John spent the next few days exploring the bustling city of Zephyr's Reach. The metropolis presented itself as a vibrant tapestry of sights, sounds, and scents that assaulted his senses with chaotic and kaleidoscopic intensity. As he wandered through the labyrinthine streets and alleyways of this strange and wondrous urban landscape, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation coursing through his veins.
The inhabitants of Zephyr's Reach were a diverse lot. One moment, John encountered a merchant eagerly trying to sell him some newfangled contraption; the next, he locked eyes with a menacing figure whose gaze seemed to promise violence. He noticed very few individuals who bore any resemblance to himself. At one point, he spotted a man with red skin, horns, and a tail similar to his own, seated at a table. Unlike John, however, this individual was adorned in opulent attire that spoke of great wealth, crafted from what appeared to be the finest silk. The man acknowledged John with a brief nod before returning his attention elsewhere.
Gareth accompanied John in the city for several days, running errands and making purchases. John eagerly insisted on helping out, despite Gareth's protests. As they walked, they engaged in lengthy conversations, and John found some of the differences between their worlds both subtle and comical. The traffic signals, for instance, sported a different color scheme than those on Earth: yellow on top, green in the middle, and blue on the bottom. John nearly found himself flattened by oncoming traffic before realizing that yellow indicated 'go' and blue meant 'stop' in this realm.
While strolling alongside Gareth, John occasionally caught himself whistling absentmindedly, a habit that surfaced when his mind wandered.
Gareth pushed open the creaky door of Stitch & Sons Tailoring, causing the little bell above to tinkle merrily. The familiar scent of wool and leather greeted them as they stepped inside, with John following closely behind. Old Mr. Stitch was hunched over his workbench, meticulously stitching a seam on what appeared to be a fine silk waistcoat.
“Mr. Stitch!” Gareth called out cheerfully. “I’ve brought a friend for a fitting today.”
The elderly tailor looked up, his magnifying spectacles comically enlarging his eyes. A warm smile spread across his wrinkled face as he recognized Gareth. “Ah, my boy! Always a pleasure. Just give me a moment to finish up.”
John hung back near the door, partially hidden behind the rank of coats. He inspected some of the clothing items and noticed how soft the cloth felt. He whistled out a low appreciative note. “This is good stuff.” he spoke loud enough to be heard by both Gareth and the elderly man.
Mr. Stitch smiled at the compliment. His eyes might have been suffering as of late, but his ears always worked impeccably. Once he finished the last seam, he set the piece down, got up and wandered over to Gareth to greet him properly. Gareth moved halfway to meet him. The two embraced in a hug. “Good to see you old friend” the elderly man said and left his hands on Gareth’s shoulders. “Now then, where’s this friend of yours?” he asked, peering around the shop.
Gareth Gestured towards John. “Right here, Mr. Stitch. This is my friend Elena.”
As Mr. Stitch’s gaze fell upon John, his jovial expression froze. His eyes widened slightly taking in the blue skin, demonic features and white hair. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He blinked a few times, as if to clear his vision, then looked back at Gareth with a mixture of confusion and a more than a fair bit of concern.
“Gareth, my boy,” he said slowly, and a bit low and measured as if to hide his conversation. “When you said friend, I wouldn’t expect…well, this.” He gestured vaguely towards John, trying not to stare but unable to completely hide his glances.
John felt a flush creep across his face, the darker hue spreading to the tips of his pointed ears. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling very conspicuous in the small shop.
Mr. Stitch cleared his throat and once again looked at Gareth. “I don’t mean to pry lad, but…well, I’m not sure how to put this delicately. Is your friend here…safe?” His eyes darted back to Elena, taking in her horns and otherworldly appearance.
Gareth looked back at Elena and then towards Mr. Stitch. “Yes. She’s the one that healed me the other day.” Mr. Stitch looked back at John, and then back at Gareth. Feeling the need to help break the tension, John stepped forward with a small apologetic smile.
