F-Rank Frank: Chapter 81 Awakening IV (Drava)

Chapter 81

Awakening IV

(Drava)

“No!” Frank hissed out, as his body convulsed in clear pain. As everyone watched, they saw how wounds began forming on his arms, torso, and legs.

“Stigmata,” Prentip cried out and made an obscure gesture with his hands. While the word seemed foreign, it’s meaning was clear, as it likely referred to the random generation of bleeding wounds on the body. The entire act seemed odd, but all Drava could do was see that Frank was clearly in trouble.

“You’re killing him!” Ravena hissed out, turning her head from the clearly struggling Frank to the still floating monster that had started this whole act. Hearing Ravena’s admonishment and seeing the clearly bleeding wounds form on Frank’s body, the girl could only shake her head now as clear shock filled her face.

“No, no, no, no…” the floating essence consumer cried out, “it shouldn’t be like this. It was only meant to burn out the spirit animal, then he would be one of us, the purity of blood would make sure the process wouldn’t be fatal. There was supposed to be enough left that he would not only transform, but that he would be reborn as one of us.”

“Pure blood?” Prentip cried out, hearing the words that seemed to hold relevance to the random drivel that was now coming out of the monster’s mouth. “You gave him pure blood? As in from an ancient?”

Hearing the admonishing tone in Prentip’s words, the floating monster paused and seemed to snarl at the accusations posed by Prentip.

“I fed him my blood, but only after I was selected by the purest of blood lineages,” the monster exclaimed. Hearing her, Prentip’s eyes began to twitch back and forth as if he was mentally recalling something he read long ago, something that should have helped with this whole process, but then he stopped as a shiver went down his spine.

Seeing his reaction, Ravena could only ask, “what happened, did you recall something?”

“I did, but it’s not good, they said that in all the documented cases where a pure blood tried to convert an edge walker, the spirit of the beast did get burned away, and that the host lived,” Prentip began. As he spoke, everyone in the room visibly relaxed at the fact that Frank would live, which meant there was still hope. Their relief was short lived however as Prentip then continued, “however those that did survive, are the horrid monsters of the night that were once made famous. Those depicting twisted beings whose flesh had been twisted and pulled off in horrid manners. Ones whose bodies are wracked with trying to contain boundless powers, where they end up resembling a bastardized hybrid of who they were and who their spirit companion was.”

Hearing that, Drava felt a chill go down her spine, as she once again turned her attention back to Frank. More and more wounds had appeared on his body, minor wounds, mostly scratches, but they all seemed to add up.

Drava watched as Frank’s muscles and body violently twitched and spasmed, a sign that even though Frank had not mentally reconnected with his body, his body was still able to react to the pains his spiritual form was taking. His body was reacting to the battle that was still happening within the soul space, a realm that Drava herself barely had an understanding of, despite being lauded as one of the most natural spirit manipulators in a generation. Yet, looking on, it was clear that even she was powerless to stop anything from happening.

Realizing that all she could do was be nearby and bear witness, she did just that, using both of her hands to grab Frank’s now clammy hand, she paused and watched on with horror.

While Prentip and the others of the wolf clan argued and spoke about meaningless things with the interloper, Drava did all she could to help Frank.

“It’s all imaginary,” she found herself whispering within Frank’s ear. “In your soul space, you are only bound by the rules you set for yourself.”

Drava said anything that came to mind, words that meant nothing to her were spoken, yet after saying them Drava couldn’t help but feel that these words were somehow right. That these words held the weight of immutable fact within them.  She watched as Frank’s head seemed to twitch ever so slightly at the comment, as if he had heard her. Seeing the movement, Drava pressed on. “You can do it Frank, I believe in you.”

From that moment on, a look of serene focus filled Frank’s face. As the slight fear that had been slowly building left, only leaving behind firm resolve. That’s when a miracle happened.

Glowing eyes.

Frank’s eyes glowed with a surge of energy that caused the pressure within the room to drop to a deep-freezing cold. What had been an overly hot room a moment ago, suddenly became ice cold, as Frank did something. What it was, Drava didn’t know, but at this moment she didn’t seem to care. As she looked on, she saw a miracle happen.

Frank won.

At least, it looked like Frank had won, as all of the hundreds of micro wounds and cuts that had been forming on Frank’s body suddenly healed up. Leaving behind cold cool pink and purple slivers of scar tissue behind. That was it, just micro lesions of scar tissue that slowly faded away.

Silence.

Only after a few intense seconds did Drava even realize that everyone in the room had gone silent. Pausing only long enough to look out of the corner of her eye, Drava saw how everyone looked on in slack jawed amazement at what was now happening to Frank.

“It worked, he’s cured,” the ghastly floating woman cried out in excitement.

Chill.

Something was wrong. Drava couldn’t tell what it was, until she realized that the hand she was holding, the hand that was between her two own was now suddenly cold to the touch.

