My Second Life Is A Heroic Power Fantasy - Chapter 208

The rage c.o.c.ktail seared Jack’s throat as he swallowed, and the taste made him gag, but the effects were immediate, and dramatic.

Almost instantly the feeling returned to his arm, and his mana fatigue vanished. Every muscle in his body seemed to swell and tighten, and time and the world around him seemed to dilate as his vison literally grew red at the corners, and his skin seemed to burn with heat beneath his armor. Pulling the sword out of the ground, he began the walk towards the abomination in the distance. There was no fear. No anxiety. No doubt. He was going to destroy this monstrosity. He was invincible.

Drawing within a couple dozen paces, he broke into a run, shouting words of power into the air as he charged at the pale-skinned beast. As he did so, magic surged and coursed through his veins, mixing with the drugs and his own adrenaline until it felt like his body would fly apart.

The creature, rearing up from the body it was leaning over, turned at the sound of Jack’s voice. Jack brought Harrowbloom around, swinging the blade in a wide arc as he dashed past the creature. The blade sank into the creature’s pallid flesh and carved deeply, sending the beast into a bone-chilling shriek as he twisted the blade and lopped a large chunk of pale flesh out of the monster’s calf. He spun and dove, barely avoiding a trio of claw swipes that rent the air where he’d stood less than a second before. Then came one tendril stab, then another, whistling past within an inch of his head as he leapt up behind the creature and chopped wildly downwards, splitting a bloody rend from the creature’s shoulder blade to the small of its back. The beast howled and stumbled, spinning and flailing wildly as it tried without success to score a hit on this nuisance that was causing it so much pain. Jack dancing and weaved, his blade flashing as it bit and carved and lopped. The more damage Jack did, the bolder he became, and the more forceful his strikes grew. His heart pounded in his ears, his limbs pulsing and shaking with mana, his breath coming in forceful rasps as his mind singly and unerring fixated on the pleasure of the popping vessels and tearing fibers of flesh at the end of his weapon. He was death incarnate. Nothing could touch him. Nothing could harm him. He was invincible, the goddamn hero of legend.

And then his luck ran out.

He dodged the first claw and the two tendrils, parried the second claw, then the third. But he didn’t see the fourth. The blow caught him square in the back, and while he felt no pain directly, the immense pressure he felt inside his body from the blow and the tearing sensation in his back told him it’d done serious damage. Before he could react, another one of the claws snatched him up, knocking his weapon out of his hand and lifting him off the ground and towards its head, where the gaping maw waited to devour him.

He didn’t know whether it was a result of the grievous injury he’d just received, or the sudden overwhelming threat of death, but terror gripped him for the first time in a way it hadn’t since he’d first come to this place, and his arms and legs grew cold and numb with fear as the few seconds before his death seemed to stretch on into a lifetime. He wrestled with what power he still had against the creature’s overwhelming strength, trying desperately to pull his dagger from the sheath behind him, but to no avail. The beast’s grip was just too strong.

A wet, meaty thump struck the back of the creature’s head, and it reeled and screamed, nearly toppling over and taking Jack with it. Two of its claws grasped at the back of its skull, and when it turned, Jack saw the hilt of Farlo’s enchanted dagger blade buried a full foot into the monster’s head.

Urien yelled up at him.

“Get out of there, Jack! Now’s your chance!” He said, before screaming up at the Forbidden. “Come get me, you vile freak!”

The creature turned like lightning, keeping Jack bound in its hand, and for the second time since the fight began, drew a deep, gurgling breath. This time, a jet of yellow-green fluid shot from the creature’s throat in an arc, and Jack screamed as it struck Urien square in the back, dousing him from head to toe in the yellow-green ichor. Urien fell screaming to the earth as the fluid dissolved his armor and melted his flesh like acid, thrashing and jerking for several long moments before finally falling still in a smoking heap.

“Urien! URIEN!” He yelled, but the man didn’t move.