“Sir, I understand my appearance can be…startling,” John said his voice sounding soft and almost melodious. “But I assure you, I‘m simply here for a fitting and to repair my clothes, if you’re willing.”
Mr. Stitch regarded her for a long moment, his professional instincts warring with his initial shock. Finally he sighed and nodded. “Very well Miss,” he said, straightening his vest. “If Gareth vouches for you, that’s good enough for me. Though I must say, this will be a first for Stitch and Sons Tailoring.” He took her in one more time and smiled to himself as he saw John’s head. “I don’t suppose you’ll need any special accommodations for those horns or that tail?”
John caught up with Gareth as they left, his brow furrowed with concern. "Hey, Gareth," he said hesitantly, "is there some reason why folks seem kinda... racist towards me?"
Gareth slowed his pace, placing a comforting hand on John's shoulder. He let out a deep sigh, his eyes filled with sympathy. "It's not racist, Elena. It's... survival instincts." He glanced around before continuing in a lowered voice. "Listen, you need to understand something. Demons are a very real threat just south of here. They maim, slaughter, and torture without mercy."
John's eyes widened as Gareth continued, his voice grave. "Sometimes, people make pacts with these demons. Those who do usually end up with some demonic features. And the more features they have..." He trailed off, letting the implication sink in.
"The more of themselves they've traded away," John finished, his voice barely above a whisper.
Gareth nodded solemnly. "Exactly. And trust me, those trades are never good in the long run. The Order's always warning about the consequences. There's not a soul alive who doesn't know a horror story about demonic bargains."
As they walked, Gareth's expression softened. "Now, sometimes those people have kids, and those children inherit demonic features. But unlike their parents, the kids aren't necessarily evil. They can be perfectly fine folks. And that's where society faces a conundrum."
Gareth stopped, turning to face John directly. His eyes were intense, but not unkind. "The children shouldn't be punished for their parents' sins, but those who sold their souls? They've usually done things that make living in society... difficult. So, there are laws protecting people like you, but..."
John's face fell. "But people still treat me differently," he finished, his voice tinged with disappointment.
Gareth nodded, a sad smile on his face. "I'm afraid so. It's nearly impossible to tell a person's true nature by looks alone. So most folks err on the side of caution."
John rubbed his arm nervously, considering his next words carefully. "So... how do you know I'm not one of the demons?"
"They're called the converted," Gareth corrected gently. "And you're not one of them. You might look similar, maybe even have some of their powers, but they don't heal people. They don't stop thugs from beating up innkeepers."
John's eyebrows shot up. "How do you know I haven't put some kind of whammy on you right now?"
Gareth's serious expression cracked, and a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. He made a show of patting his head, then reached out to touch John's horns. Suddenly, he gasped dramatically, grabbing at the air above his own head.
"Shadow's curse!" Gareth exclaimed in an exaggerated whisper. "Did you do this to me? Gods, what will my wife think! As good-looking as I am, you go and make me more good-looking? Whatever shall the city do?"
John fought to keep a straight face, his voice deadpan as he played along. "Truly, the world is not ready," he said, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion.
Gareth's laughter echoed through the street as he clapped John on the back. "Don't you worry, Mira," he said, still chuckling.
"Mira?" John asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Gareth blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Sorry, I meant Elena. Must be more tired than I thought." He smiled apologetically, but there was a flicker of something
John stood there, exhaling heavily. "Thank you for trusting me. If it weren't for you, I might already be dead." Suddenly, he remembered the note in his inventory. "Oh crap. Hey, the other day, I got this. I'm sorry but I forgot to give it to you. I noticed it before I went to sleep and..." His words trailed off as he held out the note.
Gareth took it and read it, his expression darkening. "Spire's fall," he muttered to himself as his eyes scanned the message. Upon finishing, he placed his hands on John's upper arms, his grip firm and urgent.
