Chapter 14: Bright Lies.


    Getting struck by lightning fucking sucked. Nero had guessed as much, but there was nothing like a good demonstration to put all his doubts aside.


    The bolt blasted him in the chest, picked him up off his feet and slammed him into a tree. It ravaged through his body with painful jolts. Those jolts elicited spasms, those spasms caused pain to flare up where the Face Eater had hurt him.


    It was hard to focus, hard to breathe even, the electricity was suffocating, squeezing the life out of every single sensation but pain and agony.


    “Nero watch out!” Ember yelled, thin voice cutting through the anguish.


    The Caster was readying another bolt.


    Nero leapt out of the way.


    It struck the tree behind him with a sound like the sorts of things usually compared to lightning, igniting it into an explosion of fire and sparks in an instant.


    Nero hit the ground hard and his body tortured him for it. He did his best to ignore the pain and did so poorly. He was on his feet soon enough to see his opponent charging at him.


    The fight was over, he wasn’t sure he could keep on going if he was hit again. He was barely going even now. Dread set in, anguish that he couldn’t have done better, thought better. He was losing hope, and that was when a glimmer of it showed.


    His hands aren’t bathed in electricity. Nero noticed. Must be out of magic.


    That meant it would be a purely physical contest between them now.


    There was hope, and Nero would cling onto it.


    He met his enemy’s charge with his own.


    The Caster was slow, slower than him and ordinarily Nero was certain he would have been able to dance rings around the bastard, but in the condition he was in, the only thing he could hope to do was weather his punches.


    And he raised his guard to do just that.


    They came as quickly as before, cannon-barrel arms firing off. The first met him with a direct hit, and Nero was suddenly aware that he could take the bastard’s punches. He grit his teeth, did well not to get jostled and braced himself for his next attack.


    It came and was repelled just like its predecessor. There was a panic in the Caster’s face, but he didn’t seem even half discouraged, the opposite if anything.


    The blows kept on coming, like an angry rain and Nero stood defiant against the storm. He couldn’t do so forever however, it was only a matter of time before his hands hurt too much to be raised in time and something slipped past his guard.


    He waited patiently, looked for an opening and struck when it revealed itself.


    There!


    The man overextended in his strike and Nero seized the opportunity.


    His fist met the Caster’s jaw, sending him stumbling and racking Nero with protests from his sides.


    Nero moved to pounce, covering the distance between them as quickly as he could, his body protested, he stumbled, ignored it and struck again, he couldn’t bring himself to follow through this time but the blow was hard enough to leave the Caster disoriented.


    He just had to take him to the ground and this whole thing would be over.


    Nero pressed on the advantage, lashing out blows every which way he could, not giving his opponent even a moment of space. The Caster was a titanic cliff and Nero was an endless tide, chipping away at its form inch by inch with every wave.


    The man lashed out a wild elbow, Nero wasn’t expecting it, he couldn’t move out of the way.


    It sunk into his side, stealing his breath and punishing him with a world of pain. Nero was hunched over, stumbling back. Ember screamed a warning, but it was too late, the man struck again, sending Nero to the ground.


    This is bad…


    The man straddled him, legs on either side and hands wrapped around his throat. He was choking him. Nero punched upwards, but the angle was awkward and the blows couldn’t do much damage.


    “Nero!” Ember cried out.


    But he couldn’t do anything. His killer glared down at him with hot hatred in his eyes, bruises and cuts littered his face from where Nero’s fist had struck and he clearly intended on paying that tenfold.


    Nero could feel a pressure build in his head. It felt like it was going to come apart.


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    He knew what he had to do, knew he was going to die if he didn’t, but he couldn’t tell if Selvas could see him. That doesn’t matter right now.


    Nero set his hand alight with that familiar golden light.


    The man’s eyes widened and then they were shut tight as Nero’s fist slammed into his face as hard as he possibly could, ignoring the screaming pain in his side. He knocked out teeth and sent a spray of blood onto the grass.


    The man’s hands went slack around Nero’s throat and he collapsed on top of him as a groaning and groggy mess.


    Nero drew in a big gasp of air then winced as it hurt his sides to do so. Relief washed over him, sweet, perfect relief at knowing he would in fact not be dying today.


    And then, reality hit him.


    Selvas!


    He shoved the Caster off of him, rolled to his feet and scanned the area for the woman.


    He found her, backing off from swings of her opponent’s blade. She was a ranged specialist and with only a dagger to defend herself in close quarters, it would only be a matter of time before that blade bit into her flesh.


    Nero ran at the man. His target saw him but was far too stunned to react. He tackled the last bandit to the ground and regretted it when he painfully landed.


    The two separated on impact with the earth, but when Nero scrambled to his feet to finish the fight, he found that Selvas had already done it for him.


    The man was gurgling on an arrow that had pierced through his neck and stuck out the other side. Nero looked away, but he could still hear him die.


    “Next time, use the sharp end of your dagger.” Selvas said, voice edged.


