Harmless Human Sacrifice (Mana Devourer) - 49 (Patreon)

Markus watched as the monster grimaced around the blade piercing the outermost layer of his gut. He struggled, pushed as he attempted to keep the pressure up, to drive the broken blade further…

The monster grabbed the glaive with both hands and began to bend it… Markus held on for dear life, but only found himself being pulled forwards…

He dropped the glaive, leaving it embedded within the monster, Empowered both of his fists, and ran forwards to punch the fucker’s head in.

He was pretty sure he broke knuckles against the monster’s head with his first strike, but his second had some impact—a right jab straight into the monster’s single massive eye…

Markus attempted to gouge it with his thumb, pressing forwards…

Only to find his legs dangling.

This was his first time being ripped in half.

It was a slow process.

Agonising didn’t begin to describe the first moments.

But it wasn’t long until sensation began to fail him entirely, until his organs began to shut down…

And then he felt his vital signs fluttering at full capacity once more. Heart, brain, liver, kidneys, blood, eyes, nose, lungs… he could feel all of them reactivating at once as he was teleported back to his place of death, the ground before him littered in the blood from his last body, his last life…

If he had to endure that a single more time, let alone ten thousand times…

... 

LOOK.

The monster was rubbing viciously at its eye. It hadn’t even bothered to dislodge the…

Glaive? 

It was gone. The cane laid within his hands. His glaive was on the floor as it had been before, blade still broken.

Fuck…

Markus dropped the cane, grabbed the broken glaive, which was more like a spear with its blade so fragmented, and got straight back to work.

He got a couple of stabs in before he died again. This time his throat was crushed. The monster still hadn’t picked its weapons back up, and still was rubbing its watering eye, unable to see properly.

Even with such an advantage, even with his body renewed as it was each time he suffered a fatal blow, Markus still struggled immensely. The difference in weight, power, speed, technique… it was almost insurmountable…

But not completely. No. He’d managed to hit it. He’d managed to hurt it.

After his latest respawn, the monster had stopped rubbing. It bent down to pick up its fallen mace…

Markus slashed at its shoulder with the jagged edge of his blade, red rivulets flying as he hit his mark.

The monster barrelled into him like a football player, running so fast and ramming him so decisively that Markus’ internals were shattered before he hit the ground.

“Grrah!” 

That was the sound of the monster kicking his head so hard his neck snapped. Dying like that took longer than he’d like…

He used the time to try and meditate. 

Not [Meditate]…

But meditate. To think about the pain. He’d felt so many disgustingly horrible things now that while it still affected him incredibly, he’d managed to recognise the fact that he was going to have to repeat these sensations time and time again in an effort to outlast this trial…

So he needed to get used to them. Only so many ways he could die. Even if he couldn’t numb himself to the pain, even if he couldn’t mitigate its maddening effects or properly anesthetise himself against it, he could at least grow accustomed to each sensation.

Learn what to expect. Use that time to recover faster. Learn how the monster recovered in turn after making a certain movement, exerting a certain part of his body.

His regeneration was pretty instant, after all, only… he ended up spending around five seconds panting, screaming, gawking, or struggling to breathe after almost every death.

That gave the monster time for a reprieve. Time to plan his next attack pattern. He wasn’t stupid enough to simply do the same thing over and over, after all.

That being said, ten thousand deaths was a long fucking time to learn how someone fought. It didn’t matter how powerful, experienced, or battle-hardened this creature was… he was still limited by his own creativity. No one could keep doing fresh and original things forever. And when Markus had finally learnt all of this creature’s moves…

He was back. He was daydreaming. It cancelled the pain out a modicum, but it took him just as long as usual to adjust to the feeling of being alive again…

And he lost his head for standing still too long.

Fuck.

Ten thousand times was plenty of time to learn, but it was also more than plenty of times to fucking die repeatedly, and at times, Markus couldn’t tell if he’d be able to deal with even a hundred more deaths, let alone however many he had left.

Maybe it was good that he couldn’t keep count. A huge number in the thousands would feel insurmountable. A smaller number, he might be willing to consign himself to.

He was better off not knowing.

Stab, thrust, dodge, parry, step, move, die. His head merged with the rock beneath him.

Markus had skills…

Thrust, move, [Dash], slash, hit, draw blood, die once more…

He respawned. Step, [Dash]—whoa.

His [Dash] wasn’t on cooldown…

Wait.

Did his body reset to the same state as he—

Crushed again. He deserved that for standing still.

But there was a thought in his brain, somewhere.

He…

Right. His skill hadn’t gone on cooldown. He still had it. So if he…

Markus checked his mana capacity in the small time he had to look. 114%.

