BlaiseCorvin
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Past Life Hero, ch 28
🕑 Added 2023-08-13 22:27:23 +0000 UTCMax crouched down, dagger at the ready. He wasn't feeling optimistic about this situation. There were four men with spears blocking the entrance to the alley and another four in front of the restaurant plus Regal. Suddenly, a screen popped up to one side of his vision that read:
You are being ambushed. Caution! An alert has gone out to the appropriate authorities.
Max blinked and closed the window. Bit late for that now, he thought.
Lance kept screaming on the ground. Prince Regal walked forward a few steps from his goons and pointed at Lance on the ground. He said, "Look what you've made me do. All because you didn't know your place."
Max smirked and said, "It looks more to me like you got your pride hurt because I kicked your ass. Publicly. Meanwhile, I notice that all this cowardly shit is very, very private.”
Regal snarled, glared at Max, and then very slowly and deliberately stabbed one of Lance's legs on the ground. Lance's screaming changed in pitch and volume. Max felt rage building in his heart, but he pressed it down, willing himself not to do anything yet. Acting in the heat of the moment would be stupid and make the situation worse. He was far too experienced to be goaded into something like that. Although, based on the relaxed stances of the men surrounding him, it didn't seem like they were actually that worried about him at this point. It wasn't wariness that was making them keep their distance, it was likely amusement. But Max would take anything he could get.
He turned and gave Wiley an icy look, but the man wouldn't meet his eyes. It was ironic that the man who’d sold them out was also the one to educate them on “Lifers.” Now Max had a better understanding of why so many people seemed willing to kiss Regal’s ass and why the prince had more money than others, even in the Quartet. There must be enough people from Regal’s world in this Quartet for his status as a prince to actually matter.
Max promised himself revenge on Wiley as he glared at the man.
Prince Regal noticed the exchange and grinned. He stabbed the wailing Lance through a shoulder and through an elbow as he moved towards Wiley. Lance’s suffering deepened and the man’s screams became choked sobs. Wiley grimaced as he accepted a bag of mana units from the Prince. "Good job, Summoner," said Prince Regal. "Even though you got the bad fortune of being a Summoner, at least you're good for something. I guess your only talent is betraying other Summoners." He laughed at his own joke.
"Can I leave now?" asked Wiley.
"Sure. But I don't think that your new ‘friend’ is going to just let you pass." Regal chuckled and pointed at Max.
"Sure. But I'm not going back out through the alley," said Wiley. "I'll go through the restaurant and out the back way there."
"Fine, do whatever you want," said Regal.
Wiley glanced one more time at Max before leaving the courtyard. He disappeared through the front of the restaurant.
Meanwhile, Max was thinking furiously. If he was at least a one-star mana body, this situation might not be so hopeless. As of right now, he was stronger and faster than even professional athletes back on Earth, but that was not going to be enough.
He'd inspected all of his enemies as best he could, and Prince Regal seemed to be the lowest year Mystic Spear student among them. Regal pointed at a man behind him who had similar features and said, "As I was saying, shitter, this is all your fault. Now I'd like to introduce you to my brother, you useless Summoner."
"If I'm so useless, then why'd I kill you last time?" said Max. He wiggled his nose in a saucy way, and the provocation was too much for the prince. He began stalking forward, but his brother grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. "Don't.”
“Balance, let me do what I want!”
“Losing our composure is the first step in losing a battle.”
“This is not a battle, and the shitter is cornered! He can’t pull any tricks this time!”
“He is provoking you. I thought the whole point of this was to get revenge. It was your idea to do it this way, and you were the one who wanted to torture him, too. Whether he’s trying to get you to kill him quickly or give him an opening, don’t play into his tricks again."
While Regal was busy talking to his brother Balance, Max noticed that Lance was sucking in air as much as breathing. He’d calmed enough to stop screaming and crying. Whether he was trying to avoid more notice, or he’d lost too much blood, or he had just gotten ahold of himself, Max didn’t know. Hopefully the man was listening. Max quickly shouted, "Lance, decide to die! Then they can’t torture you anymore. Mentally tell the system that you want to die, and then when it asks you if you're sure, say yes. You can respawn."
