Ninety-Nine K Memories

The pack of wolves ran furiously through the forest, a whirlwind of shadows and fangs, driven by instinct and rage. Their prey had escaped, and with it, one of their own had disappeared. They didn't have the intelligence to question how or why, they only knew that their hunt was not over. And so, with jaws slightly open and panting breath, they tracked the forest, advancing as a hungry entity.

Then the wind changed direction, and suddenly, they smelled it. A faint trail, almost imperceptible, but enough.

A howl tore through the air and the pack lunged in unison in its direction, driven by the wild excitement of the imminent carnage.

The smell was unmistakable: the prey was near.

Arriving at a clearing illuminated by the pale moonlight, they saw him.

Asteron was sitting on the ground, motionless, his head slightly tilted forward, like a man in deep meditation.

To the pack, it was as if he himself was offering himself as a sacrifice. His flesh and blood were waiting to be claimed by the fangs of the night.

The wolves scattered around him like living shadows, gliding among the trees with a silent grace that only the night could grant. Their figures blurred into the darkness, invisible to any eye not accustomed to the secrets of the forest.

The alpha, a wolf with dark fur and ancient scars marking his snout, watched his enemy with glittering eyes, and a simple movement of his head was enough for one of his subordinates to understand the order.

The chosen wolf moved through the bushes like a ghost and when he was close enough, his muscles tensed, and in a quick leap, his fangs opened at a cruel angle, seeking the tender flesh of the throat of the annoying creature who had dared to flee.

Just when the wolf's jaws were about to close on Asteron, a silver flash crossed the air.

The wolf did not have time to howl; his body was split in two with chilling precision. Blood gushed in a perfect arc before splattering the earth, and his inert halves collapsed on either side of Asteron, forming a scarlet lake around him.

Asteron opened his eyes slightly, as if waking from a deep sleep. His pupils wandered across the scene with a lazy calm.

He smiled, and the gleam of the knife that danced between his fingers seemed to laugh with him, a silver reflection that still trembled after his last movement.

—How nice to see you again —he said in a gentle voice, as if meeting old acquaintances—. This is a special occasion. I have achieved something I never thought possible… something I had never achieved before. Can't you feel the excitement in the air?

He paused, enjoying the moment, before continuing with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

—They say good news is twice as enjoyable when shared with the right people. Don't you think?

His words floated in the air with an almost playful tone. Then, he stood up calmly, shaking the dust off his clothes with deliberate movements. His gaze wandered through the forest, scanning the darkness until it stopped at an exact point.

The alpha felt the gaze on him. His fur bristled and he let out a low growl.

Asteron tilted his head with an amused smile.

—Come on, don't make that face! It's just that you haven't caught on yet. When forming the Ethereal Heart, there is a crucial point: the fork. Mage or Aether Knight, a choice that usually leaves no room for error. But, dear friend… —his eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint— what if I told you that I am walking both? Yes, yes, both! Double power, double awesomeness! Isn't it curious how some limits exist only because no one dares to cross them?

The pack watched in silence. They did not understand his words, but his enthusiastic tone was irritating.

The alpha growled louder.

—And that's not all —Asteron continued, waving a hand as if telling a fascinating story—. You see, this would drive everyone Arcáne crazy. But there’s still more…

A roar cut off his explanation. The alpha, fed up with the annoying sounds his prey was making, let out a furious bark.

It was the signal.

The entire pack pounced on Asteron in an explosion of lethal movement.

However, Asteron showed no change in his expression. His posture remained relaxed, his eyes barely blinked at the onslaught of the beasts. And when the first fangs were inches from his flesh, he moved.

It was a single step. But in that instant, his figure blurred.

The wolves attacked empty air.

Asteron reappeared among them, moving with impossible ease. While dodging naturally, he still smiled and continued talking.

—Don't you understand? I possess two ethereal hearts instead of one! —he said in a lively tone as he narrowly avoided a bite by a hair's breadth—. And on top of that, I didn't even form them with fragments of Ethereal Resonances, but with the very Primordial Essence of the Arcáne Bond.

He jumped back lightly and then, suddenly, brought a hand to his forehead with an apologetic expression.

—Of course you can't understand it! Forgive me… It's better to demonstrate it, don't you think?

An inhuman glow twinkled in his eyes.

—Let me show you a little of the Primordial Essence of Existence.

And then, he broke through the pack like lightning, stopping in front of the second strongest wolf. The animal didn't even have time to react.

With indifferent calm, he raised his hand and slapped it.

The creature's skull pulverized instantly, scattering blood and bone fragments in all directions, staining the ground and the fur of the other wolves.

For a moment, everything was silent.

The entire pack froze, contemplating the scene with something akin to animal horror.

Asteron, without bothering to wipe the blood from his face, turned his gaze to the alpha.

—Well —he said, with a relaxed smile—. Are you understanding me now?

The alpha backed away, while his claws scratched the ground hesitantly. The ferocity that once defined him vanished, revealing a crack in his armor of pride. His eyes, once consumed by fury, flickered with an unusual glint: the nascent flicker of fear, a feeling foreign to his indomitable nature.

