My hospital routine that month was monotonous, but essential to better understand the extent of my abilities and to keep up appearances. Every morning, I made what the doctors called "miraculous progress."
Of course, they didn't say this to me directly, but I overheard a conversation between two nurses in the hallway. They were astonished by my recovery, commenting that the condition of my burns was much better than expected.
I knew I had to be careful.
During the bandage changes, I deliberately left some areas without using my energy to speed up the healing. As a result, my skin still had marks and wounds that justified my time in the hospital. At the same time, I was constantly experimenting and circulating the energy through my body in small daily sessions.
I discovered that it wasn't just healing; the energy seemed to strengthen my resilience. My fatigue was less, and on the days I used it more, my body seemed to even feel firmer.
Visits from the children were always the highlight of the week. The first time Renato came into the room, he could barely hold back his tears. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, his eyes wide and fixed on me, until he ran over and grabbed my hand.
"Atlas! I told you you were the strongest of them all!" He tried to smile, but his choked voice betrayed the lump in his throat.
I laughed to lighten the mood, even though my chest tightened at how worried he was.
"I'm fine, Renato. Better than it looks." I said in the most cheerful voice I could, although it was strange to see a nine-year-old boy worry so much about me.
Renato insisted on telling me how well Tobi was doing. He wanted to bring the dog to the hospital, but of course, he was stopped. The boy couldn't seem to stop talking about how Tobi barked every time someone walked past the orphanage gate, "guarding the place" like the good dog he was.
The other children also came in small groups, always accompanied by Freira Maria or Lívia.
Despite the human warmth he brought me, I noticed that his visits were becoming shorter and shorter. It wasn't hard to understand why; the hospital environment, combined with my physical condition, made some of them uncomfortable.
They're afraid of me, of my burned skin. It's true, I can't blame them for that, after all I look like a certain famous anti-hero who likes to break the fourth wall.
Renato, however, was a constant. Every week he shows up, always with some news about the orphanage or some curious question.
"Atlas, how did you manage to survive the fire?" He asked one day, his eyes shining with curiosity. "Nun Maria said it was a miracle. Did you see angels?"
The question took me by surprise, and for a moment, I hesitated. I didn't even know exactly what happened there, maybe I saw the angels or gods just like in the novels, the probability of that happening is high because they usually erase the protagonists' memories afterwards.
Isn't that right, reader??
And I can't tell you about the monster or the strange sphere, but if I tell them maybe they'll believe me?
Sure.
"Maybe... maybe it was something like that." I answered, smiling evasively. "But you know, Renato, sometimes we're stronger than we think, maybe one day you'll use your super strength too." I said.
He nodded with a smile and his eyes shining with satisfaction at my answer, before starting to tell a new story about how Tobi had chased a cat to the roof.
"Tobi... you don't know what Topi did today! Look... he and I were there in the square, you know? He was quiet, smelling the flowers, and then... a cat appeared! But it wasn't just any cat, it was a cat... I don't know, with an angry face.
Then Topi, who was normal, went crazy! He started running after the cat as if it were a race! The cat ran, Topi ran, and I just kept shouting: 'Topi, stop! Stop, Topi!' But he didn't even hear me! I think he thought he was a superhero!
Then the cat, out of nowhere, jumped and climbed a wall! Like... pluf! And Topi... Topi stood still in front of the wall, looking up, all confused! He didn't even know what to do anymore! I think he thought: 'How did that animal fly?'
And the funniest thing, do you know what happened? The cat started meowing at him, like... 'Haha, you can't catch me, silly!' And Topi just lay down on the floor, tired. I think he thought: 'Ah, I give up!'
Then, when we got back home, he didn't even look at my face. I think he was embarrassed!"
Everyone started laughing and Renato just stood there, smiling, with his cheeks red with emotion.
My days continued like this, visits, treatment, training and sleeping.
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During that month, I continued to reflect on my ability. The energy flowing through my body was something I had only seen in games or read about in books. No matter how hard I tried to replicate the effects I imagined.
Like throwing lightning bolts or creating explosions.
The sensation seemed more internal. It was as if I was learning to "feel" my body in a completely new way. The more I circulated the energy, the clearer its path became. If before it was just a vague and instinctive sensation, now I could almost "see" the path it followed inside me.
I decided that I needed to test my limits. I started focusing on small goals, like trying to concentrate all the energy in a single part of my body, my hand, for example.
At first, it was difficult.
The energy seemed scattered, and keeping it static in a single point left me exhausted. But with daily practice, I began to notice changes. When I concentrated the energy in my hand, I felt the heat increase there, and my skin seemed more resistant.
As incredible as it was, each step forward was accompanied by a mixture of excitement and concern. If someone found out what I was doing, how would I explain it? Besides, my progress in healing my burns was too fast. Despite my attempts to hide it, it was getting harder and harder to hide it.
At the end of that month, during a bandage change, the nurse who was attending to me stopped, staring at my skin.
"Hmm... Your recovery is going pretty fast, huh?" she commented, more to herself than to me.
"That's good, isn't it?" I tried to sound casual, even though my heart was racing.
"Yes, it is..." she replied, still frowning. "But it's still curious. Most people take months to reach this level of healing."
I swallowed hard, but she didn't comment further. Still, the incident was a wake-up call. I needed to be even more cautious.
