The Fugitive's Touch

CHAPTER 3 : THE OLD MAN WHO BROUGHT THE SYSTEM

CHAPTER 3 : THE OLD MAN WHO BROUGHT THE SYSTEM

The night in the infirmary cell felt colder than usual. Silent. Only the occasional footsteps of the guards echoed from the hallway outside. Rey lay motionless, his body shackled to the bed. His eyes were half-open, but his gaze was empty. He was in a state between consciousness and a dream, caught between reality and illusion.

His mind drifted. Sometimes, he saw glimpses of his family. Sometimes, he heard their faint voices. But it was nothing more than an illusion, a product of his deteriorating sanity.

Then, something strange happened.

A soft voice whispered nearby.

"Wake up, young man."

Rey blinked slowly, but his body was too weak to move. He thought it was just a voice in his head until he suddenly felt the presence of someone beside him.

He opened his eyes a little wider.

Under the dim light of the infirmary cell, an old man stood next to his bed. His clothes were all white, his hair and beard were long, and his face was lined with wrinkles. But his eyes… they were sharp, as if piercing into Rey’s very soul.

Rey tried to speak, but his throat was dry. The only sound that escaped was a hoarse whisper, barely audible.

The old man smiled faintly.

"You don’t need to say anything," he said softly. "You just need to accept this."

Before Rey could comprehend his words, the old man parted his lips and blew something toward Rey’s forehead.

A golden light flowed from his mouth, streaking swiftly through the air before softly colliding with Rey’s forehead.

In an instant, Rey felt something seep into his mind. Heat. Pain. As if something was flowing through him, reshaping him from the inside out.

He gasped, his eyes widening. His body tensed, yet strangely, he couldn’t move. It was like being trapped in a nightmare while fully aware.

Then, something even stranger happened.

The shackles on his wrists and ankles fell away on their own.

Rey moved his hands, touching his freed wrists. He had no idea how this was possible.

He lifted his head, staring at the old man in shock.

"Don’t scream or panic," the old man said calmly. "I’m not a ghost."

Rey remained frozen, his breath quick and shallow.

"Who… are you?" he finally asked, his voice weak and raspy.

The old man gazed at him with a meaningful look before replying, "Someone who wants to help you."

Rey didn’t know how to react. How had this man entered the cell without being detected? And how had his shackles been removed so effortlessly?

"You’ve lost everything," the old man continued. "But you still have one thing left to fight for— the truth."

The truth?

Rey stared at him without blinking.

"You can’t go on like this," the old man said. "If you want to uncover who destroyed your family, you must rise. I can help you."

Rey frowned. "How?"

"You must train," the old man answered. "You must become stronger."

Rey let out a bitter chuckle. "I’m not a fighter. I’ve never even been in a fight before."

"That’s why I’m here," the old man said with a faint smile. "I will train you."

Rey hesitated. "Here? In this infirmary cell?"

The old man nodded. "Yes. But you must keep pretending to be sick and insane. That way, they won’t transfer you back to the general cell. You’ll have enough time to learn."

Rey fell silent. His thoughts were still a mess, but strangely, the old man’s words made sense.

Then, he recalled something.

The golden light that had entered his body.

"What did you do to me?" he asked quietly.

The old man smiled as if expecting the question. "Just a little push to help you grasp what I’m about to teach you more quickly."

Rey didn’t understand, but for now, he didn’t want to ask more.

He just wanted to try.

—-

Time passed quickly.

Over the next month, Rey trained under the guidance of the mysterious old man.

Every night, after the medical staff left and the room fell silent, their training began.

The old man taught him the basics of combat— how to defend, how to attack, how to read an opponent’s movements.

At first, Rey struggled. His body was still weak, his mind still clouded. But over time, he adapted. His muscles strengthened, his movements became swifter.

What was even stranger was that every time he fought, he felt something different within himself.

As if his body moved on its own, instinctively understanding techniques he hadn’t even been taught yet.

And he knew… it had to be because of the light that had been blown into his forehead.

In just one month, he had changed.

He was no longer the weak young man who could only endure beatings.

He had become someone else.

Someone ready for revenge.

—-

Rey’s training over the past month had not only transformed his physique but also something deeper— his abilities.

Every night, as he trained with the old man, he began to notice something strange about himself.

His movements became faster, his reflexes sharper. But the most astonishing change was in his fingers.

The first time the old man instructed him to attack, Rey instinctively reached out and touched the old man’s shoulder.

What happened next left him stunned.

The old man was instantly pushed back as if an invisible force had struck him. Yet, Rey had only brushed against him.

"Interesting…" the old man murmured, a faint smile on his lips.

Rey stared at his own hand, confused. "What just happened?"

The old man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer and extended his hand, motioning for Rey to try again.

Hesitantly, Rey stretched out his index finger and touched the old man’s wrist.

The old man’s arm immediately went numb. For a moment, he couldn’t move his fingers.

Rey’s eyes widened. "I… paralyzed you?"

The old man chuckled softly. "It seems so."

From that moment on, they began experimenting with Rey’s strange power.

Each time Rey touched something, he could sense a different energy flow. If he focused, he could control the effect of his touch— whether to momentarily paralyze his opponent or push them away with an unseen force.

But there was something even more shocking.

One night, when the old man instructed him to train with a piece of wood, Rey accidentally held onto it longer than he should have.

And suddenly, something from the wood transferred into him.

A vague vision flashed in his mind, as if he could feel how the wood had grown, how it had been cut, even how it had been carved into the object before him.

Rey immediately let go, his breathing ragged.

The old man watched him intently. "You felt something, didn’t you?"

Rey swallowed hard. "I could… see this object’s past."

The old man nodded slightly. "It’s not just an object. If you touch a human long enough, you might sense even more… their thoughts, their memories… or even take something from them. And there’s one more crucial thing, but I’ll let you discover it yourself in time."

Rey remained silent.

Suddenly, his ability felt far more terrifying than he had imagined.

But the old man only smiled. "Control your power, young man. Don’t let your power control you."

Rey nodded slowly.

From that night on, his training wasn’t just about fighting— it was about mastering the deadly touch of his fingers.

Fingers that could paralyze.

Fingers that could read memories.

Fingers that could become the most dangerous weapon he had ever possessed.

In just one month, Rey hadn’t just become a formidable fighter— he had become someone capable of taking down his enemies with a single touch.

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