Chapter 103 Bed-Ridden part 7

"Confirmed. The prize has been awarded, and the costs for treatment subsequently deducted." The Terminal replied on screen. The injuries displayed on the paper doll display all vanished without fanfare, and the doll's unhappy face was replaced with a happy one.

Jack, for his part, felt no different than before. But that wasn't really surprising, since he already felt fine to begin with. He would just have to wait to return to reality before he'd hopefully notice the effects.

Floating somewhere behind Jack's head, Frumpkin yawned lazily.

"Well hey, look at that. You're all mended up. Now imagine if a certain very cool guy hadn't bothered bringing you here in during your drug stupor and let you access everything without difficulty. You'd still be bed-ridden for the next almost forever. Sounds to me like you owe a certain someone a thank you." He said.

Jack glanced over his shoulder and sighed.

"Thank you, Frumpkin." He said flatly.

"Oh, what? What are you talking about? It was nothing! Nothing at all! Happy to be of service!" The deity replied, drifting slowly through the air past Jack's head, his arms folded behind his head. For some reason, he was now wearing a large pair of aviator sunglasses. He stopped himself in mid-air, and raised his shades.

"So, anything else you wanna do before I send you back to your drug coma?" He asked.

Jack looked back at the Terminal screen. He didn't really have anything else he could do, even if he wanted to. He was still pretty broke, and he'd already dealt with his wounds. He looked at Frumpkin and shook his head.

"No, I don't think so." He said.

"Aight. I'll send you back, then. Hold on to your butt." Frumpkin said, making a series of elaborate gestures in the air with his hands.

"Uh, oka-" Jack started, before folding into himself through his belly button and vanishing into thin air.

His consciousness returned slowly an indeterminate time later as the medication he'd been given slowly worked its way out of his system. It was strange. His consciousness was fully present well before the rest of his body caught up, and it was more than a little alarming to be stuck inside his skin and be utterly unable to move or open his eyes at first. Even more unpleasant was the sensation that if he didn't manually keep himself breathing he'd suffocate. He logically knew that wasn't how his body actually worked, but the sensation was very difficult to shake.

After what felt like hours, he was finally able to start wiggling his toes, then clench and unclench his hands, until his body sluggishly worked its way back to functionality. Once he felt more in control of his movements, he decided to try and open his eyes and sit up.

He found himself in the same room as before, still lit by the same flickering torches. There was no fire in the hearth this time, and the air was significantly cooler. Glancing around, he saw that he was alone in Urien's room, though there were signs that he'd recently had company, based on Rose's familiar pack set next to the bed, as well as a half-eaten plate of food on the desk.

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Shifting his position, he felt no discomfort. When he lifted the furs off of himself, he saw that he was still bandaged, but there was, as he'd expected, no pain or stiffness. He felt just like his normal self again. Pulling the bandages off, the wounds were gone. In their place, however, were obvious scars, which surprised him. He would have expected a weird magical computer given to him by God himself wouldn't have left something like that behind.

But strangely, he wasn't upset about it. All in all, the new slash and stab scars made him look like a complete badass.