"Elena, thank you for bringing this to me. I have to go. Will you be ok?" Gareth's voice was laced with concern and a hint of urgency.
John shrugged, then opened his map icon. He scrolled until he found Gareth's inn and placed a pin on it. In the center of his vision, a small arrow appeared, strikingly similar to GPS, pointing him towards the tavern. He mentally moved it to the bottom of his field of view.
Looking back at Gareth, John said, "Go ahead, I know how to get back there." As soon as the words left his mouth, Gareth took off running, his figure quickly disappearing into the crowd.
Left alone in the bustling street, John found himself absentmindedly whistling “Walking on Sunshine” and stepping in time with the music. The familiarity of the melody brought a pang of homesickness, and fleeting reminders of Earth brought visions of his old life to the forefront of his attention.
Lost in thought, John nearly bumped into a passerby. "Watch where you're going, girl!" the stranger snapped.
As John made his way back to the inn, the less savory aspects of Zephyr's Reach became increasingly apparent. The welcoming atmosphere of the marketplace faded, replaced by an undercurrent of suspicion and hostility. Furtive glances and whispered murmurings seemed to follow him wherever he went.
A gruff, weathered old man muttered under his breath as John passed, "Ya know, I've heard some pretty wild stories about half-demons like yourself. They say that ya'll can't trust 'em. That they'll stab ya in the back the moment that ya turn your back on 'em."
The comments grew bolder and more offensive as John ventured deeper into the slums. "Demon's Whore," "Unholy creature," and "Demon spawn" were hurled at him from various directions. A woman's voice hissed "Hell's harlot" from an upstairs window, followed by the clatter of a thrown bottle nearby.
"Demon's Whore," another man called out.
John turned to look at him and said, "Twelve."
"Infernal hussy!" the man shouted after John.
"Sixteen," John replied calmly, stopping and turning to face him.
The man, now thoroughly confused and frustrated, jogged to catch up with John. "What in the blazes are you doing?" he demanded.
John stopped walking and turned to face the man. "No, go on, continue, don't mind me.”
The man looked at John suspiciously. "Tartarus trollop!"
“Oh wow!” John exclaimed, with faux excitement. “Eight”
The man, his face turning red squinted at John. “That’s it. What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded to know.
John shrugged. “Oh, I'm just keeping track of the insults. You see, I've been hearing these charming epithets since I arrived in this lovely city. So I decided to make a game of it."
The man grew flustered. "You... you. Azure Abomination!"
John smiled. "Oooh! Two!" The man walked away after that, clearly frustrated by John's unexpected reaction.
“Oh yeah?” The man shot back. “I bet your mother sucks demon cocks!”
“Oh my!” John said Cheerily. “Twelve!”
John continued on his way, the frustrated man fading behind him. However, the relative quiet didn't last long. As he navigated the winding streets of the slums, the hostility seemed to grow thicker in the air.
As he turned a corner a few blocks later, John encountered a group of rough-looking men loitering near a rundown tavern. One of them, a burly fellow with a scraggly beard, nudged his companions and leered at John. "Well, well boys," his speech slurred with drink. "Looks like hell sent us a pretty one today."
One of his friends joined in, "Hey blue girl! How about you warm my bed tonight? I bet you're a real demon."
A third man took the opportunity to slap John's backside as he walked past. In response, John's tail flicked sharply against the man's leg, the impact as forceful as a towel snap.
John's heart raced, a mixture of anger and fear coursing through him. He tried to keep his composure, reminding himself of Gareth's words about survival instincts. Still, the constant barrage of insults and unwanted attention was wearing on him.
"I'm just trying to get back to the inn," John muttered to himself, quickening his pace. He found himself whistling nervously, a habit that seemed to surface more frequently in stressful situations.
As he hurried away from the group, John couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever truly fit in here. The reality of his situation – looking like a demon in a world where demons were feared and hated – was starting to sink in. He longed for the relative safety of Gareth's inn, where at least one person seemed to understand and accept him.