Asteron tilted his head, watching with interest as the predator became prey to his own emotions.

—Oh… You realize now?

The alpha let out a sharp howl, a desperate command that echoed in the forest. In an instant, the pack broke formation and began to flee.

But Asteron just shook his head, with an almost amused smirk on his lips.

—You cornered me, you hurt me, you almost killed me… Now tell me, what makes you think I will allow you and your pack to leave here alive?

His voice was a whisper that pierced the distance like a poisoned arrow. The alpha trembled and, unable to help it, turned his head towards him. He understood. He didn't know how or why, but every word was etched in his mind like an inescapable sentence.

Asteron did not allow him the luxury of disbelief. He murmured words in a foreign language, an ancient and unknown litany, and as he raised his hand, the blood of the fallen wolves left their bodies. It floated in the air, writhing like liquid snakes before taking shape.

Blood spears. Sharp, lethal, thirsty.

The alpha let out an iron bark, a last attempt to save his own.

His pack obeyed immediately, scattering in all directions, cutting through the thicket with the frenzy of those fleeing inevitable disaster.

But Asteron simply watched them with a relaxed expression.

—It’s useless —he murmured, without bothering to raise his voice—. The moment you came back for me was the moment you gave up everything.

The blood spears shot out.

They pierced the night with surgical precision, dodging branches, leaves, and shadows without losing their target.

If any other adept had witnessed the scene, they would have been frozen in horror. Not only by the brutal display of control over blood magic, but by the terrifying certainty of each shot.

Asteron had not only attacked them, he had hunted them with absolute precision. His spears found the skull of each wolf, piercing without fail, without escape.

The alpha was the last to fall.

His body collapsed heavily against the leaf litter, with his glazed gaze still reflecting the shadow of fear.

Asteron paid no more attention to the scene. To him, it was irrelevant. Somewhat boring. He had more important matters to think about.

He bent down, reached out his hand, and picked a flower.

—Nothing from my world stays the same when it comes here —he thought, turning the flower between his fingers—. Will the same happen if something from this world crosses into mine?

He closed his eyes for an instant. His mind traveled to a single thought: his return.

He felt the change in the air before opening them. The texture of the world around him crumbled and, when he looked again, he was no longer in the forest.

His apartment greeted him with a deafening silence.

Mess. Pieces of broken furniture, blood on the floor, and a damn dead wolf in the middle of his living room.

He exhaled, unsurprised. Outside his room, the building remained calm. The Amber District was not disturbed by things like this. Here, everyone looked the other way, pretended not to have heard, not to have seen.

Because in this place, curiosity always led to a very short life expectancy.

Asteron looked at the flower in his hand, turning it between his fingers with an inscrutable expression. There were no changes. Neither in its color nor in its texture. It remained exactly the same as when he picked it from the forest floor.

"So everything that enters there is altered..." He thought. "But what I extract returns unchanged. That means there is a unilateral influence in the transition."

A faint blue flame sprouted from his palm, enveloping the flower in a voracious fire that reduced it to ashes in an instant. Then, he exhaled wearily and let the carbonized remains slip through his fingers.@@novelbin@@

He looked up and scanned his apartment. The place was an absolute mess. Pieces of shattered furniture, dried blood staining the floor and, in the middle of it all, the wolf's corpse.

—Tsk… this is going to be a pain. —He brought a hand to his temple and massaged with irritation.

He would have to clean up this chaos before returning. Otherwise, the next time he came back he would suffocate from the stench.

He bent down towards the wolf and patted the body with some sadness.

—You’re barely a little bigger than the others… but you’re still an ordinary animal. You wouldn't even be worth carrying you to sell you in the Amber District.

With a whisper, he reached out his hand and a voracious blaze emerged from his fingers, engulfing the animal in a searing fire. With his other hand, he made a slight gesture and a controlled wind swept the smoke and ashes out the open window.

Asteron stood there for a moment, watching the last embers fade before letting out a weary snort.

Then, he got to work.

The process was tedious. Curses escaped his lips as he dealt with the dried blood and debris from the shattered furniture. His thoughts, however, wandered in a different direction. While scrubbing the floor, he spoke softly, almost as if trying to convince himself.

—For eons, almost all my lives have been the same repeated story: climb, fight, win… always win. Break limits, overcome adversities, become a legend. I achieved it every time, without exception. I reached the top, I touched an excellence that others couldn't even imagine… but at what price?

He paused for an instant and squeezed the rag in his hand. His eyes were lost in the distorted reflection of the bloody water on the floor.

—How many more times must I walk this same path? How many more lives must I consume in a cold and lonely ascent? Always chasing something, always sacrificing everything, never stopping to enjoy what really matters. I don't know what the red door wants from me, but I know what I want from this life: to truly live it. For once, I want to feel, I want to enjoy, I want to embrace the moment without thinking about the next step.

He finished cleaning, sighing as he saw the apartment relatively decent again. He went to a corner, took out an old backpack, and put the first aid kit inside. Then, he took the knife that came in the 2x1 offer and secured it along with its twin on his belt.

With the backpack on his shoulder, he went outside and climbed the stairs to the roof of the building with light steps.

