Time-Smith - Chapter 2: Hunted (Patreon)

Evan looked on with dread growing in his stomach, as he watched the guards subduing the boy across the chamber.

The other boy was still screaming, thrashing against his captors as they dragged him towards the door. The boy's skin was shining with a golden light, and as Evan watched in horror, he saw that the boy's body was mending itself even as it was being torn apart.

He recognised the skill instantly - [Immortality]. It would grant whoever gained it a taste of eternity. It was a rare and powerful skill, one that would make its bearer nearly invincible. But it was also one that would make them a target for extraction. The powerful, and the wealthy elite, would stop at nothing to extract the skill, leaving the bearer a withered dead husk.

As he watched the other boy being dragged away, fear gripped his heart. The realisation hit him hard—he was not alone in his fear. There were others like him, others with exceptional skills, others being detained and held captive.

And as he thought of his family, of his sister waiting for him, he felt a burning determination in his chest. He would escape this place, no matter what it took. He would get home to his family, and he would do whatever it took to keep them safe. Evan didn't know what his future held, but he knew one thing for sure. He now had three skills, and that made him something that had never been seen before. He would have to master all his skills and use that to his advantage, and he would fight tooth and nail to survive in this brutal world.

The chamber was filled with dense mana, swirling around them like a living thing, dense and cloying. The other children watched each other warily, unsure of what to make of the sudden surge of power that radiated from their small frames.

The priests, adorned in their ceremonial robes, gathered around him, their eyes filled with religious wonderment, despite seeing this many times before. Their whispers carried a reverent tone, mingling with the crackle of magic that hung in the air. And now, guards had been called in to contain the situation should their newly acquired magical skills spiral out of control.

Evan himself was lost in the maelstrom of sensation that engulfed him. He felt as though he had two new suns burning within him, their heat and light searing through his very being. The mana around him was almost a living thing, pulsing and thrumming with a power that he could barely comprehend.

He could feel it pulsing through his veins, filling him with a transcendent power that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment. He shuddered, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he struggled to control the raging inferno within.

And then, he felt it. A surge of energy, hot and bright, exploding from the sun in his body and propelling him forward in a blur of motion. He tumbled head over heels, his vision blurred by the sudden rush of movement. For a moment, he thought he would never stop, that he would be lost forever in the void.

But then, he slammed into the wall, his body crumpling in on itself as he cried out in pain. The guards rushed forward, their weapons at the ready, but the priests held them back, murmuring prayers and chanting incantations to calm the child's wild magic.

He lay there, gasping for breath, his body trembling with the effort of controlling his newfound magic. He could feel the other sun slowly shifting deeper into his brain, its power waiting to be unleashed. He closed his eyes, focusing his mind, trying to understand the vague feelings of its purpose.

And then, he felt it again. A sudden rush of images and sensations, the world twisted and spun across his vision, flooding his mind with memories of places he had never been, people he had never met. He gasped, his body arching off the ground as he struggled to make sense of the torrent of information.

The priests rushed forward, their hands glowing with soft light as they placed them on his head, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance. The young man felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards them, as if they were the only ones who could save him from himself.

No. That was wrong.

As the priests tended to his wounds, Evan closed his eyes, feeling the two suns within him burning bright. He could feel their power pulsing through him, filling him with an ethereal energy that made him feel invincible and vulnerable simultaneously.

He thought back to the moment when he had first felt a skill within him. As a child, the moment when he first sensed his first sun within himself. So different, and yet so similar to these two new additions. A dark, violently burning flame deep in his heart, thrumming with power every beat, pulses of mana spread through his every being. It had been a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a sensation that had left him breathless and confused. A sensation he was now feeling again.

Evan lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his body trembling with exhaustion. He had used his new skills, but he had no idea how he had done it. He knew he had a long way to go before he could master his magic, but for now, he was just grateful to be alive. The priests gathered around him, their hands glowing with soft light as they chanted incantations to heal his wounds. He had to get out of here.

