I sneak a glance at Moe. It’s been hours and she hasn’t moved. How tired she must have been!
Getting up, I walk around a little, trying to feel the differences in my body.
The only frame of reference I have are the snippets of information I gathered from taking Zantrax. According to them, when one ascends to the first level—usually within the first one thousand years of life—they instinctively know which domain they belong to. It’s a natural occurrence.
“How much energy do I need to reach the first level, I wonder?”
Once more, this depends on a person’s ability and speed in absorbing energy. Some take a full one thousand years while others do it earlier. But that is generally without the help of a mythical source of energy like the embryo.
I move and exercise my body, noticing an increase in my natural speed, but not much else in terms of strength.
Moe is still stronger than me at this point, I think drily to myself.
Although there aren’t too many changes yet, an idea suddenly comes to mind. Thereissomething that all immortals acquire fairly young: speedy healing. That ultimately develops into instantaneous healing once they reach a more higher level.
I grab a small blade and glide it over the tip of my finger. Blood immediately pools to the surface. I wipe it off with my shirt and watch the gash closely.
Minutes go by. My focus is unwavering as I wait for any change.
Then an hour goes by. Then two, perhaps more. I’m still staring at my finger.
All the while thinking I’m a little pathetic for doing so.
I don’t know how long I wait, but at some point, there isachange. The gash becomes slightly smaller. Excitement fills me.
A few more hours and the gash completely disappears.
Yes, I did stare at my finger for all those hours. Another good thing Moe isn’t awake to see me or she’d also think me pathetic.
Normally, this type of cut would take me two to three days to heal. Now, it takes about half a day. Of course, it’s an extremely small cut. A larger injury would likely take much longer to heal. But it’s a start.
Satisfied with my progress, I place the remaining embryo in a container and press my finger on the token to activate the proto-realm.
A dark room opens in front of me.
Empty.
I blink, unsure I’m seeing it right.
It should be full. Just hours ago it contained all my provisions and all the bounty we secured from theWilka.
Impossible. OnlyIcould have accessed this proto-realm.
Not quite. There’s one other person.
Realization strikes. The odd gentleman from Utopiya who gave me the mission.
But why would he steal all the contents of the proto-realm? The mission was to give him information about a certain mythical beast. Of course, there’s the small issue that proto-realms aren’t to be used to store things outside of missions, but surely he wouldn’t have been mad at me doing that…right?
Could it be that he checked and saw the remains of the Wilka and stole them? Theyareworth a small fortune. Perhaps when he saw them he decided to abandon the mission and be satisfied with those items?
Because of my improper use of the proto-realm, I can’t even complain about him stealing my items.
Damn it!
Panic takes hold of me. It’s not just because the remains of the Wilka were extremely valuable—though I mourn the loss of the potential revenue since I promised Moe we’d be rich. That is but an afterthought when I consider that my other supplies were taken too.
Our food, water, clothes, sleeping bags, the tent… Everything was in there too. Without those items, how are we going to make it back?
