ã€ŠThe Eternal Reset [DARK FANTASY, PROGRESSION, ISEKAI]ã€‹


 Chapter 1: A Strangers Sword

    "If you want peace, then prepare for war!" the Eternal Emperor declared, his voice thundering across the grand courtyard.

    "Stand up for me as I have stood up for you! My blood, my strength, my very life, I dedicate all for the glory and unity of our Empire.

    I call upon you now, champions of our divine cause, to rise in a Holy War!

    Let your hearts burn with righteous fury! Rise together as an unstoppable force! The gods have ordained this sacred struggle and bestowed their blessings upon us.

    Through our unity, faith, and unwavering resolve, we shall strike down this looming evil and remind the world that the Central Continent remains unbroken, unyielding, and eternal!

    Let this day echo through history! Let our enemy tremble at the might of the Central Continent, united under one will¡ªmy will! For the Empire! For glory eternal! For victory!"

    <hr>

    Albrecht jerked awake, his heart hammering against his ribs as the sharp thud of metal embedding into wood resonated through him.

    He blinked rapidly, disoriented, eyes widening at the scene before him.

    "Did you not hear me, barkeep? We want mana beer, not that watered-down piss you serve!"

    The loud voice came from a bulky man across the counter. A wicked grin stretched across his scarred face as he stared at Albrecht.

    The knife he had just driven into the wood was tightly gripped in his hand. The man''s breath reeked of alcohol, sharp and sour, making Albrecht even more uncomfortable.

    He had no idea where he was, how he''d gotten here, or why this man was threatening him.

    He glanced around frantically, taking in the rough wooden beams, flickering torches, and worn tables scattered across the room.

    Albrecht''s thoughts spiraled, his chest tightening as he clutched the counter for stability. Every sound and smell felt too sharp to be a mere hallucination. Yet nothing about this made sense.

    The man in front of the bar slammed his fist on the counter. He had to say something, anything.

    "I-I''m sorry, but I can''t help you," Albrecht stammered, his voice trembling.

    The other two men beside the bulky one laughed, one of them already helping himself to a handful of bread from a nearby basket.

    But Albrecht''s mind was elsewhere, still reeling as he took in his surroundings. Behind him stood a shelf lined with even more bottles, while in front of him sprawled a large, dimly lit room.

    ''This place doesn''t look like earth, more like some kind of medieval tavern¡­ or inn,'' he thought, his gaze darting around.

    Judging by his position behind the bar and the expectant looks from the men, he seemed to be the owner or bartender.

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    Suddenly, a hand shot out, grabbing Albrecht by the neck. His heart raced as he felt himself dragged forward across the counter.

    "You dare mock me, innkeeper?" the man growled.

    "I said we want mana beer. Either you bring it, or we''ll start smashing things until we find it ourselves."

    Behind him, one of his companions effortlessly hurled a wooden table against the wall, causing it to shatter into splinters.

    Albrecht''s breath caught in his throat.

    ''Impossible,'' he thought, his mind racing.

    ''No human can throw a table like that.''

    Just as the leader''s grip tightened around his neck, a sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade.

    "I came for a drink and place to rest, not to watch drunken fools destroy a tavern."

    The grip on Reinhard''s neck loosened, and the three drunkards turned around. An old man with gray hair and beard stood by the door, leaning on a simple wooden staff. His cloak was tattered, and his boots were worn.

    As the three thugs walked toward the old man, Albrecht''s eyes darted to the swords strapped across their backs. The way they moved, confident and dangerous, made his stomach ache.

    His thoughts raced, and he grasped for something, anything, to make sense of the situation. He felt a cold, creeping dread. Sweat trickled down his forehead.

    ''I''m screwed¡­ totally screwed.'' he thought.

    The gangster''s drunken breath still hung in the air. Their weapons were raised as they stood in the middle of the room, just between him and the old man near the Inn''s entrance.

    Albrecht''s pulse pounded in his ears. For a fleeting moment, everything seemed frozen, the world caught in the stillness of anticipation.

    Then something happened.

    A flash.

    A thin glint of golden light cut through the air so fast it was almost imperceptible. The room seemed to hold its breath, the moment suspended like a fragile thread about to snap.

    Then, a dull thud echoed across the room before Albrecht could register what had happened. Three heads hit the floor, trailing blood that splattered across the wooden boards and floor.

    Their bodies remained standing for a heartbeat longer, swaying unnaturally before crumpling like broken puppets. Albrecht hadn''t even seen the sword that beheaded them.