There was something he needed to check.

As he ascended, an uncomfortable sensation crept over his skin. It wasn't pain, it wasn't fatigue. It was something more subtle, a dissonance in his own being.

—Something… something feels weird —he murmured, observing his own hand—. But everything seems to be fine…

He shook his head and continued climbing.

Reaching the rooftop, he placed himself in the center. He wanted to check if he could travel between worlds beyond his apartment. So he closed his eyes and repeated the process.

He felt the texture of the world alter and upon opening his eyes again, the forest greeted him.

Nothing had changed. Except for one detail.

He lowered his gaze and noticed that the backpack was no longer on his back. In its place, a spatial storage ring adorned his finger. Touching it with curiosity, he channeled a bit of energy and confirmed that the contents were still there: the box with the alchemical products.

He adjusted the ring on his finger and looked around.

He approached a nearby tree, gently placing his hand on the rough trunk. He closed his eyes and murmured words that only he knew, an ancient whisper that resonated in the language of life. At first, the tree remained still, but Asteron did not lose patience. He repeated the words calmly, again and again, until he felt a slight tremor beneath his fingers.

A single leaf, green and bright, detached itself and floated in the air, letting itself be carried towards a direction.

Asteron opened his eyes with a light and grateful smile. He observed the direction in which the leaf was carried and, before continuing, gave a gentle pat to the tree trunk. "

—Thank you, old friend, for guiding me, —he whispered, as if it were a pact, and began to walk

…

Asteron advanced through the vegetation, observing every detail around him. He recognized every plant, every tree, every creature that appeared in his path. A deep knowledge, accumulated over countless years, revealed to him that this forest, although vast and dense, was nothing extraordinary.

In other worlds, forests of this kind would have gone unnoticed, lost among more impressive and exotic places. But, even so, he advanced cautiously, aware that in every world, no matter how common it seemed, dangers lurked in the least expected corners.

As he moved, he stopped every few kilometers to repeat the ritual of connection with the trees. He placed a hand on the trunk, whispered the words of life, and waited patiently until a leaf, moved by the knowledge of nature, indicated the safe direction.

He was in no hurry.

"One step at a time," he thought, reminding himself that, even though the environment was familiar, recklessness had been the downfall of many.

Finally, a luminous gap appeared on the horizon. He had found the exit. With a light smile, he exited the forest and, before moving on, turned to take a last look at the green mantle. He inclined his head in a respectful gesture and whispered:

—Thank you, friend, for showing me the way.

Suddenly, a strange aroma penetrated his senses. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but for Asteron it was enough.

A sense of alert took hold of him, a spark of instinct ignited, the result of countless incarnations facing dangers. Without thinking twice, he unsheathed the Ethereal Cut Knives, feeling the energy throbbing in his hands, ready to be released.

—This is not a simple smell, —he reflected.

Something told him that a threat was looming not far away. Following his intuition, he quickly ascended the slope of a nearby hill, seeking a better view of the surroundings. Upon reaching the summit, the landscape unfolded before his eyes, and what he saw froze his blood.

In the distance, a small town, surrounded by a wall of logs, was under attack. A horde of beasts, at least fifteen, was launching itself against the walls with fury.

Asteron watched the guards trying to defend the place from the top of the palisade, throwing arrows and spears in a desperate effort. But they were not adepts of the Arcane. They lacked resonances, any ability that could give them a real chance against creatures of that magnitude.

"They are doomed," he thought coldly, while his eyes followed the chaos that was unfolding.

He knew those beasts; their dark and muscular bodies, their sharp claws, were unmistakable. For the villagers, resisting one of those creatures would be almost impossible, let alone fifteen.

"If the wall falls..." he thought, envisioning the inevitable future. "It will be nothing more than a massacre."

He took a deep breath, contemplating the scene with a mixture of frustration and unease. In his chest, the Ethereal Heart throbbed weakly, insufficient to wage a battle of that magnitude. He knew that facing that horde in his current state would be almost suicide, a desperate gamble against the forces of death.

Nevertheless, something in him resisted turning his back and moving on.

"Do I really have to risk everything again?", he thought, feeling a pang of exhaustion run through his mind.

This time he wanted to live differently, leave behind the eternal conflict, the incessant struggles. After all, hadn't he promised that in this life he would be free, that he would live without that chain that always dragged him to sacrifice?

He observed the villagers on the palisade, their reckless determination in facing the inevitable. He could look away, continue on his way, and justify his departure as a matter of sensibility.

—Face Arcane beasts? I barely managed to become an Adept, if I try anything now, I'm sure to die… And I'm not a fan of suicide.—he said to himself, almost in a whisper, trying to convince himself.

"If I allow this to happen, if I turn my back…", his thoughts betrayed him, revealing a relentless truth: that weight, that guilt, would not allow him to live in peace.

Ignoring this situation would be ignoring himself, and any peace he obtained afterward would be a deception, a twisted shadow of the full life he so longed for.

He clenched his jaw, letting the conflict resolve itself in silence. Every fiber of his being knew what he had to do, even though part of him wanted to avoid it.