Blood — it's not just life energy and what nourishes the human body, but for beings like me, something much more. In truth, I could have avoided speaking with Maren entirely, as I obtained all the information through his blood. That conversation was necessary precisely for creating associative connections more quickly.
After all, humanity had advanced quite far in technical progress during my slumber, and this needed to be taken into account if I wanted to blend in with my surroundings. More precisely, I had never strived for this, but I didn't want to appear as a savage in the eyes of modern people.
For me, horses had been the fastest means of transportation, but now everyone in the cities uses cars. Those same horses seemed to be completely forgotten, as they couldn't compare with the new technical innovations.
And this is just a trifle lying on the surface.
All of this certainly needed to be sorted out, but at that moment I needed blood to restore my strength completely. The healing sleep had allowed me to restore my body, but because no one had taken care to supply me with fresh blood, it had squeezed everything out of itself just so I could survive.
Of course, blood from someone of my lineage would have been best for recovery, but its last representative had died awakening me and granting me his knowledge about what was happening in this world and about my position in it. For now, this was just a flicker of disconnected images, but gradually they would come together.
Reading memory from blood is not the simplest thing, and if you rush into it headlong, you can simply burn out your brains. I had seen enough of the consequences of that. I wasn't planning to lose myself in a heap of foreign memories.
Therefore, closing the sagging gates behind me, which were there only for show, I set off for the city. I needed to understand how modern society lived, to become part of it, to understand the general principles of contemporary life.
Cities had clearly become significantly larger since I went to sleep, and there were now so many people here that my eyes simply scattered.
"Hey, watch it!" a young guy on a scooter called after me.
Another innovation of current times. There was plenty of personal transport of various kinds, but scooter couriers seemed to be the most reckless of all owners of such transport. He almost knocked me down as he rushed past, but ahead was a very small girl who didn't even see how a big moose was bearing down on her.
The courier, without even thinking of stopping, began shouting something, but it was already clear that the girl simply wouldn't have time to step aside. My gaze moved by itself to the front wheel of the scooter, and it stopped dead.
I caught myself acting instinctively, without even thinking. Strange — when I was human, such impulses seemed natural to me, but now, after all the changes, after what I had become... Could there still be something left of the former me? Or did this new entity simply see no point in senseless cruelty? I wasn't sure what exactly made me intervene — pity, habit, or simply unwillingness to see unnecessary death.
This was enough not only for the transport to stop, whining with its electric motor and even smoking slightly, but also for its owner to fly forward from the sudden braking. True, the flight ended at the first pole, down which he slid, losing consciousness.
Most importantly, the girl wasn't hurt and looked with surprise at this performance put on by an adult.
Perhaps some things don't change, despite what you become. Or maybe protecting the innocent isn't a human trait, but something deeper that remains unchanged regardless of a being's nature. In any case, I didn't regret my action, though I was surprised by it.
"Lira, where are you wandering off to!" her mother addressed her with slight annoyance, as I understood. "You can see all sorts drive around here."
The hostile glance toward the courier clearly spoke of her attitude toward such people. Even no one was particularly surprised that such a thing happened to him, and only one compassionate old lady began calling an ambulance for the guy who was weakly shaking his head, trying to understand where he was.
I noticed how several passersby glanced briefly in my direction, but their gazes slid past, as if I were part of the urban landscape. Interesting — either my disguise worked better than I thought, or people in this world had become less sensitive to the supernatural. Though one elderly woman held her gaze on me a bit longer than usual, frowning slightly, as if trying to understand what was bothering her.
However, at that moment, while everyone was distracted only by the courier, the girl looked at me as if understanding that I was involved in such a sudden stop of the courier, and I winked at her, setting off to explore the city further.
"Mama-mama," the girl said behind her back. "The man's eyes were glowing! Honest-honest!"
"You watch too many cartoons, then you fantasize," the young mother sighed heavily. "I'll restrict you — you'll learn!"
I was already too far away to pay attention to their conversation.
Good that only the girl noticed this, and as a child, they're unlikely to believe her. But I should be more careful in manifesting my powers. On the other hand, I had tested that fine telekinetic work was still within my power, despite my current decline in strength. And that was definitely good.
Though I understood that I wouldn't get off so easily when calling father to battle, I was too accustomed to my powers to give them up.
