Fangs in the Dark

Chapter 24: Fangs in the Dark

Hours had passed since Arc had uncovered the stark revelation about the fragment. Determined to delve deeper, he continued his research, testing various lingering ideas. However, despite his efforts, no new results emerged. Frustration eventually overtook him, and he abandoned the endeavour entirely, exhaustion weighing him down. The fragment, now lingering in its true form, was tucked away into his left pocket as he collapsed onto the bed, boredom settling in like an unwelcome guest.

"Great. Now what?" he muttered, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't drowsy enough to sleep, nor could he leave the room as per the instructions he'd been given. The oppressive stillness of the room made the wait unbearable. Restless, his eyes roamed the room, seeking something --anything-- to engage his mind. His attention snagged on the study table in the corner.

The medication had alleviated his pain, and to his mild surprise, he found his movements significantly easier. "Took their sweet time kicking in," he murmured, pulling himself upright. "Not that I'm complaining." He crossed the room, his footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness, and approached the table. The drawer beckoned him, its contents a potential distraction from his monotony.

"Let's see what we have here," Arc said, pulling it open. His gaze was immediately drawn to a mirror lying upside down. Picking it up, he turned it over, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he saw his reflection. His face bore the marks of chaos: scars, bruises, and a weariness that clung to his eyes. "That grenade launcher and the wolf did a number on me," he muttered. "That's going to leave a mark. Not that I care."

The bandages covering his wounds were a testament to his ordeal. Some had been removed, revealing the scars beneath, but one bandage remained--the one over his right eye. Curious, Arc slowly peeled it off, his breath hitching slightly as he braced for what he might find. Opening his eyes, he blinked, testing his vision. Though partially impaired, he could still see.

"A bit blurry at a distance, but manageable," he said, tilting his head as he examined his reflection. A smirk tugged at his lips. "I think they used mana arts to heal the eye while they were busy fixing my mana issue, regardless this doesn't look half bad, I always wanted to try out an eye patch anyway." He leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting the scar tissue around his eyebrow and cheek. "Guess I'll be adding this to my collection of battle souvenirs. I'll have a tale to tell the rest when I return to the Academy."

With the bandage back in place, he returned to the drawer. Most of the items inside were either mundane or useless for tinkering. Disappointed Arc sighed and turned his attention towards the room itself. The windows were sealed, and despite their functionality, they possessed a peculiar atmosphere. The diverse combination of old and new, coupled with the disorganized placement items, gave the that the space had been quickly assembled.

"Judging by the way things are arranged and the haphazard remodelling of the room, it seems they must have been in a hurry. As I look at the artefact on my left arm, I notice it's still cracked, but I'm not sensing any mana --neither now nor before. There's probably an isolation barrier outside the room. I wonder how it works," Arc mused aloud.

As he pondered aloud his gaze settled on the bookshelf. During his early experiments with the fragment, he briefly skimmed through the contents of the bookshelf and observed that most focused on mana and its practical uses. None of those topics were of use to him at that moment, so he skipped through them entirely.

One book, in particular, had caught his eye, and he had decided to go through it later. That later had just become now. "That might work," he said, reaching for the book or instead the journal. It was a handwritten journal containing observations and insights on the various applications of magic.

"Well, at least the text is legible," Arc remarked as he flipped through the pages. The explanations were straightforward and free from the jargon that had plagued the academic texts he had read in the past. Although he had never struggled with reading those academic journals before, this clear writing was a welcome change of pace as he progressed through the journal.

As he skimmed through the pages, the basics of mana application began to unfold before him. He learned about the presence of mana in all living beings, the network of mana arteries that absorbed ambient mana and transferred it to the mana core, and the mana veins that discharged magical energy in the form of raw mana or spells based on the intent of the caster. The core is where mana accumulates. "It's like the circulatory system for magic," he muttered, nodding in understanding.

Despite his unique condition that hindered his ability to wield magic, he was impressed by the journal's clarity. "This section always puzzled me, but after gaining first-hand experience and reading this text, I must say, that things are becoming clearer. Whoever wrote this went into great detail; they even drew diagrams and charts by hand to simplify things. Cool!"

