"Umm, not to spoil the mood, but what am I actually meant to do with the pill, to consume it?"
I asked, rolling one of the pills between my fingers.
"That's a stupid question. Pop it in your mouth and lock in."
"How helpful. Care to elaborate?"
Lyrael demonstrably threw one into the air and caught it with her teeth. With a gulp, she swallowed the pill. Then, she closed her eyes, focusing on the energy spreading through her body.
Looks simple enough. Lemme try it, then.
I downed a pill as well.
"Urgh?"
Woah, fuck. Why's it hurt so bad? Is Lyrael just tanking the pain or did I do something wrong?
Cough!
Suddenly, I felt a very strong rejection from my very core, as if the foreign energy was being pushed out by my own.
"Shit!"
The pain intensified manyfold, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.
This... it feels like this could kill me if I let it get absorbed in its entirety.
I felt my hairs stand on end, realizing the imminent danger.
The innate energy of a threadripper, or rather, the thing in control of it - voracity - was fighting the absorption of the pill.
But why? Hah, never easy for me, is it?
A suspicion crept in about the cause and effect, but I had no time to think over all these things.
Coming to a decision, I took a deep breath.
"Ahh, this is gonna hurt like a bitch. Better than dying, though."
With those words, I brought my left arm to my mouth.
Well, calling it my arm isnât entirely accurate. It was an amalgamation of flesh, blood, and bones that I scavenged from the warriors I fought earlier.
Somehow, my real arm, amputated by that spell the sorcerers cast, was completely refusing to follow my commands. From what I could tell, the invisible strings of vitality connecting it to my body had been entirely severed by the ominous spell they conjured, turning it into a regular lump of flesh.
What a nasty little attack.
Whatâs worse - Iâd already weaved real nerves I ripped out from said warriors into the new arm. I couldnât wield it effectively if I were to manually control it like I would an inanimate object, so I fused it to my body as if it were my actual appendage.
But what that meant was:
The pain I would feel were it to get injured would be very real.
Which is why what I was about to do was going to really test my pain tolerance. No other choice, though. Letâs just get it done.
And so, I shoved the fingers into my mouth, channeling my will through them... and unraveled them into the thinnest threads I could manage.
"AAARGHHH! MOTHERFUCK EVERYONE ON THIS GODDAMN PLANET!"
The pain was exquisite. I cursed my mind out and my body shook involuntarily.
Wow, I suddenly understand why regular folk are so terrified of threadrippers, if this is what they feel whenever I manipulate their flesh.
I took another breath, which did nothing to help. But, this needed to be done.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
My fingers, now unfurled into extremely fine, soft threads, snaked down my throat and into the stomach.
Iâd have much preferred to do this using a piece of cloth or something, but I had to use my own body for this procedure, so that I could channel energy through the strings with the highest precision.
Getting amputated cleanly was so much nicer...
Regardless, I pushed on, cradling the now partially dissolved pill, and forming a spherical weave around it while channeling a huge amount of vitality to stop it from radiating energy so aggressively.
Then, in one swift motion, I reeled the thread in, yanking my arm away from my mouth.
I hurled the pill away, focusing on bringing my fingers back into their natural shape.
Thud
I collapsed to the ground, convulsing as blood poured out of my mouth.
That was the worst. Never again.
There were scratch marks on the floor all around me. Mustâve done that subconsciously.
"Haah, but, haah... At least I didnât lose my new hand. Might be a bit worse for wear, but without it Iâd be screwed in the upcoming fights... Yeah, right. Looking at the positives ainât my style."
I spoke into the void - or maybe "complained" would be a more apt way to put it - while still lying in a pool of my very own blood.
Sure, surviving the ordeal was a great situation, but now I had a new, much bigger problem.
It seems that, as a threadripper, Iâm entirely incapable of processing external energy that I didnât tear out directly from another living being.
And that was really, really bad.
***
It was evening now, same day.
