Solomon's Crucible 67. The Group Discussion (Patreon)

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Solomon was still hurting. Whatever that arrow had done to him, the system hadn't been able to heal it in one go, even after spending a quarter of his HP. Once it triggered again and finished healing him, though, he should be able to do something. 

He was outnumbered and in a bad situation, but he should have his captors beat badly on basic attributes. True, he'd put a lot of his points into dexterity, but even without focusing on it he was more than half again as strong as he'd been before the system had shown up. He just had to pick the right moment to surprise his guards with a surge of strength.

As he was making his plans, the two men holding him forced him to turn around. The man who seemed to be their leader drew a dagger from his belt and shoved it straight into the arrow wound.

Solomon grunted. The dagger wasn't as bad as the arrow had been. It still hurt.

The man who had stabbed him looked at the dagger with a little self-satisfied smile on his face. Solomon gritted his teeth and forced himself to wait. He needed to pick his moment.

"Keep an eye on that," the leader said. "Don't want him bleeding out."

Solomon glanced down to see the subtle glow of the system wasting HP trying to heal a wound that was propped open. On his display, his HP was steadily draining out.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who had picked up that trick. A pity.

When he looked up, he saw the leader's back as he left the room. His attention was pulled back nearer to hand as his two guards shifted their grip so they were each holding one of Solomon's arms with one of their own. 

They took turns, each working him over with his free hand. Short, quick punches to the stomach and kidneys. Solomon did his best to remain stoic, but he couldn't hold in the occasional gasp when they got in a good hit.

Once his HP was three-quarters gone, he turned off his HP healing. It took the guards a moment to notice that the dagger wound wasn't healing up any more. When they did, they slowed up on their beating, only punching him every few seconds or so.

Solomon's extra beast cores were stored in his inventory. He checked as often as he could, but the goons whaling away on him were doing enough to keep him in combat, preventing him from sneaking anything out of storage.

The leader reappeared in the doorway. He stepped into the room, followed by one of the students who had been sitting in the lounge. Where the guards were decked out in a uniform to mark their acceptance of the system, the student was wearing what used to be ordinary clothing before the system's arrival. Pretty soon, his cargo shorts and university-logo bedecked t-shirt would belong in a museum. He looked like he hadn't shaved in two days.

"You know this guy?" the leader asked.

The student shook his head. For a moment, they stood there in silence, watching Solomon absorb a punch every few seconds or so.

"Who lived here?"

The student cocked his head for a moment as he thought. "Tiffany and Julie."

The leader stepped forward. "So, which one were you looking for?"

Solomon didn't say anything. Another punch to the stomach forced him to hunch forward, but he kept silent.

The growing chorus of aches and pains was starting to build to a truly incapacitation level. Solomon did his best to focus through the pain. A slight shrug of his shoulder proved that he could still move his arm despite the dagger impeding his motions. At least it wasn't as bad as when the arrow had been stuck through him.

The leader shook his head. "It's easy enough to bring them both. If you speak up, you can save one girl the trip."

Solomon had thought he had adapted quickly to the new world after the system's arrival, but he had nothing on this guy. A month ago he would have been rushing for a fraternity. Now here he was, four days into the new world order, and he was already happy as could be as a power-tripping heavy.

Maybe he already had been a piece of work. Or maybe he would have held down a normal job and raised a family in the suburbs if the system had never appeared.

Solomon dragged his focus back to the present. Focusing through the pain, he picked his moment and made his move. With the two guards focused more on punching him than holding him, their grips had naturally gone a little slack. Solomon was able to snake his right arm free and fall forward, crashing into the leader's legs.

With a curse, the leader jumped back. Solomon hadn't done any damage, but he had gotten blood all over his jeans. Cursing, the leader kicked him in the side, adding one more bruise to his collection.

Solomon hardly felt it. For one thing, the pain from landing hilt first on the dagger stuck in his shoulder drowned out everything else. For another, he had managed to put his increased dexterity to work, stealing away the core that he had seen the leader put in his pocket earlier in the brief moment of their entanglement. He'd fallen with his face on top of his closed fist, core tucked inside.

He didn't waste any time, activating his ability to turn the core into powder. As soon as it finished he stuffed as much of the magic powder into his mouth as he could. The taste was disgusting, and he almost choked as he got it down. Still, he managed to swallow most of it before the two goons finally got around to flipping him back over on his back.

They hauled him up to his feet again, clinging to his arms with renewed fervor. Solomon let himself hang limp and waited for Powder Charge to kick in.

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