Chapter 17: First Encounters of the Elven, Witch, and Masochist Kind (Part 2

“Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut.”

The man’s high-pitched voice was a wheezing rattle as he pressed forward, forcing Giddeon to back away. Long Beard spun his kukris in hypnotizing loops before catching them with practiced, lazy ease.

“Gaspen likes to cut things. Gaspen likes to open things up that hurt him. Gaspen will show you how pain heals, just like Gaspen heals.”

Boost Dex by twenty. How bad is it?

“I can’t see the wound, nor do I have access to your pain receptors,” Johnny replied.

Reaching behind his back, Giddeon felt something cold and wet. When he pulled his hand back, blood dripped from his fingertips.

Seeing this, Gaspen paused. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face as he placed the cold steel of one kukri against his forearm and ripped it back. Streams of dark blood flowed out of the gash, which Gaspen watched in euphoric fascination.

Never one to waste an opportunity, Giddeon reversed course, suddenly stepping forward. The world seemed to slow just a fraction as his boosted Dexterity kicked in, and he swung his axe in quick succession. As he did, pain erupted all along his back, screaming at him to stop, yet he ignored it.

Gaspen brought both kukris up to parry, but Giddeon’s attacks were too fast. The axe bypassed Long Beard’s defenses, carving long nicks across his arms and chest. As more blood poured from the man, his movements grew sluggish.

Rearing back, Giddeon feinted, tricking Gaspen into dodging to the side—exactly where he wanted him. With a hefty sideswipe, he delivered a devastating blow. The blade sank deep into the man’s chest, stopping only when it struck bone.

Blood spurted from Gaspen’s mouth, staining the stone beneath him red. Discarding one kukri, his hand shot out to grasp the axe handle just above Giddeon’s grip. Gritting his teeth, Long Beard grunted and pushed. Giddeon pushed back, forcing the blade deeper.

With a desperate heave, Gaspen shoved him away, using the momentum to spring nearly thirty feet back, creating a clear space between them.

Bleeding from multiple wounds, with a stream of dark liquid spurting freely from his chest, Long Beard laughed. Lifting his remaining kukri to his mouth, he ran his tongue along the wet steel, lapping up Giddeon’s blood from its edge.

“You give Gaspen such pleasure,” he wheezed, digging his fingers directly into the torn flesh of his own chest.

“He’s fast, and skilled at attacking,” Johnny observed. “But his defenses are lacking. I don’t think he cares if he gets hit.”

He’s a masochist.

Giddeon watched, transfixed, as the man’s lacerations knit together. The gaping, grievous wound on his chest began to fill with a sickening, rapid surge of new flesh.

His healing’s insane! Any ideas?

“I still haven’t spotted any lava pits yet. Have you?”

At Johnny’s words, Giddeon unconsciously glanced around. His eyes caught the deep basin nearby, and a sudden thought clicked in his head.

“Ohhh, smart,” Johnny lauded as he read his mind. “Boosting the requested stats now.”

With a sudden explosion of his legs, Giddeon crossed the distance separating him and Long Beard in a heartbeat. Planting his feet, he channeled that momentum into a brutal downward swing, cutting clean through flesh and bone. He winced as searing pain once more shot down his back—a grim reminder of the deep wound hampering his movements.

Gaspen, who merely stood in place, stared wide-eyed at Giddeon before numbly looking down. Lifting his left arm, nothing remained of his hand but a messy flesh-stump spurting blood in sync with his pounding heart.

Showing no mercy, Giddeon swung his axe once more, severing the other wrist.

Gaspen lifted both arms up, his gaze caught in a sort of sick fascination as his stumps sprayed blood like twin fountains. Slowly, his eyes wandered down, staring at his dismembered hands twitching on the stone. A large grin materialized on his lips.

Looking up, his eyes shone with pure adoration.

“Master! Gaspen has finally found you! Please, punish Gaspen more!”

Full in on Strength, Johnny!

Giddeon smirked, his hands shooting out to grab Long Beard’s vest near his throat. “Sure thing, pal,” he said, his boosted muscle hoisting the man easily into the air.

Pivoting, Giddeon carried him toward the water, all the while the man continued his mad babbling. Passing the shallow pool where the witch and elf had fallen, he paused at the edge of the deeper basin.

“Tell me, Gaspen, how well can you breathe underwater?”

