Lying on a gurney in an ambulance, Max stares at the roof of the vehicle. Well, so far things are going better than I expected.

  Apparently, all it took was a coughing fit, and I was able to skip talking to the police and end up being taken to the hospital. I told them to go to the hospital where my uncle works, since that is the hospital that we have always used.

  All of them are so close together in this city that there is no reason for them not to. I was told my mom has been informed and will meet me there.

  I don’t think the burn on my arm is that bad, but everyone seems very concerned. Probably because it happened on school property and I am underage.

  After they treat me, I am sure I will have to talk to the police, but this still works out in my favor. If they knew that there were other people inside of the gym, they might have reacted differently, and the bodies might not be as disfigured when they find them.

  I still hope that they look human enough and they don’t run too many tests on them, but I know that that is just wishful thinking.

  I don’t know how bad the fire is at the moment, but I really hope that it doesn’t burn the whole school down. That was never my goal or intention; I just wanted to destroy the creatures and any corruption they might have.

  Everything is spiraling out of control since I returned this time. Having to explain my disappearance, getting used to school again, losing control over my freedom, creatures suddenly appearing, and now the fire.

  Max idly reaches up and moves to touch the symbol on his chest, but the paramedic slaps his hand away from it.

  “Don’t touch it, you might make it worse.”

  Rolling his eyes, Max leaves the symbol alone and continues to stare up at the roof of the moving ambulance.

  What am I going to do about this symbol?

  I doubt it would be as simple as cutting it off or burning it off. That would just injure me, not remove it. It was placed on me with magic, which probably means only magic can remove it.

  Great.

  In a world without magic, that means it is permanent. Well, I do have qi, and that is said to be part of magic. Even the articles I read here said that it has healing abilities, but I doubt it can help since it's not so much a wound but a curse.

  This would be so much easier to deal with in Rosalee’s world. I mean, really simple, ‘Hey guys, Eschaton attacked me with some monsters. We need to burn the bodies and find a way to remove this curse.’ Boom, issue handled.

  They could look in their books or find a mage or maybe even the margrave to remove the curse from me, and the entire thing would be over already.

  Nope, not here.

  No one here knows about Eschaton. They don’t believe in magic either, so the fact that it is a curse and that creatures were summoned by it or to it wouldn’t be believed either.

  If looking up qi is any indication, looking up curses and how to break them will mostly just be flowery gobbledygook and no actual help.

  The ambulance slows down and starts to make several turns.

  Looks like we are almost there. This world sucks. I need to find a way back to the other world as soon as possible.

  If they sent things to kill me once, they will do it again. I cannot just burn down every building I am in when it happens. People will definitely notice that. I don’t even want to think about what the government would do if they found out monsters kept appearing near me.

  If they weren’t so big and strong, it might have been easier to deal with. Even those hulking goblins wouldn’t have been as much of an issue, I don’t think.

  Anyplace I am, and anyone around me is in danger until I can remove this mark. I have to find some way to stop them from sending creatures or get strong enough that I can deal with them quicker and easier.

  I also need to carry a lighter and salt with me at all times now. Shit.

  The ambulance comes to a stop, and the EMTs unload Max and bring him into the hospital. They bring him directly into a room along with several nurses who swarm him.

  Resigning to his fate as a guinea pig again for the second time this week, Max simply follows their instructions and does what he is told. Luckily, they don’t ask him many questions and just start hooking him up to IVs, monitors, and such.

  After looking at his arm and checking his chest, they don’t seem as concerned as when he was first brought in. A doctor eventually comes in and double-checks both his lungs and his arm. They begin treatment for the burn before his mother even arrives.

  Max tries to keep his answers short and to the point when they ask him things. It seems he was right, the burn isn’t very bad, only first degree, but the area is larger than they would like.

  They keep telling him he is very lucky to have not gotten anything worse. He had completely forgotten that he had to take an inhaler a couple of years ago because they said he had asthma, so after checking his history, the smoke inhalation seems the bigger worry.

  They are acting like I’m going to keel over dead. I used the inhaler for like a week, and I remember having a bad reaction to it, so my doctor stopped me from using it again. At worst, I have a little bit of a wheeze sometimes if I overexert myself too much, but it goes away on its own. After all the training I have done in both worlds, I don’t even notice it anymore.