"Just a little further," he whispered, following the arrow in his vision. "Keep it together, John. Keep it together."
John, having enough of the colorful commentary, made his way back towards the wealthier part of town. John crossed the invisible line that sent property values into the triple digits. Once again the speed by which comments came had decreased. ‘I guess the more money you have the less likely you are to show your distaste for something and the more likely you are to tell your friends.’
He was in the middle of laughing to himself and whistling a tune when a younger woman no older than about 15 or 16 grabbed his tail. She was turned away from him looking at a throng of other girls on the other side of the street about the same age as her. She spoke up and put her free hand to her mouth to be heard from further away. "Hey check this out!"
She yanked his tail hard. As John was in mid step, he almost stumbled back onto his rear. Her friends started laughing and one of them yelled out "I wonder if it hurts her when you pull that freaky tail. Does it squeal like a Gunterroot?"
John stopped and looked at her with a calmness he didn't feel. His next words were fairly quiet and very clipped. "Let. Go. Now."
Ignoring John, she tugged harder, her voice dripping with disdain. "What's the matter, freak? Can't handle a little fun?" Her voice changed into something dripping with mockery. "Oh, did I hurt the poor wittle Monster's feewings?" Her voice chained back into the disdainful one again. "It's a joke, lighten up. Or can't your kind understand humor. Although now that I think about it, I bet no one would even care if someone chopped off this disgusting thing anyway."
John’s tail pulled closer to him and the difference in strength between the girl and his tail was immediately evident. She didn't let go, so when his tail pulled back, she came along for the ride. He put one hand on her wrist to keep it steady as he calmly removed her fingers from his tail one by one. On the last one, He held onto it. She tried to pull away but he didn't let go. He said in a quiet voice "What's the matter, can't handle a little fun?” He pulled the girls hand closer to his mouth and breathed on her fingers. “I bet no one would even care if someone ate this disgusting little thing." He chomped his teeth near her pinky.
Her laughter and mocking smile were quickly replaced with a scowl but when she pulled her hand back this time, he immediately let go. She grabbed her wrist and rubbed it. "Whatever monster. Just stay out of our sight."
"Or what?" he said looking into her eyes.
She looked back at him more shocked than anything. "Excuse me?" she asked. Her tone was indicative of a wealthy woman who just heard the maid tell them no.
John repeated himself. "I said Or. What?" He punctuated each of his words. He was growing a little tired of the world.
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She looked over at her shoulder to her friends for backup and none of them seemed to be coming to her rescue. She turned back to John. "Or we'll make you sorry".
John breathed in and out, and blinked slowly. "Is that so?" he replied, his voice heavy with a sardonic sense of amusement. "Well, then I suppose it's only fair that if you do I should defend myself, no?"
The young woman's eyes widened in outrage, her face flushing with a bright crimson hue that seemed to radiate a palpable sense of fury and indignation. "You… you…" she sputtered, her voice trailing off into a series of incoherent and indignant stutters that served only to underscore the sheer intensity of her anger and frustration. Her voice got louder and louder, and now folks near the two of them were looking on. "You better watch your step, demon. Because the next time that you and I..." John turned around and walked away rolling his eyes.
"Don't you walk away from me!" Her voice got louder and louder the further away I got. "The next time that you and I cross paths, I can promise you that the outcome is going to be a whole lot different than it was today."
He flicked her off.
John continued meandering the streets, expanding his map as he walked. The city was massive, and he had only uncovered about 20% of it over the past few days of exploration. As he ventured through various districts, the hostility he encountered seemed to ebb and flow, but never fully disappeared.
As the day wore on, John decided it was time to return to Gareth and Agatha's home. Opting for a shortcut, he turned down an alleyway that promised to shave some time off his journey. However, as he delved deeper into the narrow passage, the atmosphere changed dramatically. The oppressive and suffocating darkness of the alleyway shortcut he took seemed to press in upon him from all sides like a leaden shroud. For a moment, he leaned against the wall and breathed heavily. Visions of him in an alley less than a week prior came to mind, and the smiling faces of those men in some other reality.