“He’s cold?” Drava cried out, her tone part question part cry for help.

Prentip immediately went in to check Frank, reaching up to touch his face and place two fingers over his carotid artery, only to tense up with concern a moment later.

“What is it?” Ravena asked, apparently reading the same level of concern that Drava had.

“He, he’s dead?” Prentip responded.

“It worked!” The floating monster cried out, a ghastly chill filling her smile.

“What?” Was all Drava and Ravena could both say, as they looked at her. There, looking at the floating monster, it was clear that something had clearly cracked. Something deep down within her mind had long ago cracked and left behind this mess. Drava could only blink in surprise, her mind trying to make heads or tails of what was happening.

Twitch.

Then the hand that she had been so desperately clinging to moved.

“He’s alive?” Drava cried out, standing up and looking down at the hand that was still within her grasp.

“That’s just rigor…” Prentip began, but quickly stopped as his eyes went wide as he saw the impossible. He saw the moment when the dead came back to life.

***

(Frank)

What is essence?

What is it that these powers are giving us? How can a physical component of blood convey aspects of power that affect the spirit, the very essence of a person?

These were background thoughts that kept filtering into Frank’s mind as he fought a fight that should not be fought.

Slash, blur, blur, slash.

At first, Frank thought he had the plan to win. The idea was simple use his control over the element of earth to control and defeat the monster before him. For a moment it worked.

For one moment, he felt his control over the element of earth be so complete that he could literally grab hold of the spiritual monster and hold him into place. That was the first and last time that Frank felt control, as the next second the battle quickly turned sideways as the creature lost all material aspects and instantly turned into a cloud of mist. Mist that surprisingly had no true earthly components to it, at least not until a strike manifested. Even then, the strikes were so quick and Frank’s control of earth so poor that he could not react quickly enough.

What happened next could only be described as a one-sided beatdown, but not in Frank’s favor. The spirit, the ghostly apparition that Frank now fought was fast, too fast. Cuts raced and appeared across his arms, torso, and legs. It was toying with him. Yet, despite knowing this undeniable fact, it was unstoppable.

Slashing out, Frank tried to make his own strike, only to have his fist strike through the glowing mist of the monster. Then he watched in horror as razor sharp claws formed from the mist he just attacked and lashed out at his exposed arm.

Hiss.

Pain flared in his mind, and as he winced his spirit familiar tried to lurch forward, to once again take on this pain for him.

“No!” Frank hissed out, fighting and still failing to lash out at the beast.

After the strike, Frank retreated for a moment, letting his body and mind catch up to what was happening.

Dodge, weave, strike at air, dodge.

Frank was in a battle for his life, and all he could do was slow down the attacks. Fortunately, this was not the first truly losing battle that Frank had found himself in, remembering all the fights with Camello as a kid, he went back into the same defensive mindset.

While it wasn’t a winning mindset, it was all he could do for the moment. He couldn’t hit the target that didn’t stay still, every time he tried to lash out, he only met air. Air that quickly manifested into dozens of sharp needle like objects that would cut and pierce his skin. All he could do was move around and avoid the moving cloud as much as possible. Which was a task that was easier said than done, as he still managed to take multiple scratches with this way, but the wounds weren’t as deep as before. Earlier the attacks had been mostly gouges and deep lacerations, while now they were nothing more than simple scrapes and scratches. Nothing worrisome, but still very annoying.

All the while, Frank’s spirit companion could only watch, panic filling their bonds as it realized that there was nothing it could do either against such a formidable foe. Finally, the voice of an angel cried out to him, as he heard words that at first made no sense but then became crystal clear.

“It’s all imaginary.” A distant voice cried out into Frank’s mind. For a moment he swore he could remember the voice from somewhere.

Slash.

The monster had used that exact moment of indecision to strike out, delivering one of its deepest gouges to his left arm. Seeing the strike, Frank backed up but then paused. He realized that the strike, while deep, was not as deadly as it could have been.  As he had been very distracted, but the apparition had only tried to swipe at him. That’s when the voice continued.

 “In your soul space, you are only bound by the rules you set for yourself.”

Hearing those words, Frank paused, letting his mind try to comprehend all the different elements that were playing out within his mind. His mind suddenly noticed everything, the way the monster only went for the glancing or irritating blow, blows that while painful were little more than reminders of its existence. Seeing the wounds, Frank realized that the monster was toying with him, no, not exactly toying with him. There was something else, something that he couldn’t quite understand.

“Just give up, you realize this is futile?” The apparition’s voice rang out all around. His voice echoed as if speaking through fog, which seemed to be exactly what he was doing. There was a moment that it took for this meaning to sink in. Then finally, Frank understood.

Then as if aided by a guardian angel from above, he heard it, words that sent chills down his spine.

“You can do it Frank, I believe in you.”

And like that, as a smile grew on Frank’s face, as he knew he would win.