Fall of a Hero: Hearts Without Foundation (a Fantasy Adventure)

Barraged

Those few that had already had garden tools in their hands readied themselves. Those without either readied their fists or hurriedly snatched up the nearest shovel. Hungry for blood, all eyes were focused on me. Desperate, I tried to find the couple of peers I knew in the crowd.

Mum was silently sobbing into her hands. I didn't know how I felt about that.

Cousin Enervent was shying back behind the crowd, preparing to sneak away from the upcoming battle. So much for being dependable. My expectations for her lowered once again.

Serpo wasn't much better. If not, one might argue he did the worst. He shouted.

"Run, Fetoven!"

As if he also commanded the mob, the crowd surged forward, screaming and slashing rakes and the like, with Nuntius in the front. Without a thought, I was quick on my feet and pumped my legs, tearing through the garden, regardless of what exotic foliage lay in my way. I must have trampled at least six rose bushes, though not without cutting up my feet.

The mob was very close. So close that a shovel sliced my thigh. I still felt nothing.

One large member who was exceedingly brisk and nimble for his size leapt onto my back and felled me to the ground. It was no time before the rest were, all taking turns bashing my head and raking my torso. Animalistic workers, taking out their doubts and fear on me. Bellowing men leading example to the women, who lead as an example to the children.

Yes, the children, too. This mob was an invite for everyone.

Yet, I laid there in wonder as the storming fists and dull tools came down upon my face and body. Still no pain. Still no blood. I didn't even know if I wasn't getting damaged or just not feeling it. The most harm it really did was that it was rather uncomfortable.

I wasn't even that afraid. Perhaps that was because I was beginning to grasp what exactly I was capable of.

I was indestructible. Invincible.

Before the crowd could do anymore potential damage, I decided it was time to end the suffocation of smelly serfs and powdery nobles. One by one, I used the Axis Glove to pluck each attacker off as if they were leeches falling away from skin after being salted. I sensed the invisible north-south and east-west poles in the coordinate planes of their bodies and gently tossed them thirty feet across the dirt. Soon, I had successfully picked the last leech off and proceeded to head to the forest.

However, something felt strange. Strangely wet. I touched my wound. My fingers were sticky red. Blood.

I shuddered. How I hate blood. One of the blessings of my invincibility was that I didn't have to see it but now...the almost hidden gash in my side from Mundus (so meager looking that it meant little to convince the crowd before) had started to bleed. What was worse is that I also felt the pain.

I continued for the sanctuary of the forest regardless of the increasing feeling I was getting in my torso. Except next came the sharp sting in my feet from the rose bushes.

Which meant that next was...

Suddenly overcome with the unworldly anguish from a combined bouquet of suppressed inflictions, I made a noise and crumbled. Cradling myself into a ball, abruptly oozing with dark crimson blood, I cried and prayed to nothingness that the pain would leave. Like a child. I cried. Any true human would have. I had been to cocky in my invincibility to care to further protect myself when consumed by the mob. I was brutally damaged and everything had hit me at once like a giant castle caving in. Brick by brick.

Stupid, stupid. Yet at that time, as I prayed to nothingness, my mind stayed on one thing. The vivid lacerations. Writhing in my misery, I was incapacitated.