The room was dimly lit, and the only light source was a faint glow emanating from the demonic energy swirling around me. I sat cross-legged on the cold floor, my back straight, my hands resting on my knees as I focused on the rhythm of my breath.


    Inhale. Exhale.


    I slowly and methodically drew in the Qi that floated through the air, feeling it seep into my body like a river feeding a parched land.


    The crimson Qi around me swirled and flickered like a flame, interspersed with black streaks. It felt raw, chaotic, and powerful, yet it bore an unnatural weight—a heaviness I was used to but never fully at ease with. As I directed the energy inward, my Demonic Sphere pulsed softly, allowing the energy to flow into my dantian and radiate throughout my body meridians.


    Sweat dripped from my forehead as I concentrated. The energy was hard to control, for it resisted me at every turn. My breathing deepened, and I envisioned the red and black Qi threading through my body like a spider''s web, refining me with each pulse. Gradually, my Qi spiraled within, circulating through the strengthened pathways I’d developed Lockdarn.


    But even as I cultivated, a sense of urgency gnawed at the back of my mind. No matter how much energy I absorbed, even though I knew it helped me slow down my aging a little, it felt like I was running out of time. Because I was. The weight of my dwindling lifespan hung over me like a blade suspended by a thread, ready to fall at any moment. The effort to gather more Qi, to grow stronger, was a race against time I wasn’t sure I could win.


    With a final deep inhale, I drew the last wisps of energy into my core and released the tension in my body. The room was silent again, save for the faint sound of my breathing. My muscles felt heavy, and my Qi reserves were marginally fuller than before, but the unease in my chest remained.


    As I stood, I released the tension built from prolonged sitting, rolling my shoulders while the soft red luminescence of my Qi gradually disappeared. I took a cloth from the table beside me and dried the sweat from my brow. My mind felt clearer, and the fog of frustration was briefly cleared by the cultivation of focus required.


    The blurry but certainly ticking clock in my head reminded me I couldn’t stay here forever. I needed answers, and I needed them fast.


    The couple I met in the alley had a sick child. The doctors said the child was going to die in a month at best. But where the doctor promised death, the city’s best healer declared otherwise, saving the child’s life. That was a lead.


    Likewise, there were some other leads I’ve found. People who could help me.


    It had been a few weeks since my return to Romer City, and I’d spent them looking for people who could help me with my current crusade. At the same time, I cultivated every day to ensure that I was increasing my time in at least one way.


    The weight of uncertain death still gnawed at me like a parasite. Each day and hour felt like sand slipping through my fingers, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much I had left. My life felt like a ticking clock, the seconds draining away faster than I could keep up with it.


    I didn’t want to sit around and wait for the end. I had to do something, anything, to grasp how much time I had left and, more importantly, how to extend it. That was why I spent those days digging through every connection I had, whispering questions to people I knew from Iskandaar’s memories, and gathering information on anyone who might know about lifespan and how to measure it.


    I had compiled a list of people who could hold the key to my concerns. I wasn’t sure, but I had some hope.


    The first name on the list was Sir Noire, a well-known fortune teller with a lavish parlor in Romer City. He was a man of mysterious origins, draped in silks and surrounded by the scent of exotic incense. His clients swore by his predictions, claiming he could see the threads of fate as clearly as one might read a book.


    If anyone could tell me how much time I had left, it was him.


    The second name was Sister Althea, a well-known healer who lived in a remote city area. She wasn''t just a healer; she belonged to the Church of Amariel, the Goddess of Healing, Compassion, and Benevolence in the city''s northern district. I figured she''d be the one to be able to detect the life force within me. Maybe she''d even have some remedies to strengthen it and give me more time.


    Then there was Master Lydios, an eccentric runemaster who lived in a tower overlooking the western hills. He was said to be a genius regarding inscriptions and magical constructs, his runes capable of tapping into the very essence of life. Runes were ancient magic—far more precise and reliable than vague prophecies or risky potions. He might be able to see my lifespan.


    Lastly, there was the man titled the Cursed Scholar. If local rumors were to be believed, he was once a famous academic driven insane by forbidden knowledge and cursed to live in the shadows of normal men. He was supposed to be some hobo bastard living deep within the city''s underground sewer system. People would go around saying that he had knowledge about death and life that no sane person should ever have. Dangerous? Absolutely. But I was running out of options, and his knowledge could be the final puzzle.


