Chương 8: Blind Fury

The most extended blue window that he'd seen yet appeared in his vision. Status Name: Jonathan Reeves - Level 3 Class: None HP: 60/60 MP: 38/50 Traits: (1/3) {Rage} Physical Stats: Strength: 7 Agility: 7 Constitution: 6 Vitality: 5 Magical Stats: Intellect: 6 Willpower: 8 Mana: 5 Wisdom: 6 Free Points: 6 Active Skills: [Rending Strike] (Novice - Level 1) Passive Skills: (None) He was impressed and startled that it had rated his physicality based on numbers.

There seemed to be an average, and he was pleased that his physical stats were likely above average. It made sense then that Free Points were points that he could apply to his own stats. Jonathan was skeptical that just by applying the points, he could almost double his physical strength. Before he made any decisions, he wanted to poke around through the window more. Focusing on {Rage}, he willed more information to appear and hoped to get a description as he did for his skill.

A feeling of satisfaction washed over him as it appeared. {Rage}: - Greatly enhances Strength, Constitution, and Vitality, significantly boosting physical power and regenerative abilities. Triggered specifically by intense anger and rage, persisting until exhaustion or a return to calm. He read through the description a few times.

While he had a general understanding of what Constitution and Vitality were, just from their normal definitions, he had a hard time believing that this System could increase them by so much he could regenerate as he had been. I really should have been dead a dozen times over. Jonathan looked down at his hands and saw that while his knuckles and forearms were healthy, there were several lines of fresh skin marking where he'd been cut.

The soft pink skin looked so out of place on his sun-tanned skin, and it lacked the arm hair to match the rest of his arm. Reading the trait description one last time, he felt a bit annoyed that it didn't say anything about blacking out or losing memories during the activation. He dismissed the window and found that he didn't much care. Reopening his Status Window, he briefly considered what to do with the Free Points. In his mind, there wasn't much of a choice.

He put four points into Strength and two into Agility. While he could see the appeal of more Constitution or Vitality, he didn't really care much about increasing his survival rate. He wanted to take down as many of the trolls as he possibly could. More power and being more agile could only help that goal. Feeling like he'd accomplished what he needed to, Jonathan dismissed the window feeling a bit sour that the System was so responsive and easy to use.

Jonathan leaned his head back against the warm stone and watched the shadows lengthen around him. The strange sun continued to drop toward the horizon. Even though his vantage point was limited, nestled between formations as he was, he could look directly up and see the sky begin to get painted in colors that seemed wrong for a sunset. He tried to focus on planning his attack, but in reality, the plan was simple, and in the stillness, other thoughts began to creep in. Marcus always loved sunsets.

Jonathan could remember a video call during his son's first deployment where he'd described the Afghan sunset. He talked about how similar it looked to Washington's but how different it felt. Jonathan had pretended not to hear the slight tremor in his boy's voice, resting just beneath the brave face he was putting on. The memory hit him hard. His chest tightened and he pressed his palms into his eyes to try and force the memory away.

But, for the first time since the notification officers had appeared at his door, he couldn't push the grief down with the need for action. His son's face and more memories flooded his mind. Marcus at graduation. Marcus in his dress blues. Marcus coaching David through his college applications- always the big brother. Thoughts of the next few months also filled his mind, and one in particular hurt the most. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Marcus's empty chair at the dinner table during Christmas the following month. A raw and unfamiliar sob tore from his throat. The sound echoed off the stone walls around him, and Jonathan quickly clamped his mouth shut and gritted his teeth. The camp wasn't far, and sound carried strangely in the rocky terrain. Jonathan couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. Emma's funeral, maybe? He'd stayed strong then- for the boys. But there, in the alien world with only stone and silence as companions…

the dam finally broke. Silent tears tracked down his weathered and blood-smeared face. Years of stored grief finally found release. He thought of David, alone at Columbia. His youngest had Emma's gentle heart. Even as a boy, he'd always had a drive to heal rather than harm. The same drive that had caused their falling out when David chose medicine over military service. Now David will have no one. No mother, no brother, and soon no father. He's better off. The thought rang hollow.

He knew it was a lie, a weak attempt to justify what he was about to do and his failure as a father to mend their broken relationship. David deserved better than to lose his entire family. He deserved more than a father who chose revenge over his remaining son. Jonathan sat with those thoughts as the strange sun continued its slow descent. The guilt and grief washed over him in waves, each one threatening to pull him under. An hour passed—maybe more—and Jonathan had a hard time keeping track of things.

