17 [Recovery]
Fate/Defiance
Chapter 16 [Recovery]
By theMadLad
Icarus felt like shit, his whole body was littered with injuries and covered by the various wounds left to him after battle.
After executing the Stymphalian Birds, Icarus had used up whatever willpower and remaining highs he had from battle that was still numbing his pain to quickly get out some medical supplies.
He was bleeding profusely, with his head only getting more lightheaded each passing minute. Thankfully, his Age of the Gods human body was much more resilient than expected and he was able to stay conscious.
Icarus had taken out some fish-based glue he had created in advance and applied it to his wounds, temporarily sealing most of the minor ones along his body before quickly tearing up his clothes and tightly bandaging them over himself.
He probably looked like some horrific bloody mummy boy that was naked in all the wrong places. But if that was the price he had to pay to survive, then he would take it every time.
He was happy that he at least had the foresight to create some medical supplies, no matter how crude they were. He then took out some sutures made from the tendons and arteries from the boar he had hunted and used them to stitch up his larger wounds.
He hissed in pain as the small needle made from magically altered stone repeatedly pierced into his side, slowly closing the wound further with each stitch. Icarus sighed between gritted teeth as he finished, making sure to also apply some glue towards the wound to hold it together more firmly.
"…Ugh… everything hurts." He groaned while leaning his head back in pain. Everything from the battle was starting to come rushing back, his multiple poor decisions, excessive arrogance, and most importantly pain.
He should have prepared better.
"It hurt so fucking bad." He whimpered with tears prickling his eyes. This was the first time he had been so heavily injured, and it was really, really, painful. His pain tolerance was rather normal, it was only during battle that he could truly shake it off.
But, night time was soon to arrive, and he did not want to be some bleeding corpse that was eaten by some roaming magical predator looking for a quick meal. He had to push through the pain and so although he was also absolutely exhausted, with any slight movements wracking his body with immense pain—he got up anyways.
"—Ahk!" He croaked from his mouth as rods of pain shot up his spine and tousled throughout his body. Icarus limped as he walked, wading through the bog and back towards the village. He had already collected the dead birds when he had killed them, making sure to carefully grip them by the neck before slowly placing them inside his bag.
Icarus repeatedly stumbled throughout his journey back, with stitches often being torn after particularly heavy falls. Ironically, the pain from these events had managed to keep him awake long enough to arrive.
His half-cognizant mind brought him to that one older man's house, where he broke in while using his magic to lighten his steps and stole all the man's alcohol. He also made sure to leave a few corpses of the Stymphalian Birds at the man's doorstep along with a note, then quickly left before he would collapse.
It was only through sheer willpower that he was still moving.
He arrived at one of the abandoned ruins and threw together a quick fire, making sure to stay on legs or he would surely fall asleep as the familiar stings of pain running up his legs were no longer enough to keep him awake, so he untied his rags and prepared for an injection of pure, but necessary pain.
"καθαρίζω!" (Purify) He chanted a quick spell on the mead he stole and purified the alcohol content, before dousing it along his wounds with a sharp intake of air from the pain.
He was hopeful that the alcohol within would help disinfect his wounds enough for him not to lose a leg from infection. Icarus then double checked to make sure his stitches and glue still held up before using a spell to clean out the blood, sweat, and grime from them and reapplying the bandages.
He pulled both arms back as he finished tightening the bandages before soon collapsing on the floor while instantly passing out. His remaining willpower and constant pulsing sensations of pain were simply not enough to keep him awake any longer.
…And as such, he was unable to see the soft glow of light from the fire cover his tiny half-dead form.
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"The fuck you lookin' at?" Icarus spoke as he chewed, smacking his lips in a taunting manner.
The Stymphalian Bird in front of him was strung up and unable to move while trapped within a box of dried oak wood glared at Icarus with hatred in response.
Icarus shrugged, briefly flinching in pain from the movement before he continued to chow down on his delectable food.
—Fried Stymphalian Bird.
While the birds were made of bronze, this didn't necessarily mean they lacked meat and bones beneath them. They were still animals, if a little magic and deadly.
He took another bite as the bird in front of him started to freak out in a rage, desperately wanting to escape and tear out his throat.
…Which was understandable, after all Icarus was eating a cooked corpse belonging to a relative of the very bird in front of him. Was there any way it wouldn't be angry, with him eating it's brother or sister before its very eyes?
It continued to struggle, desperate to break out and slaughter the taunting boy in front of it. But, alas, it was unable to escape and left to watch Icarus mock without remorse.
"Heh." Icarus smirked before taking another deliberately slow bite.