He flipped through the pages, noting that most of the content was already familiar to him. Reading the book felt like an interesting journey, so he began calling out the headings of each chapter as he skipped past the earlier material. "... Chapter 7: Mana Network, ... Chapter 13: Types of Mana Networks, ... Chapter 21: The Ideal Mana Network..." Some of the journal content was intriguing and still unknown to Arc, but he decided to explore those topics later, as he felt groggy and wanted to rest.

Reaching the end of the book, he found a name etched on the inside cover: "Mica Mist...," he read aloud. Closing the journal, he placed it back on the shelf. The other books on the lower shelves failed to hold his interest, and with no way to reach the higher shelves and the creeping tiredness beckoning him to sleep, he abandoned the idea altogether.

Night had fallen by the time he returned to his bed. The room's silence was briefly interrupted by a flicker of red light, casting strange shadows on the walls. But by then, sleep had claimed Arc, leaving him unaware of the chaos brewing beyond the eastern wall of the fort.

Later that night, Mogrul Blackfang, the goblin captain in pursuit of the fragment, crept through the shadows toward the room where Arc was resting. His advance was unchallenged, the absence of guards fueling his confidence. "No guards? Are they serious? Guess our plan worked better than I thought," he muttered, a sly grin splitting his face.

As he reached the door, Mogrul extended his hand, only to be thrown back by an invisible force. He hissed in frustration, rubbing his wrist. "A barrier. That explains the lack of guards." He crouched down, examining the shimmering energy field faintly visible in the dim light. Years of experience as a raider and spellcaster had taught him the intricacies of barriers, and he began methodically dismantling them with counter-barrier mana arts and delicate trap-disarming spells.

"Good thing I picked up these tricks," he muttered, sweat beading on his brow. Seconds stretched into minutes, and time pressed heavily against him. His patience began to fray. "Damn it. This thing's more complex than I thought. If only I had more time..."

Mogrul's lip curled in frustration before determination took its place. "I guess subtlety isn't an option. But it wasn't entirely a wasted effort--at least now I know the barrier's weaknesses."

He stepped back, his right fist igniting with crackling flames. The reddish-yellow glow quickly deepened to an intense orange, then shifted into a sinister bluish-purple as the spell coalesced to its peak. He growled, his eyes narrowing. "Too much mana, and it will collapse like shattered glass. Let's see how you hold up against this."

With a roar, he unleashed the spell. Flames erupted, engulfing the area in a blazing inferno. The barrier, meant to regulate the flow of ambient mana inside the room, shattered under Mogrul's overwhelming attack. With a final crack, the barrier collapsed.

Mogrul stepped forward, the grin returning as the acrid scent of smoke filled the air. "Not so tough now, are you?" he sneered, his eyes fixed on the now-exposed door. Without wasting another moment, he reached for the handle, eager to claim his prize.

As soon as the barrier shattered, Arc woke with a jolt. The sound of the explosion echoed in his ears, but it was not the explosion but rather the sharp, searing pain of mana flooding into his body that truly brought him to full alertness. His breaths came quick and shallow as he staggered to his feet, instinctively reaching for a defensive stance.

The room was dimly lit, bathed in a strange bluish-purple hue from the dissipating barrier. Smoke coiled lazily through the air, and the acrid stench of burning wood clawed at his nostrils. Then came the sound--a sickening crack as the door burst open, revealing an ominous figure silhouetted in the fiery glow beyond. A goblin, Jaggade daggers in both hands, stepped into the room. His red eyes burned with bloodlust as he grinned maliciously.

Arc's mind raced. Mana filled his body, but he felt like an empty vessel, and his mana suppression ability caused him severe pain. Time was short. "Looks like that camp experience was a fluke. No magic, darn. Guess I'll have to find a workaround for this mess." Weaponless and cornered, he remembered the jagged fragment in his pocket. "Not ideal, Not ideal at all!" he muttered, pulling it out as an improvised blade.

The goblin lunged, ready to end it quickly. Arc barely reacted in time, seizing a nearby chair to deflect the attack The creature's jagged daggers screeched against the wood. Gritting his teeth, he swung the chair, hoping to knock the goblin off balance. "This pain and no magic; why is everything so cumbersome?" Arc Muttered.