    The old man suddenly stood almost in front of Albrecht. A faint golden shimmer danced along the edge of his blade before vanishing entirely.

    The silence that followed was suffocating. Albrecht couldn''t speak. His legs felt rooted to the floor, his heart beating uncontrollably.

    ''H-he just killed them¡­''

    His body was paralyzed, but not from fear alone. Something else rooted him to the floor.

    A quiet, horrified awe.

    The clean precision. The silence that followed. The way the blood fanned out across the floorboards like a red blossom.

    It should have disgusted him.

    But instead¡­ he just watched the heads rolling across the floor.

    Not with excitement. Not with joy. Just sharp, deliberate focus. Like a child, watching something forbidden for the first time.

    When the old man stepped further forward, his movements were slow and deliberate. His boots barely made a sound against the wooden planks.

    "You must be the new owner."

    His voice was calm, too calm.

    "Apologies for the mess."

    His gaze drifted down to the corpses with no more concern than one might spare for spilled wine.

    Albrecht could only stare, his mind scrambling for a response that wouldn''t get him killed.

    The old man, no, this killer, lifted his head, studying him with unsettling eyes.

 Chapter 2: Thereon Snowstride

    "My name is Thereon Snowstride, and I fought with your father in Lunaris. I am sorry for your loss."

    The words should have meant something. They should have stirred some connection to this world Albrecht had found himself in. But all they did was cement the cold weight of dread in his stomach.

    He wasn''t the man Thereon thought he was. And if that fact came to light¡­

    Thereon exhaled as he sheathed his sword. The golden letters etched into the blade shimmered briefly before vanishing beneath the scabbard.

    He continued to study Albrecht, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked:

    "Did you not receive Vance''s letter? I assumed you already knew, but judging by that expression, I take it you never got it."

    Albrecht forced his face into something resembling composure.

    ''Think. Don''t act lost. Don''t let him suspect.''

    His heart was still pounding, but he straightened his posture, willing himself to breathe evenly. If Thereon was dangerous enough to kill three men in the blink of an eye, Albrecht needed to handle this carefully. A single misstep could be fatal.

    "Yes, you''re right," he said at last, forcing a steadier tone. "I never got the letter. What happened to him?"

    It was the safest response he could think of. A son should want to know about his father''s death. If he played this right, he might learn enough to survive whatever he had been thrown into.

    Thereon watched him for a moment longer, as if weighing something, then nodded.

    "Of course," he said, his voice softer now. "Let''s talk, kid."

    Thereon sat down in the chair one of the dead thugs had been using. He shrugged off his coat, revealing a build that was still solid with muscle despite his years. Then he began to speak.

    "Your father, Vance, died roughly 1 month ago. He was fighting against the rebelling dwarfs at Lunaris. He was fulfilling his duty as a mage of Valoria. From what I could gather, they were only a small force of around 50 men to crush a simple uprising. No real Valorian army, no high-ranking commanders. Just your father and a handful of mercenaries meant to put down a rebellion."

    Albrecht swallowed his unease and slid a mug of beer across the counter. His hands trembled slightly, but he kept listening.

    "They must have assumed that it would be an easy victory. But the dwarves had a trump card: an exiled group of dragons."

    Albrecht''s heart skipped a beat. "Dragons?" He tried not to sound too shocked, but the very idea of it felt impossible.

    Thereon let out a tired chuckle, shaking his head.

    "Not the big ones you hear about in legends, but dangerous enough. Green-scaled, sharp-eyed, and smart. They weren''t supposed to be there, but somehow, the rebels must have convinced them to fight."

    Albrecht''s grip on the counter tightened. Dragons. Mages. A whole fantasy battlefield. This was nothing like the world he knew.

    "The mercenaries weren''t hired to fight dragons," Thereon continued. "Most of them ran. Can''t say I blame them. They signed up to put down a rebellion, not face a bunch of fire-breathing lizards."

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    "What happened next?"

    "Your father was a mage of Valoria. That meant he served at the Emperor''s pleasure. He wasn''t forbidden from using his magic, but he needed permission."

    Albrecht narrowed his eyes. "Permission? Even in battle?"

    Thereon gave a slow, knowing nod.

    "That''s how it works for Valorian battle mages. Their magic is an extension of the Emperor''s power. It''s not just a rule. The emperor restricts them from using magic with his or, in most cases, borrowed authority."

    He further added:

    "The battlefield showed no traces of human magic, so as far as I can tell, he was never allowed to use his magic. He was killed without putting up a fight."

