Adamant Blood

For a long moment, Lola Turner stared at the boy’s slumped body, laying on the ground. And then she continued to breathe, her focus completely diverted from imbuing Mark to healing him. As she breathed, he breathed, and pain abated.

Addashield smirked to the side, the absolute bastard of an archmage looking way too smug. “Hit him again. It didn’t take well enough and he’s unconscious anyway.”

Lola glared, breathing for both herself and Mark right now. She said nothing.

Addashield quirked an eyebrow at her. “What? He’s not that injured, is he?”

Lola judged Mark healed through breath enough, so she switched to blood healing, her heart beating in rhythm to Mark’s own beating, and he began to heal at a steadier rate. As the repair of Mark’s body began in truth, Lola allowed herself to use her breath for speaking. “How much did you do to him before I got in here?”

“The normal amount. He took to it quite well. Barely any pain at all. As you saw.”

The old bastard was lying to her, somehow.

Lola was a priestess of Freyala, but she was also an Inquisitor, and she had seen too much shit go down between demons and unwary mages and uneducated kids to feel comfortable around Addashield. He was absolutely taking advantage of Mark Careed in ways that Mark had no idea he was being used. Mark probably didn’t know what a ‘paladin’ truly was. All he knew was what the popular media told him. He didn’t know about the archmage hunts, or the true nature of dragons, or the real duty of the ‘paladins’ against the Fallen. If he had, he would have glanced between her and Addashield and looked worried.

The boy was clearly uneducated in the finer points of nobility, so it wasn’t that he could school his features to nothing. He simply didn’t know what he didn’t know.

It was just her luck that she was on duty today instead of any of the others in her order, here at Orange Arcanaeum. It was just her luck that her prayers to Freyala had resulted in Her Goddess telling her to follow the archmage’s plan, and to prepare as the Inquisitors always did against demon mages of all sorts.

She had already contacted the Collective and verified that they knew that Addashield was on a backup plan, and that they were fully on board his backup plan. In the grand scheme of life here on the Two Worlds, it literally didn’t matter if Addashield ended up killing some kids in the pursuit of this backup. Addashield with an intact Contract with his demon was preferred in so many different ways.

Addashield’s previous apprentice’s death was unfortunate in so many different ways.

And now Mark was suffering from that tragedy.

Lola continued to link her healing heart to Mark’s, the boy’s body repairing itself in small ways, as she breathed for both of them at the same time, thinking.

Addashield waited.

And then Addashield frowned a little. He sighed. “Please get on with the rest of the imbuement, Paladin Lola, otherwise you’re just torturing the boy.”

Lola did not glare at Addashield at the mention of ‘torturing the boy’. She put away her personal feelings and did as her Goddess commanded.

She opened her mind to the boy, to the spark of electricity that danced inside her soul as Freyala made it dance.

Mark’s insensate body writhed on the floor.

- - - -

Darkness.

Voices in the dark.

Someone complaining. A hand on his hand. Yelling.

Something stank.

Wet cloth on his body, wiping him down. Cold, warm, then cold again.

More washing.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

- - - -

Mark woke up with the worst headache he had ever had. His eyes were crossed. His hands shook. His body felt wet. Why did his body feel wet?

A machine beeped beside him, and each beep was like a knife driven into his skull over and over and over again. Every moment of being awake was yet another knife in his flesh, a punch to his brain. His eyes hurt.

He started to say something, to scream, perhaps. People rushed around him. Someone said something soft, and yet those small words split Mark in half and then stomped on the pieces. He screamed. That time he screamed, and he knew it. Someone yelled something about morphine and Mark wanted all of the morphine ever.

Perhaps he even said as much.

Oblivion closed in.

- - - -

Darkness.

Voices in the dark.

A hand on his hand.

Television shows playing. Laughter. The smells of good food.

A hand on his hand, holding him.

Wet cloth on his body, wiping him down.

Something stank.

More washing.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Repeat. Repeat.

Repeat.

- - - -

Mark woke softly, to the annoying buzzing of a television that was on, but also muted.

It was an electrical noise.

Mark felt soft.

… and then he began to wake more. He remembered some sort of pain, but there was no pain right now.

He couldn’t really move at all, but there was no pain. Just lethargy.