Mogrul dodged effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. The force of the swing splintered the chair into pieces, leaving Arc clutching a jagged wooden stump. "Better than nothing," he thought grimly, raising it like a club to parry the goblin's relentless onslaught.

The room echoed with the clatter of wood meeting steel as Arc fended off blow after blow. However, it was evident he was outmatched. The goblin's movements were calculated his strikes relentless. Small cuts began to litter Arc's arms and torso, his white night attire now showing tears and swatches of discolouration despite the room being dimly lit under bluish-yellow flames, sending a fresh wave of pain through his already battered body. Yet, he refused to give in.

Arc's muscles burned, his vision blurred, and the mana poisoning coursing through his veins added an entirely new level of agony, adrenaline-fueled him. When Mogrul's dagger came dangerously close, Arc twisted his body, slamming the jagged stump into the goblin's side. The goblin hissed in pain as the blistering sharp edge of the wooden stump slit across his skin, causing him to stagger slightly. However, the retaliation was swift--a deep but harmless gash reopened an older wound on Arc's shoulder.

Blood flowed freely now, but Arc refused to falter. His defiance burned just as brightly as the fire in the goblin's eyes. In a desperate move, Arc lunged forward, his makeshift blade slashing upward. The goblin's left ear was severed cleanly, and a spray of blood followed. "One more cut," Arc growled while still in pain, a sly smirk twisting his lips, "and those ears are mine."

The remark struck a nerve. Mogrul's face contorted with fury. Goblins held their ears in high regard, and adventurers often after vanquishing their goblin foes gathered their mana cores and ears, as these were highly prized in crafting magical items and potions.

 Many adventurers also took them as trophies. This practice of trophy-taking was beyond insulting to Mogrul. "You'll pay for that," Mogrul snarled, stepping back as flames emerged along his fingertips. He was preparing another fire spell, the same devastating attack that had decimated the barrier. Arc's eyes widened. He had no means of defence--no way to if the spell was unleashed. "If that hits me I am done for."

"As if I'll let you!" Arc shouted, charging forward. His movements were clumsy, fueled by desperation rather than skill. But he succeeded in disrupting Mogrul's concentration. The goblin's fire fizzled out as Arc's jagged blade socked in his blood and sliced through his leather armour, leaving a shallow gash across the goblin's torso. Both combatants staggered backwards, blood dripping onto the scorched floor.

Mogrul's eyes were red with hatred as he once more attempted to summon his mana. But something was wrong. His hands trembled, and his veins bulged, yet no flames appeared. Panic flickered across his face. He tried again, but his mana refused to obey. "What... what's happening?! What have you done to me?!" he bellowed.

Arc noticed the goblin's faltering and pressed the advantage, gripping his makeshift weapon tightly. But before he could attack, Mogrul hurled a broken piece of furniture at the arc forcing him to break his guard and step aside, Mogrul lunged straight towards the arc in full fury, his body twisting mid-air to deliver a crushing blow. Then, inexplicably, his body froze.

It was as if time itself had stopped for the goblin. His momentum ceased, and his body hung suspended for a heartbeat before crumbling. As he hit the floor, his form shattered like fragile glass, the pieces scattering across the room.

Arc stood frozen, his chest heaving. The pain in his body was overwhelming, but the immediate danger had passed. He looked down at the remnants of his enemy, confusion and relief battling for dominance in his mind. "What just happened?" he muttered, lowering himself onto the bed. His legs trembled as he sat, staring blankly at the ruined room. "The room is a mess; even the windows and parts of the ceiling have crumbled!" Smoke lingered in the air, and cold gusts of wind blew through the shattered windows and broken ceiling.

The fire had subsided, snuffed out by the influx of cold air. Yet, the battle had taken its toll. The walls were scorched, the ceiling damaged, and Arc's own body was wracked with pain. The mana poisoning continued its relentless assault, a cruel reminder that his ordeal was far from over. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.

"One problem down," he whispered hoarsely, "and another takes its place. What's next?"

***