Luke slammed the Tempered Staff straight into Leslie's fucking face. It caved in with a horrific crunch and a shower of blood.

  Leslie fell.

  Weaver's Perception told Luke he'd lost consciousness.

  With that mangled mess that could no longer be called a face, there was no way the Solarian could continue fighting. Even as he fell out of reach, tumbling away in the air, Luke let out a curse. The bastard still lived. His life was nothing more than a frayed thread. There was no way he'd survive the fall. At least that's what Luke told himself as he returned to the grueling work of opening up Naxaramus.

  Having gotten in close to that murder-hobo, Luke forced healing mana to his front again. That barrier of Leslie's was a menace, and it'd burned his arms. Fire, he hated fire. As he healed, once again diverting part of his focus to shield himself from The Dread Dragon's attacks, slicing the small balls of fire out of the air with Threads of Mana, he again noticed that lingering healing mana. It stayed longer, but that wasn't all. The mana also drifted through his mana channels on its own, heading to the injured areas.

  Careful not to open himself up too much, he drained mana from Naxaramus as he worked, using the monster's stores to heal himself after its attacks. This way, he was able to try something new. Luke's meta-heart and mana channels were only able to hold so much mana before bursting, but the healing mana used when brute-force healing wounds was something different. It didn't count against his maximum. Since this type of healing was far too costly to use much, he hadn't noticed it before, but this allowed for an interesting, possible path to The Fallen Shepherd's use of latent healing.

  Luke flushed his entire system with healing mana. Meta-heart close to bursting with it, and mana channels bulging, his body healed itself without him having to direct it at all. With overflowing stores of healing mana, there was no end to it. Exhilaration thrummed in Luke's chest, and he couldn't help but smile despite the dire circumstances.

  "This is it," he said, chest heaving. "This is what Relian used."

  Just in time, too. Naxaramus's attacks grew more frantic, searing Luke again and again, but that was not all. The purple haze used by the Archfiend followed, melting flesh off his body. Healing that with pure healing mana led to a staggering mana cost for healing, but for the first time ever, the supply was infinite. The Dread Dragon's mana pool looked untouched, like all these spells weren't even creating ripples on the surface.

  Healing himself with such speed did not, however, lessen the horror of witnessing his own body come undone again and again, muscle and skin dribbling off the bone. The pain of it was indescribable, but Luke soon singled out the nerves responsible for pain signals and shut them down, cutting away all sensation. A strange experience, living through such horror without feeling a thing, like it was happening to someone else.

  For a moment, he just stood there, watching his hands disappear and then heal again, and again, and again. Having so much mana running through him weakened Luke's knees. A conduit. That's how he felt, like a conduit. Like he'd touched a power line, and electricity ran through him to reach an exit. It even dimmed his mind several times. Focus almost slipped. It forced him to make constant use of the increased Willpower attribute or face immediate death.

  Down on his knees, Luke found a hole in front of him, a dark pit through the scaled hide. He was supposed to do something next, but his mind was sluggish, thoughts a jumble. More fire bathed him, but Luke didn't pay it any mind. Another attack from behind pushed him forward, his hands reaching into the hole. That beam of fire. Leslie. The bastard survived again.

  How he'd managed that, Luke didn't know, but it didn't matter. Tethered to The Dread Dragon, bathing his entire body in healing mana, the beam of fire didn't even make it through an inch of unfeeling flesh. It was nothing compared to Naxaramus.

  Leslie's reappearance stoked feelings in Luke's chest. Anger, for the most part, but that was something that had been missing for the last couple of minutes, feelings. It returned him to his senses, at least somewhat. The nuke. That's why he was there. To blow the dragon up and blow it up good.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  In that state of constant near-death and regeneration, with memory and thoughts hazy, Luke opened his inventory and was about to take out the weapon of mass destruction.

  Hellfire Mk.III Cruise Warhead (ARMED - STASIS).

  At the last possible moment, he stopped himself. No, not yet. There was something else he was supposed to do first. Something about the nuke's name.

  "Ah," Luke said to himself. "That's it."

  Opening another menu in his interface brought up a choice. This choice didn't matter much in the end as long as he picked one. Snickering, despite himself, he made his choice.

