Blood Berserker - [ A Litrpg Apocalypse]

Nathan wished the hours would pass a lot faster. Maybe then he wouldn't have to deal with the fact that he was all alone in a dank cell with two terrible choices hanging over his head. It was either he swallowed his pride and resolve and worked for Sparrow, or he rebelled again and was offered to a demon as a sacrifice. Either way, it was assured for the berserker that he wasn't going to like what came next.

Already he'd gone through the three stages of grief. Denial, where he'd sobbed and hoped to God that Sparrow was selling him nothing more than a lie in order to break him. But from what he knew about the crafty fox, lies weren't his thing, which was out of hand from a Mafia boss, but it was one of Sparrow's redeeming qualities and his most terrifying one. It was terrifying because Sparrow could stare down anyone in the eyes with a smile and tell them he'd just killed their loved one, and it wouldn't be a lie.

The train of thought flung Nathan into the past when Sparrow had told him that it was better to be truthful as a mafia boss than to be a liar, as it was best for their opponents to recognize that their word was law, that their words were reality. There was no hope, no small chance, and no escape from it. In a fit of rage, he thrashed against the chains, the runes on them flaring, which led to blue-white electricity arcing up his body, causing him to spasm. But the berserker welcomed the pain. He wanted, no, he needed to feel something now more than ever.

Eventually he stopped thrashing, the electricity dying off as the runes dimmed. That was the second stage of grief: Anger. Then came Acceptance. Yes, Mr. Wong had taken him off the streets and given him a job, but if Sparrow's words were true and he'd really sent threats to the kind man, then it meant that Mr. Wong knew the risks and still decided to keep Nathan in a job. A job which he never really had to consider, given the fact that most businesses didn't need sign flippers anymore, but he had, and he'd done so at a risk to his own life. He'd gambled on Nathan turning his life around, and for that, Nathan would forever be indebted to him.

Forever.

A risk like that was almost unheard of, but Mr. Wong had done it, and it was left to Nathan to either honor the kind man by sticking to his choice to ditch the streets or to spit on the man's grave and get back into cahoots with Sparrow. In short, it was a no-brainer; he couldn't accept Sparrow's offer to work for him. Why exactly would he even want to be the heir to this... a smelly, decrepit dungeon? That left him with one option: death. The thought of death didn't scare Nathan as much as it should've. If he was honest with himself, then he'd say that it was probably because he'd killed so many people and things within the last few weeks that he'd become numb to the threat of death. After all, the saying was those who lived by the sword would die by the sword.

"Poetic," Nathan said to himself.

Then he was at the last stage of grief: moving on. The berserker was all cried out. He wasn't ashamed of the fact that he'd just let out a few tears, especially if they were for a man who died to give him a chance at a better life. Nathan took a deep breath and exhaled, his facial features tensing due to the dried blood and sweat, but he disregarded the feeling, instead focusing on what he was going to do next. He couldn't die right now, not when Diane was in the foul clutches of a demon. If anything, this was the time that he needed to sit up and get his shit together. Death was to be his last option, especially when he hadn't really tried to get out of here. First, he did something he hadn't thought to do since he'd gotten into the cell. He analyzed his chains. Sure, it was dark, but he knew where the cold manacles met his flesh, and it was enough for the system to work with.

[Chains of Hell (II): This trap can hold foes below level 100.Using this on a foe above the limit is ill-advised.

Runes contained: Devil's spark. Trying to break out of this chain will result in shocks until attempt to break chains stops.]

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Well, that explains a lot."

Level hundred was a steep hill, one that even he couldn't climb easily, especially since he was trapped in this godforsaken dungeon. He still had some free points, but Nathan didn't bother to bring up his stat screen. There wasn't any use; it wasn't like he could break through the chains with increased strength or anything. Nope, he needed something else and something better, and worse off, he needed it fast. He wasn't good with time, but he was sure he'd exhausted at least eight hours worth of his time given to him by Sparrow.

Fuck.

The berserker began to deflate, the resolve he'd been starting to build began to dissipate, gone into the wind. Unless he could come up with a miracle soon, he was totally and utterly fucked, and he had at most a couple of hours until Sparrow came to make good on his promise—a promise that would certainly see him dead. He had no doubts that Sparrow would offer him as a sacrifice to the demon, and as much as Nathan thought that he could fashion a plan that'd have him somehow break out when the demon comes for him and fight the demon, he had to admit that his chances were pretty much slim to none. More like impossible at his current state. He needed something, but he had no idea what it was. He was deep in thought, looking for a solution, when he felt it again: that weird stirring in his body, the feeling that seemed to begin from his very soul.

"Hopefully it's not shit."

Nathan would hate for Sparrow to return just to find out that he'd crapped his pants. It wouldn't do for him to crap himself, as he'd lose the intimidating demeanor he was trying to put on. After all, who'd take seriously a guy who'd just pooped his pants? Then again, Nathan supposed that it didn't really matter. In fact, Nathan almost smacked himself on the head because he couldn't wonder why in God's name he was spending his last few hours on earth stressing over what people would think about him.

A grimace appeared on his face at the realization. It was a stupid mistake most people made, wasting time thinking about how other people viewed them. The berserker's grimace turned into a full-on frown before he refocused his thoughts on what actually mattered: the stirring.

It felt more like a tug than a stirring, like something was trying to draw him in... into himself. He couldn't really put the feelings to words, but he'd experienced the feeling a couple of times since the apocalypse started, but he'd always pushed it down. But he supposed that this was the best time to figure out what was actually happening.

Plus, if chasing the tug actually killed him in some comical way, then he'd... well, he'd be dead, but at least he'd deny Sparrow the satisfaction of sacrificing him to some demon for whatever weird profit the demon would grant him. With a shrug, Nathan focused on the feeling, closing his eyes as he let the inward tug reel him in like a baited fish. His mind seemingly pushed away all other thoughts as though urging him to focus on the strangeness he felt, and that was what he did.

It all felt surreal and unreal, with Nathan unable to explain how he was feeling until he was. Pain flared out from his sternum—overwhelming pain. As Nathan tried to open his eyes, he realized he couldn't; for some reason, his body had refused to obey him. He remained suspended in the cell, unconscious to the fact he was spitting out black blood, and his skin was also releasing a black tar-like substance, which reeked. The substance was more overwhelming than the unholy smell of piss, feces, and decayed human remains.

While his body was doing that, Nathan's mind was totally preoccupied with issues of its own. For the most part, his subconscious was trying to deal with the nerve-racking wall of pain that was trying to crush him. For a split second, Nathan could sense peace beyond the wall. It felt like an old friend was waiting for him on the other side, and it intrigued Nathan. He just knew in his heart that he had to push through to the other side, and so he pushed, even as the pain intensified and it felt like his body and mind were going to be ripped into pieces. And suddenly, like a thunderclap that he felt rather than heard, something exploded within him. A dam breaking, a seal shattering, a door long closed now flung wide open. Power surged through every fiber of his being, strange and yet familiar at once.

The pain that had been wreaking through his body seemed to have lost its effectiveness as a cool breeze washed over him, comforting him and covering him like a blanket. It was almost as if he was in the embrace of a loved one. Nathan could've stayed in that dreamlike state forever; it felt so homey and warm. But like all good things, it came to an end as Nathan's mind was expelled from wherever the tug had drawn him, and that was when he woke, his eyelids feeling like they'd been glued shut. But he managed to open them, and he saw it.