Apocalypse Healer - Path of Death-Chapter 2B - Torture

David stumbled as Zachariah shoved him into the room, confusion flashing through his mind. Before he could process what was happening, Zachariah’s sword was already unsheathed.

He sensed the regressor’s bloodlust and quickly materialized multiple [Blood Aegis]. One by one, they shattered as waves of silver light burst from Zachariah’s blade.

Zachariah attacked him. The first barrage of slashes tore into David’s legs, cutting deep into his calves and thighs, nearly severing them with the final strikes. David roared, a chaotic mix of fury and confusion in his voice. He conjured more crimson shields, but the silver light coating Zachariah’s sword easily cut through them. Warm blood pooled beneath him, soaking his back as he lay there helpless while the regressor continued his assault.

Why was Zachariah doing this? Was this supposed to be training? It didn’t feel like training—it felt like torture!

Desperation took over as David cast and overclocked [Restore], slowing the bleeding as the cold in his body gave way to soothing warmth. But the effect was abysmal.

Forcing his eyes open, he glared at Zachariah towering above him. Half a dozen silver lights materialized next to the regressor, coalescing into small, pristine-glowing blades. In an instant, they whipped downward, piercing him and pinning him to the floor.

A pained scream tore from his lips, echoing in his ears like a sound from someone else. The alien sensation unsettled him, but he couldn’t stop the noise.

“This is the Sword Law. To be precise, it is a subsidiary category called Sword Intent. I can use it at will due to my high mastery,” Zachariah said coldly, his voice distant and detached. “It’s instant and doesn’t require Words of Power. Isn’t that great?”

David didn’t answer. Gnashing his teeth and enduring the pain, he wouldn’t have responded even if he could.

He lifted his right arm slowly, warm blood trickling down as he reached for the dagger piercing his chest. A sharp, searing pain shot through him, forcing him to channel [Restore] into his trembling fingers. He glanced at his hand from the corner of his eye and groaned, realizing he had been a fraction of a second away from losing his fingers. Removing the blades made from Sword Intent wasn’t an option.

“If you want to survive, you must learn more about your body. You need to understand it, no matter what it takes.”

“Sick...bastard,” David groaned, his strength waning.

“Stop talking and save your energy,” Zachariah retorted almost comically. “Trust your body and the power you’ve been granted. You still think of your Skill Runes, Class Skills, and the Law as loaned powers, but that’s not the case. These powers belong to none other than you. Nobody can take them anymore—they’re part of you. Treat them like that!”

Easier said than done. David grit his teeth, casting [Restore] again. He also cast [Weave of Life] beneath him, though he longed to add [Equivalent Exchange] and give Zachariah a taste of his own medicine. Unfortunately, the blades kept him firmly pinned to the ground.

He struggled, trying to tear himself free, even if it meant ripping his body through the blades of Sword Intent. Something stopped him. The blades piercing his body…spread? No, that wasn’t right. The blades themselves didn’t spread—the Sword Intent within them did.

The energy seeped outward, tearing through his body and leaving destruction in its wake. It even disrupted [Restore]’s power as it circulated through him, forcefully slowing his natural regeneration.

David’s vision blurred, his strength fading with each passing second. His body was shutting down!

I am not going to die like this! He growled inwardly, clenching his fists. He cast and overclocked both [Restore] and [Holy Touch] simultaneously. His Source churned violently, turbulent energy pulsing within him, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he focused on his Skill Runes and willed them to combine. [Weave of Life] was re-cast and overclocked, preserving his life just a little longer.

Was that enough? David wasn’t certain. Regardless, every second mattered.

He closed his eyes and focused on his body. Finally, he turned his attention to his Source. The letters engraved on it trembled and glowed faintly. The glow was subtle, almost imperceptible, and David doubted he would have noticed it in the chaos of an emergency like this. But now, in this moment of clarity, he sensed the dormant power within him: and reached for it.

His lips parted, and Words of Power rolled out in a steady stream.

The next moments blurred together. Darkness swallowed his mind, only for sharp, stinging pain from his cracked, dried lips to pull him back to awareness. The taste of his own blood filled his senses with startling clarity. As he reflexively moistened his lips, the blood didn’t drip to the ground as expected. Instead, it receded, drawn back into his body, and his wounds closed. All of them.

David’s mouth remained slightly open as faint, almost inaudible Words of Power continued to spill from his lips.

When he opened his eyes, the scene around him was nothing short of miraculous. Still pinned to the ground, he turned his head to see piles of corpses scattered around him. He hadn’t touched them, but instinctively, he knew they were drained of Essence. His senses confirmed it. Meanwhile, the power within him had shifted. Zachariah’s blades of Sword Intent still wreaked havoc on his body, but he didn’t feel weaker. If anything, he was stronger than before.

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Pain coursed through him: every inch of his body felt as though it were being slashed from the inside: but the power surging within was undeniable. His wounds had healed, leaving only the blades of Sword Intent embedded in him, still cutting.

“Are you finally back to your senses? I was already worried,” Zachariah’s voice cut through the air, mocking and insincere. David caught sight of him standing in the corner of his vision, smiling faintly.