    I was now in another room, having showered. I stared at my written list as my fingers drummed lightly against the desk. “I guess I’ll start from top to bottom…”


    I suddenly regretted not asking Amelia or the Matriarch for their advice when I had the opportunity. Both of them might have had answers, particularly the Matriarch, who possessed ancient wisdom and experience. However, it was too late to dwell on that now.


    What mattered was moving forward.


    I sighed and ticked off Sir Noire''s name—he’d be my first stop. I pushed myself up from the chair, feeling my tension ease. Knowing that at least I wasn’t sitting around waiting for death felt good.


    "Let''s go," I said, moving toward the door. "We gotta look around."


    Lilian had been scrubbing the floor with a broom, her expression full of boredom, but my words sprang her awake. Her brow furrowed in uncertainty as she laid down the broom. "Where are we going?" she said, her voice interested.


    I looked at her. "It''s just a small errand. We are going to meet some intriguing folks, that is all."


    She didn''t appear completely convinced, but she didn''t protest either. She stepped beside me as we left the room, and the heavy door closed softly behind us.


    Hopefully, I was going to receive some answers this time.


    ****


    Romer bustled under the midday sun. Cobblestone streets thrummed with the footsteps of passersby, merchants advertising colorful wares, children weaving between stalls as they played tag, and weary travelers leaning against building walls for a moment’s rest. The air was full of the scent of fried pastries, cooked meats, and a hint of the nearby docks’ fishy tang.


    Lilian followed quietly, her eyes flitting from one sight to another. She still wasn’t used to the city’s constant noise, occasionally flattening her ears when the hawkers’ voices rose. That was cute to see. I kept my gaze forward, scanning my surroundings more from habit than actual concern, each heartbeat a reminder that I was running out of time.


    My mind roiled with the same question: How much longer do I have? With each step, my worries gnawed at my chest. I could only pray that this Sir Noire wasn’t another con artist but a true seer capable of glimpsing my future.


    ….


    The tent was poorly lit, with flickering light from a few candles producing long, shifting shadows across the canvas walls. A pungent mix of incense and mildew filled my nostrils, making the cramped tent feel even more suffocating.


    Shadows danced over the fraying carpets and when Sir Noir, the fortune teller, shifted, the bells on his cloak jingled like hollow echoes of broken promises. His hoarse chanting intensified the already stale air, pressing in on me from all sides.


    I sat cross-legged on the ground on a rough and worn fabric rug. A man sat across from me, on the other side of a low wooden table, crouching over a crystal globe.


    His robes were dark, almost black, and his long, bony fingers caressed the globe as if it held the universe''s secrets. A hood obscured his face, so it was hard to figure out his true expression, but I could see the glint of his eyes that darted between me and the orb.


    "Ah, I see... I see..." he murmured, his voice hoarse and dramatic. He drew closer to the globe, his eyes narrowing as if he were attempting to pierce the mysteries of time and fate. "You... have come for answers, young one. Answers that exist beyond the barrier of the mortal world."


    I arched my brow at the useless theatrics. I was starting to feel skeptical and irritated now. "...Yes? Yes. Can you see it or not?"


    The man''s fingers twitched, and he let out a low chuckle that was perhaps meant to be sinister but ended up sounding like a dry cough. "Everything will be revealed... all questions will be answered. But first, you must pay tribute to me... in silver... that I''ll use to earn these secrets."


    Ah, of course. I should have known.


    I pulled out a small silver coin, flicking it toward him with a sigh. It landed with a clink on the table between us, and the man snatched it. He immediately slipped it into his robes with practiced ease.


    His fingers returned to the globe, and he began to hum under his breath, a tuneless drone that grated on my nerves. He swirled his hands over the orb in elaborate gestures, his voice rising and falling in what I assumed was supposed to be some incantation.


    After what seemed like an age, he finally spoke. "I see dark, frightening shadows encircling you. Your path is clouded with doubt. There is... danger in your destiny... a huge menace that threatens to devour you."


    I rolled my eyes. "Excellent. Have you got anything specific, or just these generic warnings?"


    The man paused briefly when his dramatics faltered, then promptly regained his composure. "The spirits remain evasive…. But they speak of a curse on your life. Yes, a curse that shortens your life... unless you can discover how to dispel it.”


