AWAKENED IN ANOTHER WORLD AS AN HIGH ELF

Chapter 2: The Last Heist

Ethan froze as the museum disappeared into complete darkness. For a moment, he could hear nothing except his own breathing, and the sudden silence felt almost unnatural after the hum of the building's electrical systems.

Suddenly, the artifact pulsed in his hands. A faint vibration traveled through his gloves and into his fingers, making Ethan instinctively tighten his grip. Before he could figure out what he was feeling, the artifact pulsed again, and this time the vibration was stronger, deepening into a low hum that seemed to come from somewhere beneath the floor.

Ethan stared down at it, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. “What the hell...?”

He barely finished the words before the temperature of the artifact changed. It suddenly became hot against his gloves, so hot that Ethan nearly dropped it. He pulled his hands back instinctively, but before he could let go, a brilliant white light erupted from the object's surface and flooded the entire room.

Every alarm in the museum activated at once.

Sirens screamed through the building as red emergency lights began flashing overhead, bathing the walls and display cases in an eerie crimson glow. Somewhere in the distance, heavy security shutters began slamming down one after another, sealing entrances and blocking off entire sections of the museum.

Ethan stood motionless, staring at the artifact.

For one brief, impossible second, the light coming from its surface changed, and he saw something inside it.

He saw countless stars scattered across an endless black sky, followed by enormous shapes moving silently between them. They were too distant to make out clearly, yet their sheer size made Ethan's stomach tighten. One of the shapes seemed to turn, and for an instant, he had the terrifying feeling that something on the other side of the artifact was looking directly at him.

Then the vision vanished.

The white light disappeared, and the artifact immediately became cold again.

Ethan stood there for another second, trying to process what he had just seen, before forcing himself to focus. Whatever the object was, staying there to figure it out was no longer an option.

“Okay,” he muttered, breathing hard as he secured the artifact inside its protective case. “Time to go.”

He had barely closed the case when the museum erupted into chaos.

Heavy footsteps thundered through the restricted wing as security personnel rushed toward the room. Ethan slung the case over his shoulder and ran through the doorway just as the first group of armed guards appeared at the far end of the corridor.

“STOP!”

The command echoed through the hallway, but Ethan did not slow down.

The guards raised their weapons, and gunfire erupted a second later. Bullets slammed into the marble walls around him, sending chips of stone flying through the air. 

Ethan threw himself behind a large stone display, pressing his back against it as another burst of gunfire tore through the corridor.

The guards advanced cautiously, shouting commands as they tried to pin him down, but their shooting eventually stopped when they needed to reload.

That was all the opening Ethan needed.

He pushed away from the display, grabbed a nearby glass case, and kicked it hard enough to send it sliding across the polished floor. The case crashed into the path of the guards and shattered, scattering glass across the corridor and forcing several of them to recoil.

Ethan sprinted through the opening before they could recover.

One of the guards reacted quickly enough to intercept him and reached out, catching Ethan by the arm. Ethan immediately twisted with the man's grip instead of fighting against it, using the guard's own momentum to turn him around. His wrist bent sharply, and the man cried out as Ethan drove an elbow into his chest, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

Another guard raised his weapon.

Ethan's hand moved almost without thought. He pulled a thin metal tool from his pocket and threw it with a quick snap of his wrist. The tool struck the guard directly on the wrist, breaking the man's grip, and the weapon clattered across the floor.

Ethan did not wait to see what happened next. He turned and ran, but the sound of more footsteps immediately reached his ears. More guards were coming, and he knew they were too much for him to handle.

Rounding the corner, he found a staircase ahead of him. Behind him, the security team was already closing in, their boots pounding against the floor as they shouted to one another.

Ethan glanced down the stairs, then back at the approaching guards. Then he made his decision.

Instead of taking the staircase, he grabbed the railing and vaulted over it. His body dropped into the open space above the lower floor, and for a brief moment there was nothing beneath him. He landed hard several meters below, absorbed the impact with a rough roll, and came back onto his feet without stopping.

The sirens continued screaming throughout the museum as red emergency lights flashed across the walls and polished floors. With every step, he could feel the protective case bouncing against his back.

Ethan reached the main entrance and grabbed the doors, but they did not move. Realizing they were locked, he pulled his bypass device from his bag and connected it to the security panel, then he began working quickly. But the system refused to respond, which meant the museum had gone into full lockdown.

“Of course,” Ethan muttered as he pulled the device free.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor behind him, getting closer with every second. Ethan did not bother looking back. Instead, he glanced at the locked doors, then slowly looked up at the enormous glass ceiling above the entrance.

An idea suddenly came to him, and a small smile appeared on his face.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” Ethan muttered before turning and running toward the large sculpture beneath the balcony.

