Echoes of a Lost World

chapter 08

The group stood frozen for a few seconds, still processing the sight of the figure before them. Then, James, using his super vision, broke the silence:

"1.6 meters tall, slender build, wearing strange clothes... a massive bow... and spotless hands, no scars, no signs of struggle from this post-apocalyptic world."

It was clear to all of them—this city belonged to him. The strange trees, the eerie branches—they must have been his doing. None of them had ever encountered anything like this before. Could it be his power? That question hung in their minds, and what happened next only deepened their sense of mystery.

As Lucas adjusted the captain on his back, the mysterious figure moved his hand. In an instant, branches extended and gently took the captain, laying him down ten meters away. The person began walking toward them, stopping just four meters away.

It was like he was assessing the situation, deciding whether to come closer or not. We were ready to fight if needed, tense but alert. Yet, there was nothing in his actions that seemed hostile.

As he approached, we got a better look at him. He seemed delicate, almost unreal—long lashes framing strikingly large emerald eyes. He wore a mask, so only his eyes were visible, but what stood out most was his cleanliness. He was spotless, like someone who hadn't been touched by the harshness of this world. It was unnerving, almost like seeing a ghost from the past—a fragile beauty that reminded us of pampered playboys, the kind the leaders of some safe zones kept for entertainment.

"Hello," James called out, attempting to break the silence.

The stranger didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on the captain's wound.

"He's just wounded from an accident. He won't turn into a zombie," Sophia quickly explained, her voice edged with fear, as if trying to prevent any misunderstanding. But the stranger didn't react aggressively. Instead, he moved closer, his eyes still focused on the injured man.

He kept staring at the captain, his gaze intense and unmoving for what felt like an eternity but it was actually five minutes, maybe more. None of us dared to speak.

 We waited, uncertain and tense, especially since the trees around us had seemed ready to strike at any moment earlier.

Then, without a word, he touched the captain's hand. What happened next left us all speechless.

The wound gaping and severe began to heal before our very eyes. Flesh knitted together at an impossible speed, the captain's skin repairing itself as if time had rewound. We stood frozen, watching in stunned silence.

"Healing power..." It was the only thought that made sense.

Four years into the apocalypse, and never once had we seen anything like this. 

We didn't even believe such a power existed. But here it was, unfolding right in front of us. The captain's wound closed up completely, and his once-pale, lifeless face began to regain color. His shallow breaths grew deeper, steadier.

"A miracle," someone whispered, though I'm not sure who. But it didn't matter, because we were all thinking the same thing. It was miraculous. And as awe gave way to thoughts of all the comrades we had lost over the years, we couldn't help but wonder—if this power had existed sooner, how many of them could still be alive?

But thinking that and knowing the brutal truth were two entirely different things.

When he finished healing the captain, the stranger turned around and vanished. Yes, literally disappeared. The trees moved in such a way that we couldn't trace his direction or even glimpse where he had gone. We didn't get the chance to thank him, to say anything. He was just...gone, as quickly as he had appeared.