    I leaned forward, suddenly hopeful. "Okay, and how do I break it?" I was starting to mistrust his credibility, but now he mentioned something good.


    The man stopped, apparently waiting for time. "Ah... that... is beyond my eyes. But do not be afraid! With my instruction, you may still—"


    The sound of my fist hitting the table spread through the tent, and splinters flew from the wood. The man opposite me recoiled in fear as his cowl drooped briefly, exposing his unwashed, unclean face. My eyelids twitched. "You''re a scammer, aren''t you?" With a low, menacing voice, I growled. "You have no idea what you''re talking about."Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    He struggled to recover, and a hesitant laugh came out. "N-no, I assure you, I—"


    His words were cut short by me. I swung my palm out and smacked him square in the face. He squatted backward, gripping his cheek, and yelped as the crack reverberated through the tent.


    "Next time, I won''t tolerate this," I grumbled, standing up. I spun around and pushed the tent flap aside, stomping into sunny daylight.


    Lilian stood by a tree outside, looking relaxed with her arms crossed. When I approached, she raised an eyebrow, her face showing a mix of curiosity and concern. "Any progress?"


    I sighed and shook my head. "Nope. Another dead end."


    She looked at me silently and nodded. After a moment, we were walking side by side, surrounded by the bustling noise of Romer City. Vendors called out their offers, children weaved through the stalls, and the comforting smell of fresh bread mixed with the sharp tang of the nearby river. But everything felt muted and distant to me, as if it belonged to a world I was no longer fully a part of. It made sense. I was about to join the underworld.


    I took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in my chest. It had been weeks since we returned to Romer City, and I’d been chasing one false lead after another. Every lead had turned into a dead end, every supposed expert either a fraud or completely clueless.


    And all the while, I was getting closer to death than the day before.


    “Um,” Lilian’s voice broke through my thoughts. She cleared her throat, hesitating, saying, "You’ve been running yourself ragged to this point. What are you so desperate to find? What’s going on, Iskan- err, young master?"


    She was yet to get used to the title ‘young master’. It was too respectful for her wild self.


    I hesitated, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. She had been patient with me, tagging along without complaint even though I’d been dodging her questions since we left Lockdarn. I didn’t want to burden her with this or appear weak by admitting it, but I couldn’t keep stonewalling her forever.


    "Alright," I mumbled, coming to a halt. I turned to face her, taking a long breath. "Do you remember the skill I used in Lockdarn? The one that nearly killed the Father?"


    Lilian nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly, and anxiety crept into her face. "How can I forget? It split the city in two." She looked at me as if I were stupid. “What about it?"


    "There was a cost," I admitted, “a heavy, expensive cost. Although your grandmother saved me from becoming a cripple, I lost… fifty years of my lifespan – just like that. Fifty fucking years, Lilian. And now I don’t know how much time I have left. Not only that, but I now have a stupid restriction on the experience points I have gained.”


    “Oh.”


    “Could be years, could be months, hell, it could be days. It could be right now, and I have no idea. So that’s what I’ve been looking for—a way to find out how much time I have left and if possible, a way to fix it."


    She fell silent, her normally brash demeanor replaced by genuine alarm. A flicker of something, maybe guilt or sorrow, passed over her face. “You… you’ve been carrying that alone?” she muttered, absently clutching the ends of her hair. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”


    I shrugged, my gaze dropping to the worn cobblestones. “Couldn’t bring myself to. Feels like admitting I’m already half-dead. And well, makes me look weak,” I said with a wry laugh that caught in my throat.


    Lilian’s hand tightened around my wrist, warm and firm. “Don’t say that,” she whispered, her eyes burning with fierce determination. “You’re not dead yet. If there’s a way out of this, we’ll find it. I don’t care if it’s a crusty sewer scholar or a damned demon king—just say the word, and I’m in.”


    Her earnestness pulled a shaky smile from me. A spark of hope fanned within my chest for the first time in weeks. Lilian sighed. “But yes. I’d be on the edge too if I was in your shoes.”


    "Ssee?" I shook my head. "It''s been eating at me, as you can guess. Sadly, no matter how much I searched and asked around, I only came up empty-handed. There are no leads, hence no answers. There''s... nothing."