David would have cursed him, but Zachariah spoke first.

“If you can curse me, you might as well remove the Miniature Swords. Maintaining them while your Blood is sapping their power is quite draining.”

David growled but complied. It wasn’t as though he wanted to waste time. His Source trembled violently as the Words of Power came to an end. A groan escaped him as fountains of blood erupted into the air. He grimaced, looking down at his body and the Miniature Swords embedded in it, his blood soaking them in vivid crimson streaks. A faint crackling noise filled the air, soon followed by a gasp.

The blood seeped into the Miniature Swords, revealing fragments of their power and secrets. But it wasn’t enough for David. Though he had gained a faint grasp of control, it was far from satisfactory.

The fountains of blood began pushing the Miniature Swords outward. It was an eerily slow process that tested David’s patience. Without a profound understanding of Zachariah’s Miniature Swords or the Law of Blood itself, he was forced to proceed carefully.

Blood spattered everywhere, painting the surroundings crimson, but David never lost control. He willed the scattered blood to return, and it obeyed.

David pressed his advantage, commanding the Law of Blood to seize the Miniature Swords. The blood fountains worked against the blades, dampening their power little by little. He could have stopped there, satisfied with merely neutralizing the Miniature Swords, but his sense of vengeance flared as his gaze landed on Zachariah. The regressor stood motionless, his white teeth flashing in a smug grin at David’s struggles.

This wasn’t training—it was torture, thinly disguised. The only reason David hadn’t yet torn Zachariah apart was the undeniable progress he’d made. Something had changed within him. He felt stronger, more in control of his body—of his very existence.

Determined to push further, David retrieved several Orc corpses from his storage. His senses expanded instinctively, shrouding the carcasses in moments. In his heightened state, the Essences appeared to him as vividly as night and day. Not a single crimson mote escaped his perception.

With deliberate intent, David drained the corpses dry. Tendrils of blood, teeming with crimson motes, erupted from the bodies. They thrashed violently, causing a commotion, but David smiled. A single mental command was all it took to control them.

The tendrils surged toward him, weaving around the Miniature Swords like constricting vines. David focused, sensing the crimson motes burrow into the blades, gradually unraveling the Sword Intent that had forged them.

Pain burned through him as the tendrils worked, but he persisted. Slowly but surely, the Miniature Swords began to weaken, their presence diminishing. Victory was within reach, and David knew it.

He pulled the Miniature Swords out of his body, the wounds left by the Sword Intent regenerating within moments. Despite the blood tendrils tightening their grip, the Miniature Swords seemed poised to break free.

David willed the tendrils to hurl the Miniature Swords across the room toward Zachariah. The regressor waved his arm, disintegrating the swords, but the Blood and foreign Essences remained. Retaining the Miniature Swords’ shape, they shot forward and reached Zachariah.

Silver light flashed repeatedly, destroying most of the Blood replicas. However, Zachariah failed to eliminate all of them at once, and one struck its target, piercing his thigh.

“Interesting,” the regressor groaned, his eyes glimmering with vibrant curiosity. “So, that’s your path?”

“Fuck you.” David flipped him off, unsure if someone like Zachariah could even be called a friend at this point.

He stood and examined himself. Despite what he’d been through, his clothes were spotless—no trace of blood. The Law of Blood must have exceeded expectations, retracting every drop.

Still, David couldn’t ignore the flashing interfaces. There were dozens, though some stemmed from his earlier session with the Enlightenment Orb in the Familia. There were too many to dismiss.

[Your Rank increased by one.]

[Bronze IV] → [Bronze V]

[New Class Skill has been unlocked.]

[Blood Patch has been fused to your Source.]

[Three Attribute Points have been added.]

[Proficiency of Law of Blood increased drastically.]

Low(Minor) → Middle(Minor)

[The User’s Source has been strengthened. Soul has been enhanced.]

[Lowest(-)(Intermediate)] → [Lowest(Intermediate)]

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[Your Source has grown. +1 Blood.]

[Your Source has grown. +1 Blood.]

[Proficiency of Weave of Life reached 100%.]

[Tier-2 III] → [Tier-2 IV]

Nearly all of his Skill Runes had ranked up. The Enlightenment Orb session earlier had to play a role, though it alone didn’t explain such drastic growth. Of course—it had to be the Blessing. That would account for the sudden, almost unnatural surge in his abilities.

“Are you satisfied?” Zachariah’s mocking tone interrupted his thoughts.

“You really want me to punch you, don’t you?” David looked over.

Zachariah winced. “I want you to heal me. Other than that…” He pointed to the entrance. “I want to clear more Missions. We’ve already wasted more than enough time.”

David glanced at the door and caught sight of Torb and Melach. The dwarf’s eyes were sunken with exhaustion, and the elf’s pale face seemed frozen in shock—or maybe terror.

“Ah, right. I forgot your friends.” Zachariah chuckled, though the sound was cut short as blood spurted from his wounds. “Either way…can you heal me?”

David shrugged, ignoring the ache in his body. “I don’t know. Can I?”