"put your hands up" (chapter 49)
Chapter 49
Two more demons rushed them, their claws outstretched and teeth bared. Gray parried one's attack, driving his blade into its chest as cursed flames erupted and spread across its body. The second demon leaped at him from behind, but Rachel's soul-self materialized in a bird-like form, intercepting it midair and slamming it to the ground. She followed up with a blast of dark energy that obliterated the creature into shadowy fragments. "Not bad," Gray said, smirking as he sidestepped another attack and decapitated a demon with a single, fiery swing. "Focus, Gray," Rachel snapped, her voice sharp as she enveloped another demon in darkness, suffocating its movements before tearing it apart with razor-sharp shadows.
The battle intensified as three demons attacked simultaneously, coordinating their strikes. Gray ignited the ground with a wave of Fiendfyre, forcing the demons to retreat momentarily before they all shot their tongues out. Rachel leaped into action, manipulating the shadows to form a barrier that deflected the incoming attacks while extending her influence to trap one of the creatures. "Your turn," she said, her voice calm yet commanding. Gray didn't hesitate, slashing through the barrier and into the immobilized demon, the cursed flames engulfing it instantly. The other two demons charged again, but Gray and Rachel moved as one, Gray's sword cutting through one while Rachel's shadows impaled the other from multiple directions.
As the last demon stood, it growled defiantly, its body writhing with rage. Rachel's soul-self returned to her, merging seamlessly into her form as she whispered, "End it." Gray advanced, his fiery sword casting an intimidating glow, and unleashed a final, devastating slash. The Fiendfyre erupted in a massive blaze, consuming the demon entirely. Its screams faded into the crackling of cursed flames, and silence fell over the battlefield. Gray sheathed his sword, breathing heavily, while Rachel's shadows receded, leaving only faint wisps of darkness around her.
"Well, that was fun," Gray muttered, wiping blood from his lip as he surveyed the carnage. Rachel glanced at him, her expression unreadable, before saying, "That magic nullifying pulse is good," which made Gray smile as he said, "Of course, that recipe took me a week to get it right." Rachel hesitated before asking, "And you permanently have this ability?" Gray sighed before replying, "Yes." He then sheathed his sword and began walking forward. "So, what are your plans?" Rachel asked, changing the subject. Gray replied, "Well, I wanted to learn hand-to-hand combat through real-life experience, but now there's a multiplying and regenerating demon issue, so my priorities have changed. I will hunt down these demons and create a potion that allows me to regenerate my limbs." He nodded to himself. "However, I can't neglect the fact that I lack proper technique, so I will do both—learn close-quarters combat as well as create a potion that allows me to regenerate from any injury," he added. Rachel looked at him with belief—Gray always seemed to achieve what he set out to do. "And I am sure this will be no different," she thought to herself as she returned to her wand form. "Alright, but don't you dare touch me to that filthy ground," she said with disgust as he chuckled.
[5 days later]
Gray, drenched in sweat, stepped into his magically enhanced suitcase, closing the lid behind him. "Damn, those hounds keep on spawning," he muttered, wiping his brow. Despite his exhaustion, a grin spread across his face as he glanced at shelves lined with jars filled with blood and chunks of meat from the creatures. "But the more there are, the more ingredients I have," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. The reason for his exhaustion wasn't just the hounds. Gray had just returned from participating in fifty grueling matches with war veterans, learning their techniques and embracing his nickname, "The Punching Bag." His goal was simple: master close-quarters combat. Yet, despite his progress, he felt an unsatisfied itch gnawing at him.
"Like I told you, this isn't the way to go about it," Rachel's voice rang out as she materialized in her human form, sitting on her favorite chair. Her piercing gaze followed Gray as he placed a jar on the counter. "Well, tell me if you have a better idea, then," Gray shot back, a hint of irritation in his tone. Rachel sighed, placing her book down. "As a matter of fact, I do," she replied coolly. With a wave of her hand, she summoned a shadowy version of Gray. The dark figure stood tall, mirroring him in every detail. "This version of you has all my combat knowledge, and I'm controlling it. So, put your hands up," she said, a small smile curling her lips. Gray shrugged. "Okay," he said nonchalantly, raising his fists.