Lance managed to open his eyes long enough to give Max a confused, pain-filled look before understanding crossed his face. Regal swore, “Shit!” and darted towards the downed man, spear raised. Right as his spear thunked home in Lance's uninjured shoulder, the wounded man vanished into dust, all of his possessions vanishing with him. Regal was furious. "After we're done with this, someone go find that little shitter Wiley. He wasn't supposed to tell them that they could do that."
Max didn't say anything. This confirmed that Wiley had intentionally dangled information to make himself trustworthy, all to lure Max and Lance to this place at a specified time. But in fact, Wiley hadn't informed them about the elective suicide feature in the Quartet. That was something that Max had learned on his own. It was a fail-safe expressly for situations like this. But the trade off for electing to suicide instead of being murdered would generally lead to longer rebirth times. Lance hadn’t had any hope of resisting. So Max had decided that his friend dying, getting away from the pain, and not giving these assholes the satisfaction of torturing him any further was still the best outcome.
Wincing, Max tried to reposition himself. Unfortunately, he backed up a half step too far and suddenly felt an attack coming from behind. He barely managed to dodge most of it, but the sharp spear blade dragged along his back, opening a nasty laceration. Worse was the hit to Max’s pride. The Mystic Spear student had obviously not even trying hard for the hit. He smirked at Max and then made a shoeing gesture towards the Prince.
Max was growing angrier, but he forced his frustration down. By this point, just based on the way his enemies moved around him and by that last attack, he could tell for sure now that he'd gotten very lucky in his first duel against Prince Regal. Not only had the other man not been using a spear due to his stupid pride, he also didn't seem to be very good either–at least not compared to these more advanced Challengers. However, his brother, Prince Balance, was a different story. Just standing there, the man was obviously dangerous.
There was another man near Regal that Max was watching out for too. He was the oldest-looking man in the group and, unlike the others, was wearing what looked like a uniform.
Max spit and said, "So this is the might of the Mystic Spear Path Academy, huh? Nine people ganging up on a first-year summoner armed with a dagger. A dagger that he won fair and square from a whiny little bitch who lost because of his stupid pride. Some Prince, huh? You must be from the trashiest family imaginable.'"
Suddenly, Prince Balance moved. He was so fast that Max couldn't react. He’d wanted to, though. His mind told his body what to do, but his body had been too slow..too…mortal, and couldn't obey. Next thing he knew, there was a foot and a half of steel through his stomach. Max didn't move. He was completely overpowered, and flailing around would make it worse.
He grabbed the spear shaft behind the blade and stared Prince Balance in the eyes. The man was a fourth year, based on his badge, and now Max understood intimately why the Summoner's academy hadn't won any competitions for years. This man would have been dangerous back on Albion, much less to a place like the Summoner Academy, at least based on what Max had seen so far. Prince Balance had power and grace, the kind that Max had not seen since his previous life. Of course, at his prime, a warrior of this level would have still been beneath his notice as an opponent. But right now, the difference between the two of them was like heaven and earth.
Max briefly thought about trying to wound Balance but decided against it. He was willing to incur further injury and pain for it but there was truly no hope. What was worse, he could tell by the light of amusement in Balance's eyes that the other man knew exactly what he was thinking. Balance’s calm exterior and measured way he spoke was an act. He might have just told Regal to stay calm and logical but Balance was a sadist.
The older Prince's shoulder tensed, and Max hurriedly released the spear before it was drawn out of his body with explosive power. If Max hadn't let go, he probably would have lost his fingers.
Balance backed up to the restaurant, never taking his eyes off Max, and said, "This nonsense here, all of it, was the idea of my little brother. I am just watching and making sure that nothing stupid happens. I'm not going to get involved unless you besmirch my family again. I highly suggest that you don't do so."
Right. Asshole probably just wanted to stab me. Max could feel the blood gushing out of his stomach now. He almost put a hand against it but decided not to since the spear had gone out his back too. He probably would have already been down at this point if he hadn't begun gathering a mana body. He looked Balance in the eyes and said, "Okay, I'm not going to talk about your family again. At least not right now."
"Good enough," said Balance.
It was still unfortunate that the older prince had stepped in, even if he had wounded Max badly enough for him to eventually bleed out. The strike had missed his vitals and been clean enough that it was not bleeding as much as it otherwise would.
