It was orangish energy.
Orangish bubbles, almost as large as the smoke on which they rested in his body, appeared. He felt emanations in places, like little volcanoes – his cells. 'Internal energy!' Realized Rargnes.
He had never seen internal energy in his three-year detention. His master strictly obeyed the federation's rules. Never show energy or magic, in a way to escape or for money. Never trust an invaded other-worlder. The rule held despite his lord class. Despite the dispersion of ethnicities, the crazy believed in the internal cooperation of the earthlings.
For a moment, he forgot to think about controlling himself, hiding. His habit took over immediately, and he sat out of sight.
The energy bubbles fell, burst, and dispersed into smoke. With a concentrated air, eyes going from bottom to top, he tried to make them levitate again, without success. He tried to interact with them, barking at his brain: "Use them!"
The energy fog dissipated layer by layer – with a similarity that made him think of sand – and disappeared.
"But damn! No but! "He bit his lips to keep from smashing his fist into the ground." When will you obey me ?! We are in danger. In danger. Do you understand that ?! "
He calmed his nerves. He would never learn. God knows what he would do if his emotions were in control – the same ones that limited him on full control of his body, the same ones that dared to disturb him in his speeches with others.
If he had seemed just a little more honest, the others would have followed!
He returned at a fast pace and crossed the establishment's doors. He had to risk his life or he would be reduced to slavery, or worse. If he developed energy, if he showed overwhelming power over others, they would follow him – they would be forced to return to reason and not to their foolish emotions.
He walked along the buildings, listening carefully, lance tight in his hand. His heart – this traitor – beat so loudly that an enemy could have discovered him just by sound. No one. The central street was deserted. He diverted towards a dead-end alley, took a stone and crushed it on a ground floor window.
The sound of the broken glass seemed much louder than any bottle of alcohol he had smashed in rage. The glass was pierced in the middle. He smashed it with his elbow, crushing the edges. He grimaced in pain, continuing.
The glass had only a few pieces left. He hadn't heard any other movement. Panting, he crossed the window and jumped on the ground. He was in the kitchen. He searched from left to right with his eyes, meticulously inspecting every sound. He took a step, then another, lance in hand. He dropped his bag and deposited the knives from the house there. Taking up his lance again, he advanced on the opposite sides, so as to always see the most of the next room before entering it.
Nobody.
After searching the whole house, he didn't distinguish any signs of life. He had noticed cat kibbles in the house. Given the location, the cat was certainly domestic and not half wild. He wouldn't have been able to get out.
Something had made them disappear, humans and animals. Had he only seen insects? Rargnes thought and didn't remember. If they had been separated, did it concern only humans or everyone? And where was he? Was this really his world or an illusion?
His elbow hurt. He searched the house and bandaged the wounds he had found. He awkwardly applied the bandages – if his future version could, she would have to quickly find out how to heal effectively before the internet was cut off.
He left the bathroom where the first aid kit was and did the same to return to the kitchen.
No one had entered.
He dropped his lance, took off his backpack, and moved the washing machine to fill the hole in the window. At least he would be warned if someone came. He had light sleep, punctuated by awakenings. The slightest noise or light woke him up – what had been painful before the apocalypse now served him.
He lay down on the double bed, lance nearby.