    "But why would the emperor do that?"

    Thereon exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable.

    "Impossible to say for sure. Maybe the Emperor simply wanted him dead. Maybe there was a deal with the dwarves. Or maybe there''s something else we don''t know about."

    Albrecht forced himself to stay composed, but the thought of dragons, mages, swordsmen, and some kind of conspiracy was simply overwhelming. Also, the relationship between Vance, this body''s father, and Thereon was unclear.

    ''Were they comrades? Friends? Rivals?'' he thought.

    Whatever they had been to each other, Thereon seemed to trust him, or at least trust who he thought he was. And maybe, just maybe, Albrecht should trust him in return.

    He took a quiet breath and finally spoke.

    "Could I¡­ learn from you?" His voice came out steadier than he felt.

    "My father never taught me magic. We didn''t see each other much, especially in the last few years."

    Thereon watched him with unreadable eyes. Albrecht tried not to shift under the scrutiny, but the silence stretched unbearably long. He forced himself to stay still, even as nerves twisted in his gut.

    Then, at last, Thereon exhaled and spoke.

    "Are you sure you want someone like me teaching you?" His tone was calm, but there was something heavy beneath the words.

    "I won''t pretend to know what your father had in mind for you¡­ but if he wanted you to be a mage, then perhaps you should study at a magic academy."

    He straightened slightly, his sharp gaze lingering on Albrecht.

    "I''m a Swordman, so I can only offer swordsmanship. Maybe a few elementary spells. Nothing more. You should definitely think about it before making the decision. I will stay until tomorrow."

    Albrecht didn''t expect to be disappointed by this. In fact, Therion''s desire to teach him was good news.

    But he had actually hoped to learn magic, maybe because of books he had read on Earth or the story about Vance. On the other hand, the thought of one''s own magic being restricted didn''t sound that great.

    He had no one else. And Thereon seemed strong, even if Albrecht could only compare him to the three thugs he effortlessly killed.

    Compared to Earth, Thereon would obviously be something like a superhuman. So Reinhard couldn''t afford to be picky.

    "Thank you, Thereon. I''ll think about it. Also, you can have the best room. It''s the least I can do after you saved my life."

    Thereon nodded. "That will do."

    Albrecht exhaled quietly, masking his relief.

    Thereon stood up, stretching slightly before stepping toward the door.

    "I''ll be back this evening. Think it over, Albrecht."

    Albrecht stiffened. That name.

    ''It can''t be a coincidence that my name here is the same as on Earth.''

    As the old man stepped out, the door creaked shut behind him, but Albrecht barely noticed. His thoughts swirled.

    A ripple of unease crawled through him, mixing with the countless unanswered questions clawing at his mind.

    ''Is this some kind of reincarnation? A cruel trick? The afterlife?''

    He didn''t know. But he was determined to find out.

    Outside, dawn was breaking, golden light spilling through the tavern shutters in soft, scattered beams. It should have felt comforting.

    But It didn''t.

    Albrecht exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drifting to the bloodstains still streaking the wooden floor, along with the dead bodies.

    The day stretched ahead of him, directionless, uncertain. He had no roadmap, no guide to this world.

    For now, all he could do was move forward.

    And hope that trusting Thereon wasn''t a mistake.

 Chapter 3: Vaelmont

    Albrecht took a deep breath, stepping out from behind the bar. His hands trailed along the counter''s edge, its surface nicked and worn from years of service. For the first time since waking in this strange world, he had a moment to gather his thoughts.

    The inn was constructed almost entirely of old, sturdy wood. Its design was simple but functional.

    At the back of the room stood a well-stocked bar, its shelves lined with dusty bottles of varying shapes and sizes.

    To the left of the bar, a door led somewhere else¡ªlikely the kitchen. Albrecht made a mental note to explore it later.

    The main room itself was split into two levels. The bar area was slightly elevated above the rest of the space. Flanked by modest railings, a short set of steps led down to the eating area, where four tables were scattered.

    There were three small, square tables with seating for four. The fourth, a larger, rectangular table, had been smashed against the wall by one of the thugs. Now, though, every chair sat empty, and the air still carried a faint metallic tang of blood.

    As he moved toward the entrance, Albrecht tried his best to ignore the dead bodies lying on the ground. Instead, he looked at another door near the front leading upward.

    It seemed to spiral toward a second floor, likely the sleeping quarters for guests. He also noticed a small, non-lit fireplace on the right side.

    The inn wasn''t large, but it was well laid out ¡ª structurally sound, easy to navigate, and defensible.