  When Max’s mother finally shows up, she bursts into the room and hugs her son. “Are you okay? I heard that you got hurt in the fire!”

  “I’m okay. No, mom really. I am okay. The doctors say it was just a little burn; it shouldn’t even leave a scar.”

  “Oh my god, what happened to your face!” After noticing the wound that the doctors haven’t gotten around to stitching up yet, she shouts and turns his head so she can get a better view.

  The doctor returns to his room with more supplies while his mother is still checking out his wounds, and asks her to step back. After finishing up applying the treatment and bandaging to his arm, he cleans the two cuts on his face.

  “These look pretty nasty. How did you manage to get them? They don’t look like they came from anything falling onto you.”

  “Umm,” Glancing at his mom, he lowers his voice even though he knows she is still going to hear. “I was attacked by someone when I went into the locker room.”

  “It was dark, and I couldn’t really make out who they were or even what they were attacking me with. They cut my shoulder when I tried to get away, and when I fought back, they smacked me with something across my face, and that’s how I got it.”

  Shrugging without thinking about it, Max winces as the shoulder wound aches. The doctor has the nurses remove his mother from the room as she starts to create a scene after hearing that he was attacked.

  All the cuts require stitches, but the ones on his face are not clean cuts made with a sharp instrument, but by the claws that ripped across him. It takes longer for them to stitch those two up, and the doctor tells him that he will probably end up with a scar from the way they were made.

  Max almost shrugs again before he remembers the pain from doing so last time. After finishing with his face, the doctor starts cleaning the shoulder wound.

  “This one doesn’t look as nasty as the ones on your face. It is deeper, but it seems to be a clean cut. It might leave a scar as well, but it will probably be less noticeable and not just because it isn’t on your face. The other ones are a lot more shallow and will probably heal without scarring or too many stitches."

  Staying silent, Max simply nods in reply and lets the doctor work.

  I really don’t care about scars. Even if other people cannot see them, I have seen the burns and bite marks on my arm for years. After the bishop stabbed me, I’m sure I’ll have one on my side for the rest of my life, too.

  What’s a couple more?

  If anything, it is just proof that I’m a survivor and not easily killed.

  “Hey doc, how long do you think I will have to wait before I can get back to working out?”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Surprised, the doctor stops working and looks up at the boy. Weird that a boy this young is thinking about that.

  “About two to three weeks, I would say. You don’t want to put too much pressure or strain on the injury until it is fully healed, or you might make it worse. If the stitches separate, you could get an infection, and the scarring will definitely be worse. You also don’t want to tear anything that could be damaged until it is healed.”

  Nodding Max lays his head back and looks at the ceiling. “Thanks for the information.”

  The doctor returns to working on his shoulder. The wound is large, so it takes him some time to finish all the stitches. “What about this one? You didn’t mention how you got it.”

  Following the doctor's gaze and his pointing hand, Max moves to touch the symbol on his chest again, but stops short. I can’t really say I got it from a curse in another world, can I?

  “When I entered the locker room, that happened first. I didn’t even see the people. It was so dark. I was debating if I should find a light switch and where one would be, or if I should just leave when I felt that happen. I pulled my shirt off immediately and looked. I was wounded. That is when I was attacked.”

  The doctor touches the symbol lightly with a furrowed brow, frowning. “That doesn’t seem right. This wound looks older than something that happened today. I mean, it is clearly inflamed because of something, but it has already scarred over.”

  Max holds his hands out wide and tries not to shrug. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you, doc; it wasn’t there this morning. You can ask my mom or even check your records. I got checked out here on Monday, and I didn’t have anything on my chest.”

  “That is strange.” The doctor looks at the symbol a little longer before leaving the room to check to see if Max was checked out earlier in the week and if the mark was there.

  He isn’t gone long before he returns, scratching his head. “That is quite weird, son. You are right, they did not notice or document any brand on your chest when you came in, and given your age, they should have if it had been there.”