The Forbidden returned its attention to him, snarling as it lifted him back towards its mouth. The growing pain of the wounds in his back, the delirium from the drugs wearing off, the exhaustion from his overuse of magic… It was all too much too bear. But he now had his dagger in his hand, and all he needed was a clear shot. Urien’s sacrifice had given him just enough of a distraction to get that much.

The creature lifted him to its mouth, ready to force his body into its open jaws. But instead of trying to devour him, it inhaled deeply again, this time creating a crackling sound in the back of its throat. Jack’s heart seemed to stop in his chest when he realized what was about to happen. It wasn’t going to try and eat him. It was going to blast him with one of its jets to make sure he was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. This was it. It was too late. He screwed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his head. Goodbye, cruel new world. It was nice knowing you.

The Forbidden exhaled, shooting a jet of blistering cold that tore at the air around Jack’s face, congealing the air into razor-sharp shards of ice that rocketed around and past him, tearing the ground behind him to shreds. He opened his eyes when he realized what was happening. He could feel the cold, but it didn’t hurt. And the ice couldn’t touch him, like it was repelled away by anti-ice magnets.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Out of all of the possible things, the creature had chosen the one thing he needed. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the situation, even in spite of what was happening. After all this time, the gag reward from Frumpkin had finally come in handy.

And that gave him an idea. He pulled the dagger free from its sheath, before deliberately falling limp into the creature’s hand. The creature, seeming to sense that it had done enough, cut the blast off, and lifted Jack towards its mouth. Jack remained unmoving, gauging the distance through narrowed eyes until he finally saw his moment. As soon as the abomination had him within a few feet, Jack rose back to life, raising the dagger over his head with a roar and plunging it into the unsuspecting creature’s giant red eye.

The resulting sound was so ear-splitting that it made Jack’s eyes water as the creature shrieked and wailed in agony, its free limbs jerking and thrashing about from the pain. Jack pulled the blade and thrust it again, and this time the creature left go of him as it swatted at him. The blows battered him, nearly knocking him out cold, but he continued to cling onto the handle of his weapon which was still buried handle-deep in the monster’s eyesocket. Sending one final pulse of magic into his limbs, he pulled himself up until he was sitting on the creature’s shoulders. He held on for dear life as the Forbidden roared and thrashed, swatting at him to try and knock him off its head. Grabbing onto the hilt of Farlo’s dagged with his free hand, he pulled it loose, before burying it again and again in the creature’s skull.

The Forbidden made one final grab at him, but the effort appeared to finally be too much for it, as it m.o.a.ned and stumbled, tottering and shambling as gouts of oily black blood poured from over a dozen new wounds in its head. With one final terrible cry the beast went limp, stumbled, and fell face-first into the dirt. Jack leapt off as it did, landing hard on the ground and tumbling a couple of paces until he wound up on his back.

He lay there for a long moment, his head spinning and his body throbbing as he tried to catch his breath. Outside of his breathing, there wasn’t a sound left in the cave. Finally, he drug himself to his feet. Looking back at the spot he’d just been laying on, the whole area was soaked in red. So, it was as bad as he’d feared. He was weak, and felt a little dizzy, but he could manage. He would manage. He had no choice. He had no idea how he was going to face Rawgh’faz in this state. But he’d made it through worse, right. He’d pull through somehow. He found Harrowbloom a short distance away and picked it up. The energy from the blade restored him a little bit, and poured some strength back into his limbs and clarity into his head.

He cast one final look behind him at the abandoned gnoll village, his fallen allies, and the slain monstrosity, and set off for the passage at the far end of the cave that led to the throne room. The passageway to his final confrontation, and the woman he’d lost.