Thump-Thump
John felt his heart beat in his chest, as his heartbeat sped up. He felt a bit sick to his stomach and put his hands on his knees. The passersby didn't seem to see him as they moved about their business.
Thump-Thump
John felt the phantom feeling of the man between his legs, and the feeling of the knife at his throat. He felt the pain of being stabbed and the helplessness of a monster in human flesh forcing him to submit as he died.
Thump-Thump
“God please.” he whimpered to himself as he started breathing in ragged breaths. In his mind he tried shouting. ‘This is all a nightmare. This isn’t real. The alleyway can’t hurt me. This is all a nightmare. This isn’t real. The alleyway can’t hurt me.’ Other thoughts from the other realities echoed in his mind. ‘You picked a fight with Elena Vale.’, ‘Why did it have to be this way’, even guttural grunting sounds.
Thump-Thump Thump-Thump
He felt his body grow damp and with sweat and visions of what could have happened to him in an alley like this one tormented his mind.
Thump-Thump
“AAAAAAAAH!”
Thump-Thump
John heard the shrill shriek of a woman scream and for a second thought that it was himself. His heart raced as he stood frozen, trying to process the sudden chaos erupting around him.
Then he heard a slightly different scream. A sharp, ear-splitting cry of a small child's terrified and heart-rending screams echoed forth from the depths of the shadowy gloom. It was a haunting and mournful lament that sent chills down his spine.
"Please... Somebody Help..." The voice of a young mother cried out, her words carrying a desperate and pleading edge that seemed to radiate a sense of raw and unbridled terror. "My child... A Monster!"
Without hesitation, John ran. Not away, but towards the scream. His feet pounded against the cobblestones as he raced through the winding alleyways. He heard a snap and even louder screams from the people as he turned the final corner.
Drawing closer to the source of the commotion, he saw the monstrous form of the creature looming menacingly before him, its grotesque and misshapen features twisted into a nightmarish and horrifying visage. John's breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene, his mind racing to figure out how he could help.
Thump-Thump
John felt his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the form of the creature before him. It stood on two legs, with a lengthy tail trailing behind on the floor. Its slender, stretched-out form appeared almost skeletal in some areas, and its scales were a mesmerizing black, shimmering with undertones of deep purple and blue. Its multifaceted red eyes seemed to survey its surroundings. Most of it was bathed in the glow of a lantern, but any parts covered by shadow vanished from sight.
He could tell this was a monster accustomed to ambushing its prey. The creature's eyes gleamed with a menacing and demonic intensity, and John sensed the hunger and malice emanating from them, fixated on someone. Specifically, a child.
The sight of the small boy, no older than 3 or 4, made John's heart stop. The child lay in a growing pool of blood, his right leg bitten off just above the knee. The ragged, torn stump was a mess of shredded flesh and exposed bone, still bleeding profusely. The boy's face was pale and etched with abject terror, tears streaming down his dirt-smudged cheeks in a torrent of fear and pain. His tiny chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, and his eyes were wide with shock. The child's mouth was open in a silent scream, his voice seemingly stolen by the horror of the situation.
From the side, John saw the mother on the floor, her legs and an arm obviously broken. In a moment of clarity, she screamed at him, "PLEASE, SAVE MY BABY!" as she pointed at the creature.
Suddenly, a quest notification popped up in John's vision, accompanied by a soft chiming sound. The text read:
Emergency Quest: Please, Someone help Description: The old reliable Damsel in Distress quest. Your classic quest befitting a young adventurer. An urgent plea for aid echoes through the alley. The woman’s only child is about to be devoured by the beast. Time to play the hero! Progress: 0 / 1 Reward: 19 Clips Secondary Hidden Objectives available
John blinked, momentarily distracted by the unexpected prompt. He didn't need a quest to tell him what the right thing to do was, but the notification served as a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation.
