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B2 Chapter 28: A Bone to Pick
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 03:43:27 +0000 UTCB2 Chapter 28: A Bone to Pick
When Tiberius came to, everything hurt. His shoulders, side, and ribs were the worst, aching as though he’d been repeatedly smashed with a battering ram. But the rest of his body wasn't faring much better.
As the initial haze of unconsciousness faded, Tiberius felt another sensation come to the forefront of his attention. A pair of soft hands, one on his forehead and another on his chest. Their warmth pulsed through him as twin bright spots amidst the haze of aches and pains.
He cracked open his eyes, half expecting to see the green fields of Elysium. Or perhaps fate had a different destination in mind for him, like the fiery pits of Hell of that new Christian God. Just as he been a more passive follower of the gods, he'd never claimed to be certain about the afterlife, either.
But rather than flames or paradise, Tiberius found himself looking up into the eyes of a familiar female face. Behind her stretched a clear blue sky with the observation tower reaching up toward it, a splintered section of railing near its top.
He coughed and tried to sit up, wincing with the effort. But the girl's hands were like iron, firm and unyielding.
"Lie back," Eleonora told him. "Relax. It's going to take some time before you’re ok to move again, even with healing.”
Tiberius obliged, allowing his head to settle back onto the earth. Ignoring the [Healer]’s orders for the sake of his pride was an exercise in foolishness.
He tried to speak, only to be racked by a series of heaving coughs. Eleanora rolled him painfully onto his side, where he spat out what felt like mouthfuls of blood. It was at that point that he noticed the ring of Legionnaires surrounding them protectively, their ranks several men deep. A few of his guards stood closer by with weapons already drawn, their heads on swivels as they scanned for threats.
“The… assassin?” He managed with a wheeze.
“Dead, sir.” One of the men confirmed, still remaining vigilant. “Your move killed her, although the men made extra sure about that.”
“You're lucky I was here.” Eleonora muttered. Sweat beaded on her brow and her complexion was already turning pale. “I was just about to head back to the medical area, too. If I'd left any earlier, you'd be dead.”
A grunt of acknowledgement was all he could manage.
A few minutes later, Eleonora fell back with a sigh of exhaustion. “Ok. I'm spent. If you want any more healing, you'll have to wait a bit.”
Tiberius finally sat up, flexing his hands and stretching experimentally. While he didn't feel a hundred percent better, the pervasive pain had retreated for the moment and left him able to move and operate much better. Once more, he found himself in awe at the power of this world’s magics. Before, his wounds would have been severe enough that he might have never fully recovered from them. But now? They were practically an inconvenience.
He nodded at Eleonora. “Thank you.”
She hesitated, then accepted the thanks with s not. “It's what I'm here for, right? Plus, healing near-fatal injuries does get me a lot of experience, so…”
Tiberius made to stand, only for one of his men to extend a hand toward him. He took it gratefully and hauled himself to his feet. A quick look around revealed that his officers were standing nearby, watching and clearly anticipating his recovery.
He cleared his throat and strode towards them. His guards stuck to his side like tree sap as the larger defensive ring parted before him.
“Legatus Tiberius.” They saluted as he approached, one of his tribunes stepping forward to speak for the group. “We're glad to see you are well.”
“As am I.” He allowed himself the faintest smile of amusement as they chuckled. “Report, tribunes.”
“As you've heard, the would-be assassin has been dealt with.” The report began. “Her body has been disposed of in order to prevent any other unexpected surprises. Shortly following her death, the Legion experienced another level up, which seemed to stabilize you somewhat until the [Healer] arrived.”
That was welcome news. Considering how injured he'd been, it was entirely possible that the level had stabilized him long enough to receive healing. It was impossible to tell, considering that he'd been unconscious, but noteworthy nonetheless. But he'd have to wait until he was better to fully test the range of his new abilities.
“I see.” He said simply. “And the battle?”
“The auxiliaries are pursuing the stragglers of the main army along with the third cohort. We also put Secundius’s plan into motion against the armored warrior. Considering your condition, we considered it prudent to take charge and continue the flight in your stead while you healed.”
“Good. I approve of your judgement.” He reassured the men. “How is it progressing?”
"Well so far. Preparations are still in progress for the armored man, but we expect the plan to go into full effect soon. The extra level should provide the men a much-needed edge as well.”
Tiberius nodded, turning back toward the observation tower and hiding a wince as he stepped forward. “Then let us see for ourselves.”
***
The Legion had felled every enemy set before them. One by one, their foes had succumbed to their numbers and preparations, leaving them lifeless in the trampled grass and dirt of the battlefield. And now, there was only one who remained. One who stubbornly refused to walk with his fellow party members and share their fate.
The wicked suit of armor swung his mace again as Quintus hurried to join his comrades. The blow glanced off the edge of a shield as the men hurried to reposition out of range, inflicting little more than scratches upon its surface. The warrior roared in frustration, charging forward again.
The man had managed to injure an impressive number of Legionnaires, providing a steady stream of men that needed to be rotated out of the fight or sent to the doctors altogether. Yet the telltale flash of white that heralded a level up had changed things. They were moving faster, more deftly, able to withstand more once again. Even the men that did get caught out of position didn't seem to fly as far through the air when launched.
As Quintus arrived on the scene, the warrior seemed to realize much the same thing. Seeing that he wasn't making progress like before, he changed tactics.
They shifted to the side with a practiced efficiency that had been drilled into them. But at the last moment, the man accelerated, crashing through the line in a flare of greenish-yellow light. Once he was through, he changed the grip on his mace and began to spin like a top, the spiked head of the weapon slamming into the soldiers as they struggled to reposition.