  “It felt as if something had burned me, that is why I took my shirt off to see what was going on. Before I could look down or find a mirror, I was attacked.” Waving his hand dismissively, Max shrugs with his good shoulder.

  The doctor examines the wound again and even takes a small tissue sample from it before applying something to it and then adding some gauze with tape. “

  It appears to be old and not fresh, which means there is little that can be done about the scarring. I will be sending this sample off for testing to see if there is anything they can tell us about why it is so unusual.”

  Max nods yet again to the doctor. Seeing that the boy doesn’t really care, the doctor leaves the room and explains to Max’s mother the extent of his injuries and how he is going to be sending the tissue sample that he took to the lab. Once he is finished explaining, he allows her back into the room and heads off somewhere else.

  Max’s mom rushes to his side and looks his wounds over. Her fingers hover above the large cut on his shoulder, then move to the bandaged symbol on his chest, before her eyes lock onto his bandaged arm.

  “The doctor says that the cuts should heal just fine. I have to take it easy for two to three weeks, is all. The wound on my arm isn’t too bad; it will probably heal faster than the others.”

  “They will probably give me an ointment or cream that I will have to apply. As for this one.” Max reaches up and touches the bandaged symbol.

  “He says that it is odd: that the wound looks like it is old and already scarred over. He took a sample to send to the lab to see if there is anything wrong with it.”

  Max watches his mom’s face as he explains. He knows she doesn’t believe him and thinks that he is just minimizing things when he knows that the doctor most likely already explained all of this to her.

  “You said you were attacked? By who? What happened?” His mom grabs his uninjured forearm and squeezes it.

  Sighing, Max looks down at his wounded forearm.

  I hate having to lie to her, but there is no way she will believe the truth any more than anyone else in this world. At least the doctor poked only one hole in my story and has given me time to fix it before talking to the police or my mom.

  I need to firm the story up to fill in some of the gaps, or they will just keep poking holes in it.

  “After I got done jogging around the football field, I went into the gym to shower and change like I have been doing all week. This time the room was pitch black, and I couldn’t see a thing.”

  “The door had closed behind me, and I was considering if I should look for a light switch and where one might be found or if it would just make more sense to leave and come back later, when I felt a pain in my chest.”

  “I dropped my bag and pulled off my shirt. I was just about to touch my wound when I was attacked. It all happened really quickly; something cut my shoulder. I grabbed some weights from the rack near the door and swung the weights at whoever was attacking me.”

  “I’m pretty sure I got one of them really good, but then someone else tackled me into the machines. I fought back and smacked them with a plate I fell into. I guess someone had left it lying about.”

  “As I got to my feet and touched the wound on my shoulder, the next thing I knew, someone hit me in the face and knocked me down. I was still on the ground when there was suddenly a bright light that blinded me and a loud bang.”

  “When my vision returned, the room was on fire. I grabbed my bag, but it was already on fire. I tried to get out through the door to the field, but I ended up burning my arm.”

  “I turned around and tried to find my way out into the gym proper, but there was so much smoke. I remember seeing the coaches before passing out. I woke up in the ambulance on the way here.”

  His mother hugs him tightly and sits beside him, holding his hand. They wait for the doctor and nurses to finish up all the things they have to do so that she can take him home. It always seems to take far longer than is necessary for them to do the exit paperwork.

  After they are all finished, one of the nurses informs them that before they leave that the police would like to speak with Max and that if he was ready, she would send them to their room.

  The police waste no time in coming into the room once they are told Max is ready. After giving them the same explanation that he gave his mother, one of the cops writes some things down. “So you are saying that you were attacked by three people?”

  Giving a one-armed shrug, Max looks at the cop helplessly. “I don’t know for sure, but I think it was three people. For all I know, it could have just been two of them, but I think when the fire lit up the room, I saw that it was three, but I’m not sure.”

  Only glancing at Max, the cop continues to note down his statement. “And did you see what they attacked you with? The doctor said it looked like you have a brand on your chest and that the cuts on your face and shoulder were made with different weapons.”

  “I’m sorry, but it was dark. Like I said, I felt the burning pain in my chest, and as I was reacting to that, someone cut my shoulder. I don’t know what they burned or cut me with.” Max’s hand moves from his chest to his face as he speaks.

