Chapter 44: 44. People Just Like You

“H-humility?” Demra repeated incredulously despite her grim situation. “Who do you think I am, you leper scum?! I’m Demra Olenek! The heiress to—”

*KUNK!*

Demra was stopped short as a low thump reverberated through her body. It wasn’t a ‘sound’ as much as it was a ‘sensation’. After a moment, and much to her horror, she realized what it had been.

“By the four!!” she screamed as her brain sounded the alarm, alerting the rest of her body that she was in sudden excruciating pain. “You b*stard! You broke my arm!!” she wailed, more in disbelief than in anger or fear, as tears began to fill her eyes.

Sure enough, her forearm was broken, snapped backwards at its middle so that it made a backwards ‘7’ shape, Zeff’s tail yet wrapped around it like a black python.

Demra nearly gasped as she met Zeff’s gaze again.

Directly in front of her, blood still streaming down from his right temple, Zeff looked on with saffron eyes that were as cold as an arctic blizzard.

A shadow was cast beneath his shining, yellow eyes that made them seem even more unsettling, and his expression was one of calm disgust and seething anger made all the more stark by the white mist that still rose from his skin as though his bones were on fire. His brow was furrowed. His jaw, clenched.

He looked like a man who was prepared to kill at a moment’s notice.

Whether it was the pain jolting through her, or sudden realization, her senses were now clearer. Had Zeff always been so… terrifying?

‘Why am I fighting this guy…?’ Demra thought to herself, genuinely perplexed, as tears began to stream down her face and she grit her teeth in pain. ‘What led me to think I could beat this monster…?’

“I don’t care who you are, DemraOlkanik… But let me tell you about myself before I…” He paused for a second as he searched for the right words. “‘Stomp you into dust’…” he finally finished, parroting what Demra had quipped earlier and making her regret ever saying something so dumb.

“Before I had this gift, I was an orphan. I was passed around from house to house. Beaten. Ostracized and belittled. And all by people bigger and stronger than me. All by the people who should have been protecting me…” He drew closer, his eyes narrowing to slits, “…people just like you.”

Demra’s heart jumped into her chest. She opened her mouth to speak but was too flustered to form a sentence.

“I don’t give a d*mn who you are or what you’re an heiress to… You’re strong. You ought to be protecting people. You ought to be kind… I lived all my life under the boot of someone who was stronger or crueler than me and the whole time I had only one wish… I wished I could have slapped some sense into those people who treated me like trash.”

Using his tail, he lifted her another meter off of the ground and rumbled low, “But today, you’re going to pick up the tab for all of them…”

Demra’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. What could she do, what could she say, to get out of this situation? “S-so that’s how it is?” she stammered frantically. “You were a weakling, wronged by the world, doomed to be a punching bag. Is that it?”

Zeff’s eyes grew wide with surprise as if he couldn’t believe that Demra would speak in such a way at such a time. But no one was as surprised as Demra herself. But she went on, nonetheless. “And now, the moment that you’ve got yourself a modicum of power, you turn into one of the people who used to torture you?!”

“I’m nothing like them. I—”

“Then I suppose you just *broke* *my* *arm* to teach me a lesson?” Demra scoffed though the pain in her arm was like nothing she had ever felt before.

Zeff’s face softened as he searched for the words to justify his actions.

“Do you honestly think you’re any different than those people who used to oppress you? I mean, look at yourself! You have all of this strength and what do *you* plan on doing with it?” She paused as if to let Zeff think. “‘Living an easy life’? Wasn’t that how you said it?”

Zeff flinched, as though her words had stung him. “That’s not—”

“So when it’s me, I have to protect the weak and fight for the underdog and ‘be kind to all’.” She whinged as she said the last phrase. “But you get to smack me around all you want and come to my world and live the easy life?!”

“Shuttup…”

“Do you really think you’re any better than me?” Demra chuckled as best as she could and though her instincts told her she ought to stop while he was ahead, her mouth seemed to have other plans. “You have all of this strength and now, instead of practicing what you preach, you act on your own ‘best interests’!”

