Jason had taken more damage than he thought. His body felt like it had been run over by that same damn truck from his old life, every muscle screaming in protest as he tried to push himself up from the ground. His legs wobbled like a newborn deer, knees buckling the moment he put any weight on them. Blood trickled from a gash on his side where one of the werewolf claws had grazed him earlier, and his vision blurred at the edges. He could barely stand, let alone run or fight.
If anything, he should have been able to help Ylva find a loophole to escape this mess, some clever joke or distraction that would buy them time, but the chances of him accomplishing this feat were low. His head throbbed, and every breath sent sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Plot armor or not, he was in no shape to play hero right now.
Two werewolves got on all fours and charged towards him, their massive forms blurring with incredible speed. Muscles rippled under their fur as they closed the distance in seconds, claws extended like deadly scythes. Even if Jason wasn't injured, there was no way he would have been able to react to them. They were apex predators, built for the hunt, and he was just a comedian who had lucked into a second life with a weird system.
The first werewolf leaped, attempting to bifurcate him with a single blow, its claws slicing through the air with a whoosh that Jason could feel on his skin. But at the very last second, Jason's wobbly legs gave out completely. He slipped backward, his ass hitting the wet patch of ground hard. The claws missed him by an inch, tearing into the dirt where his torso had been a heartbeat ago.
Jason blinked, stunned by the pure coincidence. "Do I have plot armour!?" he thought to himself. It would make sense. That would explain the reason he was alive and granted a system that basically made him immortal. He had escapted ogres, survived boiling water, jumped into steaming pools, and now this? Yeah, the universe was clearly fucking with him in the best way possible.
However, he realized the ground was wet right where he had slipped. This wasn't an accidental slip because everywhere else was dry, showing it hadn't rained in quite some time. The dampness glistened under the faint light, a small puddle that had no business being there.
Jason looked up just in time to see the two werewolves redirecting their claws towards him, their snarls echoing as they adjusted mid-attack. With his butt planted firmly on the ground and his body too weak to move, this was it. He closed his eyes to accept his fate, at least he had fought and died for something even though it ultimately made no difference. Ylva was still struggling against the others, and he couldn't even stand to help her. Pathetic.
But that killing blow never came. Jason opened one eye partially, peeking through his lashes to see what the hell was going on. To his complete confusion, the fish he had encountered before in the water — the ugly merman thing he had laughed at and called Fred-looking — had somehow come out of the water. It stood there on its thick, snake-like tail, gills flaring.
Jason was confused. What the fuck was it doing here? This thing had no business on land, especially not this far from the hot spring or whatever body of water it called home.
The merman inhaled deeply, its chest expanding, before exhaling with force and spewing multiple water balls from its mouth. The projectiles shot forward like cannon shots, slamming into the werewolves and forcing them to stagger back with wet thuds and splashes.
"Reverse merman guy!" Jason exclaimed, his voice cracking from the pain in his ribs. This thing had saved him, but more worrisome was that it had followed him all the way here. Stalker much? Jason didn't know whether to thank it or run the other way once he could stand again.
The distraction was enough for Ylva to break free from her captors. She lunged at the one with a single eye, her claws driving right into his eye socket with a sickening squelch. Her hand exited through the back of his head in a spray of blood and brain matter, killing him instantly. The werewolf dropped like a sack of meat, twitching once before going still.
The other werewolf who had attacked Jason roared in fury and slapped Ylva away with a backhand that sent her flying several feet, crashing into a nearby tree with a heavy thud. She groaned but started to get up, fangs bared.
The fish guy tried to attack the remaining werewolf as well, spewing another barrage of water bullets. But the werewolf tanked them head-on, the impacts splashing harmlessly against its thick fur and muscled frame. The bullets were weaker because he had expelled them in succession and he was out of water, his amphibious body clearly struggling on dry land.
In a flash, the werewolf appeared in front of the merman, moving faster than Jason's eyes could track. It delivered a devastating blow with its claws, ripping across the fish creature's torso and sending it crumpling to the ground in a heap of scales and blood.
The werewolf then turned its attention back to Jason, looming over him. With a snarl of disgust, it raised a massive fist and brought it down in a brutal hammer-like strike, the blow connecting squarely with Jason's chest in a sickening crunch of bone and flesh.
Jason's world exploded in pain as the blunt force trauma slammed into him, ribs cracking and air exploding from his lungs. He was sent skidding across the ground, vision swimming.
But instead of the end, a familiar cyan screen flashed in his vision.
[Ding!]
[1 minutes elapsed!]
[Adaption to blunt force trauma: 20%!]
The crushing pain in his chest dulled noticeably, the cracked ribs feeling less shattered and more like heavy bruises as his body began to toughen against the impact damage. Jason gasped, still hurting badly but no longer on the verge of blacking out completely. He could feel his insides stabilizing just enough to keep him conscious and breathing.
The werewolf growled in frustration at the human still moving after such a blow and raised its fist for another devastating strike, but the adaptation had already bought Jason precious seconds. His wobbly legs felt a fraction steadier, the blunt trauma no longer threatening to cave in his entire torso.
Jason smirked despite the agony, pushing himself up on one elbow while the system worked its magic.
"Nice try, Fido," he muttered under his breath, already thinking of new material for when he got out of this alive.
"But I've survived worse. Way worse."
Ylva was back on her feet, breathing hard but grinning savagely at the sight of her fallen packmate and her mate, she was shocked he had stayed to defend her. The merman, though badly injured, twitched on the ground, still alive somehow.
The remaining werewolf howled in rage, realizing its attacks weren't finishing the job as quickly as expected, but Jason was already scrambling to his feet properly, the partial adaptation giving him just enough edge to stay in the fight. His feet were no longer completely wobbly. The system's job wasn't done yet because it still had four more cycles before Jason became immune to blunt force trauna which would already make him more durable than most.