The sun painted the alien sky in deep purples and reds that seemed wrong, almost like a photograph with the colors shifted. The camp beyond the rocks had grown quiet as darkness fell. He could barely hear the guttural voices or movement of large bodies in and out of the camp. Jonathan wiped his face one final time and pushed himself up to his feet while grabbing both of his axes.

His body felt heavy with both physical and emotional exhaustion, but he was surprised to find that his mind felt more clear than at any time since he'd entered the Rift. The grief remained as a constant ache in his chest, but it sat with him as something he would carry with him into the next fight. He knew that the pain and anguish would fuel the fire that could help him take down more of the trolls. He crept out of his hiding place and could feel the sweat in his palms being soaked up by the dried leather grips.

Jonathan did his best to keep low and in the shadows of the larger formations until he reached the edge of the firelight. Three trolls lounged near the closest fire, passing a chunk of meat between them. Jonathan felt a now familiar heat building in his chest. His hands tightened on the axes as memories of Marcus and his own choices with David fueled his anger. Rushing forward, Jonathan did his best to organize his roiling thoughts so that he could activate [Rending Strike].

He felt significant resistance compared to when he'd activated it the first time. This only served to frustrate him further, and just before the first axe blow struck the rock troll's skin, the skill activated. The blow caught the troll at the base of his neck, and the enhanced strike bit deep. As the skill flexed his muscles and pulled his arm toward his body, the gash grew wider, and dark blood sprayed across the fire.

Shouts of alarm rose from the others around the fire, but Jonathan was already kicking the limp body away from him and leaping toward the next unprepared troll. In his anger and semi-raged state, he leaped further and faster than he had planned. He still had both axes raised to strike but was forced to turn his forward momentum into a headbutt. His vision flashed white as his skull connected with the troll's carapace, and he blacked out to a sickening crack that echoed through his mind.

Jonathan's eyes cracked open to a dim darkness. Stone pressed against his stomach and cheek. The next thing that he noticed was the thick metallic scent of blood in the air. As his vision adjusted, he could make out the broken shapes of bodies scattered across the cave floor. Shattered stone limbs caught what little light filtered in from the entrance. His muscles protested as he pushed himself to his feet. Blue windows cluttered his vision, but he ignored them, focusing instead on finding his way out of the cave.

"Fuck off," he mumbled, his voice coming out a harsh whisper. Judging by their builds, he stumbled over fragments of what had once been warriors, both male and female. As he reached the mouth of the cave, the rising sun coated the landscape in pale oranges and reds. He stopped at the opening and saw more bodies littering the ground outside, creating paths of destruction that led both toward and away from the cave mouth.

Jonathan stood at the threshold, dawn casting his shadow back into the cave as he looked over the carnage before him. He looked down at his own hands for several long heartbeats before his knees hit the ground. He wanted to scream, to pound his fist against the stone until it broke, but exhaustion had settled deep in his bones. The rage that had sustained him felt distant.

While part of him was grateful for that distance, another part just wished for the now-familiar feeling of falling back into his consciousness as the darkness took him. His hands trembled as he reached for one of his axes, noting how the stone blade held several chips in its sturdy blade. Despite the combat it had seen, it still held its edge. Another blue window appeared before him, and he lifted his eyes to scan the text. Congratulations, Awakened! You have gained a Title!

You gain: Title - One Against Many He dismissed the window before forcing himself to his feet. He walked out of the now desolate camp with his boots dragging across the dry, rocky ground. The next two days passed in a blur of survival. Jonathan followed the paths between water sources that he noticed during his initial scouting. He drank from the pools of murky water, uncaring of the potential bacteria or sickness within.

He caught several of the armored rats with simple snares made from strips of leather taken from dead troll weapons and clothing. Each night, he made camp in defensible positions. He looked specifically for small caves or spaces between boulders that would funnel any attackers into killing zones. He slept late and woke at the slightest sound. He encountered smaller groups of trolls, engaging them at every opportunity. Blue windows appeared after each blackout, but he dismissed them without reading.

Every time he embraced the darkness, he would wake feeling disappointed and find any wounds or injuries sustained had healed. Jonathan continued to work his way deeper into the strange terrain and eventually found signs of increased troll activity. At the end of his second day, he found tracks that led to a massive settlement built into the face of a cliff. He found a position with good sightlines and settled in to do some reconnaissance.

He saw dozens of trolls moving to the camp with purpose, all of them deferring to a massive figure that had emerged from the main cave. That must be the chieftain. The chieftain stood head and shoulders above the others. His stone hide was marked with deep grooves that Jonathan assumed were some sort of decorative scarring. The massive creature carried a weapon that looked like a combination of a hammer and an ax. The head of the hammer was easily as large as Jonathan's torso.

His lips slowly curled into a smile, and he felt like he may have truly found his match.