Becoming the Orc Chieftain by E. M. Hardy & LitRPG Freaks

Author:E. M. Hardy & LitRPG Freaks [Hardy, E. M. & Freaks, LitRPG]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Slam.

Suspended. He and Hasan were suspended for an entire week while that prick Blevins got off scot-free. Those slimy teachers had only seen the split lip and the woe-is-me act that Blevins had thrown around when they were in the office. Nobody thought to note the baked macaroni covering Hasan, or maybe even question the three dozen or so students that had witnessed the whole thing. Worse still was how Mister McDonald was sent on sabbatical ‘to further his education,’ they said. He wouldn’t be back for another month. At least he was getting paid for his leave.

Slam.

Olivia had caught the whole thing on camera, and she let the school keep her phone as evidence. The stupid idiot believed the principal when she said everything would be alright. Funnily enough, the staff conveniently ‘lost’ the phone to a thief that had broken into the principal’s office later that night. If they had that footage, if she had kept it, it would have been enough for Senator Winters to crucify Congressman Blevins in the public’s eye. But no, Olivia just HAD to play by the book.

Slam.

What stung Isiah the most, however, was how his parents had grounded him for that entire week. They said they believed him, that they understood why he did what he did. They added, however, that they had to abide by the terms of the suspension lest his punishment got even worse. That’s not trust! That’s cowardice!

Slam. Slam! Slam!! CRACK!!!

The punching bag rocked high up in the air, the carabiner holding it up to the ceiling of the basement groaning in protest. Isiah didn’t let up though. As the bag swung back at him, he willed his blood to burn even hotter—directing every ounce of rage and fury he could into his waist, thigh, and calves as his leg shot out to intercept it. The sandbag rocked with the force of the blow, careening sharply away from his kick.

A bone in his leg throbbed in pain for just a moment, but his raging blood commanded the nerves to wash the pain away and fix the fractures that formed up as a result. He instructed his blood to focus more on the bones of his body, reinforcing it before he subjected it to further abuse.

“Good,” rebuked Kurdan in Isiah’s mind. “Keep pushing the breaking point of your bones and muscles. But stop numbing the pain. You need it, for it will tell your blood what it needs to fix.”

Isiah uttered a low curse as he craned his neck and focused back on the sandbag. The sharp crack of a savage kick bounced around the small basement, and he winced as he broke his shin once more. He bit his tongue and willed his blood to flow, this time without numbing the pain. He tracked the breaks, isolating them in the tibia. Its bones ground together as he sealed the cracks with coagulated blood. That blood then collected the microscopic shards of bone buried in his flesh and pulled them into position before sealing them in place with more coagulating blood.

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