Chapter 22
Written by Bayzo Albion
Before I could stop myself, I hugged her — not out of desire, but instinct, like reaching for something you don't fully understand, something fragile and fleeting that your body recognizes before your mind does.
The moment our bodies touched, I felt a pull—a steady, warm stream of energy flowing from me to her. It wasn't sensual; it was raw, primal, like pouring my essence into her. Her knees buckled, and I caught her gently, lowering her to the ground.
*No pleasure in it, just… efficiency. Like a transaction.*
She lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, then let out a startled squeak. "I take it back, my lord! You're the strongest man in this world! Keep your coins—just share a drop more of that boundless strength!"
"Maybe next time," I said, trying to sound dignified despite the tremor of surprise running through me.
She scrambled to her knees, grabbing my hands, her eyes wide with a pleading, almost puppy-like desperation. "Please?"
"Alright, alright," I muttered, flustered. "But not now. Seriously. I'm not an energy dispenser."
She sighed, nodded reluctantly, and released me. I picked up the coins she'd dropped, a quiet satisfaction settling in my chest. It wasn't just about paying a debt—it felt like I'd won a game, even if I didn't fully grasp the rules.
"Deal's done," she said, regaining her composure, her voice smooth and elven once more. "I look forward to our next meeting."
"I'm hoping for a few days' break first," I replied, pocketing the coins, a wave of relief washing over me.
"By the way," I added, meeting her gaze, "I don't even know your name."
Her smile softened, a hint of flirtation flickering in her eyes. "Siesta."
"Fits you," I said. "Sounds like a rest with a catch."
"Not bad," she said, tilting her head with a grin. "You're sharper than you look."
"I'll come find you when I'm ready," I promised, my voice steady.
"Don't keep a lady waiting too long," she teased, already turning to leave.
Our eyes met one last time—neutral, but heavy with unspoken thoughts. Her steps were light, as if the wind itself carried her away. I stood there, the handkerchief still in my hand, its scent lingering like a promise.
For now, we parted ways.
– – –
My reserves thrummed with energy, a buzzing vitality that I owed entirely to the alcohol. The beer I'd downed earlier coursed through me like some enchanted elixir, sparking my senses and fueling my steps. *Could alcohol really be the ultimate power source?* I wondered, a smirk tugging at my lips as I made my way to the local shop.
For four gold coins, I scored a haul of cheap wine—eight crates, each packed with sixteen bottles. The shopkeeper, a wiry man with a weathered face, stacked the crates with practiced efficiency, shooting me sidelong glances that danced between curiosity and amusement.
"Life been rough on you, huh?" he asked, his voice laced with a wry grin.
I shook my head, meeting his gaze with a spark of defiance. "Nah. Life's good. The worst is behind me."
He chuckled, handing over the last crate. "Well, good luck, Gandalf. Just don't forget—drinking alone's either a path to enlightenment… or a one-way ticket to a coma."
*What a philosopher,* I thought, stifling a laugh as I headed toward the town gates. *Time to hunt. Or, if I'm honest, to scavenge some sweet loot.* The prospect sent a thrill through me, lightening my steps.
As I walked, I couldn't help but soak in the sights. The town was alive with beauty—women whose grace seemed almost unfair, their laughter and fleeting glances like sparks to my mood. Visual fuel, I decided, was just as potent as any drink.
At the gates, the guards spotted my haul of wine and broke into wide, knowing grins. "Well, well, if it isn't our immortal Gandalf!" one of them called, his voice booming with mock ceremony. "Off to hunt again?"
"Yup," I replied, nodding casually. "Gotta make some coin, or I'll keel over from hunger—or worse, boredom."
The guard adjusted his helmet, his grin widening. "Just don't go messing with the animals, you know the rules. Monsters, though? Have at 'em. Oh, and word is you lost your memory, so consider this a friendly reminder. Don't want you getting into trouble… ha!"
His laughter grated, but I forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the concern."