He was in his room at home, with the carpet and the sky blue walls and the window with the big oak tree outside, but stuff had been moved around. A hospital machine sat beside him on a stand, tubes connecting to his arm, and to his wrist. His bookshelf was shoved to the side—

Archmage Addashield was in the room. He was sitting on a chair to the side, reading a book, but he looked up when Mark looked up. He grinned. “Ah! Welcome back, Mark.” He put his book away. “There’s good news and bad news. Are you able to hear it all?”

Mark blinked out and sat up—

He couldn’t sit up. He remained laying down, and now he felt winded.

Groggily, he said, “What?”

And then he realized he had some sort of thing in his… He felt something down there. He didn’t want to think about it.

There were tubes.

Mark was tied up to tubes on his own bed, but one hand wasn’t tied up. That free hand was pale. Blue veins were visible under the skin.

“… What?”

“You’ve been through a lot, Mark,” Addashield said, “Good News: the most recent full scan, as of two days ago, revealed that you’ll Awaken with a dual metalkinetic and healing Power, as soon as you go through the Tutorial. Pretty strong ones, too. If I wasn’t in a time crunch, I’d want to take you as a true apprentice, because I won’t have to do anything to you inside the Tutorial to make that happen. You’ll get there all on your own. Maybe I’ll catch up with you in a few years and teach you a few things, if you’re not too furious with me.

“Bad News: I am in a time crunch and you’ve been in a healing coma for the last 107 days. Your birthday is tomorrow, and you need to be conscious now so you don’t wake up and accidentally accept the Tutorial in some sort of delirium tomorrow. You really could stand to be in the coma for another month, at least, but that would be inadvisable, and so, I asked to be here for when you wake up, so I’m here.

“I’m taking my other 3 apprentice options and hopefully one of them gets metalkinesis. Maybe adamantiumkinesis, too, but I’m not ‘holding my breath’, as you Earthlings say.

“Other Bad News: You’ll be a year healing from what we did to you. Turns out you lucked out hard in some ways, and failed a lot in others. Don’t let that discourage you.” Addashield set an envelope on a small table beside Mark’s bed. “I wrote it all down there. Good luck, Mark. You’ll do well. Just gotta get back up on your feet. Take the time to get your GED. Train your body again. When you’re ready, if this hasn’t overly injured you, then take the Tutorial and be the best version of yourself. This is just a minor setback. Good luck. Goodbye.”

Addashield got up and started to walk—

“Thank you,” Mark said, as strongly as he could, which was still rather weak. He wanted more time to know what had happened, but Addashield was busy and… And Mark understood enough. “Thanks for trying.”

Addashield smiled softly, and then he floated a small cube of black metal onto the counter next to Mark’s bed, saying, “I know paying you for your injury doesn’t make it right, but I’ve always found that bribery at least softens the sting of loss, and your parents weren’t taking the bribe at all. Maybe you will? Good luck on your Tutorial, Mark.” He stared at Mark. “Don’t attempt the Tutorial for at least 6 months. Probably a lot longer than that.”

Mark mostly stared at the ceiling, nodding. “Thank you for trying.”

Addashield nodded and walked out.

Minutes later Mom rushed in, followed by Dad.

Mark tried to smile as he held his parents, both of them sobbing, but while Mark’s parents were happy he was awake again, Mark was disappointed in himself. Nothing felt real in that moment, and especially not the loss of 4 months of life. Had that much time really passed? Why was Mom crying so much, and why was Dad trying to smile so much through his tears. It had only been a half a day since Mark had seen them last.

Except no.

He knew how long it had been.

The darkness had been filled with half-dreams that were not dreams at all, and the oak tree outside was laden with the bright green leaves of Spring. Those leaves should have been dark green, or even partially discarded. But no. Those were bright green Spring leaves.

Mark found himself muttering into Mom’s shoulder, “It’s really been a hundred days?”

Mom was loving and furious as she held him, spitting, “That fucking Addashield shouldn’t have pushed you into this! He had no right! He had no—”

“But I wanted it, Mom,” Mark said, “I wanted it.”

