Chapter 8: The Assignment (Part 2)
"So, Doctor..." Issac Volante, the young man with raven-black hair, leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on his doctor who was seated across from him. "What's the verdict? I'm guessing I'm on the right track, huh?"
"Agreed, Mr. Volante." Dr. Pierre, a bastion of medical knowledge and experience, raised his coffee cup to his lips, savoring the rich aroma before taking a deliberate sip. His eyes danced across the expanse of the medical document he held, each line etching a cryptic code upon his mind. With a measured exhale, he continued, "In fact, I'd say that you're doing more than great. Your progress is nothing short of a miracle."
"Well, uh, I wouldn't go so far as to call it that, doc," interrupted Issac, his lips curled into a half-smile.
Dr. Pierre chuckled, a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. "Well, maybe miracle is not the right word, I guess.. But it's damn close," he admitted, tracing his finger along the document's pages. "I have to mention that the transformation you've undergone and the speed at which you improved is, well, uh, it's simply extraordinary."
"Ha, ha… If you say so, doc. I mean, it's all thanks to you and the physical therapy program that you set me up with.." Issac responded with a nervous laugh, concealing the truth that gnawed at him. How could he reveal to the doctor that his change was a result of being a willing participant in the Head Alchemist's experiments? Human experimentation, as far as he knew, was far from legal.
"No, no... This goes beyond any mere therapy program," Dr. Pierre countered, setting the documents aside and rising from his chair. Approaching Issac, he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "This is all you, Mr. Volante. Your unwavering dedication, your relentless training. Such a level of recovery cannot be achieved through therapy and pills alone, especially not at this astounding pace."
Gratitude mingled with uncertainty in Issac's expression as he absorbed the doctor's words. "Thank you, Doctor," he murmured, his voice a soft echo of appreciation. "So, I suppose this signifies the end of our regular checkups?"
A warm smile graced Dr. Pierre's lips as he waved his hand in a jesting manner. "Well, of course, you're always welcome to visit if you have any doubts about your health," he quipped, his words lightening the air. "But indeed, it seems that our monthly checkups have run their course."
With a nod of understanding, Issac rose from his seat, his footsteps carrying him toward the exit.
"Heard you took care of the bills for the entire year..." Dr. Pierre's voice broke the silence, his words cutting through the air like a shard of shattered glass. The abruptness of his statement halted Issac in his tracks. He turned to face the doctor, who raised his shoulders in a gesture of apology. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. It's just that I can't help but worry that you might be overexerting yourself."
Issac's eyes locked with Dr. Pierre's. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reassured the doctor, his voice tinged with sincerity. "Don't worry, Doc. I'm not..." He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging in the air.
Dr. Pierre nodded, his understanding gaze meeting Issac's before posing a question that hung heavy with meaning. "Have you seen her?"
Issac's nod was solemn. Dr. Pierre's countenance softened, a wellspring of compassion emanating from his gaze. "Don't worry too much, kid," he whispered, his voice laced with quiet reassurance. "She's a fighter. She'll pull through."
"... See you, doc." With a final nod of gratitude, Issac turned on his heel, leaving the room in swift strides. The door closed with a muted click, and Dr. Pierre shook his head, a silent sigh escaping his lips before taking a sip of his coffee. "Damn, it got cold." he muttered, a testament to the many cold cups of coffee consumed in the name of duty.
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Issac approached his apartment complex, a modest building that blended into the surroundings. It seemed like it catered to middle-class families, offering comfort without extravagance. The faded exterior walls hinted at the passage of time, while a sense of stability hung in the atmosphere surrounding the place.
As he reached his floor, Issac found that his entrance to his apartment was obstructed by mail and delivery boxes piled haphazardly near the entrance, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes in mild exasperation.
Opening his apartment door, Issac was greeted by a space in need of attention. It bore the marks of a busy life, with various items like clothes and books scattered on the floor.
