Chapter 70: Jared Rex

Chapter 70: Chapter 70: Jared Rex

The combos worked.

Freeze. Burn. Freeze. Burn. The ManFreezer breathed out a pale fog, and a skin of frost crept up the beetle’s legs, and the boss locked in place like a fly in glass. Then Jared Rex came in with a spark in his thumb and a fist full of fire, and the shell cracked.

The boss tried to counter.

It spat its white balls across the quarry. One went wide. Another sizzled out against the ManFreezer’s chest. A third hit the ground ten feet from Jared and fizzled in a harmless puff of smoke. Each time, the beetle screeched. Each time, it tried again. Each time, it failed.

Jared made sure to hit the same point.

The chest. Always the chest. He’d found it on the second round, a pale seam under the plates, a thin line where the cracks gathered. So he hit it. And hit it. And hit it. Every explosion landed in the same palm sized patch, like a hammer striking the same nail.

[Mana: 301]

[Mana: 212]

[Mana: 138]

The beetle began to tire.

It was slow at first. A stumble. A shudder in the wings. A hitch in the jaw. But by the fifth combo, its legs were trembling. Its blades sagged. Its breath came in low, rattling gusts that blew white mist across the dirt. Every time Jared hit it, it let out a thin, high keen that crawled up his spine.

He stopped.

He stood in the dust with his fist half raised, and he looked at it.

’It’s suffering.’

The thought came out of nowhere, small and sharp. He watched the beetle sag against the frost, plates cracked and weeping, dark eyes dim. It was a monster. It had tried to kill him. It would have killed Karl. It would have killed them both without a second thought.

But it was suffering.

His hand started to lower.

’I could stop.’

It would be so easy. He could turn around. He could walk away. He could say it was enough, call the whole thing off, let it limp back into the dark. He could even say it was mercy.

Then he remembered what Karl had said.

It wasn’t a speech. It was a quiet thing, said on a curb, in the dust. Who are we to judge ourselves? We are only beast masters. He remembered the bone pale gem in his palm. He remembered the cold, small shiver of it.

He drew back his fist.

He wasn’t going to relent.

But he wasn’t going to be cruel, either.

’I’m not going to make this worse.’

He wasn’t going to stretch out the suffering a second longer than he had to. If it had to end, it would end fast. Clean. As painless as he could make it.

He pressed his hands together.

The vines trembled. The green gas bloomed in the space between his palms, a pale, shimmering haze. He squeezed. He pushed. He tried to condense it, to pack the whole cloud into a tiny, dense knot, thicker, heavier, almost liquid. It dripped. It shimmered. It beaded on his fingers like dew.

[What is that?] the system whispered.

’I don’t know.’

[That’s new.]

’I know.’

[Rex, that’s a lot of concentration.]

’I KNOW.’

He wasn’t sure what would happen.

He hoped for...

The world tilted.

It was a quiet thing. There was no pain, no blast, no crack. He just felt the ground slide out from under him, and his knees folded, and the sky spun up and over his head. He thought, very clearly, ’Oh.’

Jared fell.

It wasn’t like the last time.

The last time had been a blaze of white, a sudden, shattering blackout. This time was different. He had consumed all of his mana. Every drop. The tank was empty, not just low, not just fumes. There was nothing left to burn. He slid into the dark like a stone into deep water, slowly, quietly, without a fight.

[Mana: 0]

[Rex!]

The voice faded.

* * *

The beast was almost done.

Karl saw it all from the edge of the quarry. He saw Jared fall. He saw the glimmering, half formed thing in the boy’s hands wink out. He saw the beetle sway, shudder, and gather itself for one last, desperate lunge.

He didn’t hesitate.

He pulled a gem from his belt and dropped it.

The dragon rose in a rush of heat, wingless and heavy and dark. It lifted its head. Its amber eyes burned. Karl pointed.

"Finish it."

A single, enormous column of fire roared out of the dragon’s mouth and slammed into the beetle’s cracked chest.

The shell shattered.

The boss didn’t scream. It simply stopped. Its wings drooped. Its blades fell. It collapsed in on itself, slowly, like a house of cards, and dissolved into a shower of black ash that drifted away on the wind.

It was over.

[Mana: unknown.]

Karl stood still for a moment, breathing hard.

He waited.

He watched the ashes fall. He watched the smoke clear. He scanned the ground for a flicker of light, the glint of a gem, the faint hum of a beast choosing to survive.

There was nothing.

No gem came from the fight.

* * *

The dragon pulled Jared out.

It scooped him up in its jaws, gently, by the back of his shirt, and carried him through the gate while Karl followed on his own, flying low, running on fumes and stubbornness. They crossed the gate in a flicker of light. A pile of rubble. A wide gray sky.

Karl got them both to a hospital.

He knew they still had 5 gates to clear. He had been counting them all day. But looking at the pale, slack faced boy slung across his shoulders, he knew they had very little left to continue with.

He still had mana. A fair amount, actually. It was mostly just mental fatigue. A heavy, dragging weariness behind the eyes. He’d fought all day. He’d carried a team. He’d wrestled an A rank boss. The body could take it. The mind had had enough.

* * *

It took a couple of hours.

Jared came to slowly.

He swam up out of the dark in pieces, a smell of antiseptic, a hum of machines, a scratchy blanket under his chin. His eyes fluttered open. The ceiling was white. A thin curtain swayed in the breeze.

"You’re awake," a voice said.

He turned his head.

Karl was sitting beside the bed in a plastic chair, hands folded, head tilted. His coat was gone. His shirt was singed. A bandage covered one ear. He looked tired. He looked, for the first time, his age.