As he stood there, his mind racing to formulate a plan, John found himself whistling nervously. He quickly caught himself and stopped, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. With his heart pounding, he prepared himself for whatever came next, silently praying that his newfound abilities would be enough to face this terrifying adversary and complete the urgent quest before him.
Thump-Thump
Without a moment's hesitation, John sprang into action, his body moving with a fluid and preternatural grace that seemed to defy the very laws of physics themselves. He felt the power of his magic flow through his body, the warmth of it starting from his heart and spreading out through all of his veins.
John activated gory armaments and felt the familiar sensation of blood leaving his body and the tingling numbness that accompanied it. He felt his hand get slick and the first thing he thought of was a sword. His blood sang with power and molded itself using his will to make his wishes a reality.
As he lunged forward, the creature reacted to his movements. John was surprised at its languid movements. 'This creature must not be very quick,' he thought as his blade pierced deep into the creature's torso. He felt his hand slap the scales of the creature as his blood weapon sunk all the way to its hilt. And yet three feet of blade was probably barely noticeable to this creature. Unfortunately, this only seemed to piss it off. 'Oh that's right,' John thought to himself. 'Slow and ponderous in video games usually means tough and strong.'
The creature turned its head to look directly at John. 'Ok. Good news, bad news. Good news, this thing doesn't seem to care about the kid anymore. Bad news, it's got a taste for my ass.' As if to agree with John's internal monologue, the creature swung its tail at him in a wide sweeping motion that was surprisingly quick for its size. And this time John was the one that was too slow.
It caught him in the ribs and John heard a sickening crack. The creature turned to look at John as he flew back into a wall. It let out an agonized cry that seemed to echo forth from within the very depths of the alleyway like the mournful and melancholic wail of some tormented and damned soul. John, on the other hand, was greeted by a new icon.
Thump-Thump
As he struggled to catch his breath, John found himself whistling softly, a nervous habit that surfaced in moments of intense stress. He quickly silenced himself, focusing on the new icon that had appeared in his vision, wondering what new challenge or ability it might represent in this dire situation.
Debuff Broken Ribs (Physical Injury) Level: 4 Effect: Reduces overall health by 10% Decreases stamina by 15% Inflicts sharp pain with every movement, lowering attack power by 10% Increases spellcasting time by 20% due to difficulty in breathing. Reduces movement speed by 10% Duration: 10 minutes or until treated Note: Congrats! You’ve got cracked ribs! Now every breath is an adventure in agony and every move feels like a bad life choice. Try not to laugh, sneeze, or exist too hard.
Sharp pain radiated out from John's abdomen, and he instinctively went to use his arm to shield the broken rib. He looked down and saw that the bottom rib on his left side was oddly jutting in the skin, causing it to look probably worse than it actually was.
The creature charged towards John, but its movements were a little sluggish. He pushed himself away from the wall and felt the sharp pain in his side. It hurt to even just breathe. John glanced up at the icon for himself and noticed that the torso seemed to be in yellow and his health bar was only about 60% full.
His sword pulsed with another ripple of blood, and for a moment it almost looked sharper. An idea came to his mind. 'The creature is an ambush predator, right?' John thought. 'Maybe if I use the wall for support looking like a wounded creature, it'll try to take me out quickly. They say the best lies are always mixed with a bit of truth.' John glanced down and gingerly touched the rib. His hand pulled back quickly at the sharp pain. 'And luckily I was very much a wounded creature.'
The creature seemed to be looking at him warily as he leaned on the wall and breathed a bit heavier, each breath causing him to wince. 'All I have to do is wait for the creature to get close, and lunge at me,' he thought. 'Hopefully the wall will collapse'.