He reached the sculpture and quickly climbed onto its base, using it to gain enough height to grab the edge of the balcony above him. He pulled himself up and immediately ran across the balcony as the guards rushed closer behind him. When he reached the other side, he barely slowed down before jumping toward the metal frame supporting the glass ceiling.

His hands caught the frame, but the force of the jump made his body swing over the open space below. For a moment, Ethan almost lost his grip, and the weight of the protective case hanging from his shoulder made it even harder to hold on.

He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip before pulling himself closer to the frame. Then he reached for the next metal beam and grabbed it, followed by another, slowly climbing toward the roof while the guards shouted below.

Ethan kept moving without looking down. All he needed was to reach the ceiling before they could stop him.

A gunshot suddenly cracked through the museum.

The bullet struck the glass only inches from Ethan's hand, and the panel exploded into a shower of fragments. Cold rain immediately poured through the opening, soaking Ethan's hair and jacket as he looked up and saw the dark night sky beyond the shattered ceiling.

He did not waste another second.

Using the opening as his escape route, Ethan pulled himself higher, found another section of the metal frame, and climbed through the broken glass until he finally dragged himself onto the roof. He rolled onto the wet surface and pushed himself upright, breathing heavily as the rain continued to fall around him.

The moment he rose to his feet, his heart skipped a beat. The sight waiting for him on the other side of the roof made him forget the cold.

Police lights surrounded the museum.

Dozens of officers had already taken positions around the building, while armored vehicles blocked the nearby streets. Several officers were pointing weapons toward the rooftop, and Ethan could see snipers positioned on surrounding buildings.

Above them, helicopters circled through the rain, their searchlights cutting across the darkness.

Ethan stared at the scene in disbelief. “That’s excessive,” he muttered, unable to believe what he was seeing.

As if responding to him, one of the helicopter spotlights swept across the rooftop.

Ethan ducked instinctively and sprinted toward the far edge of the roof, where a narrow maintenance bridge connected the museum to the neighboring building. The bridge was barely wide enough for one person, and the metal surface was already slick with rain, but Ethan did not hesitate. He stepped onto it and kept moving.

Gunfire followed almost immediately.

One bullet struck the railing beside him, sending a sharp metallic clang through the night. Another tore through the sleeve of his jacket, grazing his arm without stopping him.

Ethan reached the other side and jumped onto the neighboring roof. One rooftop became another, then another, as he crossed the buildings with the police still closing in behind him.

Sirens echoed through the streets below, while the helicopters continued searching overhead, but the growing distance between the buildings and the maze of rooftops finally gave Ethan the advantage he needed.

Ahead, he spotted the abandoned office building he had been using as his escape point.

He crossed the final roof, pushed through a maintenance door, and raced down the dark stairwell two steps at a time. His shoes hammered against the concrete as he descended toward the parking structure below.

When he finally reached the ground floor, he burst through the exit and saw his motorcycle waiting exactly where he had left it.

Ethan ran straight toward it, threw one leg over the seat, and started the engine, bringing the motorcycle to life. He glanced once over his shoulder at the distant glow of the museum, where police lights continued flashing against the rain-filled night.

A smile formed on his lips as he twisted the throttle. The motorcycle shot forward, and within seconds, he disappeared into the darkness.

The police pursuit began only seconds later, and for the next fifteen minutes, Ethan pushed his motorcycle through the city at a speed that would have terrified anyone else.

He cut across busy intersections whenever the traffic gave him an opening, slipped through narrow alleys, rode briefly onto sidewalks when the streets became too crowded, and even tore through an unfinished construction site when he saw a barricade closing the road ahead.

He used every shortcut and evasive maneuver he had learned over the years, constantly changing his route so that the police could not predict where he would appear next.

Yet somehow, they kept finding him.

Ethan noticed it after the third unexpected cruiser appeared ahead of him. He changed direction again, taking a road he had never used during his usual escape routes, only for another police vehicle to emerge from a side street less than a minute later. When he cut through an alley, a cruiser was already waiting at the opposite end, forcing him to turn sharply into a parking lot and jump a low curb to escape.

His eyes narrowed behind his helmet as he realized this was no longer a simple police pursuit. Someone was anticipating his movements, and Ethan was almost certain it was not the police.

His phone suddenly began ringing inside his jacket. He glanced at the screen before accepting the call through his helmet's communication system.

“What did you do?” the client demanded through the phone, and the fear in his voice was so obvious that Ethan’s amused expression slowly faded.

Ethan leaned into another sharp turn, the motorcycle roaring beneath him as its tires gripped the wet asphalt. Behind him, red and blue lights flashed through the darkness, reflecting off the rain-slicked road while several police cars fought to keep up. Sirens screamed between the buildings, growing louder every time he looked over his shoulder.