    He was met with her glaring eyes, the purple things were narrowed like the gaze of a predator, her hair was a worn mess of wild silver strands and light cuts dotted her skin where the man had just about managed to strike her.


    She was panting, heaving, flesh coated with sweat.


    “I’m sorry.” He apologised, feeling a unique mix of dread and regret worm its way through him. He had just nearly killed her after all.


    Her gaze flicked over to the downed Lightning Caster then back to him. He saw her focus on his chest where he’d been struck with lightning, his shirt was in tatters there; black and charred, torso covered in blood. She looked at his hands, they weren’t glowing, thank god, but a silent question hung in the air, one that made Nero’s throat tighten.


    Selvas never asked it however. Wordless, she walked past him, stopped in front of the Caster. She reached into her bag, pulled out thick heavy runed shackles and closed them around the man’s hands and feet.


    Nero assumed they must have been special restraints made for people with supernatural strength, Or, he supposed, normal restraints for this place. A must in a world where individuals as powerful as him walked around.


    “You hold onto his chain.” The woman said.


    Nero hesitated, not too pleased with the idea of holding a man by a chain, even if he is someone who tried to kill him.


    Selvas sighed, “You can either do that or be the one to chop his friends heads off. We do have to bring back proof of a job done and I’d rather not haul a corpse home with us.”


    Nero swallowed. “I think I’ll do the holding.”


    Nero didn’t look at Selvas work, but he knew he would never forget the noise of her doing so. When she was done, she tossed the heads into a sack and then got to work on cutting the remains of the corpses into little pieces.


    When Nero caught a glimpse of it; a glimpse which he would forever regret, he asked her what she was doing and she told him she was making bait.


    The job was done, but it was still night and Selvas didn’t recommend travelling through the forest when it was dark, so they’d chosen to pass the night at the camp made by the outlaws.


    Nero was wracked by the uncertainty of not knowing if Selvas had seen him using Lightbreathing. He felt like she hadn’t. He had only used it very briefly and he would bet good money that she was far too busy trying to save her own neck to have been focused on his fight.


    Still, he couldn’t shake the doubt.


    “I’m going to go check on the traps.” The woman said. “Do try not to get attacked by a Face Eater again, I am fairly sure in the state we’re both in, you will die.”


    Nero scoffed. “Can’t have any fun with you around can I?” He joked, trying to ease the tension in his gut.


    Selvas stepped into the night and out of sight.


    “I like her.” Ember chimed. She was happily floating around the open flame.


    “She’s terrifying.” Nero noted.


    “But she’s really pretty.” She shot back.


    Nero raised an eyebrow. “You know, you’re very shallow for an imp.”


    “I''m the only imp either of us have ever met, I might be par for the course, or even quite mild compared to the norm.” She grinned.


    “Oh, that’s funny, I don’t think anything I’ve encountered in this world is even half as horrifying as that thought.” He observed.


    Ember giggled and Nero smiled.


    It was a good moment, a moment of peace. But not good enough to make him forget the horror in her face each and every time he’d almost died. He made a promise, he wouldn’t die, not while they were still connected to one another, and he intended to keep it.


    He’d need to get stronger.


    But how?


    “What’s wrong Nero?” Ember asked, smile fading.


    “Nothing.” He replied quickly.


    “You’re lying.” She shot back.


    He rolled his eyes. “And you know this how?” He asked.


    “Your face, you were wearing your thinking face, it makes you look very silly.” She replied.


    Nero ignored the last part. “Fine, I’m trying to figure out if I could use you know what to do ranged attacks.” He told her.


    “Like the Lightning Caster?” Ember realised, nodding.


    He nodded back. “Would be helpful, I can imagine more than a couple close calls that a mid ranged attack would have made less close.”


    Ember frowned in thought, features crumpling like paper. “I… I think it can.” She said after a moment. She looked half-fatigued.


    “Good, good.” Nero smiled. “We’ll figure out how to do it then, together.”


    Ember beamed back at him, nodding.


    He’d have to find a time and a place he could safely practise his magic when they were back at the town. It would have to be during the day too, because that was when his Lightbreathing was least likely to stand out and be easily spotted.


    Then there was combat. Back on earth he’d never picked that up, never seen the reason to. Why learn martial arts when the system already does all the fighting for you. Now that safety net was gone and, several times now, the only thing that stood between him and certain death was his own two fists.


    He’d have to ask Selvas to teach him then.


    If she doesn’t turn me in to the Demons first thing when we get back home.


    “Fuck,” a loud slurring voice coughed out. It was the Caster. Nero had chained him to a particularly sturdy tree not too far from the fire.


    His eyes flowed across the woods like a boat drifting through water. It settled abruptly on Nero. There was something burning like a tempest in his gaze. Nero had made the silly mistake of assuming it was hate, how wrong he was. “I know who you are.” He said, voice croaking and weak. “Lightbreather.”


    Nero felt his blood run cold.


    Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.