When he entered the passageway, he found it destroyed. At one point it had been covered with some kind of ornate carvings, but the creature had destroyed all of them beyond legibility on its way to the village. At the far end of the passageway, two shattered wooden doors that spanned nearly twenty feet in height lay lengthwise down the hall, the area all around them covered with bits of shattered wood. As he walked he could feel the warmth of his blood running down his back and the backs of his legs. The feeling slowly began to fade from his extremities, and walking became harder and harder, until he finally had to rely on using Harrowbloom as a brace for the last several steps into the open expanse of the throne room.

There, in the center of the floor, was a shape. A body, with something over top of it. As he drew closer, he could tell even through his light-headedness and tunnelling vision that the body on the ground was that of a gnoll. And something was over top of it, stabbing it again and again with a small blade, the pool of its blood soaking the ground. He stood there silently for a moment, fighting to stay on his feet, as the second individual stood up, and he was finally able to see the head of the gnoll on the ground.

It was Rawgh’faz, his dead eyes staring blankly up at the sky.

Jack blinked again, struggling to keep his vision in focus as his light-headedness started to finally overcome his ability to fight it off. He had to be hallucinating that. He had to be. There was no way that the Shaman was dead, just like that, after all they had been through.

Or maybe he was dying, and his mind was showing him things it wished was real to make everything easier.

The shape that stood wore a dark green cloak, now soaked at the bottom with blood. As he watched, it raised its hands up and pulled the hood on the cloak back, revealing a long tumble of dark blue hair.

And then they turned around, and Jack’s eyes all but refused to accept what he was seeing.

Eleanor looked at him for a long moment as if trying to place where she knew him, gradually stepping closer, until her eyes widened in recognition.

“Jack…? Is that you!?

Jack smiled as he fought to stay on his feet. Yep, he was definitely dreaming.

“Hey Ellie. I… I made it…” He said, waving gently before he tumbled to the ground.

When Jack awoke, he found himself lying on his stomach, facing a distant stone wall several dozen feet away from him that he recognized as belonging to the throne room. Every fiber of his body ached, and he felt like he was about to puke. But, otherwise, he’d felt worse. There was still no pain in his back. And then he remembered the shaman’s body, and the other form turning around, and then…

“Ellie!” He said, trying to push himself off the ground and into a sitting position.

“Oh no you don’t, mister! You’re not nearly mended enough to move yet.” A familiar voice said. He felt a hand press him gently but firmly back down to the stone he was laying on. Instantly his heart began to race. Was he still dreaming? Surely he had to be. Unless…

He managed to flip his head around so he was looking in the direction of her voice, only to find him staring up into Eleanor’s face.

“Hiya! Glad you’re finally awake. I was starting to get worried about you…” She said, her eyes nearly disappearing behind her cheeks when she smiled. Jack stared at her, his brain refusing to register what he was seeing as real. After he spent several long moments looking at her blankly, she waved a hand in front of his face.

“Uh, you alright in there?” She asked. After another moment of silence she said, “will you say something already? You’re really freaking me out here.”

Before she could do anything to react or before he could even really process anything else, he shot up off the ground and threw his arms around her, squeezing her as hard as he could possibly manage until she finally protested enough for him to let go of her. He held her out at arm’s length, staring deeply into her golden eyes. She looked just as confused, overwhelmed, and excited as he felt.

“Are…are you real? I’m not dreaming?” He finally asked, feeling his pulse pound in his throat. He felt like he was going to fly out of his skin.

“I think so.” She said. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Are YOU real?”

Jack couldn’t find the words for a reply. His eyes just filled with tears, and he pulled her tight again.

“I was so afraid I was never going to see you again!” He said, choking his way through his words. “Are you okay?”

A strange cloud seemed to pass over Ellie’s expression for a moment before she finally nodded and replied. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“I’m so glad…” He said, before caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you sooner!”

Eleanor’s eyes darted in surprise to his hand, then back to his face where she seemed to get the answer to her question. She smiled gently, and leaned in closer so their foreheads were nearly touching.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re here, now, together.” She said. “That’s enough for me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth into hers.