And while I was thinking about all this, I didn't notice how I had wandered into a not-so-prestigious district of the city. Though I was wearing only jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie with the hood pulled up, apparently even such a not-too-wealthy appearance attracted the attention of local criminals.
At least, two guys had been following me for several minutes, and three more had rushed to intercept between the buildings. It was curious that they chose me specifically. Perhaps it wasn't just about my appearance — something in my gait, in how I carried myself, betrayed me as a stranger. Or conversely, I walked too confidently through their territory, not showing fear, which would have been natural for locals. In any case, I had attracted their attention, and this played into my hands.
I didn't do anything, or rather, I decided to help them in their difficult task and calmly turned into a dark alley that wasn't visible from the street. It was unlikely anyone would follow us here, but it was simply more convenient this way.
I was met by a dirty passage between brick walls, covered with graffiti and layers of old announcements. Plastic bottles crunched underfoot and cigarette butts lay scattered, while somewhere in the distance the monotonous hum of city traffic could be heard, muffled by building walls. The smell of urine and decomposing garbage mixed with exhaust fumes, creating the typical aroma of an abandoned urban nook.
"Yo, pretty boy! Got any cash?" one of those who had been following me called out. They had closed the distance once I entered here.
I don't know what he wanted to say there, because I understood they only needed a pretext. I felt their bloodthirsty desire very well and therefore didn't delay.
The guy was still pronouncing some prepared line and smiling cheerfully when my fist had already crashed into his face and thrown him back a couple of steps. To them, I had simply vanished from my spot and, like a ghost, appeared right in front of them.
"Weak, dude!" I clicked my tongue, looking at how the force of the blow turned out much weaker than I thought. "How dare you!.."
The second one tried to swing at me, but a slap was enough to scramble his brains and knock him to the ground, unconscious.
"Now this is interesting," I said thoughtfully aloud, looking from the fallen guy to the one whose nose I had just broken.
The force of the blows was completely different and the effect should have been different too, but the first one had withstood my blow. Something had clearly changed in this world if an ordinary person could stay on his feet after that. Or not quite ordinary?
"You're in for it now, boy!" the local thug said angrily, encouraging himself.
After these words he lunged at me, and I was only glad for it. I always tried to act rationally, though it almost never worked out, and therefore wanted to first test what I was capable of after awakening before taking the next steps.
At first, this dark-haired guy's punches weren't too skillful and avoiding them wasn't difficult, but apparently the initial emotions had subsided and now my opponent began acting more thoughtfully. Moreover, he even shifted into an unfamiliar stance and began hammering the air near my face.
Hammering? Hmm, there's another associative connection falling into place. But I shouldn't get distracted by this.
One punch passed so close to my face that I caught particles of something mystical. This wasn't something physical, rather something existing beyond the boundary of this.
"You're kind of slow for a street thug," I smiled insolently, consciously provoking the guy and slipping away from his blows.
"Stand still, coward! Fight properly!"
"You should have said so right away," I smiled contentedly. His next punch was caught by my palm. And though I didn't let him move his arm, something else interested me. While the guy, who had so unsuccessfully tried to profit from me, jerked his arm, forgetting he could strike differently, I finally understood what I had been sensing all this time.
Magic.
An ordinary person possesses magical abilities and uses them for robbery? Incredible. In my time, even the weakest mages were respected members of society, and their abilities were passed down through generations of chosen families. Magic was an art requiring decades of study, meditation, and self-sacrifice. And now some street hooligan waves fists filled with magical energy? Where is this world heading?
"Bastard!" he yelled, finally understanding he could strike with, for example, his leg.
However, his swing remained unrealized, as he froze in one position as if rooted to the spot. It was amusing to watch his attempts to move and overcome the force of my telekinesis.
I felt something in him tremble — not just physically, but on a deeper level. His instincts screamed that something wrong was happening, something unnatural. The animal fear in his eyes said that on a subconscious level he understood: before him stood not a human. People, it seemed, could still sense the presence of something ancient and dangerous, even if they didn't understand what exactly frightened them.
But to my displeasure, I was spending too much energy on this, even considering this person turned out to be a mage.
Though my body obeyed me quite tolerably and only abundant feeding plus a couple months of training were needed to reach the minimum result I required, things weren't so simple with personal powers.
"What are you doing to me..." the guy began to scream, but his jaw snapped shut with a pop, and his eyes bulged from incomprehension of the situation.