"For god's sake..." he muttered under his breath, a faint hint of frustration creeping into his voice. With a sigh, he bent down, gathering the boxes and letters in his arms before making his way to the living room, where he carefully placed them on the table. A small victory in the battle against disorder, allowing a clear path to the heart of the home.
In the kitchen, a solitary flickering light cast a dim glow, and Issac turned on the stove, its burners sputtering to life.
WHOOSH!
He reached for a packet of instant noodles, a cheap and familiar choice. With a practiced hand, he tore open the packaging, the scent of artificial broth filling the air.
As the noodles simmered, Issac's gaze turned to his phone.
'Should I…'
After a brief moment of contemplation, Issac dialed the number of Mr. Byrne.
'Not picking up,' Issac raised an eyebrow as the call went unanswered, a mixture of curiosity and concern creeping into his thoughts.
'Why do I feel so uneasy?' The rhythmic bubbling of the noodles seemed to underscore his concerns, as a sense of anxiousness formed within Issac.
"Wait a minute…" A spark of realization ignited within Issac, his eyes widening abruptly. "No way…"
Swoosh!
With a surge of urgency, he dashed toward the living room, temporarily forsaking the boiling noodles on the stove.
His gaze fixated on the jumbled assortment of delivery boxes and scattered letters that cluttered the surface of the living room table. Fingers trembling with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, he sifted through them one by one, muttering under his breath in a hushed tone.
"Not this, not this either..." Issac whispered to himself as his search intensified, his eyes scanning each item. Then, as if the universe aligned with his quest, a triumphant exclamation escaped Issac's lips.
"Aha!"
Issac exclaimed, his voice tinged with a blend of apprehension and excitement. Holding a particular delivery box in his hands, he stared at it with a mixture of trepidation and intrigue. A wave of realization washed over him, confirming that his instincts had not betrayed him. "I knew I sensed something off."
As Issac carefully set aside the remaining objects, the table cleared, the delivery box remained the sole focus of his attention. Its unassuming exterior held no indication of its contents or the identity of its sender, veiled in a cloak of uncertainty. Yet, Issac's heightened senses detected a significant deviation from his usual deliveries, triggering a cascade of questions that demanded answers.
"I know for a fact that I didn't order this…" he muttered, conviction lacing his words. Despite his occasional disarray, Issac meticulously tracked his incoming packages, leaving no room for ambiguity. He would know if there was a change in the number of orders, and this box was definitely not something that was bought by him.
But if he didn't order it, then who had placed the box at his doorstep? What purpose did it serve, and what was in it?
Doubt gnawed at his thoughts, casting a shadow of caution over his decision. 'Could it be something dangerous?' Issac wondered, his mind a battlefield of conflicting possibilities. Yet, in a twist of fate, a surge of inexplicable determination compelled Issac to cast aside his apprehension. He made up his mind, ready to face the unknown. The desire for answers propelled him forward, even if it meant taking a gamble.
With a nervous expression etched upon his face, Issac gingerly tore open the packaging, revealing a smaller wooden box concealed within. He opened it slowly, each motion careful and deliberate, and as his eyes fell upon its contents, shock jolted through his body, causing him to instinctively step back from the table.
Inside the box lay a letter, meticulously crafted from premium materials, and beside it, a vial filled with a potion that triggered a sense of familiarity within Issac. "That's the potion we created the other day..." he whispered, his anxiety mounting.
Questions flooded his mind, each one more pressing than the last. What purpose did this mysterious box serve? Was it sent by their client? Could it be tied to the disappearance of Mr. Byrne? Or is this perhaps a veiled threat?
Issac's footsteps echoed with a mix of unease and curiosity as he cautiously approached the table once again.
His hand trembled slightly as he reached out, his fingers carefully clasping the letter nestled next to the vial. Drawing a steadying breath, he read the words aloud, his voice filled with a blend of confusion and intrigue.
"Congratulations... you've been invited to... The Alliance Guild...?"
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
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