F-Rank Frank: Chapter 10 (Patreon)

Chapter 10

Dancing.

In his mind, that was what Frank began equating each motion and movement of battle to. He was dancing, moving his body and limbs to an unheard rhythm. That’s not true actually, as there was a rhythm, the distinguishable and unique rhythm that each rodent he faced off against had. The unique way each and every rodent either sped up or slowed down their approach and attacks against him.

Frank found himself speeding up and slowing down slightly with each strike, parry, and kick. Every movement was met by an equal and opposite reaction of the crowd of monsters. Monsters that kept getting closer and threatening to overwhelm him if he stayed still, if he remained trapped in a corner.

He long ago lost the last of his smaller fangs, each getting irrevocably lodged into the bodies of enemies. Each providing a final death blow that allowed him to survive for that much longer. Each allowed him to make one additional movement. A movement that he always took, even if that movement was to the exact center of the swarm. His movements often caused the creatures around him to spread out, to show hesitation, hesitation was key as it showed that those monsters were not part of the rhythm and were thus easily dispatched by a lethal strike to the face, or a spinning heel kick to the ribs. Heel kicks that ended up shattering bones and piercing the hearts of the monsters.

In time, Frank found his form getting perfected, not going for a full strike as that would leave him open and vulnerable to slashes on the sides. Additionally, he didn’t want to give too weak of a strike as that would only be enough to knock down the attacker for a moment. Instead, Frank found himself focusing on what he mentally referred to as a three-quarters strike. This was good enough to be lethal every time without wasting too much energy and helped keep his arms and feet close to his body so he could block most of the strikes coming in.

His pants were shredded, the remainder of the shirt he had used as a make-shift carry pouch was gone, torn to shreds as a giant rat grabbed it, and used it as a foothold to climb up Frank’s back in an attempt to bite at his neck. His response had been quick, as he was moving almost before he realized the danger he was in. A snaking hand shot up, striking at the vulnerable exposed neck of the creature. A neck that was not used to being struck from underneath, letting Frank’s fierce strike drive upwards into the beast’s trachea and spinal cord. That one Frank had used full force on, but it was deemed necessary at the time, as his mind began understanding the troubles posed by the beast the moment he began striking.

That was also the first time he threw a rodent corpse as a weapon. Throwing it out and knocking down two more creatures that were using that moment to get close to his exposed left side.

While the thrown rodent had provided him a chance to both protect himself and move, he found that the act of throwing corpses was a waste of energy. Which seemed odd considering the fact that Frank now found himself all but surrounded by a steady stream of energy. But there was a problem, despite constantly being surrounded by new sources of energy that his body was forcefully absorbing, he couldn’t do much with it, as converting it to a useable form for his body took time.

At least that was what he thought.

That said, his body was changing slowly, almost subconsciously the more he fought for life and death. Muscles ripped and teared from constant use, only to be healed by the abundance of green energy that his body had waiting to be used and compressed into the next stage of his development. But there was more, as his hands and feet also began to seem to hold and retain more energy than was required, or possible when he first began.

Now he fought and lashed out, and found that not only did the pooled energy help him break bone with his strikes, but he also found that his hands and feet were not breaking down the way one would expect from constantly being bludgeoned against a steady stream of hard objects.

These were the things that Frank noticed, and then instantly dismissed as unimportant. Right now, his entire being went towards listening to the cadence of battle, hearing the scratches of a rodent moving to strike from behind, only to be met by a quick spinning heel kick. The foot lands, touching down lightly, so that while he is now facing a hundred and eighty degrees away from where he just was, moves and takes a step forward, and then strikes at a rodent that was too stunned to move.

Two down, Frank thought to himself, as he continued fighting through pain, fatigue, and everything else.

At first, he found it necessary to impose the face of Luther on each and every rodent. Surprisingly this didn’t take much imagination on his part, at least that was what he told himself. Then after time the faces became too taxing on his mind, particularly with how easy it soon became to kill each rodent with one precise strike. That was when he just imagined each rodent being one of Luther’s cronies. Then when that no longer had the same thing, Frank began associating the rodents’ incessant chittering with each other to be the same sound Luther had while laughing at him, while his body was being broken.

This one proved to be the best, as he would often feel a retaliatory claw strike against his leg, or arm. Not deadly, not anymore. Instead, each strike was little more than an annoyance, salt in the wounds of what would happen.

Frank would feel his body often either resisting the strikes entirely, or on the off chance that he did bleed, his blood would prove to be poisonous for any creatures that dared lap up his blood.

Smiling Frank thought it only served the creatures right, that once he died, they would feast upon his skin and bones and be destroyed from poison. He didn’t know where or how he became poisonous to the rodents, possibly something to do with his time inside the serpent’s mouth, where he constantly felt his flesh and body getting burned away and reforged with the poison energy of the monster. Of course that didn’t stop the creatures from trying to kill him, and by extension themselves in one of the stupidest forms of self-suicide Frank could imagine possible.