Max really had hoped earlier that Regal would get close enough to either kill him outright, or present Max an opportunity to wound him. Unfortunately, the younger prince hadn't taken the bait. Max knew that the best he could hope for at this point was a clean death. But now he felt like if he said the wrong thing, it might be Balance that inflicted more pain on him. That would be bad. Max couldn't do anything to resist. Now that Max had seen the older prince’s power, he figured the Balance could protect Regal, too.
However, he really wanted to hurt one of these fuckers before he went down. Prince Balance eyed Max's wound and said, "He's bleeding quite a bit, Regal. If you're going to do something, you'd better hurry up."
Max gritted his teeth and looked around at the circle of enemies. He glared at Regal. "If you were that embarrassed about our duel earlier, why didn't you find me and request another duel? Isn't this murder? Aren't you worried about demerits?”
Prince Regal laughed, and a few of the other surrounding students chuckled too. He said, "Demerits? Why would I care about that? I'm a prince. I'm rich. I don't need to curry favor with these so-called professors. This is just an opportunity to grow stronger without actually aging, that’s it. As for the rest of it, unless a professor or other staff is on-scene, the system will be the one to hand out demerits–if any–in most cases. The system always errs on the side of leniency, and I think you will find that it will be a long, long time until any staff shows up to the scene here. And even so, most of these men are just blocking you. Besides, even if all of us got demerits, even if it was enough to actually have any negative effect, they're all my men and I would take care of them. You don't need to worry about it. They’re definitely not."
Prince Regal grinned, "As for the duel, you are not qualified. In fact, now that I have my spear, you're not qualified to lick my boots. After all, I am royalty, and you're just some random peasant from one of a million doomed worlds. I was going to torture you, do even worse to you than we did to your stupid friend who vanished like a coward, but you keep talking about duels, and that amuses me. Most of us are of noble blood. You are nothing and do not deserve to be treated like an equal. However, this is a good practice opportunity for a soldier. Like hunting an animal."
The prince nudged the man in the uniform standing next to him and said, "Go fight him, Donley. Make it take a while. If you kill him too fast, I will be angry and you will be punished."
Regal looked at Max again and gave a mocking bow. "Here you go, shitter. You can fight Donley. So then after you wake up again, after you’ve die, you'll know that you were killed by my manservant. And even in the unlikely event that any demerits are given, they’ll mostly be given to him."
Max warily watched the manservant approach and was disappointed when he realized that Donley obviously knew how to use the spear he was holding. The man’s expression never even flickered. As he drew closer, Max saw that he was a third-year student and had a large scar on one cheek. Donley came to stop right outside of spear distance from Max, and Prince Regal called out, "Men, none of you interfere unless the rabbit here tries to escape. Let's see him struggle against a mere servant of my family."
The surrounding spearmen politely chuckled, and those who had been angling their spearheads towards Max brought them up, pointing at the sky. Max didn't even entertain the idea of escaping. There was no way he was going to get past that many spearmen while this wounded. The only reason he was still functioning at his current level was from experience and sheer stubbornness. He wasn't even a one-star mana body yet, and he didn't have any contracted spirits. Against this group, it was hopeless. Prince Balance's earlier attack had been an eye-opener for Max. Regal was a dumbass but his brother was no slouch. Max had to assume that some of the other surrounding men were competent as well.
He held his dagger point downwards, letting his arms stay loose in his combat stance. The mana in his body, although incomplete, was still doing its job. His wound was not gushing blood like it would have been if he were completely untrained, but an ocean of pain and weakness was on one side of a flimsy wall right now, barely kept at bay. If not for his mental fortitude, the entire idea of fighting at all would have been out of the question.
Max wanted to hurt these people. He wanted it so bad he could taste it. If he had been even a little bit less aware, just a bit slower, he would have likely ended up exactly how Lance had.
Suddenly, the servant, Donley, stabbed. Max's body was not up to the task of keeping up with the man’s attack. Not even close. However, Max still had good eyes, and he could immediately tell that the first strike was a feint. He barely moved, just tapped the blade with his dagger. The second strike was illusory. A supernatural feint. Then a real strike came behind the second one. Even though Max could see it, his body was slow, even slower than it had been before he'd been wounded.
Even if he hadn't been wounded, it would have been difficult to avoid.
Max darted forward, barely jerking his head to the side quick enough to keep his eye. He darted forward, wounded stomach feeling like he’d eaten an entire barrel of broken glass, and he barely rotated his torso quick enough to avoid another hole in his guts. He bumped the spear shaft with all of his strength using his forearm, creating an opening. He lunged forward. Or at least he tried to.