Higher than before. He’d been gaining Flame Mana from each strike…

Markus imbued his glave with Flame Mana. He [Dashed] forwards and struck again, fast, fast enough to stagger the monster as he blocked. He pressed his broken blade into the mace, pushing as much of the Flame Mana as he could into the weapon, looking to superheat it until the creature had no choice to drop it…

It worked. It worked! He’d managed to disarm the fucking thing. Now, slash, slash, thrust—

He felt a burning hand grabbing at his face, searing and melting him even as it picked him up flailing three feet into the air...

Fuck, man…

Markus was still screaming when he came back. That one had fucking hurt.

Markus needed to land five blows to activate Thrust King’s passive and use a Combination Skill. It was that or manage to stab this thing in the fucking eye.

Only…

Markus checked his Mana Capacity. It wasn’t any lower.

In fact, it was higher. 115%.

He was gaining mana with each death, and any that he expelled seemed to be retained by his body whenever he was snapped back to his previous state.

That meant…

Every death made him stronger.

Every—

Markus gasped as his neck was crushed.

He screamed as his arm was mangled.

Went limp as his neck was snapped.

—single—

Markus gurgled and broke beneath the monster’s boot.

Cried out soundlessly as his throat was ripped out.

Retreated within himself as his head was smashed against a nearby stalagmite.

—one.

Markus returned with new life, new will, new focus.

He opened high often, crouching before he [Dashed] was good, but holding his single use of [Dash] until he had an opening was better. Ducking the initial strike and [Dashing] with a lunge let him drive the broken blade in. Twisting caused pain. Jumpmaster allowed him to escape back without being crushed by the monster’s hands. Four more attacks. He needed to land four.

Viscous Form…

He’d gained that ability from his newest monster core, the one made from the giants’ memories. That particular ability belonged to a slime. It was a once per day thing, and he’d been holding it to use as a trump card, but now that he knew he could use his cooldowns repeatedly… he was free to use it on every attempt he made.

Time to try it.

Markus went back in for another attack, feinting low and then stabbing towards the monster’s shoulder. He dodged, then attempted to pierce Markus with a shoulder barge, making use of the spikes that existed upon his body.

Markus activated his passive just in time, his body becoming like that of slime, his entire being rubbery and elastic. It still hurt being stabbed, but it was more akin to having a nasty splinter than a two foot spike in your chest, and as Markus fell to the ground from the momentum of the shoulder tackle, he barely felt the impact of the ground below.

The creature stared at him, startled, appearing stunned for the first time in their whole encounter. Yeah, that’s right. Never done that before, have I, asshole?

Markus could feel his body beginning to solidify again from where he laid. His hands returned to normal before his torso did, giving him just enough time to grab the glaive and land a second strike against the monster’s calf, staggering him, making him howl in pain for the first time.

“Yeah…” Markus didn’t have the time or the energy for a full diss. He could think of fifty, but he needed to save his breath.

Markus used Manifest to conjure a small slab beneath him, used the leverage to kip himself up. Moving loosely with his own momentum, he delivered a second strike towards the creature’s leg as he brought the blade up, then a third against the monster’s thigh.

Randall was silent now. No chides. No quips. No bullshit…

Everything was quiet. Even the crowd had stopped. 

The monster was seething, blood leaking from its wounds. Its eye strained as it put the torch to its mouth, ready to blanket Markus in flames once more.

Markus spun his glaive and attacked with the handle, smashing the hot torch into the creature’s face, making it cry out like it fucking deserved.

Yeah. Yeah. How about I kill you a thousand times you fucking cunt—

Focus. Get the job done.

He used the moment of weakness on its part to stab it a fourth time. An arm this time. Mace arm. Forced the creature to lower its weapon. Left itself open. Ready for a big fucking thrust straight into its chest.

If only his blade wasn’t broken…

Fuck it.

Markus stabbed with every ounce of power he had, with his highest Grade of Flame Mana, with his highest Grade of Spirit entwined, he stabbed forth and pushed the blade inches inside the monster’s thick, muscle-bound chest…

Markus activated Acid Slash, then Detonate, all at once—

No.

Markus activated [Acid Rain].

An influx of Caustic Mana spread and pulsed through his broken blade, seeping into the creature’s body as it remained locked in place. It tried to bend the glaive as it had before, to walk through the pain, but it couldn’t. It didn’t have the strength to resist the pain. Hadn’t died a million times. Had its soul tempered by fucking magma like Markus had.

No. All it could do was struggle and push. A futile effort.

Markus pulled away the glaive before he could be grabbed or interfered with. He didn’t need to apply more, the acid was already eating into its body, bubbling along his flesh, coating him in boils and pastules and scorch marks alike, turning the once strong and unblemished warrior into something resembling a decrepit, dying leper.

That was only the first step…

The acid inside him began to explode. First out of his chest, then his stomach. His arms, his legs, even his neck.