He should have been scared. By all accounts, Frank should have given in long ago, and likely would have too, had it not been for the fact that he felt he would prove Luther right.

“Death by rats, a fitting end to F-Rank trash, like Frank.” Those were the mocking words that Frank associated with Luther. Words that made him pull that much deeper from his reserves. Words that made him cycle energy once more. Words that made him take one more breath of defiance and anger.

Well anger at first, but it became harder and harder to keep anger as a motivational tool. Over time, he just felt apathy, then he felt his mind and body moving into a steady rhythm, the rhythm that he now found himself in.

Despite everything going on around him, it took Frank a while to realize that he felt calm.

There was no existential awareness of the fragility of life. Nothing in his mind warned about just how close he was to death, just one missed cycle of energy, on held breath for anticipation, at this point anything that delayed his movements in the slightest was costly and would invariably lead to the moment of his death.

The high ground.

Frank found that his body was instinctually moving towards the exit, towards the location that Frank always intended to go, upwards. He found that his fighting eventually led him to the old and smoothed out staircases that provided almost a smooth decline of dirt.

Seeing the slope, Frank began fighting his way up. Finding that the rodents that were on the slope had a harder time keeping their balance due to the angle of the staircase. This was good for Frank, as he was able to use his excess energy to seemingly grip the ground, while moving upwards. At least that was what Frank thought, as he skillfully made his way up the winding staircases.

Rodents still scurried around, trying to capture Frank from hidden tunnels, but they often lost their balance once entering the old man-made walkways.

Dozens?

Hundreds?

Honestly, Frank didn’t know how many rodents he killed. He knew that the number he had killed were not enough to stop a full-on swarm, but he did find that the energy of the pack seemed to be dying down, particularly with the further up Frank went.

In his mind he wondered if he was being herded, guided away by a few final warriors brave enough to force him to flee, sacrificing their own lives for the sake of the pack. That was one thought that came to his mind, as he did notice that now most were more than happy to dart past Frank as they joined the well of creatures that lined the stairs below him.

Then finally, after time Frank found that no more monsters stopped him from ascending upwards.

Chitter.

Looking back, Frank saw a wall of rodents that seemed to be moving up, but all paused and reflexively flinched backwards at his sight.

It took Frank a second to realize why, but it was clear after a second of pausing that the creatures that he locked gazes with all cowered and shrank back into the crowd.

Witnessing this, Frank began to realize that they might actually be afraid of him. Putting on a united front the same way they might against the giant serpents, going so far as to take a chance on eliminating the monster while it is in their den and heart of power, but ultimately glad that it is leaving once victory can’t be assured.

At that Frank realized that he wasn’t afraid of the creatures.

Right now, he wasn’t afraid of anything really. He knew this would change, but for this moment, right here, he knew he could defend himself against these monsters, particularly if they tried to come up from behind him.

He momentarily paused, wondering if he could hear any of the rodents scampering ahead of him, but realized that his thought of being herded into a second ambush was likely off the table.

Right now, both sides could consider this a draw.

Frank got to keep his life, while the rodents removed a great enemy from their den.

Not wanting to push his luck too much at the noted stalemate in battle, Frank decided to go upwards.

Within four floors, he could still hear the rodents chattering, but that was due to their voices echoing in the dark staircases. As he went up, Frank realized why the creatures stopped following him, as apparently, they no longer felt that the next few floors were theirs. As the steps went from being completely covered in dirt and chewed up debris to form a slope, to gradually showing more and more traces of steps. Until now, where the entire thing was steps. Well steps and dust.

In his mind, he took the steps as a good sign, as it meant that nothing had been on the steps for quite a while.

Then after three floors of complete dirt that showed the imprints of his bare feet with each step he took. The next few floors proved to be interesting in the way the dust seemed to be completely gone.

Pausing, Frank looked around, even looking up in the corners to see if any oversized spiders were present. At this point he was prepared for almost anything to happen, but nothing.

Well, not entirely nothing.

Fresh breeze. Scent of manure compost.

As he paused, he smelled possibly the most sickening thing he had ever experienced in his life. The scent of manure, the same smell that he smelled when Luther broke the school’s bathrooms, as a joke. This had been another subtle show of power on Luther’s part, as his house was one of the few with a working internal commode, while everyone else either had to use public toilets or those at the school.

With the school’s toilets down for a month, all the commoners had to go to the public toilets before and after school. A few special students were allowed to be part of Luther’s circle where they could go to his house and use his amenities.

While no one was ever able to prove it was Luther, his actions before and after the incident all but screamed of his involvement, either directly or indirectly by getting Scottie and Aaron to do it for him.

Yes, the smell was both terrible and sadly reminded him of home.

Rumble.

The longer he waited, the more vibrations he began to feel as his body became more accustomed to his settings. As he felt out for the vibrations, he inwardly relaxed as he realized these were the thrum of machines deep at work.

Shuffle-step.

Then after waiting what had to be close to an hour, Frank heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Not the slither of giant serpents on stone, nor the scratching of clawed feet against dirt, but the steps of humans.