At the last second before committing to the attack, he knew it wouldn't work. So instead, he acted like he tripped and fell into a roll. As he rolled, the spear tip gouged his leg, cutting a seven-inch laceration deep into his muscle. Max hissed in pain and whirled up onto his good leg to achieve the best ready stance that he could manage. His mind was whirling, moving as quickly as he could force it to, trying to make up for his slow, weak body.
If he'd committed to his lunging attack, he might have wounded Donnelly, but it wouldn't have been a serious wound. The counter attack would have likely left Max incapable of wounding any of his enemies again. And after that, the other man would have been much more wary.
Max decided he was going to play this as a long game. He needed the manservant to let down his guard or else Max had no chance of getting in a serious blow. He tuned out all of the other spearmen surrounding him, which was terrifying but necessary. He needed every ounce of focus he could gather to defend himself and enact his plan. If Prince Regal or any of his cronies decided to stab Max in the back, they would have no resistance doing so at this point.
The next thirty seconds felt like an hour as Max barely fended off most of the strikes that came his way. He allowed a few of them to cut him or barely stab him, and the number of injuries on his body multiplied. Before long, all of his clothing was soaked in blood. He knew that the scene was likely satisfying for Prince Regal, but that was a useless thought, and he tuned it out just like he had awareness of the other spearmen. In Max's world, the only thing that existed was Donley and his spear.
Max's dagger flicked out as he contorted his body, ignoring his agony, avoiding strikes and making a show of trying to close enough to wound the other man. Putting on this act and doing so convincingly took all of Max's skill. He bitterly wished that he had even a single-star mana body again, but he had to use what he had. Finally, when he judged the time was right, he let one of Donley's strikes find its mark right to the side of his belly button and above his hip.
This second strike to his stomach was almost too much to bear.
Max hissed and clamped a hand on the wound, which was his first major mistake. As he turned, off balance, Donley's spear withdrew and darted forward and cut the back of Max's leg, severing his hamstring. Max landed heavily and cried out in pain, but that was the only sound he made. After that, he got onto his hands and knees as best he could, dagger still in hand, and glared at Donley and Princes. The older Prince shook his head and muttered, "Is this really a first-year summoner?"
Regal snickered and said, "Doesn't matter though, does it? You know, I heard that the Summoner Academy was prepping this shitter to participate in the Quartet competition. I bet this fool might second guess coming now."
Max spit in their direction.
“Tsk.” Prince Regal took a few steps forward and pointed at Max with his spear. "Every single time you come to the central area, I will know, or one of my men will know. We will track you down, and we will find you, and we'll do this all over again. In fact, next time, maybe we'll bring some special tools to make it even more fun." The Prince laughed and barked, "Donley!"
The servant's blank face still didn't change as he turned and said, "Yes, Master.”
This is it, thought Max. All of his enemies thought he was beaten now.
Max had lost more blood than he wanted to think about. He had to look terrible and had put on a convincing act of being beaten. The moment Donley's guard was dropped, Max's hand snapped forward and launched his dagger with two hundred years of trained accuracy. The blade bit home, slamming into the back of Donley's neck, and the servant began to gurgle as he fell to his knees.
Blood rushed into Max’s ears, turning everything he heard into a drumbeat of violence. He tuned everything else out, scrabbling forward on his wounded limbs, feeling his ravaged guts squelch in his body as he climbed onto Donley's back, yanking the dagger out and slamming it home into the other man's ribs, neck, and then the side of his head.
He distantly felt other spear blades slam home into his back but ignored him. He floated on adrenaline and spite. Max grabbed for Donley's spear as it fell, barely snagging it before he felt cold steel slam into his own neck. And then another strike destroyed his heart. Max died, killed on the fancy cobblestones in front of the posh out-of-the-way restaurant, but he died with a bloody smile on his lips.
***
*Looks at RR reviews from impatient readers*
Yeah...Harry Potter, my ass.
lol
Comments
Blaise Corvin
This comment is so metal. I love it
Gregory Doreza
May his vengeance be cold and humiliating.
Warior1411
Releasing this chapter without the next one would be considered a hate crime by the UN if only they knew
MR.K .
No time for that son. Time to train
Raymond Howard
ooo sad to see him die but i seriously hope he kills them all especially that summoner wiley
