Chapter 3: Thief
The fight was over, but the boy didn't know why he felt restless, he had won the fight, the monster was caught in its trap and his wounds wouldn't heal for years.
Looking inside the house the boy saw everything destroyed, the wolf had broken the few furniture in the house, when he approached his bed and picked up the book lying there and tattered he noticed small holes in the floor, it was not just near his bed , was all over the house, where the creature walked holes in the shape of its claws formed.
That's where he realized the source of the unease. As if a blade were pressing against his neck, no matter how many minutes he waited, that feeling would not pass, it was not his imagination, today death had come and almost taken him away, the reaper's scythe rested on his neck, but he had gone Rascal.
Looking through the hole, in the direction the wolf had fled, he saw only a vast expanse of white, but he felt he was being watched by the creature.
The boy felt something growing inside his chest, it wasn't restlessness, it wasn't something more unpleasant, he felt like his chest was going to burst into flames, his vision was turning red. Feeling this sensation was unbearable he took a measure, scratching his chest in an attempt to open a hole and vent the heat.
Not caring about pain or anything the boy continued to scratch himself, little by little the tips of his fingers became pointed and sharp according to his desire, little time had passed and an eight centimeter hole could be seen in his body , nothing came out of him, the boy looked at the wound with confusion, he already knew that his body was hollow inside, he was not like other creatures that depended on organs to live, in fact he had already taken a test to know that but what amazed him most was the unbearable heat, finally understanding the phenomenon, it was something simple, but something he had never experienced, ANGER!
The purest and most genuine anger he had ever felt. It was the first time the boy felt something like this, initially not knowing what to do, but soon after focusing his vision on the horizon.
Next time the wolf would be his rush, he would kill that damn furball. No matter how long it took, no matter if the creature was stronger, the boy swore he would be more.
....
After regaining his calm, several hours had passed, but the boy continued to look at the horizon, he only regained his sense of self when he heard some rocks roll.
Looking around something bizarre was happening, the house was rebuilding itself, little by little the hole in the wall was no longer there, as well as the holes in the floor and even the destroyed furniture. It was as if all the events of a few hours ago were just a dream.
Arriving in the room he took the books that the wolf tried to destroy, the only two books left to read, looking at their covers didn't seem like a big deal, then shelving everything he felt at the time he sat on the floor and leaned against the wall and read.
They didn't have anything noteworthy at first, just an adventurer's journal, with a few notes and reminders about places to go or not at certain times of the year to hunt monsters.
But when he reached the end of the first book things changed, the adventurer stopped just hunting monsters around and focused on one place, Elveinheim, the country of the elves, no, it is more necessary to call it the forest of the elves. A great forest where even the most powerful monsters would dare tread. A reclusive people and keep their borders closed, but always having a magical power greater than any other country.
The reason for this? A special feature of the species, the ability to pass part of its mana pool to its descendants and the main one, transfer information from one elf to the other with just a touch, never needing to waste time studying complex things along with its long longevity it made them progress in a unique and accelerated way.
In the last book the author described a unique type of magic he had developed to copy information during a transfer, all he needed to do was point a special seal to an elf when he passed the information to another and presto, he would receive the memories. along with the real recipient, but the seal was not perfect, after the transfer the elves would realize that someone "hacked" their connection, but by then it would be too late to get it.
The writer reported some experiments that worked on some elven civilians, soon after going to their scholars and their guardians (elven soldiers), but his biggest steal of information being during a coronation ceremony for the next King and Queen of Elvenheim.
Of course the theft didn't work, during the transfer from the old king to the new the connection was suddenly severed, they predicted that the writer would be there and found him, it didn't take even a day for the man to flee the elven territory and hide in the mountains.
For years he ran away, but they never gave up, until he was seriously injured.
During his last escape he created a small stone hall, knowing he couldn't escape anymore he turned to stone as he created an enchantment for his body.
For the first person to touch the statue could have access to all his knowledge, of course he put some seals all over the room to make it difficult for people to get closer as well as a magic circle to drain his vitality and dump it into the room making it almost indestructible for a few years.
...
When he finished reading the last book the boy realized where he was, it was a world made of records of a thief.
The new information removed some of the doubts, but raised others like, why were there so few books? Of course there were many, a house full of them, but they were human everyday books from that time, there wasn't even a book on elven culture, in fact this was the first time any book mentioned anything about elves, he was confused.
Not caring too much he decided to leave this world, there was something he wanted to see now that he knew where he was.
With a slight dizziness everything around him distorted and he was back in the stone hall, everything was the same as when he left him, old and gray and… wet?
...
Weekly Power Status
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