The three of us, being myself, Lyrael, and Dren, were at a diner, waiting for our servings of food to be prepared.
A bit after I nearly killed myself, Lyrael came to. She was so genuinely worried for me when she saw me sprawled over in a pool of blood that I couldnât help but laugh at the time.
I explained the conclusion Iâd arrived at to her, and we decided that sheâd be taking the remaining seven pills herself.
For the next few hours, she downed one after another, taking a bit less time to process each next one. It seemed her control was improving - a clear sign that she was close to breaking through to the next level.
I, meanwhile, spent the time doing some training - something I hadnât done once since leaving the tribe. Over 60 years, in other words.
Around then, Dren showed up, his skin glistening like heâd just been born again. Mustâve succeeded in reaching the sub-deity level.
And so, here we were, looking fresh as ever, sitting around a small circular table. Lyrael and Dren had gone hungry, while I was simply craving something nice to eat.
Surprisingly, convincing Dren to come eat with us was very easy. He was in a great mood, and it showed.
I was secretly proud of myself for befriending such a powerful being.
But, that aside, we had a real problem to solve before the big day - that being tomorrow.
"Dren, sir, the great syndicate head... I, uhh, I can't pay for the food. Lost all my money in the fight earlier."
I tried hyping him up with a few kind words, but the truth was, I had no clue he was gonna have me pay for our meal.
Donât tell me... Did he actually forget his purse? No way. Someone like him wouldnât. Right?
"That is an issue."
He stated matter-of-factly.
I turned my head, locking onto Lyrael. Surely, she was going to be our savior today?
She shook her own, looking defeated.
"That only leaves us with one option..."
"..."
"..?"
Both Dren and Lyrael looked at me inquisitively.
They look desperate. Well, they're in luck, cause I've got just the method to earn a quick buck!
"I wanted to avoid it, but it seems there's no choice. I'll sell my body out to the waitress!"
I struck my chest with a fist and made a heroic expression, like Iâd prepared to sacrifice myself in battle. Which I guess was not too far off.
"Khh, Haha, hahahaha!"
Lyrael burst out in a fit of hysteric laughter, clutching her stomach.
"What? Whatâs wrong with my plan? I know for a fact that I look creepily flawless. A passive trait this body of mine has, yo! Surely you donât think the waitress will reject me?"
"Stop, Iâm going to fucking die here!"
She was completely out of it, smacking her hand on the table.
"Did I say something that crazy? Whatâs going on here?"
This time, I directed the question at Dren, who coincidentally gazed in the opposite direction, as if enthralled by the blank wall behind him all of a sudden.
I kept facing him down, and after a few seconds, he finally sighed and leaned in, cupping his mouth as if about to whisper - a pointless gesture in a world of martial arts.
"The waitress... is a... a waiter, actually. Male."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Sniffle
It seems Lyrael laughed so hard that tears welled up. That really ground my hypothetical gears.
I mean, how was I supposed to know?! I was out in the shitter when they made the order!
"Aight, then. Still salvageable."
"How?"
"Easy enough. You do it!!"
I gazed at Lyrael like a predator would at prey, though my eyes were bandaged up at the moment, so it was more of a symbolic gesture.
"Gods no! That waiterâs nothing like my type. If anything, heâs the exact opposite! If you ever catch me desperate enough to be sucking up to someone like him, end me right there and then. Itâd be a clear sign that Iâm too far gone for salvation."
Me and Dren both looked at her, and then slightly behind her, with blank expressions. Not a word was said.
"Why are you looking at me like that? What is it, is someone behind me?"
"Hello, sirs and maâam. He-hereâs your order."
A bulky bald man, around thirty years of age, was stood behind Lyrael with a silver tray. His voice cracked, threatening to break out into a full-on cry.
The same could be said for his expression, the business smile on his face failing to conceal the utter devastation.
Wow. That was a low blow, my dearest friend Lyrael.