Chương 17: Viral

Jonathan slumped against a blood-stained stone wall. His new tactical vest hung in tatters and the enchanted leather gloves on his hands were slick with harpy blood. Sweat mixed with spattered blood, threatening to drip into his eyes. He wiped his forehead with the back of the gloves, which wasn't very effective. Each of his breaths burned his lungs and came in gasps.

He knew that his stamina had improved massively, especially with his [Raging Breath] skill, but if the sun in the sky was any indicator of how long he'd been fighting, it had been for hours. Guess more stamina means more time to Rage. It was a frightening thought. If he continued to improve, would he be stuck in a rage longer and longer? A blue window appeared in his vision. {Rage} has ended. Exhaustion debuff applied. He cursed at the window, and it disappeared.

He didn't need the System to tell him that he was exhausted. His muscles trembled, and his throat burned. Harpy corpses littered the courtyard. Their broken wings and twisted bodies were evidence of the violence that had just ended. The stench of blood mixed with the ancient smell of the ruins around him. Jonathan knew that if he used [Raging Breath], it would help his recovery. Or at least hold off the exhaustion for a while longer, but he wasn't sure if becoming dependent on it was wise.

The temptation was great, especially knowing that the breathing technique would steady his hands and help clear the fog in his mind. But he'd seen what happened to other Rangers who relied too heavily on stimulants in the field. Even though the cost wasn't so high most of the time, he felt that some prices weren't worth paying. A portal had opened just a few dozen feet away. Its ethereal blue light cast strange shadows on the stones and vines around him.

Blood dripped from his arm where a harpy talon found soft flesh and ripped. It was odd to see the wound already healed, leaving only the blood to mark it was ever there. I need sleep, food, and a shower. The thought of his bed at the temporary housing did a great deal to motivate him to his feet. His boots left red prints as they scraped against the ground as he began to walk to the portal. Each step felt heavier than the previous one.

After experiencing it so many times, he had come to realize that the exhaustion after {Rage} wasn't purely physical, it was also mental. It clouded his thoughts and made most of his actions feel sluggish. Jonathan stepped through the portal and staggered as freezing November air hit his sweat-soaked clothes. The contrast was jarring; to move from hot ancient ruins to a freezing desolate parking lot behind one of Massachusetts's abandoned mill buildings.

His breath formed clouds in the cold air, and the setting sun cast long shadows between the weathered brick structures. What the hell?

"Mr. Reeves!"

"Look, it's him! Over here!"

"Can you tell us about the Rift?" The voices hammered at him from all directions. Lifting his arm to partially cover his eyes with his forearm, he tried to count the reporters but gave up after reaching a dozen. News vans had blocked off Canal Street with their satellite dishes pointed skyward against the backdrop of century-old factory windows. There was also a small crowd of locals had gathered behind a hastily erected police barrier. Most of them had their phones raised and pointed in his direction.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Someone had leaked their location. Damn it, Elijah. This was supposed to be quiet. The young agent stood between him and the press crowd with his work suit pristine as always. His hands were raised as he tried to keep the reporters back.

"Please, everyone step back. Give him space to exit the portal." More camera flashes. More shouting. The exhaustion debuff made everything worse and turned the chaos into a blur of noise and movement.

"Is it true you cleared another Rift alone?"

"What kind of monsters were inside?"

"That's a lot of blood, are you injured? Do we need to get a medical vehicle on site?" He walked forward onto the street, keeping his arm raised caused the blood to catch the wind as it gusted against him. The reporters' eyes locked onto the red droplets. Camera lenses zoomed in. Great. Jonathan figured that the next day's headlines would probably call him a murderer or a monster. He really didn't like the media and knew that everyone had an agenda to push. A woman in a military-style jacket pushed forward.

"Patty, The Boston Globe. Your recent solo clears have gotten a lot of attention in the last two weeks. People are calling you the Crimson Warrior. Any comment?" I just want to sleep.

"Why do you do it?" Another, younger reporter pushed forward.

"These solo Rift clears are incredibly dangerous. The Hunter's Association says the mortality rate is over sixty percent, even for trained teams." The first part of the question rang in Jonathan's mind, easily cutting though his exhaustion. Why do I do it? The faces of his sons flashed through his mind. Elijah stepped forward using his professional voice that grated on Jonathan's nerves.

"The Hunter's Association values Mr. Reeves's contribution to public safety. His successes demonstrate the effectiveness of managed and supported Awakened who are led-""Is it for the money?" Another reporter cut in.

"The Mana Stones?"

"No." The word came out before he could stop it. The fog over his mind was making it harder to keep his walls up.

"It's not about the money."

"Then why risk your life?" The young reporter pressed once again.

"You've cleared more Rifts alone in two weeks than many of the teams we've been able to track." Elijah took a step back and smiled apologetically at Jonathan.

"They want to hear it from you, Mr. Reeves. I can try to keep pushing them off." He stepped forward and said more quietly, "If you don't give them something, they're just going to speculate and press you even more." Jonathan's hands were clenched by his side.

"For my sons." Surprised, he heard his own voice come through clearly, despite the ache he felt in his chest. The crowd grew quiet, and the camera flashes slowed.

"My oldest, Marcus." There was a hitch in his throat, and his eyes blurred. He coughed into his hand to clear his throat and compose himself.

"He was stationed at JBLM and was sent into one of the first Rifts…" His voice fluctuated again and he couldn't finish the sentence without cracking fully.

"And your other son?" Someone asked softly. What he was trying to hold together cracked within his heart. Knowing that his son was likely up late and studying hard, the image hit him like a hammer. His son was safe there, away from all this. Away from what he was becoming. How many times have I almost died in these Rifts? What would that do to David?

"He's a pre-med student. Following his mother's path." His voice wavered again, and he raised his head.

"I do this so he never has to face what's in these Rifts. So no other parent has to bury their child." Guilt over his recent, reckless behavior washed over Jonathan, and he felt completely alone as silence fell over the crowd. Two of the reporters had lowered their cameras completely, others watched on through their lenses. Said too much. But it's true. He realized that he'd grown away from trying to call David and reconnect in the last two weeks. Part of that was from his reckless abandon and desire for revenge.

Part of that was to prevent his son from worrying and focusing on the mission before him. The more Rifts he could close, the fewer sons and daughters might be lost. Jonathan turned and walked toward the black SUV. His boots had become sticky with the blood as the cold November weather caused it to congeal. As he walked away, the reporters stayed silent and didn't call after him with more questions. Elijah hurried ahead to unlock the doors.

The new government vehicle still had the fresh leather smell and Jonathan felt a practical bit of guilt knowing that he was about to get it so dirty. He dropped into the passenger seat, leaving a bloody handprint on the clean interior.

"Sorry about the seats."

"Don't worry about it," Elijah said as he slid behind the wheel. He paused before putting it in drive.

"That was good back there. Real. I know you didn't do it for the reasons I'm thinking, but I do think it will do people good to know that you're here doing this for such a real reason." Jonathan leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His chest still felt tight from the admission about David.

"Just wake me up when we get back to the hotel. I need to make a call later." Maybe it's time to try harder with David.