Some of the men attempted once more to strike at joints and seams in the armor to slow him down, but all they earned for their efforts was a handful of shattered weapons. The warrior seemed to even speed up with each successive blow, his bellows deepening and turning more guttural by the moment.
Quintus took a bold step forward, intending to charge forth and test the man's defenses and fighting prowess himself. Not that he would be challenging the warrior to a duel, Quintus wasn’t fool enough to put himself in such high esteem, but attacking while supported by his men? That wasn’t out of the question. The Primus Pilus was one of the Legion’s best individual fighters, and it seemed he’d need to leverage his skills here as well. After all, the man in front of them didn’t seem to be capable of being stopped.
But as his foot hit the ground, he winced in pain. The impact jolted through him as the freshly-healed wounds in his lower torso flared in warning, reminding him about the heated battle he’d just engaged in. Quintus bit back a curse and managed to hide the reaction. Luckily, the Legionnaires around him were otherwise preoccupied.
Despite the medical attention he’d received and the boons from leveling up, Quintus was nowhere close to a full recovery. He figured he had at least two different broken ribs, likely three. Once the battle was over and he could return to the healers, such issues would prove trivial for Eleonora to fix. But until then? He would have to bear it.
For a moment, he regretted waving the medic off so hastily. But he was well aware that their medics weren’t quite at the level to remedy broken bones with any ease yet. It would have taken far more time than he was willing to sacrifice right now.
The fact that he didn’t need to fear some disease from said injuries befalling him or consider being taken out of action as he recovered was still unbelievable in its own right. It was as though Mercury himself had joined the ranks of their milites medici, or a disciple of the god at least. But right now, the pain was still a strident reminder that he was not in any condition to be fighting such a superior opponent. Not now. Even if he could stand his ground—which was quite the question—actually hurting him was another matter.
Quintus stood back, surveying the situation as the enemy finished his spinning assault and began winding up another devastating charge. Given his relative invincibility, it seemed like the best chance they might have was to restrain the armored warrior. He motioned one of the faster-looking men over. “Find the hunting specialists of the second cohort. They should wield barbed nets. Get them here now.”
The man nodded and darted off in a flash, confirming Quintus’s suspicions about his speed. He was about to turn back to the fight and take charge when he noticed a new group of Legionnaires arriving from the ninth cohort.
Although they looked even more Roman than the strangely styled togas that the so-called cultivators wore, their heavily modified armor and uniforms left no room for doubt that these were specialists.
Their breastplates and helmets weren’t too dissimilar from Quintus’s own in style. However, it was the details that set the two a world apart.
Any reinforcements or rivets that normally would have been made of metal had been removed. In their place were fixtures of bone. Long sections of polished white were inlaid in the pommels of their swords, the edges of their shields, and even their sandals. Similarly grotesque jewelry clattered hollowly at their wrists and necks. Quintus even saw one man who had altogether replaced his helmet with a shadow panther skull.
Quintus suppressed a shudder. The attire sent his skin crawling. It was unsavory, if not downright heretical, like something a worshipper of Pluto or one of the Celtic savage religions might don.
But despite their strange appearances, he had no quarrel with the men. In fact, upon closer inspection, he recognized his friend Claudius as the man wearing the panther skull helm at the lead.
The man had been one of his own that he'd regularly patrolled with. But once he'd begun to develop some of his more… eccentric skills, he'd been shuffled around and given charge of some of the fresher men in the ninth cohort. Some might have seen it as a step down, but given that it allowed him free reign to explore his capabilities, the man had gladly accepted.
Claudius stopped next to Quintus, his men taking up positions as they surveyed the situation. moving around. Claudius gave the Primus Pilus a quick salute and a grin that he easily returned.
“Sir. Long time no see.”
“Indeed.” Quintus agreed, glancing meaningfully at the man's armor. “I see you've been busy.”
“No more than the rest of us, although I like to think my efforts have taken me further than most.” Claudius chuckled slightly. “But we should save the talking for later.”
Quintus nodded. “Agreed. Is there anything your ‘talents’ can do about him?”
“That's what we're here for.”
Claudius focused for a moment, his gaze turning sharp as he stared at the armored man. After a moment though, his expression turned to one of bewilderment followed by disbelief.
“That… complicates things.” Claudius nodded to indicate the rampaging warrior.
"What?"
“One of my skills allows me to sense bones. You have three cracked ribs, by the way. Would you like some help with that?"
Quintus blinked and prevented himself from taking a step backward as Claudius gave him an unnerving smile. He liked and trusted the man, but still…
Before he had a chance to refuse, Claudius reached out and quickly touched three points on Quintus’ chest and sides. He heard a sickening pop as his ribs shifted painfully, setting themselves back in place. He barely suppressed a gasp of surprise and pain at the unnerving sensation.
“Better?” Claudius grinned when it was over.
Quintus poked at his wounds tenderly. They still hurt like hell. It seemed that Claudius’s magic hadn't done anything for the bruising and injuries around his ribs. But the particular sharp pain he knew to associate with broken bones was gone.
He inhaled deeply, feeling his ribcage expand with no issue, than nodded. “Thank you. Now…”
“Right. Well, that man—or rather, that thing…” Claudius frowned. “He has no bones. In fact… I'm not sure he's even human.”
Comments
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Edit suggestion: Just as he been -> Just as he'd been
Tryptic
Thanks for the chapter! One small thing: I would recommend mentioning how long Tiberius was out for. When reading I thought it might be the next day, then I thought maybe 30 minutes since they're still fighting the berserker, then I realized it could be either since they could just be fighting forever. I think Tiberius himself would ask how long had passed immediately after waking up.
