He would like to say he had won the race, but sadly, he ran out of chi, and the fatigue finally caught up to him. They did at least make it back to the town before it turned dark; the people loved to spread rumors of ghosts living in the woods to scare people who visited. Of course, it was all lies; spirits didn't exist here, or at least he hadn't ever encountered them.
Gabe labeled him the "rotten egg"; as soon as they arrived, they didn't stay to talk, though, as they seemed to have something to do. He told them where he lived since Gabe wanted his weapons checked.
He couldn't care, though; his legs trembled as he tried to avoid falling to the ground. He carefully walked to a butcher's shop, setting the wolf down on the table.
The butcher checked the wolf's body, inspecting for damage and quality. He gave a simple nod and placed down two gold coins. He quickly picked up the wolf, and Charlotte picked up one of the gold coins.
"Wait, I want to buy at least enough meat for a week." The man kept walking to the back of the shop; Charlotte couldn't help but shake their head.
The man couldn't speak, so it was pretty hard to understand his intent. All Charlotte could hope for was for him to come back soon. He wanted to eat and pass out.
The man returned a few minutes later carrying a sack; he placed it down, picked up the coin, and stored it in his apron. Charlotte looked inside and saw the meat was a nice dark brown color; he gave him smoked meat, which would save him some trouble, especially on the cooking side.
He looked up at him and smiled; the butcher only gave a simple nod, heading to the back of his shop again.
"Thanks, butch; you take care of yourself, alright?" He didn't turn back, but Butch gave him a thumbs up.
He didn't have a name, or at least not one he could say, so everyone called him Butch.
Charlotte took off one of his gauntlets to grab a piece of meat and eat it as he walked back home; eating didn't do anything for his fatigue; instead, it worsened. By the time he got home, he barely had half a mind to store the sack of meat away before heading upstairs. He removed his chest plate and gauntlets and let them drop to the ground beside his bed before lying down and passing out.
He had a strange dream; he had become a sparrow and felt like he could go anywhere. Though once in a while, he saw eagles and even harpies. He felt jealous of how much faster and further they could fly as he pushed his body to try and keep up. He didn't see the end as he had rolled off the bed.
He had landed on his back, on top of the chest plate. He lies on the ground, trying to catch his breath after having it forced out of him.
The sun was peeking through his window, so he at least got a whole night's rest. Eventually, he pulled himself to his feet, picked up his armor, and headed downstairs to clean off the blood.
He first cleaned the blood off his arms and removed the bandages; by now, his wound was fully closed, leaving only a few scars on his biceps. It would be an excellent way to remember not to freeze up again.
As he cleaned his armor, he checked for any damage that might have occurred. That wasn't likely to happen, and even if it did, the armor would fix itself. After all, the gauntlets and chest plate were made using invigorated iron.
He could only recall how much of a pain in the ass it was even to make his armor; the metal had a few qualities that made working on it so tricky. The metal had something similar to memory; it would try to maintain its shape no matter what happened to it. If bent or broken, it would fix itself and try to return to its original shape. It could also heal; if the metal were sliced or broken apart, it would try and fix itself that way. He had struggled for days to get the metal to change shape into what it was now, and of course, even If it broke, it would fix itself. Not even decay was possible getting rid of it.
His father was tasked with creating a weapon with this metal, but bandits attacked their home... and he took the chance to hide the metal away and blame them for stealing it. The reason for his father leaving was most likely his fault, but his younger self was too stupid to realize that. He only wanted to keep the metal for his dad and try to recover their previous status.
He frowned slightly, looking at his reflection on the chest plate; now that the two were bonded, he could only hope he would get the ability to heal and fix his body quickly and make his body stronger. He would be challenging to keep down with the increased healing of chi and the bond.
He would put on the chest plate and grab a belt he used for blacksmithing as he hung the gauntlets to the side of the belt. He grabbed a few pieces of meat and walked out, eating as he went into the forest. He was heading to the lake again, and he needed somewhere to train and clean himself up.
He finished eating just as he could see the lake before him, as he sat down near the water and closed his eyes. He would focus his chi on his heart, making the storage bigger. It was slow for now. With time, though, he would get faster and better. He just had to keep going.
As soon as he ran out of ki, he hopped to his feet, turned to the closet tree, put on the gauntlets, and raised his hands. This week, he would alternate between making his storage bigger, and as soon as he was out of chi, he would focus on getting a handle on fighting with his hands. He had to make it as big as possible and become competent at fighting. He was unlikely to reach his second goal, but he had to try.
He struck the tree as hard as he could; it sent small shocks of pain through his entire arm, but he kept going. At first, he stood still, only focusing on throwing punches before incorporating his footwork and moving left and right around the tree and punching it. He noticed his blows weren't as strong as before, realizing he was only swinging with his arms instead of his whole body like before. He quickly changed how he was swinging.
As soon as he felt his chi fill up, he would stop and drink water from the lake before sitting back down and focusing his chi on his heart. His arms and hands ached a bit, and his legs were also starting to feel sore, but that wouldn't be enough to stop him.