Chapter 9: The Storm After the Calm
Chapter 9: The Storm After the Calm
The Reboot Effect
When I opened my eyes, reality hit me like a high-tech freight train.
I was back in my room at the Vance Fortress. My entire body ached, but my head... my head felt like it was harboring a storm of supernovas. It was a truly overwhelming migraine, worsened by the merciless sunlight that crossed the window and struck me right in the face.
*Is it daytime already? Did I wake up on the same day? How long have I been asleep?* I inquired of myself, disoriented.
I barely tried to raise half of my torso in bed and felt the violent biological impact of what I called the "reboot effect." Draining psychic energy to the very last drop to perform complex cellular reconstruction, using a childish brain of only six years old, was a piece of complete medical irresponsibility. I was severely abusing my luck.
My scientist mind simply couldn't compute the data right; the neural fatigue was extreme. As the facts from the market returned to my consciousness, panic began to set in.
I needed, with metabolic urgency, to invent a wild scientific excuse to justify the miracle in the street, or else bring forward my vengeance plans and include an emergency escape protocol. What would I say to that fanatical monk? What would the Holy See say to my parents?
I felt a terrible wave of nausea and exhaustion knock me back against the pillows.
The heavy oak door opened with a click. Thys, my caregiver, entered bringing clean sheets. As soon as her eyes landed on my semi-conscious figure, she dropped everything. Her eyes flooded with tears and she ran in my direction, throwing herself into a desperate embrace.
"Oh, young master! You're awake! Thank the gods!" she shot off talking at a supersonic frequency. "Are you alright? Do you feel pain? Do you want to eat something? How are you feeling?"
I felt completely overwhelmed by that flood of affection. My head throbbed so much that I had to press both hands against my temples. I looked at her, pale and visibly haggard, and gathered my vocal strength to babble:
"Not... very... well..."
"It’s okay, it’s okay! I'll bring some hot broth for you and immediately inform Lady Sylvia that you have awakened!" Thys stood up hurriedly.
Before she crossed the doorframe, I forced my truncated throat to formulate the most crucial question:
"How... long?"
She turned briefly, with a mysterious look.
"Wait a bit, young master. Your mother will talk to you about that."
And she ran out, leaving me in a vacuum. I sighed mentally, feeling my stomach turn. Great. I messed up again. The laboratory gave a blue screen.
Frontier Diplomacy and the Four Days
The wait lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity of psychological torture.
The door opened again and, marching with firm steps, entered Lord Arl, Lady Sylvia, and the monk of exotic fur, Katriny. My mother stepped forward, sitting at the edge of the mattress with a countenance laden with relief and severe worry.
"How are you, my son? How are you feeling?" she asked, touching my sweaty forehead.
"Pain..." I replied slowly, pointing a trembling finger to my head.
"Don't worry, rest," Sylvia smoothed my hair. "When you are recovered, we will talk and you will tell me everything, agreed?"
Upon hearing that promise of interrogation, I felt as if an iron sword pierced my chest. I had become a shish kebab.
Worse: I would be subjected to those medieval torture techniques where they pulled the hands and feet of the prisoner, except, in my case, they would rip out my tongue to extract my scientific secrets. I nodded positively in a submissive way, swallowing hard.
My father took a step forward, crossing his massive arms over his rustic armor. His heavy voice broke the silence of the room:
"You did what was right by saving that child's life at the market, Kaelen. I am proud of your attitude. I just... didn't imagine you would be capable of performing a feat of that magnitude."
I smiled ironically inside. *Of course you didn't imagine it, my dear lord,* I thought. *In this material plane, you only know the dogmatic concepts of "Light" and "Mana." You don't have the slightest idea of what psychic force and the atomic potential of a trained mind are. Ow... my head.*
"You need to understand the political gravity of the situation, my son," Arl continued, adopting a serious diplomatic tone. "That merchant you helped is no ordinary trader. He is the holder of one of the most vital trade routes on this frontier, establishing direct commerce between our lands and the Heteromorphic Kingdom of the beast-men across the border. Depending on how that accident ended, the negligence of that noble carriage could have escalated into a diplomatic war. They are extremely grateful and worried about you. They want to see you to thank you personally."
I dove into my memories and felt a genuine relief. I was happy to know that the tiger-girl had survived the complexity of my surgery.
"The little one you saved," my father explained, "holds a status equivalent to that of a countess in their kingdom's hierarchical structure. She is already on her feet and doing well. You, on the other hand... slept for four days straight."
I widened my eyes subtly. *Four days?! Seriously?*
Now everything made scientific sense. All that extreme muscular weakness and biological fainting were the result of ninety-six hours of absolute fasting and sleep induced by psychic stress.
*Mental note: this time, my neural expenditures had reached the stratosphere.* My miscalculation and my humanitarian hit deserved statistical respect. What would I do now to manage the damage?