Gaspen’s elated expression melted as the question’s meaning dawned on him. His lips curled into a snarl as he began kicking, biting, and screaming with animalistic fury, fighting to break free. To Giddeon’s amazement, the man’s stumps were already sprouting fresh flesh—baby-like fingers that feebly clawed at Giddeon’s arms in a desperate attempt to break his grip.

I thought he’d have to reattach his hands to heal them up.

“Some regenerators do, others don’t,” Johnny replied. “We now know which one he is.”

Giddeon stepped over the edge, dropping waist-deep into cold water. Gaspen squirmed harder in his arms, the man’s desperation building until the veins in his neck and forehead bulged.

“Lesson one of swimming,” Giddeon said succinctly. “Don’t drown.”

Grabbing him firmly by the neck, he thrust Gaspen’s head beneath the surface. The man thrashed and kicked with all his might, but Giddeon held him firm with his souped-up Strength.

“Gid, watch out!”

Uzari’s voice echoed from around the river bend.

Whipping his head to the side, Giddeon caught sight of the witch tearing across the basin’s surface, her feet magically skimming atop the water. Her arm reared back, razor-sharp talons aiming to pierce his defenseless chest. In that split second, he knew he had no time to dodge. His body and mind, however, reacted normally.

Dexteri—

BOOM!

The heavy crack of a rifle shattered the air. A hole burst through the witch’s abdomen as the bullet tore into her, sending her body flinging sideways into the deepest part of the basin. She collapsed, her body submerging momentarily before rising back up to float face down in the water.

“Gid, are you alright?” Uzari sprinted into view, axe in hand, her face pale with worry. Hinelin was right behind her, walking forward as his eyes darted everywhere, blindly reloading his rifle.

“Get her out of the water!” Giddeon shouted back at her, unable to move as he held the still-thrashing Gaspen under.

Uzari changed course, veering toward the shallow pool. Hinelin followed at a steady pace, his weapon slowly shifting from side to side, looking out for any hidden threats.

Reaching the pool, Uzari rushed up to the kneeling elf. The water all around her was dyed red with blood.

Oomah, Vessa, and Orion suddenly appeared around the bend, freezing as they took in a scene of crimson water, a floating green-haired body, and Giddeon forcing someone thrashing around beneath the surface.

“No, not her!” Giddeon shouted, jerking his head toward the deeper basin. “The green-haired witch—she heals in water!”

The realization hit Uzari and Hinelin simultaneously. The team leader shifted his aim toward the body, while Uzari stomped through the water past the kneeling elf, beelining straight for the witch with a three-fold axe held tight in her grip. Without hesitating, she leapt into the basin, plunging chest-deep into the dark water.

As she raised her sharp-bladed weapon, the body became a blur of motion. Long, metallic nails thrust up through the water, the witch screeching as she ambushed the surprised woman. Uzari whipped herself backward, the talons missing her face by less than an inch as she disappeared beneath the surface.

The witch leapt up out of the water, sending waves crashing along the surface before landing perfectly atop it. A low hiss escaped her lips as she reared back, sunlight gleaming off her sharp talons while her narrow, green-hued eyes combed the depths for signs of Uzari. With eerie independence, her right eye shot upward, locking on Hinelin even as her left eye tracked the water.

Hinelin pulled the trigger. The witch vanished into thin air just as the hammer fell.

The resulting boom reverberated through the riverbank as the bullet ripped through the water, leaving behind a long, bubbling trail in its depths.

The witch materialized near the waterfall, standing effortlessly atop the churning foam.

As Hinelin cycled his bolt, the witch vaulted into the falls. Leaping rapidly from side to side, she scurried up the cascading torrent as if scaling smooth glass. Just as he raised the barrel, her nimble form disappeared over the clifftop. Cursing, the team leader lowered his weapon, grimacing.

Uzari erupted from the basin not even a second later, gasping for breath as she swung her axe blindly at empty air. Wiping wet locks out of her face, she scrambled back up into the shallow pool, her eyes darting wildly all over.

“W-where is she?” she choked out.

“Disappeared,” Hinelin answered, his gaze still fixed on the cliff top. “Over the falls. She scaled it like a spider gliding up its web…not that that makes much sense, but neither does this world.” Striding along the bank past the shallows, he approached Giddeon, who stood stock still inside the basin. “Whaddya have there?” He nudged his rifle toward the water where Gaspen’s body could be seen floating beneath the surface, unmoving.