"[Teleportation] & [Postcognition]," a priest muttered, unreadable symbols glowing in the air before his outstretched fingers. "And… What exactly am I seeing here?” his eyes scanned Evan as though he were a piece of complex machinery. “Another skill? Wait, this is impossible!? He has another skill!?!?"

The room plunged into a deeper silence. Teens shuffled and pressed themselves away from Evan, eyes wide in a cocktail of awe and terror. A guard tightened his grip on his spear, knuckles whitening as his face turned grim. “Are you sure?” He asked, with disbelief etched across his features.

“I'm p-positive.” He spoke loudly and looked from guard to priest, sweeping his gaze across the room. “My skill has never failed, and it's just shown me… something impossible.” He seemed lost for words. “The boy has done something impossible.” He then turned to face Evan, visibly shaken. “It's unbelievable… a miracle,” he whispered.

At the priest's proclamation, the guards drew closer, each armed differently — swords, glowing orbs, and a mace tinged with holy light

“Come with us, son. We just have some questions to ask, then you’ll be released.” A guard spoke to Evan gently, in contrast with his menacing approach and drawn sword. But Evan wasn’t fooled, he knew if he went with them now, he would never see the light of day again, or the light of another night, for that matter. The youths cowering along the chamber walls became statues as they watched the guards draw weapons and approach Evan, their eyes wide with dread.

Chains of golden light sprung from the priest's hands and encircled Evan, they wrapped around his torso, wrists, and ankles, tightening their spectral grip and constricting his breathing. His body levitated, raised by the chains and suspended in mid-air as the guards advanced. The priests closed in close behind, their faces masks of bewilderment and disbelief at Evans mere existence. The teens who had been undergoing the same rite as Evan pressed themselves against the chamber walls, their eyes wide, filled with a mix of awe and terror.

Evan felt it then, in that moment as he hung suspended—a pull, a tear, a rift in his sense of self. His perspective shifted as his consciousness burst from his body through the chains engulfing him, drifting to land among the crowds of teens. Confusion swarmed his thoughts as he witnessed himself being suspended in the air in floating chains, as if watching an artificer's moving picture. It felt like the infamous skill [Astral Projection]. But he didn't possess [Astral-projection]; three skills were implausible enough, and four were out of the question. So what exactly was happening? How was he existing outside of his body?

And how exactly was his body still moving without his control?

Above, his body thrashed, snapping the golden chains as if they were mere threads. the chains shattering like glass against a stone floor and dissipated into the ether. His physical form lunged forward, a flash of movement in the otherwise static room. “Don’t let him escape!” One priest extended his hand as he yelled, palm glowing. Evan witnessed his body dodge the [Holy Bolt], a golden manifestation of sharp death, missing by inches and scorching a tile on the wall behind him. He winced as it soared past his ethereal form, as if feeling the heat himself.

Those bolts can probably hurt my spirit, or soul, or whatever this form is. Maybe it's because this form isn’t protected by my physical body? Evan realized. He stepped with ghostly legs to the side, and stood behind a fellow more physically natured youth as he watched the battle unfold.

A guard had stepped forward, brandishing a sword, the red flames of his blade flickering in sync with his steps. Evan's body met steel with steel, a single sword appearing in his hand as his body snatched it from a nearby guard with a blow that sent him sprawling. Evans' body swung to meet the guards charge.

Clash.

The weapons met, a dissonant chord in a chamber filled with the silence of frightened youths. The guard stumbled backwards, unable to match Evans' strength.

His body sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a stab from a second guard. Adrenaline—no, something far more potent—coursed through him. Or his body, at least.

A priest thrust his mace upward, aiming for Evan's head. Before it could touch him, Evan’s fist lashed out in a blur, and the priest fell backwards, sliding across the ground as if hit by something much more than a mere sixteen year old boy.

"Attack together!" the head priest commanded in confusion, as if such a tactic could conquer what they didn't understand.

Evan’s body flickered from view, disappearing and reappearing in another place in a blink. The momentum from its [Teleportation] carried it like a missile.

