Chương 18: This woman is not that bad

He woke up on a bed. That was at least one pleasant thing in the cacophony of unpleasantness that was his body. He was in a small room that felt more like a cell, with walls made of stone and one small window covered with bars. The room was spartan, with almost no furniture but a few wooden beds, though calling those things 'beds' would be a high praise. More like a collection of cheap mattresses on an elevation.

The light that was coming from the window indicated that it was either dawn, dusk, or a very cloudy day. Not really helpful. He was alone. Everything hurt like hell. Even ignoring his numerous wounds, the toll of having a high intensity hike for the first time in his life was fucking high. Every muscle in his body that could be considered unharmed screamed at him for even the smallest of movements. Even breathing was painful, like he some-fucking-how overworked his breathing muscles. There were also the wounds.

He couldn't see most of them as he was covered in bandages but it felt like at least a half of his body was covered in bruises, most likely from that first fall when he stumbled. He still didn't know if he'd broken any bones then, and he didn't dare to move now to check. He felt two distinct lines of hot pain on his torso, one long and diagonal at the front, and one horizontal at his left side. The sword and the spear, his Mind whispered. Scratches, then, but maybe they would leave cool scars.

Did he even want to have cool scars? He wasn't a scar person. A proper superhero didn't have scars, being too cool to be wounded like that, or having regeneration. Exceptions existed, but he wasn't really fond of them. Usually a scarred superhero indicated more of a gritty realism in the setting, and he didn't like those at all. As a rule of thumb, if a hero could be threatened by swords or guns then that hero was too weak for him to enjoy. He loved his heroes punching gods, not stitching wounds in an alley.

He decided that he was undecided on having scars, but it's not like he had a choice for now. Until he got some cool regeneration, he would have to deal with having a few scars. And honestly, it wasn't the scars that were worrying him. And not even the general state of feeling like a beaten vegetable. His right arm hurt like it was burning in the fire. And he couldn't move it. At all. It was there, thankfully. But anything below his elbow might as well not exist.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn't twitch a finger. It just hurt, and that was the extent of what it could do. Would he learn a lesson and invest in Constitution to not repeat the outcome of this fight and to hopefully heal his arm? He released a weak chuckle, instantly wincing from pain. Yeah, no shot. Fuck Constitution. The only reason he was even able to go one against a fucking army was his overwhelming speed. Well, that and him being kind of good with the whole fighting thing.

Would he even need both arms if his enemies were moving like in molasses? No. No, he would not. Trying to cover a weakness instead of increasing strength was a coward's approach that would lead to a stupid-ass build that was equally not horrible at everything. He already had a stupid-ass build in his mind and he didn't need another, thank you very much. If this fight had taught him at least one lesson, it wasn't that he needed more endurance. It was that he needed more conviction. And he learned it.

He was committed. He was going to either die or become the fastest man in the universe. He needed to grind. And maybe save a few more people along the way. Actually, the saving part was kind of important now since he needed that to be able to wield his full power, not that he minded it much. The restriction of his skill was annoying to work around, but at least it was the right kind of annoying, the cool kind. Like Thor's hammer that could be wielded only by the worthy. He was, of course, worthy.

The outlines of a very simple plan were forming. He just needed to get out there, find people who had both somehow survived all this time and were in imminent danger at the same time, save them with a cheeky smile, and repeat that until godhood. The need to save people was a bit cumbersome and would probably reduce his leveling efficiency quite a lot, but hey, he wasn't doing this to just become a speedster, but a hero. He already was, in his mind, so of course he would help out a few normies.

That was the whole point of it. He just hoped that humanity hadn't died out while he was asleep. That would be awkward. Unfortunately, the plan had a few minor flaws. Notably the fact that he couldn't get out of bed and felt a bit feverish. He would die out of shame if he died because of wound infection, it didn't look like the goblins were used to sterilizing their weapons, but eh. He'll be fine. Despite the apocalypse they lived in a modern society, surely people disinfected his wounds and had some antibiotics.

Probably. He was reasonably sure that it was the case. The bandages on his body looked like they were applied by someone who knew what they were doing, at least. Also finding the people who were both still alive and yet findable and in danger could be a problem, but he'd figure something out. It was a strange feeling, being a bit feverish and having a supernatural clarity of mind at the same time, but he couldn't say he disliked it. It allowed him to think things through in a state that should've been delirious.

Still, he was tired. Just being awake got him tired, and he needed to recover as fast as possible, so without anything better to do than rest, he went back to sleep. / - / If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. He woke up to the feeling of something wet and cold touching his forehead. Groaning from the pain that still coursed through his body, he opened his eyes. There was no light coming from the window, he noted. It was night outside.

The room was illuminated by a small candle. Someone was standing beside him, wiping the sweat from his body. He couldn't see their face in the darkness.

"M-mom?"

"No. It's me," the woman said. It was Nancy's voice. Right, the wife-woman.

"Your fever is getting worse. Here, drink this." She gave him a pill and a glass of water. He winced when he tried to grab it with his hand. Ugh. That one was still a problem. She helped him drink, pulling the glass close to his face as he took small sips.

"What…"

"It's Tylenol," she said quietly.

"It should help lower the temperature."

"You're some kind of doctor?" he mumbled.

"You don't need to be a doctor to know this," she said.

"But yes. In a way. I'm a nurse."

