There it is! My nervous system. It's still a bit hazy, but fuck, this is huge progress. I've learned to tune out the healing itch about halfway through Grok's sessions. That's some next-level focus I've never hit before! During this, I can see something wild. I feel the cells regenerating at the wound sites. Nerve impulses shoot off, causing that damn itch. But here's the catch: feeling it is one thing, stopping it is a whole different beast. How the hell do you stop an electric charge? With your bare hands? Stuff rubber between the synapses? You can hold air or water with magic, but electricity? Back in the orphanage, all I could do was steer the current in the right direction. I'd try it now, but all neurons lead to the brain. Even if I reroute the signal—say, from my arm to my leg—it'll still end up in my head. So I'd have to keep cycling the pain through my body, and it'll build up like a fucking snowball because the wounds keep piling on. But what if I ground it? Lucky me, I've got these nice, shiny metal shackles.
Alright, while Grok's busy healing, I'll try mapping a route. Here we go… Nice… Burned fingers are close to the chains—short path. But holy shit, it's hard. I pushed my brain to the limit until I fucking did it! I did it! The charge flows through the neuron network to my skin, then to the shackles. No signal's hitting my brain anymore. Does this mean I feel nothing? I'm too deep in this zen mode to check, and slipping out is risky. One stray thought like, "Do crocodiles crawl or walk flat?" and I'll lose control. Fuck, do they crawl or what? Damn crocodiles, you fucked up my focus!
Still, I'm pretty damn proud of myself. Sure, this trick won't work when they're roasting my skin, but I've set a precedent. Problem is, it burns mana nonstop. Not a ton, but it doesn't recharge fast enough. If this is a game system, there's gotta be a way to calculate mana regen. Option one: tied to some special stat. Option two: based on your total mana pool. Or maybe some bullshit like the weather or my shoe size. No clue what to do otherwise, but if it's about total mana, I've got a solid way to boost that stat.
And boom—another fucking pain signal hits me like a morning coffee and croissant, extra agony. This demon's driving me up the wall. But I can't let it break me. A bit more, and I'll bust out of this shitty cycle. Gotta crank my focus even higher. I tried doing mental math while Vyer mangled my legs. Bad fucking idea. Under that pain, I could barely subtract seven from a thousand. What's that, nine hundred ninety… whatever. Time for a new plan. I need to catch the signal and block it from reaching my brain. Sounds insane, but if I know roughly where the damage is, I can set up a route in advance.
So, at the end of the next pain-itch cycle, I got ready. Before, I could only hit nirvana with my eyes closed. Time to level up. I need to see what the demon's doing and keep control of my nervous system. No idea how fast impulses travel through cells. Catching them won't be easy. But my thought-speed buff will help. Yeah, I fucking mastered that. Electricity's wild shit. Who discovered it? Franklin, right? Man, Franklin, if you could see me now. If this works, I'll build you a fifty-foot gold statue. Nah, too pricey and sketchy—gotta guard it 24/7. What do they make statues out of these days? Something good. Don't worry, I won't use shit.
While I was reminiscing about old Ben, Vyer stabbed my arm with some crooked hook, and all my prep went to fuck. Screw you, Franklin. Never liked you anyway.
I had to wait a damn long time for another shot. Not like waiting on a cushy couch, feet up, sipping fragrant coffee while a hot secretary with a perfect smile calls you in. More like standing knee-deep in shit at a 5 a.m. bus stop under acid rain, blasting Slipknot with max distortion in your earbuds, waiting for a rusty, packed yellow bus to drag you to hard labor while it falls apart on a bumpy cobblestone road.
Still.
Attempt #2.
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Failure.
Whatever… It's fine… I'll get it eventually. But how much more of this shit do I have to take?
Attempt #3.
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Failure.
Hey, author, you're pissing me off. I swear, if I get out of this, I'll do every fucked-up thing you wrote about to you, got it?
Attempt #4.
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Failure.
When the dark hour came to the world,
No one wanted it, no one called.
All the people wait, weep, and wail,
Unsure what God has willed to prevail…
Alright, pull it together… Gotta fucking pull it together, damn it! Let's go! Open the chakras! Roger, open the chakras! Clear the mind! Roger, clear the mind! Focus the third eye! Hell yeah, focus the third eye! Spit three times over my shoulder! Roger—wait, you dumbass, how am I supposed to do that? I can't even move my head. Screw it, let's roll!
I sent a bit of juice to my brain, speeding it up. I see the demon aiming for my shoulder. The buff's working—time's slowing down. I spot the strike point. The needle's about to hit skin. Map the route. Time's running out. The hit's near my neck—reacting's impossible. Gotta play ahead. Create a reverse flow. Current can't go both ways at once. Penetration. Redirect! Hold it! The pain won't vanish; I've gotta keep guiding the flow. It's working! Yes! I fucking did it! But this is far from over. Vyer's got about thirty of those long, sharp rods. Hope I can handle every one. It's tough as hell, but I'll hold on. Lose control of one wound, and the rest will cascade like dominoes.
Second needle, leg. Easier to react, but managing two flows is a bitch. I'm holding. Third, arm. Nailed it! Three flows now, great. Brain's not tired yet, but mana's draining faster. Fourth, leg. Caught it! Fifth, thigh. Got it again! I'm getting the hang of this. Merge the flows, and they're easier to control. Sixth, wrist…
After the thirteenth, my control snapped. I screamed in pain. Tried again, but no fucking way. I hit my limit. Still had mana, but my focus ran dry. After the tenth, I got cocky and didn't map the route in time when Vyer stabbed my other shoulder. Back to suffering…
After the eighteenth needle, something weird happened. A blue notification window popped up. I was writhing too much to read it. Since Vyer kept at his dirty work, he probably didn't see it. Thank fuck, he stopped at twenty-two today. Lazy bastard… When I could finally think straight, I read the message:
/ Congratulations, you've earned a title! /
// Endurer //
/ Condition: Receive 10,000 points of damage /
/ Title Bonus: Regeneration speed increased by 100% /
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YOU FUCKING DIE, YOU PIECE-OF-SHIT BASTARDS! FUCKING ASSHOLES, I FUCKED YOUR MOMS IN THE MOUTH, YOU PATCHED-UP CUNTS! I'LL KILL YOU ALL, YOU BITCHES! I'LL CUT YOU TO PIECES! YOU'RE ALL FUCKED! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU! I'LL RIP YOUR ASSHOLES TO YOUR THROATS, YOU FREAKS! I'LL FUCKING MURDER EVERYONE! EVERY SINGLE ONE! I'LL FUCKING TEAR YOU APART!!!!