"No problem," he said, still chuckling. "It's my job—guard and lecture. Sometimes even in that order."
I bit back a retort. No point wasting words on him. Beyond those gates lay monsters, loot, and maybe a few gloriously stupid decisions I'd make with a grin.
"Oh, one more thing," the guard called lazily, leaning on his spear. "Leave the village, and you'll have to pay the gate toll again."
"What?" I snapped, irritation flaring like a struck match. "That's highway robbery!"
He smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Good luck out there, hero. But if you're short on coin, might wanna stay put. Wouldn't want those wild bandits stripping you down to your skivvies again, would you?" His snicker followed me like a shadow.
I shot him a glare, my jaw tight. *Oh, how I'd love to wipe that smirk off his face.* But not today. Swallowing my anger, I turned and strode through the gates, leaving the guards and their smug laughter behind.
The forest waited. Its promise of monsters, danger, and adrenaline hummed in the air, pulling me forward like a magnet. *As some wise soul once said, it's not the size of your sword that matters—it's how you wield it. And mastery comes from countless battles.* I grinned at the thought, picking my way through the sparse underbrush.
Then, that nagging inner voice piped up again, sharp and relentless. *Why'd you turn down the elf girl? She was practically begging for you. You had the strength to make her night unforgettable.*
"Intimacy without purpose is a fool's game," I shot back, aiming for a light, dismissive tone.
*Oh, please,* the voice scoffed. *That's a weak excuse, and you know it. Why'd you really say no to a gorgeous elf enchantress who threw herself at your feet?*
I smirked, sidestepping a gnarled root. "I'll store up some more power and come back for her later. What's the rush? I'm not so desperate I'll jump at anything that moves."
*You're scared,* the voice taunted, its tone dripping with mockery. *Admit it. You're afraid of losing control. Afraid you'll turn into some pleasure-chasing beast, a junkie hooked on the next high. You'd end up a pathetic mutt, licking boots for a scrap of bliss.*
I stopped dead, my eyes narrowing as I glared into the empty air. "And what are *you* afraid of?" I snapped. "That I'll outgrow you? That I'll rise above your whispers and leave your pathetic temptations in the dust?"
Silence. Thick, heavy, like a shadow swallowing sound. I'd hit a nerve.
Shaking off the exchange, I realized I needed to limber up before the hunt. I found a clearing blanketed in lush grass, the kind that bounced underfoot like a natural spring. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers and pollen, teasing my senses and urging me to move. Perfect.
I pulled a wooden sword from my spatial pocket, its familiar weight settling comfortably in my hand. Then I began my warm-up: a backflip, a roll to the right, another to the left, then forward again. The earth cushioned each move, my body flowing with precision and grace. I imagined dodging strikes, breaking free from a circle of foes, parrying blows from every angle.
The sword sang through the air, tracing faint arcs that shimmered in the dappled sunlight. My muscles coiled and released in perfect harmony, my mind emptying as instinct took over. Strike, block, dodge—over and over until the motions felt like breathing. Warmth spread through me, a steady burn that left me invigorated, alive.
"What are you doing?" a female voice cut through the rhythm, cool and curious.
I spun around, sword still in hand. "Your invisibility's starting to make me paranoid," I said, scanning the clearing. "Keep this up, and I'll jump every time I feel a breeze on my neck. Aren't you supposed to be processing my energy or something?"
"I've already absorbed and refined your life energy," the Baroness said, her voice calm as a still lake. Then, as if the fabric of reality itself rippled, she shimmered into view, her form coalescing from the shadows. Her eyes — sharp, unreadable — locked onto mine with that same piercing scrutiny.
"So why are you still tailing me?" I asked, brushing grass off my sword.
"To keep you safe," she said, her tone serene but firm. "You're a golden goose, you know. It'd be foolish to let you wander without a leash. The world's full of hungry foxes."
I snorted. "And you're what, my noble hen watching over me?"
"No," she said, a faint, dangerous smile curving her lips. "I'm the trap that snaps shut on those foxes."