The Hoplite warrior was thrown backward violently. How does it feel to be hit by your own attack?
Priam had absorbed part of the shock that threw him towards the tree. The tree was less than a hundred ters from Log-a-rhythm, so he had been able to activate the secret passage. The hoplite had not noticed anything, the entrance almost invisible to anyone but Priam. The young man had then crawled away from the tree so the warrior could place himself between him and the portal. He then had to physically touch the hunter to return part of his blow and propel him backward. The hunter had beco prey, and the prey, hunter.
As the hoplite was transported through the portal into Log-a-rhythm, Priam's smile faded, and he ntally closed the passage. He had won, but at what cost? It was useless if he didn't survive until midnight, and his injuries were severe... His left arm was torn off, his feet had open wounds from running, his ribs were certainly cracked, and his organs were traumatized. He was in bad shape.
Priam took a breath as all traces of the battle were already beginning to disappear. The forest near his base was incredibly active, lively, and vigorous. The grass had already absorbed the blood that had been spilled. The presence of Log-a-rhythm was transforming the surroundings. It might co in handy in the future... Any good apocalypse survivor should have a garden!
Priam stood up and walked towards the previously discarded hoplite spear. It was undoubtedly a valuable item. Cutting-edge hoplite technology. Priam began laughing at his joke before pain called him to order. Once he had retrieved the spear - it weighed a ton - he headed for his shelter. He was in no condition to fight or flee again and wanted safety.
As he ca to the majestic tree that served as his secret base, Priam touched it. The tree ntally communicated to him the image of the hoplite warrior trying to flee by hitting the inner walls of the tree. Protection II was proving its worth. Not only was the outside of the tree impossibly strong, but the inside was a space controlled by Priam. The champion could have been ten tis stronger, but he still wouldn't have had a chance to escape or damage the inside of Log-a-rhythm.
Priam ntally commanded the tree to separate the two levels. The warrior was now locked in the lower level. With another thought, the lights of the prison flickered and then faded. Finally, Priam decided to reduce the prison space to a cube of two ters on each side.
Honestly, he wasn't sure what to do about the warrior. It was impossible to release him, impossible to keep him prisoner indefinitely, and difficult to simply let him starve to death. This new world was unforgiving, but Priam didn't want to needlessly torture a warrior and let him wither away. Killing a warrior in battle was self-defense. Killing a prisoner with feelings and emotions was a war cri. The hoplite could have tortured him, but he had 'just' chased him to kill him. In this fierce new world, that was unfortunately the way to go. Any act of charity or kindness could backfire. Priam understood this logic but could not bring himself to embrace it. The only way to change that was to get to the top.
Priam had two selfish reasons to keep him alive. The first was that the hoplite warrior was the only one who could provide him with answers. They couldn't communicate yet, but if Priam was willing to sacrifice so of his potential, he could learn the Hoplite language. The second reason was that the hoplite was an outstanding warrior. If Priam fought him, he would improve much faster.
"I'll think about him later. Right now, I'm not even sure I'll be alive until tonight."
Entering his shelter, Priam asked Log-a-rhythm to apply a tourniquet to his left arm. A branch sprouted from the previously smooth wall to stop the bleeding. Rather than clasping the arm, the end of the branch opened up, and resin closed his wounds. The stump would not have ti to heal, but the resin would prevent the blood from escaping. There wasn't enough of a stump left for the tourniquet to compress. The tree showed a certain level of intelligence and adaptability.
The tree ntally sent him a positive response. It did not seem to be able to speak with words but could communicate with images or concepts. The communication was rudintary because it was a simple algorithm that governed its base. It could change in the future.
With a hint from Log-a-rhythm, Priam lay down in a pool that opened up in the ground. Vitality-pulsing sap began to appear, and soon Priam's body was covered. The fluid was a tonic, a concoction designed to heal him - or at least keep him alive - and a painkiller.
Priam closed his eyes as the pain returned.
"Now I have to survive until midnight."
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