The lizard seemed to take the bait and lunged at John as he looked down. Instead of lunging at him, it reached out to grab him. 'So much for plan A,' he thought. John jumped to the side but not quick enough to avoid the monster from grabbing his blade. It yanked in the hope that it could pull the weapon away and then it'd have no problem dealing with the sword swinger. But John ripped the sword away from the monster. Instead of being disarmed, the creature just got a deep wound on its paw.
John quickly moved to flank the creature on its side and run his blade through it and down its side. The monster roared, and John saw another debuff appear in his vision.
Debuff Deafened (Situational) Level: 1 Effect: You are deafened. Duration: 5 seconds Note: Good thing you can read this, because you probably couldn't hear me tell you what this does.
'Note to self: Have a serious conversation with whoever is adding those notes at the bottom, and tell them to go fuck themselves,' John thought as he covered his ears. Too little too late though. He was experiencing the worst case of tinnitus imaginable. It felt as if there was an explosion of sound right next to both of his ears, and it was quite painful. Even his avatar's expression in his vision changed from a smile to a frown, and his health bar dropped another five to ten percent.
The ringing in his ears was disorienting, making it difficult for John to focus on the battle at hand. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled over his senses. The creature, sensing his vulnerability, seemed to be preparing for another attack.
John gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain and discomfort. He knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down, not with the lives of the mother and child still hanging in the balance. Despite the setback, he tightened his grip on the blood-forged sword, readying himself for the next move.
Thump-Thump
John learned a long time ago that when you're about to die, your brain speeds up. Something about clinging to life and making every last second count. And that people would notice things you wouldn't normally notice. For example, he casually observed that the mother was slowly crawling towards the child. He noted that the area he was in had a smell of cherries and coffee. And he noticed that the lizard's jaws were open wide enough it couldn't really see where it was biting. And in this moment of clarity, a new plan came to mind.
As the beast lunged, John sluggishly moved to the right again. But this time he formed the blood in the shape of a spear. And he thrust it towards the beast's eyes. In John's opinion, the beast didn't seem to have a very tough skin. That or he was WAY stronger than he originally thought. Either way, his spear plunged into the right eye of the creature, through the skull and out the left eye. John wasn't sure, but he felt like if any attack he made was a critical hit, that was it.
The creature's head whipped back and forth and for a moment while he was still hanging on, and the creature's movements became his. John let go and when he did he was sent flying towards the woman. He landed on his back and rolled feet over head twice. The creature was still thrashing about as its useless eyes stopped giving it information. The painful sound the creature made told John that the spear in its brain must have been agonizing.
Where John had stopped, the woman was about two feet from him. But she was paying him no more mind than the lizard as she continued to pull herself towards her dying child. John pointed to the child and said "Blood of life, flow strong in this child." He felt a weak connection form between him and the boy but weak was good enough. A drop of his blood flew through the air and touched the child.
Suddenly a good bit of the blood on the ground flowed back into the child. John took a moment and watched his mana drain. 'I spent way more mana this time,' he thought to himself and made another mental note to work with his powers more. The child stopped hemorrhaging, and for a moment the mother turned and looked at John, gratitude in her eyes.
She screamed and pointed at John. With a thud and crack, John felt more of his ribs break. The lizard was spinning around and its tail happened to catch him again. As he lay there, struggling to breathe through the pain, he knew he had to find a way to finish off the creature before it could cause any more harm to himself or the civilians.
Debuff Shattered Ribs - Physical (Severe injury, upgraded from Broken Ribs) Level: 6 Effect: Reduces overall health by 20% Decreases stamina by 30% Inflicts sharp pain with every movement, lowering attack power by 25% Increases spellcasting time by 40% due to difficulty in breathing. Reduces movement speed by 20% Causes periodic bouts of severe pain, further decreasing focus and increasing chance of failure on any complex action by 15% Duration: 15 minutes or until treated Note: Cracked ribs just weren’t dramatic enough for you, huh? Like life with a constant nagging reminder of how much yours sucks? Well congratulations! Now every breath feels like a thousand tiny knives, also known as pieces of your ribs, teaching you a masterclass in creative agony. Try to avoid any sudden urges to laugh. Or, you know. Exist.