Recalling what he had learned from the veterans, Gray stepped forward, throwing a perfect jab. His form was sharp—better than any punch he had delivered before, a testament to his recent training. But it wasn't enough. The shadow version of him, controlled by Rachel, ducked with flawless precision and countered with an uppercut so clean and powerful that Gray staggered backward. He blinked, stunned, before locking eyes with Rachel. "Is there something you're not good at?" he asked, half impressed, half annoyed. Rachel shrugged. "Where did you learn how to fight?" Gray pressed. "A friend of mine taught us how to rely on our bodies alone," she replied, her tone even. "Now, put your hands back up and keep your eyes on me," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.
For the next several hours, Rachel coached Gray with unwavering focus. "Your stance is too wide," she pointed out, stepping closer and nudging his foot into the correct position. "Tighten your guard; your chin is exposed." Her corrections were swift and precise, her tone carrying the authority of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. "A jab isn't just about the arm—it starts from your core. Feel the power travel through your body," she explained, guiding him through the motion. Rachel's shadow version continued to spar with him, delivering swift blows that forced Gray to adjust and learn on the fly. "Good, now follow up that jab with a cross. Step into it. Don't just throw it—commit to it," she instructed, her eyes sharp, missing nothing.
Rachel's expertise was undeniable. Every correction she made came from experience, and every critique was paired with practical advice. "Don't let your foot drag—it's slowing you down," she said, tapping the side of his leg lightly. When Gray made a mistake, she'd demonstrate the correct technique herself, moving with the grace and precision of a seasoned fighter. "This isn't just about strength; it's about control and precision. Power is useless if it doesn't land," she said, circling him as he tried to keep up with the shadow's relentless attacks. Despite the exhaustion setting into his limbs, Gray persisted, driven by Rachel's unyielding guidance and his determination to improve.
As the hours wore on, Gray found his movements becoming sharper and more fluid. His punches carried more weight, his footwork grew faster, and his defenses tightened. "You're getting there," Rachel said finally, her tone softer, yet still firm. "But don't get cocky. There's always room to improve." Gray nodded, panting heavily, but a small, proud smile tugged at his lips. Rachel dismissed the shadow version of him with a flick of her wrist, returning to her chair. "Not bad, Gray," she said, picking up her book again. "Thanks," he muttered, sinking onto the floor. For the first time in a long while, Gray felt like he was making real progress.
However, he didn't continue to sit on the floor and instead sat back up. "Rest. Although you have a healing factor, your mind needs to rest," Rachel cautioned, which made Gray chuckle. "Oh, please. Exhaustion and I are best friends. Plus, I am finally close to achieving a breakthrough in my potioneering skills," he said. That breakthrough was reaching level 8, the level needed to craft the next grade of potions. As he got to work, Rachel tutted, "Oh, that is depressing, having an emotion be your best friend. It's even a negative one at that." Gray shot back, "Well, at least I am not a cane." He chuckled as Rachel replied, "That is just a low blow. Anyways, since you're not going back to that shithole of a place, are you still going to the Verkhoyansk Range?" she asked, and Gray replied.
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A/N: Yeah, this Raven is multi-talented. And again, I have plans to explain her skill in hand-to-hand combat. Hint: it has something to do with her powers and Constantine, that motherf***er.
P.S.: I haven't been writing this fanfic these past days because I thought of a great magic system, and my ADHD kicked in, so I started writing another fanfic. Anyway, I'm liking what I've written so far, so if I do continue, I might publish it—but don't get your hopes up. And yes, the Archmage in the TVD universe is coming after this fanfic. So, if you love vampire slaying, werewolf butchering, and witch hanging, wait for it. And yes, in that fanfic, I'm planning on killing every main character: the Originals, the Salvatore brothers, Elena (that annoying b***h of a character), and my favorite, Bonnie the baddie. Even Qetsiyah isn't safe.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to crafting my niche in Albion Online and hope I don't wake up to a YouTube video about how to make millions crafting my niche. Damn Albion and its player-driven economy.