2 Balam

Hector was dizzy and he was beginning to see blurred. His throat wound may not have killed him, but he was suffering from the effects of lack of blood. The cut on his neck was not really deep, but it was enough to reach the carotid artery, however, if the young man who originally owned this body had tried to stop the bleeding, he could have survived and not given his body to Hector. But according to observations of Hector, the original host of this body must have been pushed hard against the wall, which knocked him out, preventing him from doing anything to save his life. It was with a thought for this young man that Hector tore one of the sleeves of the shirt he was wearing to wrap it around his neck and make a compress.

He had decided not to speak again until his wound healed, the last time he tried to say a word to thank his old friends and the world he had arrived in, he started coughing blood and his throat bleeding only got bigger.

For the time being, he was not to move, he had above all: regain his strength; in view of the blood on the ground and on him, he had lost almost a liter of this fantastic red liquid. Knowing that to fully recover from a blood sample of only 400 milliliters, it takes a minimum of one month, he would probably need twice as much to fully recover from his injury. Bone marrow does not produce liters of blood per minute after all.

His first reflex after having finished protecting himself was to look up to the skies, he saw a heavenly vault of incredible splendor, devoid of clouds, whose stars shone almost twice as brightly as the one on Earth; the first rays of the sun of this world began to appear in the sky, leaving the soothing glow of the dawn comfort Hector in his solitude.

His second reflex was to listen to the surrounding ambient noises; he could not see anything from where he was. His body was leaning against a house on the edge of the forest, showing that the original host of his body had tried to escape from someone or something. The sounds that populated the village in which he was, were those of the embers still warm and the wind that crept between the walls of the house. He could also feel that something was wrong, the smell of fire, a fire that had gone out, but which, until a few hours ago, was ravaging the village with its burning bite.

An accident? No, it was too stupid to think of that, the original host had his throat cut. A deliberate attack on the village? Maybe.

Since he arrived, he hadn't seen anyone, showing Hector that the people who had done this had not done it in order to loot, as the groups of survivors in his home world could do. He had been helplessly present at several of these plunders and had learned over time that you can't rob an entire village in one or two hours, you need more time. Unless we know exactly what we're looking for and where to find it. If Hector started from the three principles he had learned in his short life, it would be like this:

— Plundering in search of something, for wealth, for survival, to steal an important object, a weapon, etc.

— A deliberate attack to convey a message, to warn, to show that they are threatening and that they have a strike force in order to put pressure on someone or something.

— Or: revenge, which was for Hector, the most human answer to his question.

However, he couldn't affirm anything yet, although he can theorize, he won't have any answers to his questions-

[In my opinion, young man, you think too much.]

Hector gave a little cry of surprise that made him cough. A masculine and frightening voice from nowhere and everywhere had resonated around him, or perhaps just in his head. He didn't know.

[Calm down, I'll explain everything, but stay calm, really. You'll bleed again if you don't calm down when your body had astonishingly succeeded in starting to heal. Which is surprising, but the host of this body doesn't seem completely human.] The voice paused for a short while before resuming, as if it was watching for Hector's reactions. [Just think and I'll answer you, it's as simple as that, don't bother using your tongue.]

[Like that?] asked Hector in thinking, after that he had listened to the words of the voice.

[That's it. It's as simple as that.] replied the being with a hoarse voice. [Sorry about my voice, but there's nothing I can do about it.]

[You're one of these demons Noah told me about when I was in trance?]

[Noah...? This old man is still alive? Anyway…] he continued with a thoughtful tone. [Yes, I am a demon, you've got some sense, kid.]

[Please, no: kid, between us. Hector, that's my first name. And you?]

[All right…] replied the demon. [Former angelic members of the Dominions, Fallen Angel, one of the great kings of hell: Balam.]