Crash.

Evans' physical form reappeared in mid-air and crashed into two guards like a cannon. The guards, clanking in their armor, tumbled to the ground with faces a mix of surprise and pain.

He watched as his body backflipped, avoiding a cascade of [Holy Bolts] summoned by a priest. The golden bolts hummed and buzzed with divine inscriptions as they shot forward in a deadly spray. A guard leapt before the huddled youths to block the cascade, summoning a shield twice the size of his body.

But it was not enough.

The teens screamed as the light struck the unprotected few, flames bursting across their forms. A small number of priests ran to aid the guard in protecting and healing the children.

They turned fearfully to watch the battle, all of them now viewing Evan as if he was some sort of monster.

Evan’s body touched down, legs quivering but stable. He glanced at the guards and priests who had tried to subdue him, their eyes awash in disbelief and perhaps, the dawning of fear.

Another attacker swung his sword horizontally, cutting through the air where Evans’ neck would have been a split second before.

“You idiot! Don't kill him!” A frantically charging priest yelled.

His body ducked. And a cold sweat clung to his disembodied spirit’s forehead. What if I die while in this state? He wondered in frozen panic. Would I become a ghost? Forever drifting around the world? Or even worse, stuck in this room? Gods, that would suck so bad. Evan began to attempt to will his corporeal form to return to his body, and when that didn’t work. He rooted for his body’s escape attempt with all he had.

As he took in his current ghostly state, and the state of his physical body, Evan's thoughts were a maelstrom of concern. Only one of his three skills were truly suited for combat, and he had hardly mastered it, let alone his newer skills. He didn’t think they would be enough to escape, especially while disembodied with no real control over his actions. This wasn't just magic. It was something else, a manifestation of will, as if his very DNA screamed resistance against capture.

A nameless guard brandished a sword made entirely of blazing sapphire coldflame, its light cast dancing shadows behind the huddled teens and the guard protecting them. With a yell, he lunged.

And swiftly, he was dodged.

Evan’s body twisted, as if boneless, leaving the burning sword to cleave only air. Evan’s disembodied spirit marveled at the spectacle, his thoughts a jumble all geared towards escape.

But while a majority of the guards who tended to oversee testing centers were often new recruits on ‘babysitting duty’ this guard in particular was trained well.

Extensively so.

The guard instantly shifted and spun, and an armored boot whirled and caught Evans' physical form in its midsection. The boot shone with a strange light, and Evan's body went tumbling to the ground.

Every testing had one or two well trained guards to watch over the new recruits and teens, and Evan’s disembodied form had blindly hoped this center would be devoid of its more capable defenders.

A priest Evan recognised as Father Alaric drew a mace imbued with holy light, a radiant beacon in a pit of chaos. A low chant slipped through his lips, power gathering. He swung at Evan, and in the same moment a luminous net materialized behind him, floating toward Evan's body.

The blow landed, and Evans' body went flying into the air.

His body somersaulted off the wall, contorting mid-air as if pulled by unseen strings. The net found only empty space, dissipating into motes of light.

A second priest, eyes focused, fingers twitching, wielded no weapon but guided a swirling vortex of wind with a mere gesture. It shot toward Evan's body like a bullet.

Diverted.

Inexplicably agile, his body ducked, and the gust of wind slammed into a wall, dissipating in a burst of dust and debris.

His body pivoted then, facing the teenagers who lined the chamber. The look on their faces mirrored his inner turmoil: terror, curiosity, a smidgen of awe.

Priest Alaric cursed under his breath, his holy mace radiating with an even brighter light. He swung it in an arc toward Evan's body, an action demanding finality.

A moment suspended in time. The chamber fell quiet, each person grappling with the unfathomable display of holy light.

And the blow hit nothing but air.

Just as suddenly, Evans' body flickered again. Vanishing in an uncontrolled whirl of [Teleportation].

His body's back met a guard's chest as a crack resounded. The guard dropped, unconscious, a look of confusion permanently etched on his face.