Hearing them, Frank felt elation and joy swelling through him, as he climbed up the final few clean steps to the next landing.

There just as he expected, he saw two people wearing the industrial suits of the hazmat cleaners. Suddenly the clean staircase made sense, as they were likely part of the normal jurisdiction of the cleaners. In his mind, Frank realized that this was the job he signed up for.

“Help,” was the only word Frank could utter, as he made his way up the steps. Suddenly days upon days of constantly pushing himself with no food and water caught up to him. His mouth was dry, as he tried to speak for the first time, seemingly forever. Well more than just muttering incoherently to himself as he made his way upwards.

Startle.

“What?” A female voice called out from behind the head cover.

“The heck?” A male voice called out from the slightly taller suit of protection.

Hearing their voices, Frank felt relief, running forward, his legs being pulled by the last surges of energy he had.

“ACK!” The female cried out, raising her hand to strike. Frank moved around and dodge the defensive strike, pausing for a second with his back to the male. Only for his mind to register the movement of a power suit coming to life.

Frank tried to dodge the incoming hand, that was clearly trying to grab him, but missed.

He spun about, his mind and body pushing himself to its limits as he was clearly not ready for an adult wearing an enhancement suit. Frank had heard about these suits. These were suits given to guards and other people in dangerous places, where the user had to effectively fight about their weight class. In these suits, cultivation was nearly impossible, as all ambient energy would be absorbed by the suit itself, powering its core and allowing the suit to continue amplifying the base strength and speed of the users. At least that was what the school taught.

Frank had been aware of the limitations of the suit, but figured he would be able to sneak away without the suit during his breaks. At least that had been the thought at the time of choosing this profession.

Smack.

Frank felt something strike him on the back of his head, causing him to lose all balance and for the world to go black.

“Jezus Stell, you nearly killed him.” The male called down.

“What is it? A ghoul of some kind?” The female, Stell, asked.

“No, it is a kid. Judging by his looks, he has been trapped down here for quite a while.” The male said, grabbing Frank’s body in his robotic limbs and lifting him up with a hydraulic infused smoothness.

“Aren’t they testing today?” Stell asked.

“I thought so, but that won’t be until eight at the earliest.” The man said.

“What do we do?” Stell asked.

“We take him, turn him in as a found runaway, and let the schools decide what to do with him.” The man said.

By this point Frank wanted to speak, but couldn’t. Not only was his mouth dry from constantly fighting, but he found that the grip that the suit-powered male had on him made it so he couldn’t squirm away if he tried.

Vrrt-ch, vurr.

The suit began whirring away as Frank felt his small body being carried out. At first Frank wanted to fight, to protest, stating that he already had gone through his awakening, but then figured that everyone would already realize that once he got out of here. Also, with this being a test day, maybe he could get another free meal.

It was that last thought, the thought of an Awakening celebration meal that let him stay silent and ultimately try to get some much needed rest.

He found sleep easy to come, despite how sore and hungry he was, he felt his body beginning to finally shut down as he ultimately let his pain filled mind drift off to sleep, while his cultivation attempted to heal the wound to the back of his head.

As he drifted off, he failed to notice the few things that would normally stick out in his mind. Namely the way that today was the awakening day, the fact that he was clearly accepted as an urchin, and the fact that he had somehow survived everything that had happened to him.

If he had thought of any of these things, he would have likely chalked it up to the fact that he had gone back in time. That everything he had experienced to now was just a bad dream. He would awake today as a B-Ranker, and Luther would be the F-Ranker that he deserved to be. Yes, that is exactly what would happen.

As the two hazardous cleaners arrived at the surface, their foreman, a large burly man named Marcus met the two.

“What are you doing back before your shift is over…” Marcus began, but quickly cut himself off seeing the poor child that was covered in blood and had slash marks all over his body. “Jezus, what is that?”

“We found him on the back stairwell leading to section 19.” The man spoke.

“I take it he found the rodent nest back there?” Marcus asked, getting closer, trying to take a better look at the kid, though he was surprised to see the boy’s chest rising and falling rhythmically.  “He’s alive?”

“Just so. Though he is dehydrated and likely malnourished.” The man said.

“You think he is awakened?” Stell asked.

“No clue, let me see if he is in the registry.” Marcus said, pulling out a scanner from his back pocket and grabbing the boy’s loose arm and pressing the right thumb against the pad.

Beep.

“Not in the system. This is good. We will get a finder’s fee, particularly if he awakens a B-Rank or above talent.” Marcus said.

“You sure he hasn’t awoken? I mean, he moved pretty quickly.” The man in the suit said.

“Yeah, I’m sure. This registers everyone in district seventeen. If he isn’t here then he has likely been an urchin for a really long time. They might need to retrain him in some of the basics if he is talented, but that is not our problem. Go on, take him to the medical hall. I’ll go radio in that we found another urchin ready for awakening.”

And like that, Frank was taken out of the hazardous area, and taken to be given a second shot at life.