Chapter 170: The Crimson Tide [11]
The figure leaned in close. And whispered.
"Nothing personal, boy. You shouldn’t have seen us." Her voice was almost apologetic.
Then suddenly, Alaric’s grip tightened on her wrist.
His other hand found her forearm.
Blood filled his mouth, but swallowed it down.
"Same here," he rasped.
Heat erupted in his palms.
Fire crackled across his fingers, spreading up his forearms. The air around his hands shimmered with heat.
The woman’s eyes widened. She tried to pull back.
But—
[Flame Burst!]
BOOM!
The explosion tore through the space between them. A sphere of fire expanding outward in all directions. The woman was thrown backward, her blade ripping free from Alaric’s stomach as she flew. She hit a tree trunk hard enough to crack the bark.
The other three staggered, thrown off balance by the shockwave. Heat scorched their cloaks.
Alaric didn’t wait. He dove backward, putting distance between himself and them. His hand went to his stomach, blood soaking through his shirt, hot and sticky. The wound was bad. Really bad.
Shop.
The system panel materialized in his vision. Still glitching—text flickering in and out, edges distorted like the interface itself was struggling to stay manifested.
[Domination Points: 8,200]
[Health Potion: 500 DP]
He selected it and confirmed the purchase.
The vial materialized in his hand. He yanked the cork with his teeth, spat it aside, and chugged the contents in two desperate gulps.
Bitter.
Tasting like copper and something medicinal that made his throat burn.
But it worked.
The pain in his stomach dulled. Not gone, just... manageable.
He looked down. The wound was closing. Flesh knitting back together, blood flow slowing to a seep instead of a pour.
The shoulder wound too and the cut on his forearm. All were mending.
Alaric dropped the empty vial and fell into a fighting stance. Feet spread, weight balanced, hands up. Fire still crackling across his knuckles despite the headache starting to build behind his eyes.
The woman pushed herself away from the tree. She rolled her shoulders, testing for damage. A burn mark scorched across her cloak where the flame burst had caught her.
The four men spread out wider. Moving with more caution now.
Alaric’s vision swam for a moment. He blinked hard, forced it to clear.
Not now.
The first man came at him, knife low, aiming for his legs.
Alaric sidestepped. His fist, wreathed in flame, drove into the man’s ribs. The fire burned through fabric and into flesh. The man screamed and stumbled back, clutching his side.
The second was already moving. Faster than the first. Blade coming for Alaric’s throat.
Alaric ducked under it. Swept the man’s legs. He went down hard.
But the third was there before Alaric could capitalize. A heavy punch caught him in the jaw. His head snapped to the side, stars exploding across his vision.
He tasted blood. Spat it out and threw an elbow that connected with something soft. The man grunted and backed off.
The woman hadn’t moved yet. Just watched. Studying his movements. Looking for weaknesses.
Alaric’s breathing was getting harder. Each inhale felt like it took more effort than it should.
The fire in his hands flickered, not from lack of will, but from his essence destabilizing.
But stopping meant dying.
The fourth man came from his blind side. Alaric turned too slow, his body lagging behind his mind’s commands.
The blade opened a line across his back. Not deep, but enough to make him gasp and stumble forward.
The woman moved then.
Her wire shot out. Wrapped around Alaric’s ankle before he could react. She yanked.
He hit the ground hard, all the air leaving his lungs.
She was on him immediately. Knee pressing into his chest. Dagger raised high.
Alaric’s hand shot up. Grabbed her wrist. Fire flared, trying to burn her, make her let go.
She didn’t even flinch. Her other hand came down and slammed into his throat. Not to crush it, just enough pressure to cut off his air.
"Stay down," she said coldly.
Black spots danced at the edges of Alaric’s vision.
The dizziness was worse than before. His head throbbed with each pulse of his heart.
The fire in his hands sputtered and died.
The woman raised her dagger again.
Alaric’s vision tunneled. Everything narrowing to just her face, the blade catching moonlight, the pressure on his throat.
But he pushed through them all and pressed his hands against her stomach where he’d grabbed her to push her off.
One last chance.
He dug deep. Past the exhaustion. Past the pain. Past the warnings screaming in his head about essence depletion and destabilization.
Heat gathered in his palms.
His lips moved. Barely a whisper. Barely audible even to himself.
"Flame... Burst."
The woman’s eyes widened. She tried to pull back—
BOOM!
The explosion erupted between them.
The woman was launched backward.
Alaric lay on the forest floor. His chest heaving.
Everything hurt. His vision blurred worse than before. The pain in his head exploded.
Then, his eyes started to glow. He rolled over, coughing. Blood splattered across the dirt and dead leaves. His hand clawed at the ground, trying to find purchase, trying to push himself up.
"Damn... it." His other hand shot to his head, fingers digging into his scalp.
Through his hazy vision, he could make out shapes moving. The hooded figures getting back to their feet.
They were fine. Only minor injuries. While he could barely stay conscious.
"Ugh!" His vision doubled.
The trees above spinning in circles. The throbbing in his head intensified.
[WARNING: Essence destabilized]
[WARNING: Leave the area IMMEDIATELY]
[Host mental state: UNSTABLE]
[LEAVE ASAP!]
The notifications flashed rapid-fire across his vision. Red text. Urgent. Insistent.
But he couldn’t do anything about them. Could barely process the words. His body wouldn’t respond to his commands anymore.
The woman pushed herself upright. Her cloak was scorched, face smudged with soot and dirt. But her eyes were cold.
She looked at Alaric, bleeding, barely conscious on the ground.
"Finish him," she said.
One of the hooded figures adjusted his grip on his blade. Nodded and just as he turned to move—
A voice cut through the forest.
"Die, wermling."
CRACKLE!