John hit the wall hard and swore he felt his nose break. His Health dropped dangerously low and he noticed his HP bar was blinking. Worse than that, he felt like he was hemorrhaging blood.
He felt it coming out of his ears, and through the skin where his ribs managed to break through. He even felt it pooling in his left lung, and its tangy flavor coated the inside of his mouth.
'If I'm going to finish this fight, it's now or never,' John thought. His enemy was blinded but he was battered. He also didn't want to get any closer to it, because he knew he was moving a lot slower than it was. 'Fuck,' he thought as a sharp painful reminder of his battered body flooded his senses. 'One swipe from its tail and I'm never getting up again.' He coughed and saw droplets of his blood mixed with his spit.
Thump-Thump
Frustration built in John's thoughts. 'How come I'm the blood mage, but I'm the only one hemorrhaging?' John internally whined. 'It really doesn't seem fair that I can't...' His eyes grew wide as the thought hit him. He held his hand out towards the creature and after a second remembered one of his other abilities. As soon as he thought about it, he saw its description.
Blood Control Blood that you can sense is blood that you can control Description: Blood Control allows for the manipulation of blood within a person's body. This includes the ability to manipulate the flow, pressure and state of blood in oneself and others. This ability is broken down into two parts: Hemorrhage: The ability to quicken the blood of others Coagulate: The ability to slow blood in others
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, energizing him despite his grievous injuries. John's mind raced with the possibilities this forgotten ability might offer. He focused intently on the creature, his hand still outstretched, ready to unleash this newfound power.
John steadied his breathing as best he could, ignoring the pain that radiated through his body with each inhale. He knew this might be his last chance to turn the tide of the battle and save not only himself but also the mother and child. 'This has to work,' he thought. 'It's now or never.'
John’s hand started to turn red and liquidy as he heard himself chant the phrase "Let your own veins betray you". It was oddly articulated, but he wasn’t aware of anything he was doing to speak differently. His voice sounded deeper as if he was speaking with the power to bend the will of the universe. And the universe had no choice but to listen. His mana started to bottom out as the creature started bleeding. He had barely used any of it as he fought, but now, it was disappearing by sizable chunks every second.
As if the scaly skin was no longer a barrier, blood poured out of every wound the creature had. Blood seeped from what was left of its eyes, from its mouth and from the wounds on its hands and back. The creature also had several wounds elsewhere on its body and those started bleeding too. Some of the wounds gushed torrents of black goopy lifeforce, whereas others released theirs in little rivulets. The beast went wild and John found himself falling down on his knees barely able to stand as his Mana dropped lower and lower. He even felt a headache start to form as it dropped below twenty percent.
The lizard's movements slowed for a few more seconds before it raised itself on its back two legs. For a moment, time itself seemed to stand still, the world around me growing deathly silent.
Thump-Thump
As the blood stopped coming out, the creature's massive form came crashing down to the ground. Its grotesque and misshapen limbs twitching and spasming in a macabre and grotesque dance of death and destruction. As it lay still, John felt his mana stop draining.
Every part of John’s body felt like it was weighed down with concrete. He felt his knees give out, his energy, health and mana all dangerously low. He put his hands on the floor to keep himself from face planting, but all it did was delay the inevitable. He was just so tired.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman finally crawl her way to the child and hold onto him. She managed to sit up, and pull him close. She cried more and rocked back and forth embracing her child with her only good arm. A few moments later John heard the thundering of footsteps from somewhere behind him. He tried to turn his head and look, but his body didn't respond. He could barely gasp out words, let alone move.
But instead of another creature he heard a man’s voice call out. "WE NEED HELP!" They ran over and John saw the calves of several men come into view rushing to help the woman and child.
But as his vision started to get blurry and dark, all he could think was 'Oh good. Someone's here to help her.'