Despite the situation, Ethan let out a short laugh and adjusted his grip on the handlebars. “Apparently, I stole something that doesn’t like being stolen,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“What are you talking about?” the client asked, sounding even more nervous. “Where are you right now?”

“Currently being chased by half the city’s police force,” Ethan answered dryly as he twisted the throttle and sent the motorcycle surging forward. “I’m starting to think they took the theft personally.”

The client went quiet for a moment before asking, “Did you take the artifact?”

Ethan glanced down briefly at the small case secured against his body, then looked back at the road ahead. “Of course I took it,” he replied sarcastically. “Why else would I be getting chased by the police?”

Another siren wailed behind him, followed by the sharp roar of an engine as one of the police cars gained ground.

Ethan smiled faintly and accelerated.

The client, however, did not laugh.

There was a long silence on the other end before his voice returned, noticeably calmer than before. “Good. Then stop wasting time and get to the extraction point.”

“I’m trying,” Ethan replied, his eyes narrowing as he spotted another patrol car turning into the street ahead. He immediately leaned the motorcycle to the side and slipped through a narrow gap between two vehicles. “They’re making that a little difficult.”

“You don’t understand,” the client said, and the amusement disappeared completely from his voice. “You need to get there as quickly as possible.”

Ethan’s expression tightened.

Something about the man’s voice had changed.

This was no longer a nervous client worried about losing an expensive artifact. There was genuine fear in his voice now, the kind that came from knowing something Ethan did not.

Ethan pushed the motorcycle harder, weaving through the traffic while rain struck his face.

“Listen to me carefully,” the client continued, his voice suddenly low and serious. “Whatever happens, do not let them take the artifact.”

Ethan’s faint smile disappeared as he glanced at the case secured against him before looking back at the road.

“The police?” he asked, his voice becoming more serious.

“No,” the client replied immediately.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Then who?”

The client said nothing.

The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make Ethan’s instincts flare.

He had worked with dangerous people before. He had stolen from billionaires, broken into heavily guarded mansions, bypassed private security systems, and taken objects that were worth more money than most people would earn in a lifetime.

He knew what fear sounded like. And the man on the phone was terrified.

Ethan tightened his grip around the handlebars and increased his speed. “Who is coming?” he demanded, his curiosity now mixed with suspicion.

For several seconds, the only response was the faint crackle of static.

Then the client finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Just keep the artifact away from them.”

Ethan’s eyes hardened. But before he could say another word, the call ended. He stared at the phone for half a second before lowering it.

“What the hell did I just steal?” he muttered, his voice barely audible beneath the roar of the motorcycle.

Suddenly, a pair of headlights appeared directly ahead of him.

Ethan raised his head to see a truck coming straight across the intersection, and it was moving so fast.

His eyes widened and he immediately slammed both brakes. The motorcycle's rear wheel lost traction, and the bike immediately swung sideways beneath him. He fought to regain control as the tires screamed against the wet asphalt, but the truck was already accelerating across his path.

“No, no, no, noooo!” Ethan muttered in panic as grabbed the handlebars and tried to steer around it.

But it was too late.

The truck slammed into the motorcycle, and the impact was violent enough to tear the bike out from beneath him. Metal screamed as the motorcycle was crushed and thrown sideways, while Ethan was launched into the air with enough force to send his body spinning above the road.

His helmet flew from his head, and for one horrifying moment, everything became strangely quiet.

Ethan saw the wet asphalt rushing beneath him, the truck spinning across the intersection, and the flashing police lights rapidly approaching from behind. 

Then his eyes caught something else. The protective case. It had been torn loose during the collision and was tumbling across the road.

Ethan watched helplessly as it struck the asphalt, bounced once, and split open, then the artifact rolled out. It should have shattered. Instead, it rolled several meters across the wet road before coming to a complete stop.

Ethan's body hit the pavement a second later, and pain exploded through every part of him.

He tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to cooperate. His ribs felt as though they had been crushed beneath the weight of the truck, and when he coughed, the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. His vision blurred as he struggled to lift himself, but his arms barely responded.

Around him, the world had descended into chaos.

People were shouting, doors were opening, and footsteps were pounding against the pavement as strangers ran toward the crash, while police sirens grew louder and louder in the distance.

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“There's a man on the road!”

“Don't move him!”

Ethan heard the voices as if they were coming from somewhere far away, but he forced his eyes open and searched the road until he found what he was looking for.

The artifact was lying several meters away. At first, it looked completely unchanged. Then the silver lines running across its dark surface began to glow.

Ethan stared at it through the rain, his breathing becoming slower as the strange light spread across its surface. The glow continued to intensify until the artifact seemed to contain its own source of light, illuminating the wet asphalt around it.

Finally, his heartbeat gave one final, weak beat.

Then everything went black.