    Lilian fell quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. I could see the gears in her head turning, making me wonder what she was coming up with.


    Then, her eyes lit up. "Ah, I know! The Aetheris Eyes," she said suddenly, and I frowned. "Some people in this world have optical powers, usually gained through bloodlines and sometimes through special circumstances. They are abilities, [Skills], that let them see things others can’t. I have one myself.”


    “Oh.”


    “Let me show you."


    "Alright..." I answered, not knowing where she was heading with this. I knew what Aetheris Eyes were. I used it as an excuse against Munera Obsidian to bargain for my life.


    "I can read item descriptions. That was how I learned about the Demonic Cup. For example," she stared at my clothing, her gaze shifting. Lilian''s red irises began to whirl as I looked, the pupils twisting into an elaborate pattern of sharp, angular lines forming a complicated, almost runic structure that pulsed with an eerie inner glow.


    Her Aetheris Eyes opened, our gazes locked, and for a brief time, the world around us appeared to vanish into the background. I focused on the symbols in her eyes, blinking to myself.


    She focused on my shirt, her gaze narrowing as if she could see every detail. “This shirt,” she began, her voice now a distant, almost trance-like tone, “was crafted by a tailor named Melvor in Romer City six months ago.”


    I frowned, and she continued, “The fabric is rich. It is a blend of silk and cotton, dyed using a rare indigo pigment from the southern islands. Countess Romani commissioned it just for the young master, and you''ve worn it four times, including today."


    I stared at her, astounded by the accuracy of her words. I was wearing it, and even I had no idea what she was saying. Actually, I couldn’t even confirm her words.


    She went on, "There''s a minor defect in the stitching on the left cuff, hardly discernible, but there—” she reached out a hand, “—an indication that it was made in a hurry. Despite this, it has been well-maintained and shows indications of recent washing.”


    As her Aetheris Eyes gradually restored to their natural condition, the weird pattern in her pupils vanished, and she returned my stare. "That''s just a sliver of what I can see," she added with satisfaction. "[Aetheris Veritas] is the name of my Aetheris eyes. My grandma also has it; it is a hereditary power. Although my mother doesn’t.”


    I agreed, still processing what I had just witnessed. The level of intricacy that this Skill could perceive was remarkable. "That''s... remarkable," I commented, thinking about how potent the Aetheris Eyes could be. I remembered that one of the main characters also possessed Aetheris Eyes in the past, inside the Game.


    "And, if I''m not mistaken," she added, "there''s someone close by with Aetheris Eyes. His eyes enable him to discern people''s age. Well, not in Romer, but in a neighboring city. That individual can see the remaining time of a person, like... right down to the minute."


    My heart skipped. "You’re serious? Who is it? Where can I find them?" I felt like a dumbass for having hidden this from her all this time.


    Lilian shrugged. "I don’t know his name, but I’ve heard rumors. They say he''s an alchemist living in the Wraithwood Forest, near the Carlstein border. According to the rumors, he can see how people will die and how long they must live. And that… it drove him mad, seeing people''s last days written over their heads. That''s why he’s been hiding in the forest ever since."


    "The Wraithwood Forest..." I murmured. I knew of that place from memory, not the game. It was located near the borders, the one under Carlstein Barony.


    My fiancé’s home.


    I paused, the thought of Nebula Carlstein briefly pushing aside the gnawing anxiety.


    The Wraithwood Forest was near the Carlstein Barony, which wasn’t exactly close to Romer. Even with the urgency pressing on me, heading there just on Lilian’s word felt like a gamble. Not to be disrespectful to her, but she didn’t know a lot of things. It would take days, maybe longer, to get there, and I couldn’t afford to waste time on a rumor. Not with my lifespan hanging in the balance.


    Still, it was a lead as good as any. Lilian had special eyes herself, so she should know. I shot her and looked and said. “Let’s check out another name first. The healer—Sister Althea. The Church of Amariel is nearby anyway. In case the church knows, I''ll also ask around a bit about this alchemist. Then we''ll head home.”


    Lilian nodded, seeming relieved by the decision. “I’m fine with it.”


    “Mhm,” I turned on my heel and started down the street, Lilian stepping beside me.


    The streets of Romer City buzzed with life around us, but my focus was already on the next step. The healer was close, and with any luck, she might hold the key to buying me more time.


