Chapter 91 The Plot Armour? Seriously?



Pain! Excruciating pain coursed through his body.

It was the only sensation he could feel. Everything else was gone.

His consciousness was fading. He could feel the darkness approaching, and it was welcoming.

Then there was light.

And then the pain came again and his eyes closed on their own.

...

Then he woke again, the pain was replaced with numbness and there was a cruel coldness to the air.

He blinked his eyes as he was not able to clearly see what was going on.

Slowly, his senses returned to him, and he realized he was still in the air as all he was seeing was the leaves of trees spread like a wild carpet over a long distance.

For a second he feared he was still falling from the cliff, but then again, the scenery wasn't coming close at all.

He took a deep breath and composed himself, and looked around to perceive what was going on.

And there was it! And there was he!

It appeared he was hanging on a branch of a tree or something that sprouted from the cliffside. And it appeared the tree had saved him.

He was suspended by his hands and feet, his body dangling in the air, supported by the tree.

He was glad he didn't fall to the ground, as that would mean his second life was pretty much ending.

'Is this plot armor or something? Fuck, this shit is wild! Wait a minute, does that mean this world has recognized me as an important character? Damn.' He was beginning to feel all smudge and all.

'Well, I changed the plot by saving the Queen and Lady Blaire. It might have forced this world to see me as an important character or did the world see me as an annoyance or an enemy? Is that why there were so many things that tried to kill me? Nah, it's because I'm in this fucking mountains.'

He then suddenly remembered something and slowly looked at his left hand.

Gone! It was gone!

There was nothing left off his left hand. Only a trace of where the hand had been torn off. Blood had dried down, meaning it has been some time since this happened.

'So it wasn't a dream at all.' He thought.

He wasn't able to move his jaws to speak loudly as he felt a pang of pain whenever he tried to use his jaws, even for a little time.

'What the hell am I gonna do now?'

He wasn't too worried about his left hand as he knows there are potions that can help him regrow it.

There was nothing he can do to help himself to either get to the top or to the bottom. He couldn't even move his arms or legs. He was stuck.

On a positive note though, he had his mana completely recharged with time.

The sun was directly above his head, and he had already seen that before confronting the devil bunnies, and since his wound has stopped bleeding that means it has been a day at least since the incident took place.

Damien gritted his teeth as he tried to focus his mana. He had never attempted anything like this before and he knew it was a long shot, but he had to try.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to visualize what he wanted to create.

"Come on, come on," he muttered to himself, trying to will his mana to do what he wanted. But it was like trying to hold water in his hand - it kept slipping through his fingers.

He opened his eyes and looked at his stump of a left arm. It was a painful reminder of his failure to protect himself. He had to find a way to climb up, he couldn't just stay here forever.

He tried again, this time focusing on the sensation of cold. He thought of snow and ice, of glaciers and frozen lakes. He felt a tingle in his fingers and he knew he was getting somewhere.

With a burst of effort, he focused all of his mana on his left shoulder, trying to shape it into a replacement arm made of ice. It flickered into existence for a moment before melting away, but it was progress.

Damien gritted his teeth and tried again, this time holding the mana in place for a little longer. He could feel his muscles straining as he focused on the task at hand.

"This is insane," he thought to himself. "I'm just a regular guy from the real world. What the hell am I doing trying to create an ice arm out of mana?"

But he couldn't give up. He had to keep going.

Damien struggled as he attempted to focus his mana on his left arm to create the magical ice limb. He failed several times, losing his concentration and falling from the tree branch. Each time he fell, he dug his right arm into the crevices of the cliff to stop himself from plummeting to the ground.

"Why is this so difficult?" Damien muttered to himself as he tried again, his forehead beaded with sweat. "I've used magic before, but this feels different. It's like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time."

He tried again, gritting his teeth in concentration as he focused on his mana. Slowly, he felt a cold sensation spreading from his chest down to his left arm, and a lump of ice began to form. Damien let out a sigh of relief as he flexed his new magical limb, feeling the weight of it as he tested its strength.

"Finally," he said, a small smile spreading across his face. "Now let's get out of here."

With renewed determination, Damien began to climb the cliff face, using his new ice arm to grip onto the rough surfaces of the rock. But even with his newfound power, he still struggled, losing his grip and slipping several times.

Each time he fell, Damien would curse himself for his lack of concentration, but he would also take a moment to compose himself, using his right arm to grab onto the crevices of the cliff and catch his breath.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, frustration boiling up inside him. "Why did I have to lose my hand? Why can't anything ever be easy?"

But despite his struggles and his frustration, Damien refused to give up.

He kept climbing, determined to reach the top and find a way to get back to the second steps. And with each passing moment, he felt his confidence growing, his control over his mana becoming more precise.

And finally, after what felt like hours of climbing, Damien reached the top of the cliff, collapsing onto the ground in exhaustion. But he was also filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that he had overcome the odds and saved himself from certain death.

"I may not have all the answers," he said, staring up at the sky. "But I've got a whole new set of skills now. And who knows, maybe I'll even learn to love this new ice hand of mine."

...

Up in the third step, an old man sat on the edge of the cliff, watching the entertaining events unfolding on the second steps.

His feet danced and dangled as he hummed to himself.

His long white beard was swept to a side due to the gale-force winds blowing through the mountain range.

His eyes twinkled as he watched the young boy struggle to climb the cliff.

His lips curled into a wide grin as he saw the young boy fall from his perch on the cliff.

He chuckled as he watched the boy scramble up the cliff, using his newly formed ice arm to cling to the rocks.

"Ahh, what fun!" The old man exclaimed as he continued to watch the show unfold below him.

"The boy is cursed! This is no fun matter!" Came an old and husky voice behind him.

An old woman with a hunch on her back and hunched shoulders walked up next to him, clutching tightly onto a walking stick in one hand. She had wrinkles etched into her face, making it look like she was wearing a mask of years and experience.

The black robe she wore was stained with mud and dirt, and the hood was pulled low over her head, hiding most of her features. Her eyes were hidden behind the hood.

"Oh, you are such a bore, Ein," he said, shaking his head. "Just enjoy the show. It's not like we will forever be in this world and it's not like for us to have visitors here."

"Having visitors is fun but not him. If he climbs to the seven steps then he's coming to you, to train under you. That's not possible. You can't train him!" The woman named Ein said. Her voice was husky and worried. Like she feared the boy.

"What's your problem with the kid? The fact that you can't read his future? The fact that he knows things that are not possible to know otherwise?" The old man asked turning to his old friend.

He couldn't see her eyes but he was sure she was shooting daggers from them.

"All my years, there wasn't a single time where I failed to predict someone's future, Aryan. You know that too. But this...this boy is an exception. Something is seriously wrong with the kid."