“Shuttup.” Zeff growled angrily. But there was a pained look in his eyes all of a sudden.

“Maybe I could be humbler or nicer or whatever. But maybe I don’t want to be! Ever think of that?! Maybe I’m okay slapping a few lepers around every now and then! But at least I’m not a hypocrite!!”

*DUUM!* Demra had to gasp for air as she suddenly found herself bouncing violently off of the ground after having been body-slammed by Zeff’s powerful tail.

“I said SHUT-UP!” Zeff yelled at the top of his lungs.

‘You will never find the acceptance you need, dear one…’ resounded a familiar and kind female voice within Demra’s head. ‘You’ll only ever disappoint those you seek approval from. But rest assured. The time when you feel most worthless… That will be the time when it all begins to turn around.’

‘Why am I remembering the old hags words now…?’ Demra thought as her consciousness faded in and out. She mustered all of the strength she had left and wheezed, “The truth hurts, doesn’t it…?”

Zeff’s tail wrapped around her midsection and lifted her off of the ground, pulling her closer so that she could feel his breath on her skin. “You don’t know what the h*ll you’re talking about…” There were practically tears in his eyes. “People like you, people who grow up with everything, wouldn’t understand!”

Demra might have laughed at that had she had the air in her lungs to do so. ‘Everything…? What a joke…’ Images of lonely dinners surrounded by servants that never spoke and forgotten birthdays flashed through her head. Of blood and sweat and tears as she strained and agonized to grow stronger as not to bring disgrace to her family name. Ever alone.

Always alone.

“When we’re done here, you’ll just go back to your nice cushy house or castle or wherever you *nobles* live, surrounded by your family and friends! And me? Why can’t I be a bit selfish for once!? Why can’t I get my father back!? Why can’t I have a family…?”

Demra was suddenly taken aback. ‘Get his father back?’

“I’m—s-sorry…” Demra stuttered, not because of her fatigue, but because she had rarely said the word in her life.

Zeff flinched, his face softening, as he realized he had possibly said to much. After another moment, he furrowed his brow again and said, “I have to be honest… I *am* a bit like you… And I don’t want to judge you when I don’t know the whole story about what made you this way… But. We can’t act like the way you acted towards me and me—uh—wanting to lay low— are the the same thing. You talked about honor after treating me the way you did… and then, in the next breath, say that you’re not a hypocrite.”

Demra looked on in horror as Zeff’s tail began to extend and lengthen while simultaneously coiling up into a tight spring, storing up energy.

“And I’m gonna make sure the next time you go to insult someone or act in that way, that you remember today.”

“Wh—Why me?!” Demra rasped frantically as she realized what was about to happen. “Geneo was the main one making—”

“But Geneo wasn’t the one talking about Honor…” Zeff whispered then took a deep breath and sighed as he became visibly calmer. “I promise. I’ll apologize for this after you wake up…”

‘Wake up?—’ she never had time to finish the thought as she was thrown back at what felt like mach speed, soaring through the air and out of the mist.

*****

“And what in the four realms was that just now?!” Hreed exclaimed as he observed Zeff’s nexus with a look of worry and confusion with beads of sweat running down his face.

Hreed seemed like a nice enough guy, so Sylvan couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor man. Hreed had insisted on observing Zeff again, which was understandable given what he had said about everyone who plans to enter the university having a proper rank. But it was obvious Hreed had expected it to be just another day, and just another ‘returnee’.

Across the observation deck chaos reigned.

The moment Zeff had used his Dawn Treader ability, everyone present, from the students to Lord Hreed and even Rillian had been on edge.

And who could blame them? This was only Sylvan’s second time seeing the technique and even he had to admit it was a bit uncanny. At first, it would roll across the ground at a strangely fast pace until it coalesced into a giant white, nebulous cloud that seemed not to want to disperse as though the common laws of physics didn’t apply to it.