Mom said, “Oh baby. You didn’t know—”

“He told me what would happen. I didn’t know it would be this bad but…” Mark was feeling tired again. He had only just woken up and he was already closing his eyes again. “He told me something like this could happen.” He almost told her that he was still going to take the Tutorial in 6 months, or as fast as he could get back up to full strength, but he knew that would lead to a fight. So with a strained smile, he asked, “What’s for dinner?”

Mom started laughing and Dad did, too.

Mark said, “Or maybe I can try walking around some, first.”

It turned out that Mark could not, in fact, walk around at all. He couldn’t even sit up in bed.

He still tried.

He gave up after five minutes. By then, Mark recognized a lot more of the room, and how much it had changed. There was a feeding-tube-thing sitting unused in a corner of the room, and then a breathing machine with a bellows, or whatever it was, sitting under a glass case on top of the cream-colored box of lights and buttons. The lights and buttons were off, but Mark vaguely recalled the sounds of beeping, and he felt a rash on his face and a soreness in his throat that was unfamiliar. He had missed the soreness until now, until all the other weakness in his body was cataloged and set aside as not-important-right-now.

And then there was the catheter in his dick.

It was the least of his indignities. Mark felt dirtier than ever before. His hair was greasy, his body stank, and he suddenly remembered grandpa, sitting in a hospital bed just like this one, down the hall outside of his bedroom, hooked up to machines just like the ones sitting in the corner. Grandpa always tried to be independent, even toward the end. Mark remembered him talking about ‘indignities’ most of all. Of how he had needed help to get into the shower every day, before it got really bad and he couldn’t get into the shower at all.

Remembering that was when Mark started to cry.

Mom and Dad were there, but Mark still felt alone.

By then, something weird was happening with his lips and his mouth. He couldn’t speak anymore. He kinda just lay there in bed, feeling his body like it was a horrible heaviness. Mom called for someone else; Mark barely heard her, but he saw her turn and call to someone.

A nurse was suddenly there, though Mark was sure she didn’t just teleport. That would be crazy. She was a big woman, with big arms and a stern, yet kind face—

Mark blinked, and it was the afternoon, the spring-green oak turned to purple under twilight—

It was night and the stars twinkled beyond the branches of the tree—

The lights were on, and Mom and Dad were there with the nurse. The nurse breathed deeply, and then exhaled more, and for some reason it was truly odd to watch her work her big chest like a bellows. She calmed, and then said something small.

Mom stood in Mark’s view, saying, “Honey, can you hear me?”

Mark nodded, quizzically. He tried to move his lips, but he fumbled everything.

Mom said, “It’s 8:12 AM, May 3rd. We’re about 10 minutes from your 18th birthday. The Tutorial will come for you and you must deny it.”

Mark wasn’t an idiot. He still had his mind, somehow. He knew to deny the Tutorial.

But wasn’t that a private nurse? Weren’t those expensive machines over there? How much did she actually cost—

“Mark. Mark!” Mom said. “Can you hear me?”

Mark nodded, and that hurt to do. Everything hurt. They must have given him the good drugs to talk to Addashield yesterday.

“The Tutorial will be here in 3 minutes,” Mom said, her voice as solid as she could make it, her eyes crowded with tears. She begged, “I need you to deny it, honey. Mark. Please listen to me.”

The nurse said something and Mom had to restrain herself from rising in a fury. Mark could see that rising fury, he could hear it, too, though he couldn’t make any sense of it.

And then Dad was there, saying, “Mark. Deny the Tutorial. You’ll have time to heal and take it later—”

Mom said, “NO! He can’t do it! Not ever!”

Suddenly, there were words floating in front of Mark.

Mark Careed of Earth.

You are 18 years of age and eligible for a pure mana baptism.

Will you join the ranks of those who fight against the dangers of the Two Worlds?

Will you take the Tutorial to awaken your power?

Mark chuckled, or at least he tried. He seemed to be breathing fine, but breathing was outside of his control.

Not yet, Mark thought at the floating words.

The message changed.

You will remain eligible for the Tutorial for as long as you remain baseline human.

The Demon City of Arakino will call again in 30 days.

The words vanished.

Mark sighed out, closing his eyes.

He heard his mother speaking softly, thankful, and the warmth of her hand gripping his. Dad said something about how fast Mark would heal once he started physical therapy.

Mark wanted them to know that all he wanted right now was a bath, but that wasn’t happening.

A painful sleep claimed him.