    Even in his disoriented state, Albrecht found himself noting the doorways, windows, and furniture positions like a general scanning a battlefield. Some habits of the mind didn''t need time to settle; they were just there.

    Reaching the entrance door, he paused and grabbed the closed sign. He then opened the door.

    What he saw was¡­ beautiful.

    Morning light spilled across the street, casting long, golden shadows against the weathered stone of the houses. Their wooden beams and slate roofs seemed to lean toward one another in a perfectly balanced way.

    A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of earth and baking bread, mingling with the muffled sound of distant wheels on cobblestones.

    Weirdly enough, the street itself was mostly empty. A lone horse-drawn carriage was rattling lazily along. Clad in a brown hooded cloak, its driver hummed a low tune as he passed.

    Only Here and there, a few figures moved across the street, dressed in cloaks of varying lengths. Many passersby carried weapons openly: swords, axes, and bows glinting faintly in the early sunlight.

    Albrecht''s eyes caught on one particular individual, a robed figure leaning heavily on a staff capped with a glowing blue orb. The faint shimmer of the orb''s light hinted at magic, and Albrecht''s chest tightened at the sight.

    He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the crisp morning air, and took a hesitant step onto the cobblestones.

    The world felt alive in a way he hadn''t anticipated. Every sight and sound seemed amplified, bursting with a vibrancy he hadn''t experienced in a while despite the street being mostly empty.

    A nagging thought pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Since waking up in this world, Albrecht had sensed that something was different¡ªnot dramatically so, but enough to stir his curiosity. He felt an urgent need to see himself.

    His hands, in particular, caught his attention. They looked the same at a short glance but bore faint scars that hadn''t been there before. Thin lines etched across his knuckles and palms like remnants of a life he hadn''t lived.

    Without a mirror nearby, he turned to the next best thing. A shallow puddle near the door of a clothing store caught his eye, its surface rippling slightly in the morning breeze. He walked over and crouched beside it.

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    The face staring back at him was unmistakably his. The same sharp features, icy blue eyes, vivid and intense. Just like he''d always known. But his hair...

    Back on Earth, his hair was a plain shade of brown, unremarkable and easy to overlook. Now, it was a striking white blonde, short and neatly cropped, catching the morning light in a way that made it almost luminescent.

    He ran a hand through it, feeling the soft strands slide between his fingers. The color was so different, yet the texture was familiar. For a brief moment, he let out a breath of relief.

    But his clothes were completely different, a stark contrast to anything he would have worn on Earth.

    He was dressed in a simple yet well-kept innkeeper''s attire, practical for long hours of work.

    A dark brown, long-sleeved tunic made of fabric fit snugly over his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up just past his wrists.

    Over it, he wore a sleeveless, earth-toned vest, slightly worn but tailored well, giving him an air of someone accustomed to managing a business rather than fighting.

    His trousers were thick and a simple shade of gray, ending just above his leather boots.

    Around his waist, a simple leather belt secured a small and empty pouch.

    At least he hadn''t been completely transformed; he was still himself in most ways that mattered.

    Albrecht straightened, his reflection rippling away as he moved. The change in his hair color was unsettling but not as concerning as the scars on his hands.

    This world had altered him, but to what end? He stuffed his hands into his robe pockets, feeling the rough fabric against his skin.

    "Excuse me, sir. Are you looking for new clothes?"

    A soft voice startled Albrecht, pulling him away from his thoughts. He turned toward its source and found a young woman standing in the doorway of the clothing shop, just steps away from the puddle he''d been using as a makeshift mirror.

    Her long, wavy hair shimmered in the morning light, shifting between deep blue and soft lavender hues as it moved with the breeze. Her curious eyes, framed by delicate features, studied him with polite interest.

    Albrecht''s heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by her sudden appearance and strikingly unusual hair. Realizing he hadn''t responded yet, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

    "Uh¡­ yeah. Sure," he stammered, his voice coming out higher than usual. "I was just about to come in."

    Embarrassment crept up his neck, his cheeks warming as he realized how odd he must have looked, crouching over a puddle, staring at his own reflection. Was he supposed to explain that? No, probably better not to.

    The young woman tilted her head slightly, an amused smile tugging at her lips, but she didn''t press the matter. She looked about his age, around 17 like himself, and her expression softened as she stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

    "Well then, come on in. Let me know if you need anything," she said, her voice was very kind.

    Albrecht nodded, muttering a quick "Thanks."

