Accidental Healer-Chapter 143 - 57 - A message from pops

Layton,

I wish I could be telling you this in person.

You are the greatest thing your mother and I ever did. We both love you more than life.

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you, but maybe this message is enough.

You can't go through your teleporter. It must be destroyed. There is no future on the other side.

Who knew that one day I'd be so grateful you bailed on fixing Charlotte's sprinklers to go camping.

I'm so proud of you.

Forever your loving father,

Martin

I read the message.

I read it again.

I read the message, surrounded by a tide of Chaos Champions, Scavengers and Bruisers. I felt the tip of Tranquility bite into the earth as my arms went numb. Phantom Tranquility and my barrier held while I etched the words into my mind.

Martin, my father was alive. He wrote those words. Those beautiful, terrible words.

Eventually, they faded leaving me with just the memory.

You can't come through the teleporter.

There is no future on the other side.

I'm so proud of you.

The news should've brought me so much comfort.

It didn't. I read the message for what my father meant them to be. A last goodbye.

Someone who didn't know my dad might have wondered what he meant by no future.

I didn't.

This note was proof of at least two things for certain. The first, just like Mischief predicted, my parents were in the other faction building a teleporter.

And second, they weren't alone.

Half a year. I'd waited half a year without knowing anything about my parents. Six months of wondering, praying, hoping that someday we'd find a way to be reunited. Wading through body after body of stinking filthy chaos spawn day after day after day.

And this is what I get?

A note? Telling me that after everything I'd gone through, everything our faction had gone through wasn't enough?

I knew my dad meant well. He probably thought he was making some kind of grand gesture to protect me from whatever was waiting for us.

The only problem was, I didn't give a damn what was on the other side.

And the fact that my dad even suggested that—

pissed me right the hell off.

The Bruiser hacking away at my barrier didn't even register Tranquilities movement. One second it rested in the dirt the next it was passing through its body groin to shoulder, a near perfect bisection. My fist completed the uncoupling of the bruiser's body and I stepped through the rain of gory black entrails on my way to opening the belly of a champion.

I felt, more than I saw, the movement of a scavenger attempting to flank me. The phantom tranquility blade moved to intercept the attack but I was too fast.

My free hand clasped around the scavenger's wrist before it could complete its swing and I shoved its own blade through its eye and out the back of its head.

It wasn't enough.

Killing the chaos spawn with Tranquility just felt too clean. I didn't want to feel peaceful right now.

I wanted to break everything I saw.

So I let Tranquility go.

It was like I was back in the beginning. Back when I fought my very first Chaos spawn. Back then the only thing between life and death were my own two hands.

I jumped onto the back of the next champion I saw and used my arms to wrap around its thick hairy throat. My hands barely reached but I was just able to latch my fingers together. Once I was sure I had a firm grip I flexed my arms squeezing with all my strength.

Through my armor I could feel the creature's neck muscles protesting against the pressure. It felt like thick chords twisting and writhing. I squeezed harder and felt a pop. The champion's body went rigid and I hopped free just as the tall monster toppled sideways.

A bruiser was waiting when I dropped to the dirt and I was forced to duck beneath a swing aimed for my throat. As I stood I carried the momentum into a haymaker that collapsed the metal helmet around my hand. Black tar coated my fingers oozing from the ruined helmet then came pain.

Even with all my constitution it was obvious my fist wasn't meant to compete with the strength of magically enhanced armor. But I didn't mind. All the pain did was add fuel to the fire burning in my chest.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I didn't even waste the time to heal it.

There was something even deeper within me that was broken and no amount of healing magic was going to fix it.

Time melted around me and my world became wrath.

The chaos horde became therapy. With each body destroyed by my fists a little steam faded until there were none left.

Ichor dripped from my fingertips. My chest heaved. Not from exhaustion.

A notification waited for my attention. I opened it.

New Title

Unleash the beast: Sometimes you just need to let it out. + 15 strength +15 constitution

A fitting title.

I winced as the rage fueling my adrenaline drained fast. My hands ached and my knuckles burned from the abuse. After a quick healing spell the pain would disappear immediately but I wasn't ready for that just yet.

For right now, I was mostly just wondering what was making me so mad. Well I mean, it really did piss me off that my dad thought he had any right to tell me to stay away. Especially if he was facing some sort of mortal danger. There is no way he actually expected me to listen to him.