"Come now, don't act like a child," I smiled at this kid. "We might be heard, and then it'll be really unpleasant."
I approached the guy and ran my hand along his neck, leaving a small scratch with my fingertips. Immediately I stepped back and licked the blood from my fingers.
"Yes, as I thought, mages' blood possesses greater energy," I nodded contentedly under the gaze of the guy who, instead of fear, was getting angrier and angrier. "How fortunately you came my way..."
The next moment I had to take two swift steps back, as anger gave the mage more strength and he overcame my influence. Curious.
The guy immediately rushed at me, apparently intending to hide behind his anger and rage the fact that he was actually frightened by what I was doing to him. But that's what I needed.
Though as a mage this bandit was frankly weak, if even such scum had access to magic, I needed to at least understand what level it had reached.
The guy's fists suddenly burst into flame — bright orange with red flashes at the edges, like an ordinary bonfire, only more concentrated and controlled. The fire didn't burn him, but I felt the heat emanating from it and the light smell of burned air. The flame danced around his fists unevenly, now flaring up, now dying down, betraying the mage's inexperience — a true master would have been able to maintain even, stable burning.
I sensed how magical energy flowed through his body clumsily, in jerks, like water through a clogged pipe. This was far from the elegance and power I remembered from mages of the past. In my time, even a beginning adept could maintain flame for hours, not to mention giving it the needed form and temperature. Modern magic seemed cruder, more primitive, but at the same time accessible even to such as this street bandit.
Honestly, this was almost comical. Imagine if in the past one of the great fire mages had seen such a pitiful imitation of a spell! They probably would have died of laughter before dying of indignation.
And this could have become dangerous, but unfortunately, he only lasted a couple of blows. The flame began to flicker, losing brightness, and when instead of my face his fist met a brick wall, the fire finally went out, leaving only light smoke and the smell of burned skin.
Using magical powers greatly exhausted him, and his anger had burned out, so this bandit was left with only emptiness.
"That was an interesting experience, thank you," I smiled at him and with one jerk grabbed the guy by the throat, and the next moment he was pressed against the wall.
"Who are you?!" he said hoarsely, weakly trying to resist as I reached with my other hand toward his neck.
"Believe me, you really shouldn't know that..."
Another cut on the neck and a confident stream of blood flowed into me from the wound. My eyes, blazing with gold, illuminated the guy's face, but I paid no attention to this. In such moments my true nature manifested most brightly, and any person, even the most insensitive, would feel chilling horror. But memory of this was erased along with memories of the actual absorption process — a protective mechanism I had developed in past times. People simply couldn't bear knowledge that they had encountered something so alien to their nature.
Anyway, he would forget everything that happened during the blood absorption process, which was absorbed into my skin and gave me new strength.
It was a pity the bandit began to pale quite quickly, and I saw no point in killing him. So, running my hand over the wounds, I left only barely noticeable scars so the victim couldn't remember anything later.
"Kane, where did you get stuck?! We're looking for you!..."
Later, five juvenile bandits would wake up in one of the numerous alleys where it's so convenient to drive the next victim. No one would remember what had happened to them in the last hour and how they even ended up here.
But none of them would be able to shake the feeling that they should quit criminal activity, because if memory lapses had already started, it would be better to get office jobs or something else, but far from these streets. Otherwise they might catch some infection, or maybe they already had — otherwise why did they feel so bad? Why were their hands shaking as if after a great fright, and why was there incomprehensible dryness in their throats? Why were their hearts pounding as if they had just run a marathon?
Kane, their informal leader, was already mentally composing a resume for office work, though he had no idea what to write there. Red-haired Thomas was thinking about moving to another city — maybe to his aunt in the provinces, it was definitely calmer there. The youngest, Danny, generally decided it was time to call his mother and ask to come back home, forgetting about his ambitions to become cool. The other two just sat silently, staring into emptiness, and each thought that life was too short to waste on foolishness.
And only a couple of them discovered suspicious white stripes on their necks, but they were too thin and inconspicuous to attach significance to them. Though for some reason, when touching these places, they broke out in cold sweat, and fragments of some nightmarish dreams flashed in their heads — golden eyes in the darkness, a feeling of helplessness, and something else that their minds refused to remember. Strangest of all, these scars were warm to the touch, as if invisible embers smoldered under the skin, reminding them of an encounter with something that was better forgotten forever.