Another guard, her face hidden behind a mask of concentration, extended her palm. Ropes of lightning burst forth. Evan’s body twisted in mid-air, attempting to dodge the bolt. But dodging lightning was apparently beyond his capabilities.

The lightning engulfed him, trapping and seizing him as it burnt into his skin.

Even in his disembodied form, Evan felt the electricity in the air, smelt its ozone tang. I’m going to die, he realized with slowly creeping dread. Is this what the gods felt like before they died, watching a world they could no longer touch? He tried once again in vain to will himself to reconnect with his physical body.

It broke free from the lightning in a display of inhuman strength, and lunged towards the chamber's entrance. Evan's heart filled with hope as the door opened, the path to his freedom within sight.

Until a guard stepped through the door, decked in full silver armor.

But Evan’s body was a blur. He watched as it vaulted across the chamber and slammed into the guard standing in the doorway. The guard grunted, struggling to maintain balance, but still managing to remain rooted and upright.

"Mistake," the guard snarled, conjuring energy around his fists that sucked in the light and burst into liquid flame, manifested into a sword of pure physical heat, a buzzing heat so strong and contained it seemed to carry an immense weight to it. Evan gulped as he realized what he was looking at; the guard had the skill; [Plasma Arc], and had managed to somehow turn it into a blade. A [Plasma Arc] skill could create an extremely hot and powerful stream of fire made from its electricity. It could instantly cut through things because of its incredible heat and strength. A truly dangerous skill.

Evan's heart sank as the guard stepped forward.

The guard lunged, blade aimed at Evan's torso. Evan's body dodged, but not fast enough. The blade grazed his side, searing through fabric and flesh. The smell of burnt skin filled the air.

Evan's body flickered, disappearing and reappearing across the chamber, hurling itself at the guard. The guard sidestepped, effortlessly dodging the body's trajectory.

"Is that all?" The guard's voice dripped with disdain.

Evan's body reappeared, this time above the guard, descending like a comet. The guard looked up, eyes narrowing. With a swift motion, he swung his plasma blade upwards.

Evan's body was severed at the knees.

His legs fell to the ground with muted thuds, twitching. His torso crashed next to them. The guard sheathed his plasma blade, its fiery aura dissipating.

"Enough," the armored guard commanded. "This could alter the fabric of our world, do not toy with the boy. Take him away. And you,” He pointed at a nearby recruit and spoke once more, “round up the rest of these youths for questioning."

Evan, disembodied and helpless, could only watch. His body lay there on the chamber's floor, defeated and legless, tears streaming down its face as if it had thoughts of its own. The guard turned and walked away, leaving the chamber in silence.

Priests swarmed around him, hands glowing. The light of their skills touched the raw stumps where legs had once been, and sinew knitted itself back together, stopping the bleeding. One priest, her eyes moist with reverent tears, touched Evan's forehead, and muttered in disbelief, "It's true. Blessed be… it's really true. He has [Teleportation], [Postcognition], and [Fle-"

Evan felt a pull at the center of his being, and the world blurred and twisted.

His consciousness surged back to his physical form—bruised, scorched, dismembered. He braced himself for the agony that would come with reentering his beaten body.

No pain came.

Instead, the soft breeze of the chamber's air caressed his resting form. The thick mana in the air made the hairs on his arm stand on end. His feet felt the cold chamber floor.

Feet?

His eyes darted around. He was whole. Uninjured. The guards stood at ease; priests mingled, and other youths excitedly tested their newfound skills.

A priest approached him, hand outstretched. The hand glowed as the priest attempted to Appraise his skills.

Did i just… travel back in time? Evan was too shocked to even think. He stood there in a muted daze.

His new skills were [Teleportation] and [Postcognition]—Postcognition was supposed to only allow him to briefly glimpse at the past.

But… How had he just managed to see the future?

The priest drew closer, muttering words of [Appraisal], and the deadly future he’d witnessed was about to repeat itself. When faced with that brutally bleak future, a thought took over the forefront of his mind:

How could he avoid it?