Second Prestige Chapter 2 : Giant Spider Guts (Patreon)

The spider leg pierced his stomach on his left side. The leg went through him and deep into the gravel below him. The spider pulled its leg back, taking Hugo with it. He was stuck on the spider’s leg, just past the blades. The legs had barbs on them, locking him in place as the spider moved. Hugo grabbed the leg in front of himself and held on.

The spider tried to shake Hugo off, but that only made him slide higher up on the leg. He screamed in pain as he was whipped around. He could vaguely see other guides leaping to his rescue. Soon, the spider curled the leg he was on up against its belly. As soon as he stopped moving, a man leapt at him, sword swinging. Hugo was cut off of the spider and fell to the ground.

The impact pushed the spider leg forward, continuing it’s journey through his body. Since the barbs were one directional, Hugo’s painful thrashing eventually pushed the spider leg all the way through him and it fell out the other side.

All around him fighting continued, but Hugo wasn’t able to concentrate on that. All he could think about was keeping his intestines inside his body and how much this hurt. He cried as blood poured out of his body from both sides.

“Move your hands,” a voice said before his hands were shoved away.

It was someone in black robes. Hugo was roughly pulled onto his side and his shirt was shoved up. He tried not to fight back, knowing that the robes meant healing.

“With injuries like this, you want to make sure and heal from the inside out. Most deep wounds are like that,” the man said.

Hugo looked up in confusion, only to see that he wasn’t talking to him. The life mage was talking to someone younger, around his age. Hugo realized that a life mage parent was teaching his son how to heal. He was using Hugo’s deadly injury as a teaching opportunity.

“You want to make sure nothing big is stuck inside, then start in the middle and...”

The rest of his explanation was lost in a sea of pain. Someone had to hold him down as his body jerked from the pain. It was white hot pain searing itself deep into his consciousness. The pain didn’t last forever though, soon he was aware of the world around him and gasping for breath. He was able to see his skin knit itself back together.

As soon as Hugo felt good enough to stand, he heard someone yell, “It’s not far, everyone sprint back!”

The spiders had been killed, and if he didn’t run, he would be left behind. His wound wasn’t fully healed, but he had no choice. It started bleeding again as they headed towards the stronghold. Hopefully the life mage would want to continue his lesson.

The low slung walls of the stronghold made him almost cry. It meant that he could stop and get healed. They were going to spend the night here before making the rest of the way down the mountain in the morning. Once he was inside the underground fortress, he fell to his knees in front of the guy in the black robes.

“Please,” gasped Hugo, “Can you close me up again?” He gestured to his stomach and back that were bleeding slowly.

The life mage leaned forward and examined the wounds and said, “You aren’t going to die. Get the guides to take care of it.”

Instead of calling him a selfish bastard, Hugo reigned in his anger. His dad always told him to be nice to healers even if they were jerks. He said, “Well, thanks for saving my life earlier.”

Hugo had to walk around to a few more people before he was able to find someone that could help. A guide was wrapping up a teenager’s foot. Hugo could see a black shirt underneath her blue vest and hoped that meant she was a life mage.

Once she was done, Hugo limped over and said, “Hello, ugg. Could you help me out,” and gestured to his stomach. The wound wasn’t bleeding much, but it wasn’t healed either. The first life mage had healed all his organs, but stopped at the skin on his front and back.

“Let me take a look at you,” she said and pulled him closer.

Hugo cried out in pain.

“You arn’t going to die today. Quit your whining. How many health points do you have?”

Hugo pulled up his screen.

Cristian Fieraru [Domainless]

Strength 11

Dexterity 20

Resilience 8

Regeneration 11

Intelligence 10

Wisdom 9

Charisma 11

Perception 11

Rank 0

56/100 Points

Health 0/11

Mana 2/2

Skills:

“Zero.”

“Well of course you have zero points now, your body is using them to heal that huge wound in your stomach. I mean how big is your health pool?

“Eleven.”

“Alright, that means you are fairly sturdy for a newly marked. You will be fine. You should regenerate enough by morning to be mostly healed. I would say you should try to take it easy, but you really need to run tomorrow.” She wrapped him up as she talked.

“Could you please heal me some more first? This really hurts,” Hugo said and let out a choke of pain as she finished bandaging him.