How could I live with myself? It was completely out of the question. So really, all that was left was just good news. The only thing separating me from my parents was a bunch of marble and some other crap that needed thrown together.

It wasn't perfect. I knew that. If time ever was our friend during the trial it wasn't anymore.

Ichor squelched as I balled my hands into fists. But as far as I knew, today, my parents were alive. And they needed my help.

And it would take hell itself to keep me away.

"You look like one of those creatures just gave birth to you."

I didn't waste my breath on a response, instead I looked down. Mischief was right. I couldn't see my face but everything I could see was caked in chaos spawn gore. The good news was my robe

self cleaned and I could already see the filth fading.

A quick look around showed me cleanup was in full force. I found Mischief lounging not too far away, clearly watching me. I wasn't quite ready to talk about the information I'd just been given so I started looting the mangled bodies around me, slowly making my way towards him.

"So are you going to tell me why you went feral?" 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

I poked a few more corpses and then plopped down in the dirt next to the sedan sized feline.

"Apparently I needed to unleash the beast—or at least that's what my new title said."

The entire situation felt off. I should be running off to tell Jared the news so we could go hyperspeed on the construction.

"My parents are alive. Or at least they were alive."

Mischief raised his head.

"My dad sent me a message. I'm not really sure how, but I know it was him."

Who else would know about me ditching him to fix sprinklers?

"You were right."

"The teleporter?"

I nodded. "He doesn't want us to use it."

Mischief cocked his head confused.

"I don't know, I think they're in trouble. His message gives me the impression he wants to protect me from it."

Strangely, explaining the situation now to Mischief I felt totally calm. I shouldn't feel calm.

"Can you believe that?"

"How dare he."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm going through." I said matter of factly. "But I'm going alone."

Mischief actually snorted.

"What!?"

"How did I know?"

"What?"

"You're no better than your dad."

"What are you talking about? We don't even know what's on the other side! Or how our faction compares to others, I can't drag our faction into a possible death trap."

"Oh please, you've already done it like ten times. Look around."

I raised my head. The forest outside the faction was totally ruined. For hundreds of yards it was nothing but trampled mud and stone.

The fighters were still milling about looting bodies with hundreds of other non-fighters collecting equipment and helping to clean up. Weariness was evident in the sagging shoulders and heavy steps. In a few minutes more chaos spawn would appear and the battle would begin anew.

They were exhausted. The scourge trial was pressing against everyone.

Mischief was right—again.

"It doesn't make it right. What if whatever is on the other side of the teleporter is stronger than me?"

"Sounds like you'd probably need help then. Why should you have all the fun?"

"And if we can't win?"

"Then we lose. But at least we don't have to live with not knowing."

I looked at my friend. Calm and powerful. Was I really doubting what he was capable of? Then something dawned on me.

Mischief's aura. I was being influenced by my friend's aura. Confidence, certainty, patience. It was working on me like I'd never felt before. It soothed me, opposed my doubts, reassured me. Was he somehow manipulating his aura?

Either way, now that I was aware of the effects, they started losing their grip. For a second, I wanted to bring up the aura to Mischief. But I honestly doubted that he knew what he was doing.

"You realized if we lose, we die."

"That's always been the rule."

I smiled grimly.

"Then we better let Jared know, it's time for you to meet the fam."

***

Purples and orange painted the horizon acting as a majestic backdrop to the white stone building that just days before had offered so much hope.

Days.

That was all the difference between salvation and doom.

Technically that wasn't really true though. Ignorance really was bliss. Escape was only ever an illusion.

In hindsight, it was possible that some of his people might've escaped through the portal before Boretek seized it. They could've warned Layton possibly but there was too much that could've gone wrong. Martin could never allow that.

The only way he could guarantee his son's safety was making sure the teleporter on Layton's side was destroyed. He understood what his choice meant.

If there was a hell, would sacrificing an entire city to death in order to save his son guarantee him a spot? Martin didn't care.

The only thing he wasn't sure of was should he tell his wife?

He would. When the time was right. For now he would keep everything quiet. They'd build the teleporter, buy as much time as they could, and fight like hell when the time came. The odds were totally against them but he wasn't about to go quietly.

So they'd build all the way until the end, doing exactly what Boretek expected.

A cool breeze tickled his short cropped beard.

Claire would understand. He would tell her before it was over. They would die knowing their son would live.

It was enough.