Chapter 24 – Aftermath
Seth gritted his teeth as he braced his left hand against his mangled right.
With a sharp motion, he forced the broken bone back into place.
"Gh—!"
A strangled gasp ripped from his throat. The world tilted white with pain. Every muscle in his body wanted to scream, to convulse, but he locked his jaw until his teeth ached, refusing to let his voice break loose.
Sweat rolled down his temples. He twirled his wrist experimentally—still raw, still burning, but no longer bent at an impossible angle. It would have to do.
Breathing shallowly, he staggered toward the lizard's collapsed corpse. Its body looked smaller now, robbed of its menace in death, though the stink of blood and charred scales filled the air.
One thought, and the sword embedded in its head shrank, then faded, returning to the black tattoo along his forearm.
Seth stood over the beast that had nearly ended him, gaze clouded. His expression revealed nothing, but his silence spoke of things unsaid—relief, fury, even a trace of respect. Finally, he bent down and pried open the cracked skull, fingers slick with blood, and retrieved the core.
It looked almost identical to the others he had collected—small, round, only finger-width. Yet it wasn't the same. Within its glassy surface, faint colorless motes drifted lazily, swirling around a hidden center like particles in water.
The sight brought to mind the translucent energy that had sheathed the beast's body, the barrier his blade had failed against.
He frowned. It felt Different from the energy with which he saturated his core… The distinction was there, though slippery, just out of reach. Was this what set Novice rank apart? Maybe something he could only unlock once he advanced himself?
He didn't know. Not yet.
Sliding the core into his palm, he rose, wobbling. His body screamed with every step. He staggered to where he had kept his pouch of cores, that was sometime buried beneath debris during the fight, shoving aside rubble until his fingers brushed the cloth. Relief softened his shoulders as he tucked the new core inside.
Then he froze.
Screeches echoed in the night. Roars answered in the distance. The noise of their battle had carried far. Others were coming.
No time to rest.
Seth lurched into motion, slipping through the broken gates of the school. Outside, five wolves prowled into view, red eyes glinting under the moonlight. Their growls rumbled low, their menance real, but they were much weaker—mere level threes and fours.
Even injured, Seth's blade whispered out in one sweep. A silver arc cut the night, and five bodies collapsed before they realized they'd been struck.
He didn't stop moving.
Behind him, the school groaned. A deep rumble followed, and he turned just in time to see the library's skeleton collapse inward. Clouds of dust exploded upward as stone and vines caved in.
Then another section fell. And another. Like dominos, the ruin swallowed itself piece by piece.
Seth stared through the haze. He remembered the pillars he'd been smashed through, the cracks spiderwebbing unseen. He exhaled slowly.
Lucky I got out when I did.
Turning away, he pressed on, dragging his battered body forward. Every muscle trembled. His ribs stabbed at each breath. Blood loss weighed him down like lead. But stopping here was death.
Step by step, he slipped past prowling beasts, keeping to the shadows, until at last he found a half-collapsed residential house. He forced his way inside, climbing the groaning staircase to the second floor.
A bedroom. Dusty, but standing. It was enough.
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, chest heaving. His trembling fingers reached for the pouch. He wanted—needed—to tally his gains, to see how much he could level up, maybe even rank up, before his body gave out.
But his head spun. The world tilted.
The moment he relaxed a bit, the adrenaline that had carried him this far drained away like water through cracks. Pain roared back in full, every wound screaming louder than before. His body sagged.
"Not yet…" he rasped, reaching weakly for the pouch. But his strength betrayed him.
His head struck the floorboards. Vision blurred. The world dissolved into darkness.
Unconscious.
Yet even as his mind fled, his body began its quiet work. His elevated physique stirred, knitting flesh, mending bone. Slow, agonizingly slow. At this rate, three—maybe four weeks until full recovery.
I would be fast, if he could rise again. Faster, if he could level up. Faster still, if he could reach Novice.
For now, though—only silence filled the room.
And Seth slept.