"Hi," Jared croaked.

"Hi."

"Did we win?"

"We did."

"The boss?"

"Dead."

"The gem?"

Karl didn’t answer right away.

He looked at his hands. He turned them over. He took a long breath.

"There wasn’t any gem," he said.

Jared blinked.

[Hm,] the system said.

It was the kind of hm a person made when they smelled something burning.

[Suspicious.]

’It’s not.’

[He killed it. He finished it. He was the last one to see the ashes. And now he says there’s no gem.]

’It happens.’

[It happens to you every time. Every time!]

’It’s a last resort.’

[It’s a very convenient resort.]

Jared believed him.

He just did. He looked at Karl’s tired face and the bandage and the quiet, open eyes, and something in his chest said it was true. He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay," he said.

[You’re gullible,] the system said.

’I’m not.’

[You are a golden retriever in a coat.]

’He’s my friend.’

[Friends steal.]

’Not this one.’

[You don’t know that.]

’I trust him.’

They argued it out in his head, in low, swift, whispered voices, while Karl sat patiently beside the bed. The system laid out its case. The dragon. The owls. The timing. The convenient absence of the gem. Jared listened. He considered. And when it was finished, he shook his head.

’I maintain my stance. I trust him.’

The system sighed.

[Fine.]

Karl reached under the chair.

He drew out something small and cool and wrapped in cloth. He set it on the blanket in front of Jared, unwrapped it with careful fingers, and stepped back.

A gem.

It was pale as bone, shot through with a faint, frosty shimmer.

"This is yours," Karl said.

Jared stared at it.

"Oh," he said. "Please. No."

"It’s yours."

"I didn’t say that if I got that one, I was going to give you this. That wasn’t our condition."

"I know."

"It was a deal. We said, if the beetle left a gem, I got it. That was it. That’s all we agreed on. This isn’t part of it."

"I was always going to give you this."

"What?"

"I only said I was interested in the other gem." Karl rubbed the back of his neck. "I never said I wanted this one. Can we not do this? It’s yours. It was always yours."

"Beast master Karl," Jared said, in a low voice.

"I know."

"It’s yours."

"I know." Karl smiled. "I was just testing you."

Jared frowned.

"Testing me?"

"To see if you’d take it." Karl shook his head slowly. "A lot of people would. A lot of people would’ve grabbed it and run. But you didn’t. You argued. You told me to keep it." He looked up, and his gaze was clear and warm and steady. "You, Jared Rex. You are a man of your word."

The words settled over the room like a blanket.

Jared felt his throat tighten.

He didn’t know what to say. He picked up the gem, turned it over, and held it tight. It was cold in his fist. He nodded, once.

"Now, friend," he said.

"Hm?"

"Could you answer me sincerely?"

Karl sat up.

"What is it?"

"You have two owl beasts."

"Yes."

"What are their main abilities?" Jared asked. His voice was careful. Even. "Can you tell me?"

For a moment Karl didn’t move.

He looked at Jared. He looked at the bandage on his own ear. A strange, heavy silence filled the room. A monitor beeped. A cart rattled past in the hall.

"I can," Karl said slowly. "But..."

He stopped.

Then he exhaled, a long, tired breath, and just told him.

"One generates wind," he said. "The other generates illusions through its screech."

Jared smiled.

It was a small, quiet thing, almost a relief. He didn’t say anything. He just lay there, looking at the ceiling, and let the warmth spread through his chest.

’He told me.’

He hadn’t had to. He could have lied. He could have dodged. He could have said it was classified, or private, or nobody’s business. But he’d told him. Without a fight. The fact he was willing meant he wasn’t the thief.

He couldn’t be.

[Hm,] the system said, sounding uncertain for the first time.

’He’s not the one.’

[Maybe.]

’He’s not.’

[Maybe not.]

"What about your dragon?" Jared said. "What rank is it?"

Karl blinked.

"Oh," he said. "You saw that."

"I did."

"Yeah. The thing is." He scratched his head. "I don’t even know."

"You don’t know?"

"I found the gem outside one day. Just lying there, in the grass. I think it was the 22nd."

The panel flickered.

[The 22nd,] the system noted, very quietly. [That’s the same day the other Jared disappeared. And you came into being.]

Jared’s breath caught.

’The same day.’

"You didn’t get it examined?" he asked.

"No." Karl shrugged. "I guess I wasn’t quite ready. I will, though. I just haven’t had the time." He rubbed his jaw. "I don’t even know its abilities, other than the fact that it can spit fire."

"What are you two talking about?"

The voice came from the doorway.

They both turned.

It wasn’t a nurse. It wasn’t a doctor. It wasn’t a random guild member in a gray jacket. A young man stood in the open door, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, his face pale and pinched. He had messy brown hair and an old scar on his chin.

"What are you doing here, Mark?" Karl said.

Jared knew him.

He knew the voice, the scar, the slouch. The memories rose up in a rush, a boy at a kitchen table, a joke about a broken bike, a long bad night in a rainy park. A friend. The original Jared’s friend.

Mark was on Team B. Karl knew him. He’d been on the same list.

"What’s up, Mark?" Karl said.

Mark didn’t answer.

He didn’t look at Karl. He didn’t look at Jared. He kept his eyes on the floor, on the wall, on the ceiling tiles. His hands were shaking. He was a bad liar, and he had never learned how to hide it.

Mark avoided Jared’s gaze.

"There’s something you need to see," he said, in a small, strained voice, "with the barren gates, Captain Karl."