Capítulo 8: 4 Years In Hell
Theos's years in the forest were marked by solitude and survival, each day forging him into something sharper, faster, and more attuned to the primal rhythms of his surroundings. In those early days, he was barely more than a child, abandoned with little more than his instincts and a fierce drive to survive. The forest was both his prison and his teacher, imposing its harsh lessons with no leniency. He learned quickly that movement had to be silent, footsteps careful to avoid snapping branches or crunching leaves that could betray his presence. Tracking became second nature as he studied trails, learning to read the faintest disturbances in the undergrowth, and eventually honing his senses to detect even the slightest hint of danger.
As seasons shifted, so did Theos, adapting to the constant threat of the forest's creatures. Predators with fangs and claws prowled, their eyes gleaming through the trees in the dead of night. Each encounter sharpened his reflexes, teaching him to evade and, when necessary, to fight with calculated aggression. His clothing, once whole, became tattered as the forest claimed pieces of fabric with each encounter, branches snagging and tearing the cloth until only remnants remained.
Living off the land, he developed a lean, wiry strength, born from the necessity of gathering food and constructing makeshift shelters. He learned to trap small animals, to forage for roots and berries, and to find water from hidden streams. The taste of freshly caught food became familiar, and his hands grew rough and calloused, accustomed to the feel of rough bark, sharp rocks, and the cold steel of his dagger. Over time, Theos's movements became those of a predator himself: silent, controlled, with a lethal grace that could only be honed by years of isolation and relentless practice.
His affinity with Delusion became a tool for survival. Over time, he discovered how to weave illusions in the depths of the forest, bending shadows and whispers to his will. These skills became a means of warding off dangers he couldn't face directly. Creatures that dared venture too close would find themselves lost in a mirage of shifting trees, ominous growls echoing around them, driving them away from his hiding spots. Theos's eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, became like those of a creature born from the forest's shadows, and even his reflection in pools of still water bore the intensity of someone who had transcended the boundaries of mere humanity.
Each passing year deepened his bond with the forest, and though he longed for the company of others, he found himself tethered to the wilderness. Memories of his mother, of laughter, and of his old life grew dim, replaced by the thrill of survival and the eerie comfort of solitude. Eventually, he became a ghost in the forest, his presence felt but rarely seen, a legend among travelers who claimed to glimpse a shadow with haunting purple eyes, moving like a phantom through the trees.
Roaming the forest like a beast Theos had grew stronger of the years his movements fasted and precise each step felts confident, and Theos grew adept at tracking and taking down beast his skills were honed from necessity and solitude a fresh trail led him to the very outskirts of the forest just as he was turning around to go back towards his prison he spotted something unusual through the trees figures moving in the distance, not creatures but people. He tensed, heart racing, and crept closer, curiosity winning out over caution. Peering through the branches, he realized they were academy students, a group of teenagers in uniformed cloaks, their chatter faint but excited as they explored the forest, oblivious to the hidden dangers around them.
Theos watched them in silence, tracking their movements from the shadows. He hadn't seen anyone his own age in years, and the sight was both thrilling and bittersweet. They laughed and bantered as they made their way through the woods, unaware that they were being followed. For a while, he simply observed a silent shadow, feeling the pull of their shared youth and wondering what it would be like to be part of such a group.
Suddenly, a few of the students split off from the main group, their voices echoing as they wandered farther into the forest. His instincts screamed at him that they were headed into dangerous territory, where wild beasts prowled. Sure enough, a guttural growl pierced the air, and Theos's pulse quickened. He recognized the sound of a predator that roamed the darker depths of the forest, one he had encountered before. Watching from the shadows, Theos narrowed his eyes focusing his Primal Energy. The students gasped as they caught a glimpse of a demon in a red and black suit with eyes that look like they glitch if you stare into them for too long with each targeted gazes the he pushed imagine and sound of whisper echoing from all directions and figures coming for them under the gaze of the illusion they scattered as they ran away trying to escape the "demon"
His purple eyes glowed until both the beast and the students were out of his sight; the light faded leaving no trace of any illusion in sight, the eerie silence somehow deafening.
Theos heard a thundering explosion, it was clear another battle was just yet about to begin. A man with an older appearance gazed at the demon look beast. As there eyes met the two blitzed at each other with speed that was unfamothable
Theos crouched, his stance shifting instinctively as he adjusted to the absence of his opponent in the swirling dust. Adrenaline surged through him, fueling his movements as he leaned lower, fingers curling tightly around the dagger. In a fluid motion, he propelled himself forward, low and fast, becoming a blur as he closed the distance between them. His arms hung loose but ready, reminiscent of a predator's gait, allowing him to strike with unpredictable swiftness. He felt a mixture of focus and ferocity surge within, sharpening his senses as he aimed straight for the old man through the haze.
The students watched in awe, feeling the tremors beneath their feet as if the ground itself acknowledged the power being unleashed. Every strike and counter-strike was precise yet ferocious, the air crackling with raw energy that far surpassed anything the students had seen in their training. Each movement was a dance of skill and intensity, a display of mastery that only those leagues above could achieve.
The students looked at this with Longing knowing one day this could be them.
Estado de energía semanal
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