  Hellfire Mk.III Cruise Warhead of Crushing Weight (ARMED - STASIS): A slight amount of weight added.

  Enchantment. Enchanting an object turned it into a system item. Hannah being able to put that spoon into her inventory proved as much, since she couldn't pocket anything not of the system. Mundane weapons didn't hurt monsters. In the end, he didn't think even a nuke would. A normal nuke, that was. But what about a system-approved nuke of crushing weight?

  That just might.

  This was Luke's gamble.

  Luke: "Now, Hannah. Tell them it’s time. I'll give you thirty seconds."

  Hannah: "Understood. The troops have already been pulling back. They're all inside the keep, and they can't hold out much longer. Luke, you're kind of far away now. The dragon is, I mean."

  It felt like an eternity. When he got the second reply, he'd almost forgotten what he was doing again, but the word 'nuke' triggered his memories again.

  Hannah: "Ready. Nuke that asshole!"

  Luke retrieved the weapon from his inventory with his hand thrust down inside the dragon, bringing it right into the hole he'd dug through Naxaramus's hide. The bulk of it made the dragon's hide bulge, pushing its muscles to the side.

  "What the-?" Leslie said behind him, but it barely registered.

  A blueish-white sheen rose from The Dread Dragon's skin, and Luke was about to push away when it washed over part of him, holding him to the dragon's body. It was a protective barrier. The warhead detonated, and the world ended.

  Milliseconds flashed in Luke's mind, like small pieces of consciousness. Light. Heat. Disintegration. Darkness. Nothing. The Healer's Moment. How? Light. Restoration. Darkness. Nothing. Light. Weaver's Renewal. Huh. No shape, no form, no body, no nothing. Link to Naxaramus broken. Nothing. Light again. Gone, then back again. It lingered, the light. A haze. Falling. Luke was falling.

  The snapping of branches, a thud, another. Darkness again. Light. Soft grass. So cold.

  Healing mana gone. All mana gone. Potions gone. Thoughts returned at a crawl. Struggling against the light, Luke closed his eyes. No, nothing happened. Weaver's Perception told him everything he needed to know, told him it hadn't been enough. All his healing. Not enough.

  "Luke!"

  Hannah.

  He couldn't answer. Didn't have a mouth, didn't have a throat.

  Steps.

  "Oh no!"

  Rustling next to him.

  "Luke!"

  Darkness was coming. An embrace.

  "Take my mana! Healers are coming!"

  With all sensation gone, he didn't feel her touch. Her mana, though? That, he sensed. Like a man trudging through the desert finding an oasis, he submerged himself in the gentle pool of her mana, splashing it over himself, drinking from it like it was the well of life, because it was.

  Little by little, Luke returned to himself.

  "Luke! It's too much. You're taking too much!"

  He couldn't stop, but she pulled away, struggling. Shadows emerged, and Hannah disappeared, then returned out of the shadow of a nearby tree.

  Organs knitted themselves together. With lungs, he could breathe. A heart restored meant blood pumping. Mana channels and meta-heart undamaged. From them, the body rebuilt itself. Muscle and bone came back. New nerves brought the pain. Oh, such terrible pain.

  Luke whimpered, then wailed as strength returned.

  "What took you so long?" he heard Hannah shout. "Heal him!"

  More people. Healing mana introduced into his system. Soothing. Lackluster. Not enough.

  "Mana," he tried to say, but could form no words.

  Threads of Mana. Reaching.

  "He needs more mana," Hannah said. "Give it to him!"

  "But..."

  "Do it now! Touch the blue wisp thing!"

  A shudder went through Luke's body. With the new mana, far less than what Hannah offered, he found the will and focus to go back in and remove the pain. Much better.

  Radiation wounds were breaking his body down at a terrible rate, affecting all matter, even the reformed flesh, but to a lesser extent. Burning away the affected areas, excising the radioactive plague, Luke found stability. Cutting and reforming, destroying and creating. More people joined in, their voices full of awe as they offered their mana to him. Even with all those people, it was a mere trickle to the raging torrent he'd experienced with Naxaramus, and the healing he was able to perform was a pitiful thing compared to the near invincibility he'd felt attached to that monstrous beast.

  Still, it was enough. With all those people, it was enough.