It had been a few days since he had returned to his camp. The first night after the battle he woke up in a surprisingly good condition. Originally when he passed out, he was honestly unsure if he would survive the night… and while he was confident that he would pull through regardless, he definitely did not expect to have recovered so greatly.
He speculated that the Gods may have aided in his recovery as it would make the most sense, he should have felt absolutely and indescribably terrible but somehow ended up fine. In the end though, he mostly just kept it in the back of his mind.
He survived, that was all that mattered.
Icarus then spent two more days recovering in the abandoned ruins of the village before he had enough strength to leave. He had even heard the villagers start a huge party to celebrate, and smiled to himself from within his little hobble while unable to move.
He was happy for them.
Although he had chastised himself earlier for going into the fight too hastily and barely making it out alive, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.
He had succeeded and he was proud of himself damnit! He could still barely believe that he had done it!
The accomplishment of such an impossible task made him want to strut around with his chest puffed out in pride.
Those people no longer needed to live in fear and were now able to move on with their lives, while for Icarus… he was able to acquire exactly what he wanted.
Their feathers.
He went back to the swamp after his initial recovery and waded through the bog to recover any feathers that they had thrown at him that he might have missed. Along the way he had also recovered his discarded grappling hooks and arrows that he could find.
But more importantly, he had also found a living bird. It was the one he had trapped in oak wood during the very start of the battle. He had quickly made some bindings for it that had plates of dried oak placed along them to help secure the bird.
He then managed to dislodge the bird before taking it along with him back to camp. Which is where he is currently located while eating the meat from the other, dead birds.
He was unsure if it would have some kind of magical or poisonous effect on him by eating, but after making sure the meat was safe to eat by forcing local animals to devour it, he ate some himself.
And even then, it was rather delicate to make, with Icarus having to be extra cautious not to contaminate the meat with their toxic fecal matter. Well, at least he had some poison shit to lather on his arrows from now on.
It was rather tasty fried, and he was running out of boar anyways… no need to waste it.
He was still rather wounded and needed to rest for another few weeks, but with him back under his bounded field which would help increase his recovery, it would only take a few days to a week at most.
But, as a trade off, Icarus now had plenty of time to come up with ideas and take a break to relax. He mostly kept himself entertained by taunting the bird but made sure to limit it while keeping it well taken care of before it could come back and possibly bite him in the ass.
A living Stymphalian Bird was much more valuable than a dead one, able to eventually grow back feathers while also giving an unlimited supply of lethal poison.
And while Icarus was unable to begin his next project, he was still able to repair most of his items and clothes in between resting.
He had made mistakes in this battle. He rushed when he should have taken his time, maybe even put it off for another day to better prepare.
But, he didn't… and that could have gotten him killed.
Icarus was always rather critical towards himself, and while this could be detrimental and possibly form an inferiority complex, he instead used it to push himself further to improve while staying humble in his accomplishments.
But even he knew… that once the events of this day got out, things would never be the same.
The Stymphalian Birds were rather famous—or in this case infamous—and were extremely well known throughout the region. Many soldiers and aspiring heroes had attempted to exterminate them only to end up dead, and without a corpse to recover. It had even gotten to the point where people flat out refused to help… leaving the poor villagers to their fate.
But now they were dead, and killed by an eight-year-old boy no less… although Icarus had already become extremely famous after the events in Athens, this event was something different, something greater.
…He had taken a step into legend.
And he had done it before his age had even reached the double digits, before his balls even had time to drop. Icarus was without a doubt the forerunner for the next generation of heroes in the minds of everyone.
He had already left all the others in the era in his shadow, whether they be royalty or demigods, from such an early age and now—the eyes of everyone, even the gods, would be on him.
Icarus smiled. It was likely he already qualified for the throne at this point… but he wouldn't stop here.
He wanted to live life to the fullest, so he wouldn't settle for nothing but the best in that regard. He would never allow himself to lose to anyone… and with that thought in mind, he pulled open a blueprint for his newest invention.
Within the diagram were various drawings and plans for a particular item. It functioned through a set of gears and joints that allowed movements that could be controlled through his hands, using gestures from the fingers or arms.
It was able to change through various modes, be they idle or spread out, and was even able to throw out various feathered projectiles with the flick of a finger.
They were for a set of wings.
His set of wings.
Made from the very deadly bronze feathers he just acquired.
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Author's Notes
I have posted a NEW STORY, it is on my profile right now! It is a DxD Connla SI! More of a casual DxD SI but still has some cool concepts and also already has 3 Chapters, go check it out! It is called 'Child of Shadow.'
RadioPoisoning on FFN pointed out that his grappling hook should have had a spool instead of gears… which had a lot more sense, don't know why I didn't think of that. So thanks for the suggestion.
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