Chapter 8

The guy was leaning against one of the houses on the other side of the road. Luke was confident that he hadn't been there just a minute ago; that meant that he had only seen the tail end of his interaction with the thugs, so his blood stealing scheme was still a secret.

He broke into a smile, and the blonde soldier started to walk towards him, mirroring his expression. In the time that it took for the guy to reach him, all sorts of plans were considered and discarded in his head, and finally, he was left with just one.

'No other choice. Just talk normally, and let him come up with reasons to explain my actions if needed.'

As soon as he drew near, Luke hugged him. Only part of it was because he might be meeting a longtime friend. The other part was that he was genuinely grateful for the soldier's actions on the battlefield, and according to him, a hug was the purest form of platonic affection that a man could show for another man.

"His name is Mark, sir, and he has a certain soft corner for redheads…I noted down the way he was looking at the nurse who took over your care and classified it as something beyond mere interest because he looked at a different redhead nurse in the same manner," said Dain, making Luke feel that he would hug this companion in his head if he had a body and was standing in front of him right now.

Drawing back, he continued to hold Mark by his shoulders. "Taking you out for a drink is the least I can do, but I've got nothing," he said, grinning, deciding to lay everything out on the table instead of looking for more schemes.

Mark nodded as if he had expected that answer. "That's all right. I'll just add this to all the drinks you owe me already," he chuckled, and Luke's grin widened.

No one had dared call him an alcoholic to his face in his life back on Earth, but sometimes, he had had to grudgingly admit that he did hit the drink far more than he should, especially after a harrowing experience where he came close to death. Right now, a drunken haze sounded like the best thing in the world, so he motioned for Mark to lead the way.

"I came to visit you in the hospital, but you were gone. So you weren't that badly injured, after all?" He asked, starting to head back towards the central square.

"No, not really," Luke answered, deciding to keep his responses as short as possible until he knew more about this guy and their relationship.

"Not so talkative, huh? It was a pretty intense battle. The roaches are getting more and more desperate. I almost thought I lost you, there. I could swear that I checked your pulse at one point and felt nothing. You can't imagine my relief when I saw you wake up suddenly."

Luke remained silent, not knowing what to say. He had already deduced that the previous owner of this body was gone and had been operating on that assumption, and just now, he had had it confirmed.

He wondered what the last thoughts of the real Lucander might have been. Had the guy had regrets? Had he thought about his parents? Had his debts even crossed his mind? Or had he been too busy trying to stay alive, thereby not having any time to think before death pulled him under?

"Yes, it was close. Even I thought everything was over for me. But let's not talk about that now. What have you been up to?" He asked, shrugging away the morbid thoughts that he didn't want to have in his head.

"Me? Nothing much. I went and practiced my fireball attacks to nail down the feeling I had on the battlefield. The captain even found me and commended my efforts! He asked about you, and he was sad to hear that you got injured."

Luke only nodded in response. Mark's words had suddenly awakened the hunger in him to learn how to perform those mystical feats that he'd seen so far, but he couldn't even begin to sketch out a plan to make the guy talk about something that must be so basic.

Setting that as the mission for today, along with getting drunk enough to forget all the worries on his mind, he started to think about what he could do while the soldier walked in silence, probably lost in the memories he had just spoken of. There had been a glint in his eye when he talked of the captain, so Luke filed away that he idolized him, for some reason.

They were soon at the hospital, and from there, Mark walked onto the street which was filled with barracks on both sides, heading to the large reinforced gate of the city. Going to the first building on the left, he knocked once, then thrice in quick succession, and a shutter on the wooden door opened.

It closed and a second later, the door opened, letting out a cacophony of raucous laughter, drinks being put on the table and picked up, and the din that accompanied people who lived life on the edge and were now letting down the burdens on their minds.

Stepping inside after Mark, Luke blinked as he took in the large, open area that had been converted into a bar. Wooden tables and chairs filled most of it, and a makeshift bar counter had been set up on one side. It was nothing but a jumble of tables holding glasses that were being picked up by people as they walked past them. The bartender was a soldier, too, wearing a stained set of the grey uniform while struggling with the cork of a bottle with a cloudy liquid inside.

The air smelled of tobacco and sweat and sin. That last part was due to the scantily clad women serving drinks at a couple of tables, or sitting on the laps of a few soldiers whose faces they caressed while the men launched into spirited retellings of their battles.

Luke couldn't help appreciatively eyeing the plunging neckline of a curvy waitress who was wearing nothing but the corset inside those gowns he had seen the nurses dressed in and a pantyhose. He had to tear his eyes away from those lovely thighs while Mark tugged at his shirt, pointing at a table for two that had just gotten empty.