“Another superbeing,” Giddeon answered, keeping his grip tight as the submerged body gave another involuntary twitch. “He regenerates. I came up with a way to make him not regenerate.”

“Hmm.” Hinelin crouched at the water’s edge, peering into the basin. “You seem pretty calm having just killed a man.”

“I’m a One-er,” Giddeon replied in answer.

“Regeneration?” Uzari had a curious look on her face as she slowly lowered her weapon, still clearly on edge. “Like in Asteria?”

“Better,” he said. “His wounds healed in seconds, and his hands were growing back.”

“His hands?” Oomah’s brow furrowed as she and Vessa slowly approached from the rocky bank. Orion stood back near the bend, simply watching. “Why’d he have no hands?”

Giddeon jerked his chin toward the stone bank a little ways from the shore where he’d fought the man.

Against the edge of the weathered stone, where grass met the blood-slick rock, two severed hands convulsed in the dirt. Oomah shrieked as she spotted them, stumbling back behind Vessa.

“You think he can breathe underwater?” Hinelin asked, ignoring the panicking woman as he eyed the ripples. “Or even resurrect?”

“Only God can resurrect,” Giddeon said flatly. “But there’s one way to find out if he’s related to fish.”

Hinelin stood up. Raising his rifle, he aimed it at Gaspen’s body, then nodded.

Giddeon slowly pulled the man up by his neck, lifting him into the air with just one arm.

“You sure you want to show off like that?” Johnny spoke up. “The others might start catching on.”

It’s way too late for that.

Gaspen hung limp in his grasp. His hands had stopped growing, remaining a pulpy mess with child-like digits still sprouting from them. Taking no chances, Giddeon squeezed.

There was a sickening snap as the bones in Gaspen’s neck shattered.

“He’s not regenerating anymore.” Giddeon dropped the limp corpse onto the basin edge.

Small, floating balls of green and blue light seeped from the corpse, most drifting toward Giddeon. A soothing, cool warmth bloomed in his chest as they touched his skin, absorbing into his body. Several stray spheres floated over to Hinelin and Uzari. Curiously, none drifted toward the wounded elf.

Was that mana being distributed?

“Yes,” Johnny confirmed. “Just think of it as party experience; it gets disseminated according to your participation.”

“How do you know he’s still not going to suddenly jump up?” Hinelin asked, his rifle still locked onto the body. “These people are tricky.”

Giddeon gave him a peculiar look as he reached out and rolled the body over, revealing Gaspen’s lifeless eyes. “Looks dead to me.”

He can’t see the mana?

“None of them can,” Johnny replied. “I’m surprised you can, actually.”

Giddeon was about to question Johnny further when caught sight of the elf out of the corner of his eye. She was barely conscious, eyes fluttering and her lilting form ready to tip over at any moment.

Wading through the basin, he climbed up into the shallows and stood over her. As he reached down with a steadying hand, her eyes snapped open. Grunting, she scrambled to her feet and stumbled back, her arm shaking as she forced her blade up. Clear, emerald eyes flickered from Uzari’s attire to the plum-colored pouch hanging from Giddeon’s belt. A spark of recognition temporarily dispelled her exhaustion.

“Why do ye wear Lili’s clothes like brazen thieves!” The elf pointed her sword at Uzari, then Oomah, and finally Vessa. “Am I beset on all sides by scoundrels wishing to pilfer my goods? What hast thou done with her, human!” The last word spat out of her mouth as if it were the vilest of insults.

A violent, wet cough racked her body, and her sword arm wavered. She spat out blood, her eyes glazing into a vacant stare as her frame tipped forward. The sword fell first from limp hands, splashing into the shallows.

Speed!

Giddeon surged forward, the water churning behind his heels. He caught her just before her body smacked the water.

The elf’s fading eyes stared into his, and she gave him a wry, defiant smile. “I am not that easily defeated, Ishion. Thou shalt not underestimate me, for I am Cyrithasylantis, Golden Watcher of the High Elves of Espilon, and my fortitude is legendaaarrr—”

Her voice cut out as her eyes glazed over. She went slack in his arms, unconscious.

“So, partner, I was out for a while last night,” Johnny suddenly piped up. “How was your time with Uzari at the river? Did you guys see or do anything interesting?”

Johnny, shut up, and yes, I had a good time.

“That’s what I thought,” Johnny replied. “Exactly what I thought.”

Giddeon stood in the shallows, an alien elven beauty limp in his arms, while the mist from the waterfall swirled around them like a shroud.