death.
The two had been friends, or at least close acquaintances, ever since the fall of the old world had occurred almost a half-century ago, so the fact that death loomed over Jared as a vulture did not exactly please Jeremy, and with any other asking price he’d have probably caved to the old adventurer ages ago as the boy he was offering up to him on a silver plater was indeed a fine specimen and he wanted to help his old pal out of this tight spot. However, the man wasn’t demanding any other price, and Jeremy was thus hesitant.
“You’re asking for a secret, but legal, rank promotion ceremony Jar!” He exclaimed in his own defence, before visibly collecting himself and saying, “Such things take a lot of time, bribe money, and highly damaging blackmail material to even attempt to organise, and no matter how unique the child you’re offering to provide me with – it is impossible for me to say that the boy has equivalent value to what you’re asking for without first inspecting the child with my own eyes. Something you’ve outright refused to allow me to do.”
Jeremy and Jared stared at each other intently for a great many tense minutes in total silence. Jeremy knew that the other man was prone to violence, and as he wasn’t himself a combat-based class, being a [Slaver] and all that, he would be unable to defend himself if the man opposite him decided to beat the ever-living shit out of him. However, he doubted his old friend would be so stupid.
“I need that promotion, Jer, and you need a premium offering for that off-world convention that all you slaver types are secretly planning for,” Jared said in response, a smirk appearing on his face as he dropped his usual dumb-ass brute mask.
Jeromy paled, he hadn’t suspected his old friend would know about the convention and if he did then he really couldn’t hold out any longer without losing the chance to attain the boy completely. So, effectively condemning himself to an empty wallet and busy schedule for the next year or so, he repressed his inner merchant and after months of failing to negotiate down his friend’s absurd price, he relented.
“Fine! Fine! Fine!” He exclaimed, “You got me pinned! I’ll organise a secret promotion ceremony, but our exchange will be in 4 months’ time, and you get nothing else – deal?”
Jared’s cocky smirk grew unbearably smug, and he simply said, “You know what, old chum, I think we have a deal.”