Lorin
patreon
Chapter 44: Rocket man
🕑 Added 2025-07-15 14:47:03 +0000 UTC“There’s no time for heroics!” Nea barked. We zoomed past my old cell. The others weren’t more than ten meters ahead of me, the jailors about twenty behind.
“There’s no other choice!” Samuel retorted.
Something had to be done. But without a way to safely detonate my dynamite threads I was shit out of luck. And the others didn’t seem to be overflowing with ideas either. I pulled a handful of threads from the veil and felt the limitations of my abilities press down on me like an anvil. My throat tightened into a thin straw, making me fight for every breath.
I gritted my teeth and pushed through. We were nearing the middle of the room. Sera’s crucified body still hung on the altar; she showed no signs of rot or decay. Her cracked ivory skin made her corpse look like a porcelain doll that someone had beaten with a hammer.
I rushed to the altar, diverging from the others. Samuels eyes widened, the others didn’t notice. I scrambled to tie the bundle of threads into a knot, creating a thin lasso. Not my best work, but quite impressive under the pressing circumstances. I threw the loop over the pillar, and tied the other end around me.
The jailors’ split into two groups, half of them chasing me, the other half chasing the others.
“Don’t turn back!” I shouted. I didn’t know why. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t even like these people that much. Why am I trying so hard to help them? I clenched my teeth and willed my thoughts in other directions. Mulling over it wasn’t going to help.
Nea turned to look at me, eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you saying?! You’ll never make it!”
Well, too late for second thoughts anyway.
I had already diverged far enough that I’d be caught if I got cold feet and tried to catch up. This was the only way out now. I made it a quarter of a circle around the altar when the group chasing me realized I was doubling back. They split up in half again to catch me in a pincer.
I groaned. “Fuck.”
The Chambers had a way of forcing me into desperate gambles. And I didn’t like being forced into things.
I pulled at the threads tied around my waist, to make sure they wouldn’t come loose. I closed my eyes for a second, took a breath, and steeled myself.
“Here goes,” I mumbled, lungs burning from overexertion.
I activated Skin stitching and felt the hands around me constrict like a bunch of snakes. My chest felt tighter than before. Luckily being able to breathe was overrated, or so I’d heard. For good measure, I used burst to achieve my top speed. Because if I couldn’t shield my hands from the explosions, maybe I could run away from them? Or so I hoped.
With clenched teeth, I shot my eyes open and tore at the closest cluster of red threads.
Everything went black for a second. Then I was flying—hurtling through the air around the altar like a pendulum. My arm ached like it had been blown to bits, but I could definitely still feel the wind pressure brush against my fingertips.
So far so good.
The rough shapes of the others nearing the archway flashed into view for a moment before I spun away. I could feel my cheeks fluttering from the pressure, and just barely managed to keep my mouth shut as I whizzed toward the closest jailors.
Now, I thought and made the thin rope incorporeal.
Without it harnessing me to the altar, I shot forward like a cannonball. Whenever my momentum slowed and I had to stumble-run, I tore my hand through the veil again, ripping whatever red threads I could to shreds, and creating fearsome explosions in my wake. Each one propelled me further, like a series of rocket-jumps.
My ears rang with a high pitched screech, and my arm felt like it was getting torn to shreds, but I couldn’t stop. Not when I was so close. I tore again, and surged toward the closest group like an arrow leaving its bow.
Their claw-like hands just barely missed as they swiped at me. My feet skidded against the stone as I desperately tried to stay upright in the middle of them. They turned, mouths snarling and leaking spit. “Eat this, bastards!” I screamed and ripped at a cluster of threads. My momentum was still fast enough that it didn’t hurt the important parts of my body very much, only my arm. The jailors’ on the other hand, weren't so lucky.
Their metallic bodies slammed against something, that much I could tell from the thundering clamour I left in my wake. But I neither had the reaction time nor not the brevity to look away. After the second explosion my somewhat controlled flight turned into a spinning nightmare. It wasn’t until my body struck the floor, and sent me bouncing through the room that I dared open my eyes again.
I turned to my back, watching the ceiling as I slid. The small hole in the roof’s center grew further and further away. I twisted my body just in time to avoid my head slamming against the cold metal bars of a cage. My neck strained to not let my skull whiplash into it. “Fuck,” I moaned and coughed, cradling my charred arm. For some reason, it held up incredibly well. If only I had the pain tolerance, this method of travel could be used in future struggles as well, but I didn’t, so I wouldn’t.
I crawled to my feet, gasping for breath and took a look at my handiwork.
Near the altar, five of the damn bastards lay sprawled on the floor, leaking blood. Two of them had limbs torn off by the explosion, they wouldn’t be getting back up again. In fact, their bodies slowly disintigrated into piles of dust, bringing with them the shiny accolades. I cursed under my breath.