At the end of the month, the doctor finally gave me the news I had been waiting for: I could start physical therapy sessions to strengthen my body and, perhaps, return home soon. I was genuinely happy, but I also realized that this was a new challenge. If I was already being closely monitored by the nurses, how could I explain my rapid physical progress during the exercises?
I decided to deal with it the same way I had been dealing with the cure: by moderation. During the first sessions, I made a point of showing effort, even though my body was far beyond what was expected for someone in my condition. I followed the physical therapist's instructions to the letter, but I avoided using my energy directly to speed up the results.
However, even with my control, the results were undeniable. Within two weeks, I was walking with little difficulty and could already use my arms normally. The doctors were impressed and attributed my recovery to "willpower" and "resilience." I just smiled and waved, hiding the truth.
One day, Renato showed up again. This time, he brought something unexpected: a book. It was an old volume, with a worn cover, but the letters were still legible. The title read: "Legends of Heroes and Monsters."
"I brought this for you, Atlas!" he said excitedly.
"There are some incredible stories in here, and I thought you would like them."
I thanked the little boy, taking the book and promising to read it. That night, as the silence of the hospital took over, I began to leaf through it. The stories were fascinating, but one of them caught my attention. It spoke of warriors who channeled life energy to defeat enemies and heal wounds. It was almost as if I was reading about my own ability.
The coincidence made me uneasy. Had there been a global awakening, because I'm sure I wasn't the only one to gain power, right? And if there were, would they be a threat?
I need to prepare myself.
I need to become stronger.
I need to understand this power.
More importantly, what did that sphere that appeared after defeating the monster mean?
A core, a core of a monster.
It's likely.
In novels, these are usually used for many things, from making weapons, equipment, generating energy, and maybe medicine?
But in some others, they are used to improve power with the awakening by absorbing the core.
It's frustrating, I'm stuck here and I can't get out.
Being discharged from the hospital was a relief, but walking out the doors of that place left me more restless than I expected. The night air was fresh, laden with a faint scent of rain, and the sky was dotted with stars, but I felt like a stranger in my own body. The bandages covered almost my entire face and body, leaving only my eyes visible. My footsteps echoed along the deserted sidewalks as I walked, looking like a lonely mummy wandering the city.
The streets were silent, except for the occasional sound of cars in the distance. I was in no hurry. After almost two months of lying down, every movement felt like a small victory. The night chill hit me even through the layers of gauze, but the sensation was welcome. It was something real, tangible, very different from the white walls and antiseptic smell of the hospital.
Halfway there, I found myself thinking about the core of the monster, that mysterious object I had left at the orphanage. What was it really? Condensed energy? Some kind of catalyst? What if it was dangerous? The idea bothered me, but at the same time, a part of me was eager to know what I could find out. That sphere could be the key to understanding what was happening to me, or maybe even the world. I needed to get it back. But not now. Today, I just wanted to sleep in my own bed.
When I finally turned the corner of my street, a sense of relief flooded me. Seeing that old building was comforting, almost as if it had been waiting for me. The outside lights were off, and the only light came from the rusty streetlights lining the street. I walked up the steps to the front door, took the key from my pocket, and stuck it in the lock.
Or, at least, I tried.
The key wouldn't turn. I tried again, forcing it a little harder, but nothing happened. A shiver ran down my spine. I pulled out the key, looked at it, and tried again, as if it were my own clumsiness to blame. After a few minutes of struggling with the lock, reality began to set in. The door had been replaced.
The lock was new.
What the hell was going on?
I stood there for a moment, staring at the door as if it would give me an answer. Then I remembered. Two months. I'd been gone for almost two months. And of course, who pays rent when they're in a coma in the hospital? No one. Apparently, the landlord hadn't waited to see if I'd come back.
Suddenly, the image of my things flashed through my mind. My old laptop, the clothes I had managed to collect over the years, and even the uncomfortable mattress that, at that moment, seemed like an unattainable luxury. Where were all my things now? Thrown out on the street? Sold? I might never know.
I sighed deeply, trying to process the situation. The idea of sleeping on the streets wasn't exactly appealing, but I didn't have many options either. The orphanage? No, I couldn't show up there in this sorry state. Besides, I didn't want to worry Nun Maria or the children any more than they already had.
I looked around, trying to find some solution. The alley next to the building seemed… acceptable. At least it would be a place to rest and think about what to do next. With slow, heavy steps, I walked over there and sat down on the cold ground, leaning against the brick wall.
"Well, Atlas, congratulations. It wasn't enough to survive a fire monster and come out of the hospital looking like a mummy. Now you're officially homeless too."
The sarcastic tone of my voice echoed in the empty alley, but it didn't bring me the relief I'd hoped for. I was exhausted, but sleep seemed impossible. My mind kept racing in circles. First, the bandages. Then, the core. Now, the loss of my apartment. It was as if the universe was determined to test how resilient I really was.
Over time, fatigue began to take its toll, and my eyes grew heavy. I closed them, trying to forget where I was and what I'd lost. Tomorrow, I'd figure it out. Tomorrow, I'd figure out where my stuff had gone. Tomorrow, I'd decide what to do with my life.
But for now, I just needed some peace. Just a few hours of sleep before I faced the next disaster.