I brought my open hand to my face, adopting a deeply thoughtful posture. My father let out a rustic laugh upon seeing my adult mannerisms in a little boy's body and continued:
"Well, brace yourself, because you will have serious trouble with the bureaucracy of the monks. I can barely predict what the Holy See's reaction will be when Monk Ethan's report reaches the bishops. I will do everything within my political power to protect you and our bloodline, but I warn you now: your 'miracle' caused such a huge structural mess that the church demanded changes. Starting today, you will have an exclusive watcher in the castle. That panda monk you seem to have liked."
I turned my head abruptly in Katriny's direction, eyes wide with pure surprise. *Excuse me?!*
Arl kept laughing, openly mocking my childish despair.
"That's right, my boy. Monk Katriny is now assigned to stay here at the fortress full-time, one hundred percent dedicated to watching your steps and assisting your caregiver. Against this decision of the church, I could not intervene. As a man of the Vance bloodline, you will have to bear the responsibility for your actions at the market."
I looked at him with the most pitiful and defeated expression I could formulate. Marvelous. A biological inspector rated an 8 living in my laboratory.
"Don't be like that, my dear," Sylvia intervened with sweetness, casting a complicit glance at the hybrid monk. "Katriny is a good girl, gentle and very observant. She will help you get through this phase. But we really need to officially reevaluate your magical abilities..."
The Pact of the Allies
Upon hearing the word "reevaluate," I shook my head vigorously from side to side, emitting a mute and desperate "no."
If the reevaluation of a grumpy mage had already labeled me a hollow aberration, a new detailed diagnosis by clérigos would turn me into a mystical lab rat. I needed to act strategically at that exact second to obtain internal allies, or I would be ruined.
Sylvia furrowed her brow, torn by doubt.
"Why not, my son? Why don't you want us to evaluate you?"
I gathered my sonic strength and pronounced the word with the greatest clarity my speech block allowed:
"Se... cre... t..."
"But that doesn't answer our questions, Kaelen," my mother insisted, her eyes watering. "You need to understand that we will have no way to protect you from the clutches of the Holy See if you don't tell us the truth about what happened at the market."
I began to curse internally every planar god I knew. *Damn it! This is the body of a six-year-old child who just woke up from a four-day coma! Have an atom of quantum compassion for me!*
I decided that the best survival tactic would not be silence, but rather a controlled demonstration of power to bring them to my side of the board. Quickly, I pointed my index finger in the direction of the silver medallion, which Thys had left deposited upon the wooden desk in the opposite corner of the room.
My parents and Katriny looked at the jewel, not understanding the gesture, thinking I was just asking for the object. It was then that I surprised them.
I concentrated my residual psychic strength. Without pronouncing words or evoking any Magic Weave, I activated Telekinesis. The silver amulet vibrated on the wood, rose into the air, and shot in a perfect straight line across the room, falling softly into the palm of my extended hand.
The shock was instant. The faces of Sylvia, Arl, and Thys transformed into statues of pure dread and incomprehension. Even the panda-monk Katriny took a step back, her furry ears rising with astonishment.
"Se... cre... t..." I repeated, the firm voice of Syrn echoing through the child.
To seal the pact of silence and demonstrate the nature of my gift, I did exactly what I had executed at the church altar, but with much more control.
I used telekinesis to capture the sunlight crossing the window, breaking the photons in the air and shaping them. Seconds later, dozens of bright and translucent three-dimensional images—small figures of warriors with two swords, celestial constellations, and complex geometric shapes—began to fly and swirl across the ceiling of the room, bathing the environment in a mystical and magnificent vision.
Arl rested his heavy hand on the pommel of his sword, agape. Sylvia covered her mouth with her hands, tears flowing from pure shock at that purely mental manifestation that did not depend on grimoires or gods.
However, the effort drained the last remnant of glucose from my vessel. The floating images began to tremble violently and went out like burnt lightbulbs. I felt an excruciating sting cross my cerebral lobes, leaving me completely pale and panting in bed. I held my head with both hands, groaning softly in pain.
Sylvia advanced quickly and laid me back down on the bear furs, covering me with maternal desperation.
"Stop! Stop, Kaelen! Don't exert yourself anymore!" she exclaimed, her voice choking up as she looked at her husband with noble determination. "We understand, my son. We understand perfectly. You want a secret. And we will keep your secret protected from the world. We will talk about this after you are fully recovered... even if you have to write your explanations or if we have to pay someone of extreme trust to decipher your thoughts. For now, just rest."
My father nodded his head, adopting a posture of a military guard at the room's door, sealing our blood alliance against external threats.
I closed my eyes slowly, feeling the warmth of the blanket and the relief of having transformed my new parents into the guardians of my mental laboratory. The day had begun as a bureaucratic nightmare, but it ended with the Hundred-Handed Warrior conquering his first and most loyal allies on that medieval plane.
The political game was about to get much more interesting.
