Asheva: A Summoner’s Tale – [Book-2 Complete]

Chapter-36 Blood Rein



I would like to thank you all for your support, I made it to the first page of the trending yesterday, though I'm out again, it gives me hope.
And here's the chapter for today, the action has started, enjoy.

The loud and the fuzzy rang his ears—an annoying and blaring mosquito noise that just wouldn’t go away. He blinked and squinted several times, shook his head, and the rotating world finally became halted. Dust and splinters covered the sky, it prickled his eyes and irritated his throat. It pained when he coughed so he held it in and gulped.

He lay on a bed of rubble, of wood and concrete. His chest, his stomach, and his forearms were a bloody mess. His palm came out red when he grazed the back of his head. And his face too had bleeding lacerations. He groaned and struggled to get up, but his limbs refused to listen, and he collapsed again, adding to the wounds.
The waves of stinging pain kept him down this time. The ringing subsided after a while, and the screams of the panicking audience trickled in. Luckily, no one trampled him while he slept here.

Iris.

She slid out of the vortex he opened and dove into his dusty hair. Ewan first had her target his head injury that dizzied him, which she healed after using her skill a couple of times. His skull hadn't broken, it was only a gash on the skin and a blunt trauma without any hostility, so it didn’t take much to heal it. But it sapped Iris of her Anima.

He took out a small red Anima Crystal of the blood element and had Iris recover her Anima with it. This was faster than natural recovery.
Iris binge healed his chest and stomach wounds, the Anima Crystal sponsoring her splurge, while Ewan wrestled to his feet again. The more he moved, the more he bled. But he couldn’t stay here anymore, vulnerable and unguarded. He propped his battered and pelted body on the large rubble and rotated his sore neck, grunting with hitched heaves. All the audience was gone, the explosion had razed the area down to the ground. No stairs, no seats, it only left splintered pieces of them, and there in the distance lay a shattered glass of lime soda. His increased vitality was the only reason he survived the blast despite being so close to it…

Maybe we really are monsters…

Ewan aimed for the exit, or whatever remained of the crumbling arc. There was one explosion, there could be another, he couldn’t stay here. He slogged on the uneven ground, scraping his frayed shoes, and made his way out, his steps frail and shaky.

A group in hooded jackets and grinning masks fired their rifles at the stampeding crowd, the muzzles flashing and dancing amidst the mayhem. People wailed, screeched, and crushed those who fell; they killed more than the aimless bullets. The entertainment venues, the tall buildings, became their safe zones though, as they rammed in through the bolted doors. Some failed at the last step and their blood and gore painted the entrance…

“Ladies and gentlemen, please do not panic.” A man with the same grinning mask stood on an overturned stall and spoke in a loudspeaker. His voice bounced off the glass buildings and barreled far. “We are not your enemy; we are your savior. If you are a human, you have nothing to worry about. We are here to exterminate the fast-growing parasites, the monsters among us. We will not hurt you.”

Ewan backed away and hid behind the intact wall of the coliseum. The situation was worse than he imagined, especially for him because he was one of the ‘monsters’ the bastard talked about. The rifles tingled his sense of danger, the bullets they belched could hurt him. These group of nutjobs could kill him if he wasn’t careful.

“Anyone who joins our noble cause will be rewarded. Any human who kills a parasite or captures one will be rewarded.” The man hollered away on the loudspeaker.

Ewan ignored the chaos outside and trudged towards the other side of the coliseum, leaving a trail of blood behind—this exit was a no go, he could only try the other one. Iris had already healed some of his wounds, but he was still dripping blood from the major ones. The explosion had ripped his skin and muscles apart, it wasn’t as easy to heal as a straight cut.

Mutilated limbs, ripped organs, bloody guts, and crushed heads lined his path. Each step fell on pools of blood and gore, but he overlooked them and raised his head, inhaling lungfuls. He had to, if not, he would break down here. The thick smell of iron mixed with ammonia didn’t excite his bestial instincts this time, instead it rang the alarm in his mind.

He brought out both Frost and Orange. The two screeched and snarled when they saw his state, but he calmed them down with a word and got them into position. Orange led the way while Frost, now taller than Ewan’s knees, defended his back, his tail swaying left and right as he walked with caution. They crossed the arena in the center instead of going around, jumped over the small fences, and reached the exit. This area looked almost the same as the other exit, broken and crumbling, there had been another explosion here.

The sound of firing became louder as Ewan inched closer to the cracked door. They even came to this side, he sighed and stopped. Even though Frost could defend him with ice shields, it would still be a risk if he went out as he was. And he couldn’t stay in this coliseum either, it wasn’t a good place to hide. Once they surrounded him in this open and flat area and blocked the exits, he would have to forfeit his life.

If he could cast the spell he was practicing since last week, it might increase his chances at survival. He hid by the side of a pillar and flipped through his Spellbook, crunching the leaves.

This was the second spell he chose to focus on; it was of the blood element and had a good span of potential—a low minimum point, and a high maximum point, like <Ice Daggers>. But his success rate with it had been abysmal so far. The only saving grace was that the spell was continuous. Once the spell circuit glimmered in his soul space, it could stay active for a period, which depended on the caster.

He failed on his first attempt, and he groaned. The second, third, and the fourth trial failed too. The pain distracted him, he couldn’t concentrate on the spell circuit; the technical curves eluded him. He took deep breaths and sat with his back to the wall. Orange and Frost guarded him, Iris healed him, while he traced the circuit.

After several tries, the success finally came, the circuit glinted with Blood-Anima, and with it came the short-lived exhilaration.

Blood Rein!

Blood floated out of his wounds to his extended palm and gathered into a blob. Ewan’s bloodless face paled even more, his hands trembled, his vision blurred then cleared. His old acquaintance, hypovolemia, was back again. But he couldn’t do anything about it this time. The spell needed either his or his Astylind’s blood. It was an easy choice for the already bleeding him.

The crimson wriggling blob of blood was now an adult’s head size. Even with his increased vitality, it was a lot of blood. A necessary sacrifice for survival though, he had no qualms about it.

And the blob floated in front of Ewan, connected to his soul.


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