    He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. Albrecht stepped into the shop, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. The interior was cozy but cluttered, with racks of clothing and shelves stacked with bolts of fabric.

    The young woman followed him inside, her movements graceful and unhurried. She stopped near a marble counter and turned to face him, her curious expression shifting into a warm smile.

    "You looked like you were lost out there. I didn''t mean to startle you," she said.

    Albrecht scratched the back of his neck, feeling the heat return to his cheeks. He said: "It''s fine, I¡­uh, guess I''ve just got a lot on my mind."

    Her smile widened. She asked: "Are you new in Vaelmont?"

    Albrecht hesitated, turning the statement over in his mind. The inn belonged to his father¡ªor rather, his father of this world.

    He thought about how Thereon knew his father, Vance, but not him. And this girl didn''t seem to recognize him either, despite the inn being just across the street.

    Shaking off the thoughts, he refocused, determined not to make the moment more awkward than it already was.

    "You could say that," he answered, forcing a small but nervous laugh.

    The woman chuckled softly, clearly amused by him.

    "I''m Isla, by the way. My family owns this shop. We sell clothing and some enchanted accessories."

    She offered Albrecht a hand. He hesitated for a split second before shaking it.

    "My name is Albrecht. I''m just passing by this town for travel."

    "Ah, I see. It''s nice to meet you."

    Isla let go of his hand and gestured toward a rack of simple tunics and cloaks.

    "Let me know if you need anything. We also do tailor-made clothes."

    Albrecht smiled faintly, her kindness easing some of the tension he hadn''t realized he was carrying.

    "There''s something I''ve been meaning to ask¡ªis it always this quiet around here at this hour?"

    "No, the Central Continents Special Affairs Division is searching the whole town. They are saying that some dangerous criminal is hiding in Vaelmont. They even searched my parent''s house a few streets away. They just barged in without warning¡­"

    "I see. Sorry to hear that." Albrecht responded.

 Chapter 4: No Way Home

    He slowly moved through the different sections of the shop. Most of the clothing seemed practical yet elegant¡ªthe kind of fashion one would expect in a magical world like this.

    From what he saw in documentaries and movies, it reminded him very much of medieval times on earth.

    He kept strolling and suddenly noticed that he didn''t have any money with him. In fact, he had no idea what currency was used. He realized how foolish he had been.

    At that moment, Albrecht began to understand the gravity of his situation. Stranded in another world, knowing almost nobody and having no way home. He didn''t even know if he had died on Earth¡ªand what would happen to his little sister, Nora.

    Their parents were dead, and their Uncle didn''t care about them. He was the only person his sister could rely on.

    ''Dammit!'' he thought, angry with himself.

    The whole idea of a magical world made him excited without properly thinking about the consequences. He clenched his fists and thought about what to do next.

    Ideally, he would learn magic immediately, but he didn''t know anyone who could teach him. That meant he would have to stick with Thereon, someone who could at least teach him Swordsmanship. After that, he just had to find an opportunity to learn magic.

    With that thought, an idea began forming in his head. The old man told him about Vance using powerful magic to kill dragons. If something like that was possible, then surely magic capable of bringing him home existed.

    The resolve settled in his chest like a steady flame. For now, he had to rely on the old swordsman. But beyond that, Albrecht promised himself he would do whatever it took to master this world and return to his little Sister.

    After coming to that conclusion, he kept glancing around the shop for a bit before turning back to Isla. She was still seated by the entrance, reading something that looked like a newspaper.

    "Excuse me," he began, his voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside him.

    She glanced up, and her curious gaze met his. "Need help finding something?"

    "Actually¡­ yes," Albrecht said, scratching the back of his neck.

    "I was wondering if you could help me with some clothes. Something practical for a swordsman."

    Isla tilted her head, intrigued by him.

    "Are you trained in the sword?"

    "Not yet," Albrecht admitted with a faint smile.

    "But I''m hoping to learn. And if I''m going to train, I''ll need the right outfit. Something durable but flexible."

    She nodded thoughtfully, already standing and moving toward a rack of fabrics.

    "I can make you something. We''ll need to take measurements first, but I can customize it however you''d like."

    Albrecht hesitated before adding, "About payment¡­ I don''t have anything on me right now. But I run the inn across the street and promise to pay you back as soon as possible."

    Isla paused, then smiled warmly. "Think nothing of it. You seem honest enough. Besides, a swordsman must be clad accordingly."

    Albrecht forced a small, grateful nod, but a dull weight settled in his chest.