From the outside, it looked truly ominous.

But that hadn’t been the worst part.

You are reading story The Dracophage Skill Tree at novel35.com

Out of nowhere, Zeff had let out a ferocious roar just like what he had used back in the woods near the Stranger’s house. At that time, Sylvan hadn’t thought much about the skill, naturally. It hadn’t even effected him, so that was no surprise. Even when Zeff had told him one evening that he had an ability called ‘Phobia’ that could make people scared. Sylvan hadn’t given the claim much heed.

But presently, as several students and men and women laid sprawled out, rendered nearly unconscious, or frozen as if paralyzed, or curled up in a ball in a far corner crying like a newborn baby, Sylvan realized that he had highly underestimated this skill. Whether it was the roar that did it or the Phobia, that was irrelevant.

This was a dangerous combination of techniques, indeed.

“What in the four realms was what?!” Rillian cried, presently. Unsurprisingly, he, like Hreed, though seemingly unaffected by the skill, was still noticeably frightened.

“How could you miss that?! His nexus just flickered, as if glitching!” Hreed exclaimed. “Just at the base of the spine! It was as if—” He stopped short , as Zeff’s nexus suddenly disappeared, his eye wide with shock.

“What happened?!” Sylvan asked as a female student directly to his left suddenly fell to her knees breathing heavily just before his very eyes with several students immediately rushing to her aid.

“I—I don’t know…” Hreed stammered nervously. “I lost him…” He trailed off.

“What does that even mean?” inquired Rillian annoyed.

“I don’t know… This has never happened before.” Hreed then turned to Sylvan. “Enough of this Sylvan. First, the smoke and then this mental attack or whatever it is? Not to mention his seemingly enhanced durability…” As he spoke, he seemed as though he was simultaneously having an epiphany and considering an impossibility all at the same time, until he finally asked, “What’s going on?! What is the boys gift? He can’t possibly have more than one, right?”

Sylvan, despite the fact that he saw this question coming, still didn’t know how to respond and so he kept silent.

Hreed’s subsequent sharp gasp and slack-jaw made it apparent that he had taken that as an affirmative and Sylvan at once knew that it might have been better to have lied outright.

“Calm down, Hreed…” Rillian interjected. “Do you really think such a thing is possible?” Before Hreed could answer, however, he changed the subject. “Now, do you have any ideas what’s going on with Zeff’s nexus? Could it be possible that you just lost focus?”

“Of course not.” Hreed chirped, as if insulted. “I am a certified Aurator, Lord Rillian. Not some fresh university grad. I don’t ‘lose focus’.”

“Okay, okay. It was just a question…”

Hreedhiffed one last ime and then said, “This is only speculation but, the way I see it, there are only two possibilities—” He paused as a male student ran by the trio screaming, ‘What’s happening to me?!!’ at the top of his lungs. Then Hreed began again, speaking several beats faster than before. “Either he teleported, which I seriously doubt given that that would require him to have multiple gifts—” He flashed a quick glance at Sylvan. “—or he did something even more ridiculous…”

“What…?” Rillian asked, his eyes narrow slits.

“Well, the only other possibility I can think of is that he…” He paused nervously, “—suddenly changed on a genetic level thus changing his own unique aura signature.”

Sylvan did his best not to show his emotions on his face.

“Don’t be ridiculous…” Rillian scoffed, as though the idea was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. Sylvan couldn’t be sure how much Rillian actually knew about the ring and Rutigorn, but either way, his acting was good enough to convince Sylvan that he was ignorant to what was really going on. Rillian started to speak again, “There has to be—” but *BAM!*

Something had flown from the mist and suddenly struck the vertical wall just above the observation deck, stopping the conversation in it’s tracks.

“By the four!” yelled the boy called Geneo who was standing just at the edge of the deck looking up and over the edge at what had struck the wall. “This can’t be—” Before he could finish his sentence, Demra, the one who had been catapulted from the mist, fell from the wall above and was quickly snapped into the observation deck by Geneo where he laid her on the floor gently. “D-Demra!? What—”

He trailed off.

