Chapter 3: Magic Rising

  Erik stood faced with a choice; he could flee and leave the kid and his people to die, or…he could fight. These beasts seemed impervious to damage according to the too-short article about them Erik had found. Erik hadn’t died and come back for nothing, though. There was something inside of him that hadn’t got a try yet.

  The slight tug at his consciousness was still there after all this time, calling out to him. He was a Titan. If there was anything that would help him survive this encounter, it would be that. First though, he’d somehow have to unlock the magical power that flowed in his blood.

  That said, his head was still spinning from the previous tackle, and he was able to take a breath. Even so, he had to focus. That sensation within him. He had been told he needed to connect with it, and the easiest way to do that was through meditation. Needless to say, he didn’t have the time for that. The warm, moist breath of the hound brushed his face now, so close was the monster that eagerly smelled its soon-to-be meal. It smelled rancid, like vinegar and mould.

  A twig snapped, and the hound turned to face the young boy some distance away. The hound snarled as it seemed to contemplate which target to go for. Erik was just sitting there, wounded. Where was the fun in that?

  The hound turned, grinning with disgusting white-yellow teeth. The kid eased back, though Erik couldn’t even make him out. At least he had gained some time.

  He closed his eyes, his head still spinning. He tried holding it together, but it proved more difficult than he thought it would be. Erik realised what his actions must’ve looked like to the boy. Giving in. Giving up. If he could calm himself, he might get through this fast enough. He inhaled and exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. In…

  He focused on it—that sensation of something tugging at his mind. It was more of a gravitational pull than a string or rope, as it pulled his entire being. He gave in to the pull, not sure if he was falling or flying towards it. Suddenly, he crashed against a large pool of something, smashing into it hard before being enveloped by it. His body sank deeper into it.

  If he could see his Crest right then, the magic tattoo on his chest, its core was filling with colour, washing away the dark black of the symbol that had appeared in the swirling centre. He was pulsating with magical energy, breathing it out and reabsorbing it himself. Until now, he had thought his resurrected body was already magical…But he’d been fuelled by mere drops, more like residual magic from his time in Afterlife than anything else. It was nothing.

  There was no magic in the world around him except what oozed from him at that moment. Remnants were rare for many reasons, but the lack of ambient magic was one of the major reasons why. Having already been reborn as a Titan, Erik didn’t need magic in an ambient form—he had his own magic coursing through him.

  The pool he lay in vibrated as he started taking it all in. A shaking whirlpool of power formed, blending with his own body. On the outside, there was just a faint red glow, but within him was a thundering lightning storm. The storm activated his dormant blood, awakening his Core power. Afterlife had prepared his body for this major influx of power. With this, he could fight.

  With his power activated for the first time, Erik sensed he hadn’t taken all that the pool could give him, but he was out of time. He also sensed that it would be easier next time around, which was more than enough. He snapped out of his meditation.

  Wrapped around him, he could sense something that should’ve always been there. Something that was as much him as the carbon of his skin. Magic. Power unlike anything he’d felt before—and it was surging through him.

  He felt it at his fingertips, coursing up through his arms and into his Crest, alight in a red glow barely visible through his borrowed shirt. A coursing river from that internal ocean of magic filled his body, and it was such a rush.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Without even noticing, he’d got back up on his feet, and, to his surprise, the hound had only taken a few steps away from him. If he’d known how quickly the whole thing would go down, he’d have done it as soon as the memories of Afterlife came rushing back to his trauma-addled mind. Nana, a mentor of sorts who guided him and Jessie in Afterlife, had warned him that connecting with his magic might take a while, and while he’d only just poked at it now, it would have to be enough.

  The river of power seemed to bring with it innate knowledge from the dark corners of Erik’s mind. Following the rough stream, the details regarding his power felt clear and concise as he internalised the knowledge of his magic, finding it…unexpected.

  Core Ability

  Name: Unexpected Arsenal

  Tier: Iron | Rank: 0

  Type: N/A

  Cost: Variable

  Effect - Iron:

  Manifest the spiritual power of objects around you. Items used can have varying effects. Applicable items limited by mass, volume, density, quality of materials, spiritual bond, spiritual power and more.

  Erik found his tooth-white fist clenching a broken twig. Despite its form, the broken piece of wood was talking to him, whispering, telling him how to use it. An innate understanding of how the twig worked flashed in his mind, although Erik still knew that twigs weren’t supposed to work like that. He heard the piece of wood talk, whispering its secrets to him.

  “Hey!” he yelled, getting the Hellhound’s attention, at least for a second or two. “We’re not finished yet.”

  Erik opened the dam of magic within his body, letting it loose into the poor branch clutched in his hand. He felt the power pour into the stick; the wood accepted it with apparent glee—almost hungrily—as if it had always craved it. The transfer of energy happened almost instantly, and only when the stick was full did a greyish-white substance shoot from the end with a horrid plff.

  The icky substance flew at the beast, coating its upper body and legs. It reminded Erik more of a glue-gun than anything else, and he recalled an ancient memory of a young Erik’s hand stuck fast to the sap of a similar branch.

  The beast roared in anger and charged at Erik. At least, that’s what it attempted to do. Its movements grew heavy and slow, and it wasn’t long before it stopped its attempted stampede. Soon, all it could do was growl at Erik as its body was stuck in the solidifying cement the stick had expelled. Erik rushed in close to the beast and started pounding it with closed fists.

  Despite his magic strengthening his body, he was by no means hitting the beast harder than bullets ever could. And yet, the canine creature’s black hide started splitting apart, its filthy teeth loosening from its mouth. Erik’s hands bruised as well, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t taking the beast down before it could hurt anyone else.

  He slammed his fist into its face. Again. Again. His finger made a loud cracking sound—he winced from the pain—yet he continued hammering it. Its face turned to mush as its angry eyes grew wilder with each strike he made.

  Erik had never fought before. He’d never had to. Even as he pounded into the much larger, scary beast, his thoughts snaked this way and that in a full panic. ‘Is this how a fist should land?’ ‘Should this hurt me more than it?’ ‘Ow.’

  Its tough skin cracked open, letting rivulets of blood through its narrow cracks. The Titan felt his hand grow wet, but the rush of adrenaline kept him from knowing whether it was his own blood or that of the demonic creature that moistened it. Blood spattered. The hound whined and winced from the onslaught. Its left eye had closed, with a white, sticky substance trailing down its snout from between its sealed eyelids.

  What was he doing? Could he kill it? Would he? His thoughts strayed, refusing to observe the blatant violence his own body was enacting on another living creature. He felt nothing for the monster, for that was what this was—a monster. But he’d never expected a man like himself to do something like this.

  The now-hardened glue covering the hound started cracking from the hound’s boundless strength. The beast gained more room to move by the second, further increasing the decay of the substance hindering it. Its eyes glistened with a mix of rage and fear as Erik was beating it to death, somehow…until it broke free. The hard—now brittle—coating around its powerful body cracked and crumbled in the same instant, releasing the raging beast.

  Its maw snapped at the Titan, the sound of its closing mouth like that of bones breaking. Spittle splashed even as Erik recoiled from the enemy’s sudden release. He leapt back, protecting himself with waving arms, hoping that would somehow save him. Again, its teeth clashed together, taking a piece of his clothing with it. Blood sprayed from the beast’s softened, runny eye as it raised its massive paw and struck Erik’s head with unbelievable speed and power. Sent flying, the man was unconscious before he even hit the ground.