The monster sprayed blood in a five foot radius as different areas of his body began to burst, erupting in protest to the foreign contaminant that had wormed its way into his defenseless bloodstream. He may have been brittle, tough, hardy, experienced… but he couldn’t weather this pain, nor this potency.

Markus finally had the upper hand.

“Yeah, fuck you,” Markus spat, batting the monster’s mace down and then stabbing through his arm. 

“AND FUCK YOU,” Markus screamed at Randall as he sliced through the monster’s tricep. 

Randall was still silent. Good. He might not have been able to do this to Randall, he might not have had a shred of a chance, but denying him his fun felt good, and showing him what he wished he could fucking do to him was the closest thing he had to a measure of catharsis after all the shit he’d been through.

“That’s rather uncalled for, don’t you think?”

“I think…” Markus said, slashing the monster’s leg again.

“That your—”

Slash against ribs. A stab in the belly.

“Sadistic, SHITTY PLAN—”

Broken blade droven in foot. A pull back, a monumental thrust, with all the strength and rage he’d built within him desperately pushing to get through.

“HAS FAILED!” Markus roared, his spirit triumph, his soul a lion’s, his heart a wardrum, driving the monster back to one knee as he pushed the glaive further into the creature’s body, then pulled back, moving to stab the thing through its eye, pierce its fucking brain, and be rid of it once and for all.

“You really think so?”

Markus didn’t answer with words. He thrusted forwards in earnest. With power. With pride. With humility. With despair. With hope. 

With a spill of laboured breaths, with his entire being screaming in defiance, Markus stabbed, the only thing he could do, the only thing that was left…

The monster caught the blade.

It screamed. It pulled him forwards.

It beat his head into the ground. Smashed half of his teeth out.

He really thought.

Smash.

He really thought.

Smash.

He really thought that this time.

Smash.

That this time would be.

Smash.

That it would be…

Smash.

Different.

Smash.

…

Markus was back.

No need to despair. Shake it the fuck off. You nearly killed him, just run at the fucker again, and—

Markus froze before he could move—

The monster was healthy again.

He wasn’t bleeding.

His chest wasn’t caved in.

His skin wasn’t covered in burns and blisters.

He looked about as confused as Markus.

A laugh sounded from the left of him. Soft, chiding, oh so cold…

“You never once considered that, did you?” Randall asked.

Markus stared at him. He didn’t speak.

“Hah. That’s right! You didn’t!” He tittered and howled, slapping his knee, attempting to stop himself laughing and then ejecting air from his cheeks as he launched into a fresh fit of hysterics.

“Oh! What a splendid thing!..” the smile disappeared from his face instantaneously. “No. You do not get out of this so easily. If you want to beat this trial? Kill him. You do not get to chip away at anything.”

Markus stared and he stared. He’d been chipping away this whole time until now. The creature’s stamina, his hardiness, his strength, they were all leagues above his own. The only thing that had made him able to compete on any level until now was the fact that over hundreds of fights, he’d become at least somewhat fatigued, that all those glancing blows he’d landed had started to slowly add up, that—

“You want to make this easier on yourself?” Randall asked, leaning close, stooping just beneath Markus’ head and prodding his right hand.

“Use this. I already told you what it does.”

“...”

Markus had been throwing the cane and picking up his glaive upon each new iteration. He had no interest in it. He’d had no interest in it, at least. His convictions, his family, his friends, his life, his hopes, his dreams, the reasons he fought for, all of them mattered too much to him, all of them were too precious, too important, too much a part of what made him him that he could never give them up even if it were to save his own life…

Markus eyed the godly weapon in his hand.

The god that stood in front of him, tempting him to use it.

He couldn’t, could he?

No.

Not for himself, at least.

But then…

How did a god’s weapon fare against a god itself?

Only one way to find out. If it worked, Markus would live with the consequences. How many lives would beating Randall save?

If it didn’t, he wouldn’t need memories where he was going.

But if he could at least fucking hurt him…

Then right now, it was worth any single price in the fucking world.

“Okay…” Markus said, raising the cane up, staring at it.

“How’s it work? Do I cast my magic through it? Do I just attack with it?”

“Do as you usually would. The weapon will do the rest,” Randall stated, simple and plain.

He smiled. He grinned.

Markus smiled too.

Markus imbued this new weapon with everything he fucking had.

He swung with it…

The end of the cane collided with Randall’s jaw. 

Randall staggered.

He smiled.

He laughed as he wiped the fresh blood from his lip.

“You really shouldn’t have done that…”

Markus’ body began to convulse. Around him, the world began to change.

Skies grew dark. Then bright.

The audience melted away, and yet were present, all at the same time. 

He heard a voice from amongst the crowd. Was it here? There? Somewhere entirely different?

He knew the voice. He knew the smells. The textures.

He knew them, and yet he didn’t.

He blinked.

He was here, and yet he wasn’t.

He was…