"That's… that's cool," he said, looking at the ceiling.

"You should spec to be our priest."

"I'm not a good candidate to become a priest," she said, unwrapping the bandages on his arm.

"After all, I don't believe in God." He smelled alcohol and winced when she started cleaning the wound.

"We're in the fort, right?" he asked.

"How's it going? Is the human race still around?"

"I hope it is," she said.

"Everyone here is fine, at least. We're making small excursions out of the fort to gather the food and water from the nearby stores, and that works for now. Though I am afraid that feeding almost fifty people would be a constant problem to deal with. Michael has been a great help in organising all of the people."

"Who's that?"

"He worked as a supervisor in the fort. Was in the military before that, and it shows. People were scared and restless, but things are much more orderly now. I think we lucked out by having him here."

"How long was I out?"

"A full day at this point."

"No rescue helicopters yet? Radio? Internet?"

"Nothing," she shook her head.

"Phones have no connection anymore, and there is no news of anyone else surviving. Sometimes I wonder if we're the only ones left, because of you." He raised his eyebrow at that. Come on. Praise me.

"I've been… unfair to you," she said, placing her hand on her shoulder.

"In my thoughts, I mean. I thought you were a delusional kid with way too much power to be reasoned with and no grasp on the reality of our situation. It was like you were playing a game while people were trying to survive." She smiled weakly.

"It always looked so easy for you," she continued.

"Like you didn't take it seriously. But… I saw how you fight when it's not easy for you. You were ready to die for us. So… I'm sorry, Dennis. For thinking about you like that." That wasn't exactly the kind of praise that he had in mind. Could it even be considered praise? She was doing this wrong.

"Could it be said," he said carefully.

"I mean, is there a way to rephrase what you said to mean that… That I was, like, a hero?" She chuckled.

"Yes," she said.

"You were a hero, Dennis. Almost fifty people owe you their lives. Now rest. I can see you wavering." He let the darkness take him again with a smile on his face. / - / He woke up feeling way better in the morning. The burning pain in his muscles was replaced with a combination of soreness and general weakness. The few scratches that he got almost didn't hurt unless he poked a finger in them or something. He was even able to move the fingers of his right hand a little bit when he tried.

The day was shaping up to be great! He was ready to go and kill more goblins. He got a bit dizzy when he sat up, but it passed. After getting up from his bed he made a few slow steps towards the door, then promptly turned around and sat back down. Okay, a cane would be helpful. Or a few more days of rest. Nah, he needed to be in action as fast as possible. Some moderate exercise would only help. Like reaching the bathroom. Did they even have a bathroom here? Was plumbing still a thing? Running water? Toilet paper?

Oh gods, they were thrown right into the middle ages. Extra soft four-ply toilet paper would be a thing of the past. He needed to save the human race and revive the toilet paper industry before the current stockpiles of it were empty. Thankfully, a bazillion people were probably already dead, so there wouldn't be much demand for what was left. Carefully, by placing one foot in front of the other and making frequent rests, he managed to walk out of his room to explore his new heroic base and maybe find the bathroom.

It took time, and effort, and stairs, but he shuffled his way out of 'dorms' and into the inner courtyard. He expected to see a hive of organized activity, after all there was supposed to be about fifty people trying to secure a safe space to live, but what greeted him looked more like one would expect to see in a park on holiday. A lot of people were lounging on the grass and quietly talking between themselves. A bunch of kids were playing ball, and he could see Lucas among them.

The sun felt pleasant on his skin, and sometimes he could hear laughter. People were relaxing. He heard the twang of a bow and the world almost slowed down as his instincts screamed at him to dodge. He jumped left, fast enough to be a blur, hurting and almost failing on his ass as he changed his position before the arrow could hit him. He tried to grab his sword but it wasn't there. His dagger wasn't there. Shit.

His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for the archer as he crouched, preparing to–"Oh shit it's Dennis!" Lily shouted excitedly, running towards him and enveloping him in a hug. He stood frozen as she chattered at him, jumping from topic to topic as she talked about the mean boy that she pranked, the grownups who were stupid, the food that wasn't tasty and the weather that was really nice.

"Language!" Nancy shouted back, approaching and grabbing him by the arm, helping him to stand up.

"I've got you. Are you okay? It's too early for you to go out on your own like this."

"I'm… fine?" he said slowly, his eyes still roaming in search of the archer before he spotted Ness on the wall. She held a bow in her hand, and gave him a small nod before picking another arrow and releasing it somewhere outside the fort. The tension in his body faded.

"Just a bit tired, but I thought a small walk would be good for me. Also, bathroom? I kinda need one. Do we have toilet paper? Please tell me we have some. We need to go for a raid if we don't, preferably right about now." She studied his face with concern, as if looking for something, before she nodded.

"I'll show you," she said as she started to lead him back inside.

"Then we should go back to your bed, okay? I'll bring you some soup."

"Fiiine," he didn't whine. Soup would be nice.

"Can you also bring me Muramasa?"

"What?"

"My sword."

"Why would you need it?"

"A true warrior cannot be seen without a sword," he switched to his true warrior voice.

"It is a part of a warrior's body, not lesser than an arm, for which I am currently in dire need of." Nancy did not look impressed.

"I mean," he whispered.

"It will make me feel better? It's like I'm on edge without it." Her expression softened, and she nodded.

"Okay."