The sudden silence was almost unbelievable.

Demra was in bad shape. Her forearm was broken, bent backwards at an impossible angle as though some sadistic school-age giant had used his thumb to break it like it was a pencil.

Her right leg, though not broken, was obviously in bad shape by the unnatural way it was rotated at the hip.

She had several strange bruises or markings on her right arm like she had been whipped there or tied up with a rope, but there were no signs of being struck by a fist.

“Demra!” Geneo yelled at the top of his lungs at the half-conscious woman. “W-what happened to you?! What did Zeff—”

At the mention of Zeff’s name, her eyes opened ever so slightly for only a moment before they closed again and Demra fainted.

During the commotion, no one had noticed that the Dawn Treader mist had drawn closer so that it was just at the edge of the observation deck. But now, one by one, people began to notice it inching ever closer. Instinctively, everyone that was near the edge of the deck began to withdraw backwards. Further back and further back they pulled, until there was hardly a place to go anymore.

“Zeff!” Geneo yelled, “What the hell did you—”

Before anyone could process what was going on, a thin, narrow shadow like the tentacle of an octopus shot out of the mist like a black blade. And it was headed straight for Geneo.

Geneo, showing himself to be a trained warrior, dodged to the side with such ease that Sylvan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. After a short beat he sprang into action, jumping at the black tentacle and taking it in his arms with a battle roar that would scare even the strongest of men.

Perhaps because Geneo knew on some level, as did Sylvan, that the black tentacle belonged to Zeff (or was it a tail?), the boy obviously didn’t bother exercising caution or even using aura to protect himself and was quickly (and rather pathetically) repelled by a single tail flick, sending him flying back at breakneck speed into the wall with a loud *PLOOM!* He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, his eyes rolling back into his head, and he fell to the ground hard, completely unconscious.

The tail at once began to snake through the air towards Geneo until, “Zeff…” Sylvan spoke, his voice almost a whisper. “That’s enough, boy… Have you forgotten? This is not the time to satisfy your personal vendettas… You were told to fight Demra. You have done that… Now, how much more are you going to embarrass yourself?”

The tentacle at once froze in place and, after a few long seconds, Zeff’s voice echoed from within the mist, “Sylvan… I—” He began, his voice pained and an octave lower than usual.

“You’ve done enough boy… You’ve done enough.”

Sylvan knew Zeff, and he knew him well. There was a reason for this. Zeff’s main focus was to get stronger, but he was a man of conviction. Somehow, what he was doing was for the good (or had at least started that way). And though Sylvan couldn’t see how, exactly, he couldn’t doubt that fact.

He had only gotten carried away.

‘Power corrupts, eh…’ He thought with a sense of dread, like he had just received news that his own child had a terminal illness. ‘Finnius. I still have a lot of work to do with this one…’

After a moment the smoke began to disperse until only Zeff was standing there, his face red with embarrassment… and shame.

“I—” Began Zeff. But before he could finish everyone in the room, with the exception of Sylvan, Rillian, Hreed and Zeff, suddenly fell over, unconscious.

“Zeff, what are you doing?” Sylvan inquired.

But Zeff only shrugged as if to see, ‘I haven’t done anything…’

“And now he has a tail…”

Sylvan turned to his left. The one who had spoken was Lord Hreed who was standing with his arms folded in front of him. Emanating from his forehead was a gelatinous, pulsating, light construct with veiny, white lines of energy running throughout.

*Shwoop* said the construct as it shot back into the doctor’s head.

“Zeff. Sylvan. We have some things we need to discuss…”

==========

(8 -3-4 +4) => 5 SP

Tree Skills: Armored Hide IV (Max), Physical Enhancement II, Dragon Tail I, Sea Eater I, Fire Breath I, Phobia II

Store Skills: Roar I, Dragon’s Rage, Dragon’s Healing Sigh, Dawn Treader I