  “It felt more like a backhand or being hit with a book or something when they hit me in my face. It covered like most of the side of my face and didn’t feel like something sharp, like what cut my arm.”

  “The doctor even said it looks more like tears to the wound, that whatever was used wasn’t as sharp.” Max feints a confused yet thoughtful look, trying not to look too suspicious.

  “Had you seen any of these people before who attacked you?” The cop looks Max in the eyes. “We are aware that you went missing for several hours earlier this week.”

  Max sighs and droops his shoulders. “Like I keep saying, it was dark and I couldn’t really see anything. After the bright light and bang, it took a minute for my vision to come back, and by then the room was on fire, and I really wasn’t trying to see who attacked me but was trying to get out of there.”

  Damn, I knew that they were going to make that leap, but it still sucks. These two events are completely unrelated, but now they are going to look into them as if for some reason they are.

  These people will look like the perfect targets to blame for me vanishing, allowing them to close that case, and it will even give them reason to think that is why I killed them, not because they attacked me.

  Still, once they find out they aren’t human, they won’t really care that I killed them, but if they are still connecting the two events together, they might think something supernatural happened to me on Monday as well, and that isn’t something I want.

  The cop writes some more things down. “If you remember anything else, please give us a call. The fire chief will be looking into how the fire started, and once it is safe, we will recover the bodies and try to identify your attackers.” After finishing their prepared remarks, they turn and leave.

  Max’s mother calls her brother once again, and he meets them in one of the hallways before leading them through the hospital to where he parked. He drives them both home, and Max’s mother fills him in on everything that happened during the trip.

  Once they finally get home, Max heads to his room to rest while she tells the story again to her mother. Max lies on the mat on the floor and stares at the ceiling fan spinning around.

  I wonder how long it is going to take before they approach me and ask me what those things were. I doubt they will talk to me in front of my mom, so they will either wait for me to go back to school or find some reason to separate us. They definitely will want to keep a lid on this.

  Max grits his teeth in anger and clenches his fist.

  When I find those Eschaton bastards who did this, I am going to murder every last one of them. All they do is cause problems for me and everyone else.

  They tried to destroy a town to test out a monster that they were creating to mass murder people. They spread sickness and corruption across the land, killing plants, animals, and any people who do not flee from them. All in the worship of some god and his plan for a world remade.

  His anger overflows out of him, an almost palpable aura as the energy inside of him begins to surge uncontrollably; distracted by his thoughts, Max doesn't notice.

  He slams his fist on the ground beside him, venting his anger and frustration. The cement floor collapses beneath his fist with a large bang, and Max sits bolt upright, looking at the hole under the carpet.

  “What was that!?” Max’s mother shouts, and he can hear her coming toward his room.

  Acting quickly, Max moves over and sits on top of the small hole so that she doesn’t see it when she enters the room. “What was that? I heard it too. It sounded like a bang or someone slamming something.”

  His mom enters the room and looks at him sitting on the ground, and then around his room, trying to see what could have possibly made that sound. “It didn’t sound like it came from the neighbors; it sounded closer like it came from in here.”

  “I know, right? I was just lying here and sat bolt upright when I heard it. Do you think it was a gunshot?”

  Shaking her head, his mother heads to the window and looks out of the blinds to try to see if anything is going on outside. “I don’t think it was that, but maybe, whatever it was, it felt like it shook the entire building."

  Not finding anything, she shrugs and leaves the room, resuming the conversation with her mother. After making sure that she had left and wasn’t about to come back. Max moves over and feels the hole under the carpet.

  I did that.

  How did I do that?

  I was just so angry and then… qi. It must have been qi. I…

  Max closes his eyes tightly and focuses on the dantian in his lower abdomen.

  I was angry at Eschaton. Remember those feelings.

  Max thinks of all the things that they did to him and everyone else again and clenches his fist like before.

  There! There it is!

  Max’s eyes snap open as widely as they can, and he smiles.

  I can feel it, the energy flowing up through my stomach into my chest and then up into my head, from there it branches out and is heading down throughout my body and building up in my fists.

  Holy crap, I was able to shatter concrete with my bare hand.