The other three didn’t look like they were doing much better, but they were alive. They clawed at the ground in an attempt to get to their feet, but kept falling back down over and over.
The entire group had been devastated, all for the small price of withstanding a few explosions.
I deactivated skin stitching and greedily sucked in breath after breath of warm air. It tore at my lungs like a raging fire, yet I was grateful to just still be breathing; no matter what air.
“Take that you bastard fucks,” I groaned and grabbed the rifle. I used my free hand to pat at the satchel, and groaned. It was a great bag. Much better than any I had ever had before. But it didn’t fare as well as I had. It was torn to shreds, and had leaked my ammo all over the floor. I hurriedly picked up a few handfuls of the ones that lay scattered around me, counting them in my head. 9.
That wasn’t an awful lot to work with. Not with how many jailors still remained. I shoved them into my pocket and turned to leave as I noticed runes forming in the corner of my eye. I hadn’t seen any of their like since first receiving my blessing.
The consequences of your actions ripple…
I clicked my tongue, Cryptic as always.
The remaining jailors thundered toward me like a typhoon. I scrambled into the nearest archway, mind racing to figure out a solution. “Shit!” I cursed to myself when I realized I was headed to the same corridor we just escaped. I turned for a quick peek, and shook my head. There was no time to go to another.
This really fucking limits my options. I chewed on my lip and stepped inside. On the bright side, many of the jailors had already been dealt with. On the not so bright side, more remained, and my ammo was very limited.
At least the slingshot had bought me enough distance to fire off a few shots, maybe even set up a defensive position in the oratory. I raced through the corridor for a good half minute before the echoes of metallic feet slapping against stone heralded their arrival into the narrow hallway. I turned around and got on one knee, magnifying my vision with the wand.
“One,” I counted aloud.
Their run was erratic and unnatural, making a headshot unlikely. But with explosive bullets, I didn’t need to hit them precisely.
“Two.”
And with these walls encasing us, there would be no dodging. I grinned and squeezed the trigger, the recoil pushing the buttstock into my shoulder.
A cloud of flames swallowed their figures as I turned around to set off at a run again, reloading as I went.
“Three,” I quickly calculated. I had five jailors chasing me at a pace that would allowed them to catch up in twenty seconds or less. Meaning I had five, maybe six chances to fire again.
I had to make every shot count. I turned as soon as I finished reloading, aimed down the sights and studied the results of my previous shot. I swallowed. Neither of them had bit the dust. The bullet only resulted in angry blotches of red skin and blackened marks on their shiny carapaces. I clicked my tongue, and fired again, then turned to reload whilst running.
“Any ideas?” I shouted.
Red runes carved themselves into the veil in the distance. As I got close I could make out what she was telling me.
[Imbue the bullets.]
“And how the fuck do I do that?!”
No answer.
I swear if you ever get your own body again Sera I will fucking strangle you!
I groaned and activated the burst, feeling the weight of magic press down on me.
Because why would she answer? The only thing at stake is my body. Our body! Her vehicle to escape this fucking place!
I glanced behind, confirming that they hadn’t caught up for some damn reason, then grasped the bullet tightly in my hand, and tried to channel magic into it.
Nothing.
“Fuck!” I spat, and shoved it into the chamber, whipped around, and fired again.
The attempt cost me more than I had to spare. I couldn’t keep fumbling in the dark like this, not for much longer anyway. “Fifteen,” I whispered to myself.
I turned and repeated the process. Four more chances. Five more jailors. Things were turning bleaker quickly. “Imbue, damn you!” I shouted at the bullet, spittle spraying from my mouth.
Still nothing. I turned and fired.
Twelve seconds.
Three more chances.
“What the fuck do I do?!” I whimpered, eyes racing along the walls, desperate to see the answer scribbled into the weathered stone somewhere. Anywhere.
I clenched my teeth, chambered a bullet, turned, and fired.
As I turned to run again, the clatter of one of them falling bounced against the wall.
Finally, one dropped.
Nine seconds, four jailors. Come on Cal, you can do this.
The rest of them still charged at me like crazed beasts. Their faces looked like those of burn victims now. The skin melting and sagging down in a way it shouldn’t.
How I had managed to even kill a few of them felt completely surreal. The fuckers were sturdier than even the flesh golems.
If push came to shove I’d blow myself up with the red threads again. But there was no telling if I could walk out from that alive twice. In fact, I felt like I used up all my luck last time. The human body was not meant to withstand blasts, yet I already had, multiple times.
My heart jumped as Sera’s runes scribbled themselves into the veil in front.
[Shape the weave around the bullet!]