Luke followed, thoroughly enjoying the sights of all the beautiful women in the room. At the same time, he also noticed that none of them were uncomfortable or disgusted; no, they were enjoying the attention that was being lavished on them by the soldiers.

"You are different, today. So many women have thrown themselves at you these past few months, and you've always ignored them. Are you finally coming out of that spell of depression? If so, we need to celebrate! Charlotte, four drinks here, please!" He called, and a slim, busty woman nearby waved and nodded.

'Crap!'

His objective had been that he wouldn't arouse even the slightest bit of suspicion, but he'd just failed at that. Thankfully, the conclusion that Mark had come up with seemed to satisfy him as the guy was waiting for the drinks, eyeing him with a smile while averting his gaze only to look at a few of the women who were redheads.

'He really does have a type…'

Commending Dain's observational skills in his head, Luke smiled at Charlotte as she set down the drinks on the table. Her reaction made him wonder whether he shouldn't have, though.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell as if she was seeing one of those massive cockroaches, and the moment she was done with her task, she zoomed away to whisper into the ears of one of the women nearby.

"You've done it, now. They're all going to be talking about how you finally snapped out of it. Expect to be drowned by generous offers from brothels tomorrow."

Luke's first reaction after hearing Mark was, shamefully…joy.

'Yes! Brothels are legal here!'

He scolded himself right after, saying in his head that he should focus, but it was hard to listen to it while more and more of the women nearby started to turn to him with inviting smiles and barely concealed lust.

Do they have a thing for soldiers who were recently depressed, or something?

"You must have heard the story a million times. Guy loses his family. Guy mourns, losing all interest in the other sex. As soon as he snaps out of it, he goes to brothel after brothel and racks up enough debt to crush him into oblivion. Word of advice: go jerk off if you feel the impulse to enter this destructive path."

Gulping, Luke took his eyes off the women the moment the reason behind all that interest became clear.

Okay, enough of thinking with your dick. Now…how do I learn about magic?

Surprisingly, the answer came to him when he just took a moment to scan the other tables. On one of them, a bearded old man was bouncing a droplet of fire between the tips of his fingers. He had to look twice to make sure that that was what he was seeing, but after staring at the guy's actions for a while, Luke knew exactly how he was going to find out the key to using magic.

Picking up the chipped glass in front of him, he downed the cloudy contents in one go. They were bitter and hard to swallow, but the heat that flared from his stomach right after was worth the trouble.

Wiping his mouth, he pointed at that table and said, "Let's play."

Mark glanced in the direction he was pointing. "Really? Come on. You must think I'm dumb or something. We both know you're the better soldier. You've already beaten me at fire juggling enough for a lifetime."

Luke grimaced. If Mark had replied in the opposite manner, things might have been easier, but he still had a backup plan that he hoped would work.

"Hey, don't say that. You really improved on the battlefield! Maybe you'll be better, now. I'll even help. As you go through the motions, speak out everything you are doing and I'll correct you if there is any area you can improve. How does that sound?"

'Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.'

Mark frowned, holding a glass in his hand. He had already drank from it, and after a few seconds, he downed the rest and slammed it down on the table.

"Alright. Let's do it."

'Yes!'

Putting his hand in his pocket, Mark took out a tiny piece of metal that looked sharp on one side. Placing it carefully inside the nail of his right thumb, he raised the index finger of his left hand so that it was front of his eyes.

Using the thumb equipped with the metal piece to split the skin on that finger, he squinted as a droplet of blood oozed out.

"First, I make a clean cut and let the largest drop possible form on top of my finger. Then, I feel the connection with the blood which is a part of me."

Luke's heart thundered in his chest as he stared with wide-open eyes. Finally, finally he was going to find out how he could use this incredible power he was practically lusting for. He couldn't even explain why that was so, but just the thought of being able to do what he'd seen Mark and that lord demonstrate was…exhilarating.

Carefully, Mark transferred the droplet of blood to the tip of the index finger of his other hand.

"Using that connection, I impose my will. Through my will, I think of fire and everything it represents, and as I fix the image of my blood transforming into flame…"

A wisp of fire appeared where the droplet had been, and Luke felt like jumping up from his chair, running to his house, and trying out what he had just seen.

"With my will, I can will the flame to move by moving it in my mind, as it is still connected to me. So…"

Veins on Mark's head popped out as he concentrated on the droplet of fire that hovered above his fingertip. Suddenly, he jerked his head, and the droplet jumped onto the next finger.

A smile broke on his face and he opened his mouth. Before a word could leave him, though, a woman's shout reached Luke's ears from somewhere nearby, and the moment he heard it, his mouth went dry.

"Get your hands off me! I've let this crap go on for long enough! If this were New York, my dad would have the cops down on you faster than you can say 'Jack Robinson'!"