“No. Well, I could, but no. I need to keep some mana and health points in reserve in case a real emergency comes along. You aren’t in danger of dying, so I can’t waste my points on you,” she said. Then she saw the tears on Hugo’s face and continued a bit softer, “Sorry, I know it hurts. If we were home, I would bottom out for you. But we are still on the mountain after a heartbeat. I have a strong feeling my points will be needed soon.”

Hugo nodded, “Thanks anyway.”

He grabbed a new shirt from his bag and then slowly walked back to his assigned section of the cave. The pain of his injury faded to a dull ache. It was still horrible, but he felt like he could think straight now.

Finding his spot to sleep wasn’t too hard, they had been assigned the last room in the cave system. He set down his bag next to a cot away from the rest of the group. He remembered to fill his water bottle and drank deeply. Now that he had a moment, he sorted through his bag.

There were the letters, to Marion’s family and from his dad. A bedroll, some toiletries, a few changes of clothing, all much nicer than what he was used to. Whoever this Cristian guy was, he must have been well off. The silvers and copper added up to just less than a gold. That would make things easier for him. There were a surprising amount of knives in the bag. In addition to the pair on his waist and the one in his boot, he had a total of twelve knives now.

The knives felt familiar in his hands. He flipped them over, easily catching them by the handle with muscle memory that was well honed. This Cristian fellow must have practiced with them often.

A horrible thought occurred to him just then. What if he really was Cristian? What if his entire persona, all of his memories as Hugo, were all fake? Is it possible that the ritual messed with his mind somehow and inserted memories from a dead boy?

All of a sudden, it really mattered to him. The difference was whether or not Hugo’s soul was in this body, or if there were just a bunch of his memories crammed into this brain. Would these memories fade soon, and he would suddenly just remember who he was?

He didn’t think he was Cristian. Deep down inside he felt like Hugo. The memories of the last eighteen years didn’t just feel right, they were integral to his identity.

But then, why did the status screen show the name Cristian Fieraru?

The Acomarian system supposedly looked into his soul and described what it saw there. If that was true, then his identity as Hugo was just a delusion. He pulled up his stats screen. He started breathing heavier as he stared at that name across the top of his blue screen. This wasn’t Hugo’s body. This wasn’t Hugo’s stat screen. Whose soul was thinking right now?

His head started pounding.

The pain in his stomach brought him back to the present. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He needed to bring himself out of this spiral. There had to be a way to figure out what was going on.

If he really was Cristian, then some memories of his life would peek through. If he really was Hugo, and he really did time travel...

Time travel.

That was it. He had pretty conclusive proof that he did time travel. He knew what was going to happen before it happened. He knew what the mountain guides were going to say before they did it. He knew that the grove of trees was really a group of giant spiders. He knew where to go to save lives. A delusion wouldn’t explain away any of that.

So at the very least, he knew he time traveled. That proof also helped him with his other question. Since he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the time travel thing, it indicated he wasn’t delusional about his identity either.

He was decided. He was Hugo. Cristian died early this morning. It was tragic, but true. Wherever Cristain’s soul was, Hugo hoped he was doing well.

That little crisis of identity highlighted his situation. He needed to decide where to go after this. Which train should he take? Should he take over Cristain’s life? Even without many clues, it was clear that it had been better than Hugo’s.

There weren’t any hints about who Cristian was though. Even if he wanted to slide into his life instead of going back home, he wouldn’t know how. He didn’t even know where Cristian came from.

Even if he did know where Cristian came from, he decided he didn’t want to try and pretend to be someone else. He would rather take this opportunity to try again as Hugo. This could be his chance to be a better student, a better mage. This time around he would be successful in school, and he would avoid Oskar and the fox gang.

Possibilities were blossoming in his mind. With knowledge of the future, he could have a great head start on being a mage. This year do-over would let him set himself up to be top of the class. He could show off his skills and end up with a great job after the academy.

This year was also a chance to save people. He had to stop the walls from falling in a few weeks, and he definitely had to stop the city from exploding at the end of the year. He had no idea how to do either though. He sighed deeply. He could make better plans on the train ride tomorrow. He was too tired to think straight right now.

He was about to get out his bedroll when he was suddenly grabbed from behind. Someone picked him up and threw him up against the wall.

“Did you kill my son?” Florin’s mom yelled.

Dammit. Not again.

“What? No. I didn’t kill your son,” Hugo protested as he cried out in pain. This was just aggravating his injuries.

She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “We paid you to help him, not kill him.”

Well. That complicated things.