    Otherwise, I''ll have to travel a long time.


    ****


    The Church of Amariel. Worshippers of the Goddess of Healing and Compassion.


    Amarial was a modest deity, yet one that carried weight among people — because most healers came from this church. She, while not the most powerful of the Twelve, had a special place in the hearts of many. Ultimately, her priests were life savers.


    Her gentle influence spread far and wide, attracting followers who longed for the peace only her touch could provide. Despite being a smaller goddess, she was adored and had her own church in Romer City.


    Romer was a large city. Its central church stood as a sign of unity, where all gods could be prayed to under one grand roof. Smaller cities only had that central church, but large cities often had separate churches. Romer boasted five separate churches, each honoring a different deity. Amariel’s church was one of them.


    The walk to the church was quiet. The only sounds were the rhythmic tap of our footsteps against the cobblestones and the distant murmur of the city.


    Lilian walked beside me, eyes scanning our surroundings with curiosity and caution. The church stood grandly as we slowed down. Our eyes were drawn up to it. It was a beautiful piece of architecture. When we approached the church gates, however, I suddenly came to a halt.


    Realization struck.


    I… had missed something in the heat of the moment, my head filled with worry.


    “What’s wrong?” Lilian’s voice cut through the silence, tinged with concern.


    I didn’t answer immediately. My gaze lingered on the church’s entrance, the soft glow emanating from within, and the symbol of Amariel etched above the doors—a gentle hand cradling a blooming flower.


    Shit, I almost stepped into the tiger''s den.


    My pulse thundered in my ears. I knew what kind of energy coursed through my veins, an unholy mixture with no place in a shrine devoted to healing and purity. The carved marble archways leading into the church seemed to glow, and I swore I felt a tingling static across my skin, like a warning sign. If they had a high-level priest or a relic designed to root out demonic taint…


    I exhaled a shaky breath, willing my heart to slow. Lilian’s gaze sharpened as if she sensed my unease. My mind spun through the possibilities—imprisonment, ritual cleansing, or worse. Death. I tasted bitter frustration on my tongue. All this time searching for a solution… it’d have all ended if I took a few more steps ahead.


    I was a demonic cultivator, and my Qi was red and black. I was basically a demon if one stripped me of my flesh and bones. It was good that I’d realized this fast enough, but I better leave this vicinity. What if this place had someone who was proficient in sensing energy?


    “Young master?”


    I shifted my gaze, meeting Lilian’s eyes as she furrowed her brows in confusion, clearly uncertain of my thoughts. Gently, I lifted a hand and lightly tapped my forehead. She stared.


    That was the spot where cursed horns of pure energy had previously emerged. She stared blankly for a moment, and then recognition flashed in her eyes as the memory returned to her, the energy horns, the rush of demonic Qi.


    “...Let’s return then,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. How annoying.


    Returning from a possible lead bothered me, but it was better than getting executed. Turning away from the church, we began to retreat. It was foolish of me to not realize this from the start. What had I been thinking?


    But just as we turned to leave, I collided with someone. The impact was soft but enough to bring me to an abrupt stop. I looked down to find a woman flung onto the floor, panicking slightly, but her expression was one of mild surprise.


    “....”


    She wore the simple attire of a nun, her pale robes pristine and modest. Her presence was calming, a natural aura of gentleness radiating from her very being.


    [Level 77]


    Shit.


    “Ah, I’m sorry,” the woman pushed herself up with a soft grunt. “Are you alright, young man?” she asked in a tone of genuine concern, even though it was clearly my fault.


    I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died on my lips as I watched her eyes widen in sudden shock. Her gaze locked onto mine, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment. My heart dropped like a stone, cold dread reaching my throat.


    Why the hell is she so shocked? Has she seen through me?


    Had she sensed the demonic energy within me? I wouldn’t be surprised; she was at the 6th Ascension and the priestess of a Goddess. This was not good.


    Lilian tensed beside me, her hand hovering as if ready to take out her claws, her gaze darting between me and the woman. I could only stand there, waiting for what would come next.


    Dammit. I should have just returned home.


    “Y-young master Romani?!” she declared. “It’s been a while; what are you doing here?”


    Oh.


    Ohh, she''s just surprised because of my identity.


    “....”


    Have we met before?


    Fuck, that gave me a scare.