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    Honest? If only she knew. The truth was, he wasn''t planning on staying. As soon as Thereon left, he''d be gone too. There was no way he''d ever pay her back.

    The thought made his stomach twist. It wasn''t like he wanted to take advantage of her kindness, but what choice did he have?

    He had nothing, not even the faintest clue of how this world worked. The moment he found a way home, he''d leave this world behind, along with everything and everyone in it.

    And yet, she had trusted him.

    She led him to the back of the shop, where fabric rolls were neatly stacked and tailoring tools lined the wooden workbench in meticulous order.

    As Isla worked, carefully taking his measurements and jotting down notes, he allowed himself a rare moment of stillness. It had only been one or two hours since he woke in this world, yet it felt like a lifetime had passed.

    The awe of witnessing swordsmanship, hearing about magic, the unease of being stranded in a place so unfamiliar, the nagging fear for his sister back home, each emotion had struck him like waves crashing in succession, leaving him adrift in uncertainty.

    "You should be all set," Isla finally said, stepping back with a satisfied nod.

    "You can pick it up in the evening. I''ll make sure it''s sturdy and comfortable." She hesitated momentarily before adding, "My mother can cast some protection spells on it."

    There was pride in her voice, especially when she mentioned her mother''s magic. It was subtle, but Albrecht caught it.

    ''So maybe magic isn''t something everyone can use,'' Albrecht thought. Thereon''That explains why most people still rely on weapons¡­ maybe it''s for the best that Thereonis teaching me swordsmanship.''

    With a final polite nod, he stepped out of the shop and into the streets of Vaelmont, leaving behind the warmth of the tailor''s shop for the unknown stretch of the town before him.

    The sun had risen higher, casting crisp shadows along the cobblestone streets. The air carried a mix of baking bread, burning coal, and faint traces of damp stone, the unmistakable scent of a town slowly coming to life.

    Albrecht took a deep breath.

    ''I should start exploring the town.''

    His mind immediately countered.

    ''No¡ªfirst, I need to clean up the mess. In case they search the Inn for that criminal. I''m sure three dead bodies wouldn''t look that good.''

    He turned his gaze toward the wooden building across the street, its sign swaying gently in the breeze. The inn.

    The windows were mercifully high, shielding the gruesome scene inside from prying eyes. Otherwise, anyone walking past would have seen the bloodstained floor, the shattered furniture, and the lifeless bodies that Thereon had left behind.

    The thought unsettled him.

    Albrecht wasn''t horrified, at least not in the way he knew he expected to be. Instead, a strange sense of detachment settled over him as though his mind had already begun normalizing the brutality of this world.

    ''I should be disgusted.''

    But he wasn''t. At least not in the way he expected.

    Instead, his mind was already strategizing. Disposal, concealment, fallback explanations. Everything about the cleanup felt less like horror and more like solving a grim equation.

    He grabbed a mop from a side closet and began scrubbing the floorboards.

    The rhythmic motion was comforting, almost mindless. He had done this before, not with blood, but with grease, dust, and spilled drinks back on Earth. Mopping floors had been his part-time job after school.

    Albrecht glanced at the bodies where they had fallen. Three corpses, yet he felt no sense of urgency. No racing heart, no nausea.

    Just the lingering problem of disposal.

    ''On Earth, I''d be worrying about forensic luminol or blood spatter analysis.''

    But this wasn''t Earth. No UV light, no chemical tests, and no police officers trained to read bloodstains like a book.

    But there was magic.

    ''Shit. Is there a spell for detecting blood?''

    If there was, it meant cleaning wasn''t enough. He had to get rid of everything¡ªthe bodies, the stains, even the scent of blood itself.

    His jaw tightened.

    He didn''t know the laws here but knew how this would play out back home. Self-defense had limits. Killing someone over a shattered table and drunken threats would land you in prison.

    Yet Thereon had decapitated them without hesitation. No trial, no questions¡ªjust absolute force.

    ''This world has rules. Maybe different ones, maybe twisted. But rules can be learned. And anything that can be learned... can be mastered.''

    Albrecht exhaled through his nose. It didn''t matter.

    Even if he planned to leave with Thereon the next day, being hunted for murder wouldn''t help him get back to Earth. It wouldn''t help him in returning to his sister.

    And so, he got to work.

 Chapter 5: Smoke and Silence

    Albrecht scanned the room, his mind shifting into problem-solving mode. There was no back door, no easy way to drag the bodies out without someone seeing.

    ''If I can''t take them outside, I need to make them disappear here.''

    His gaze flickered to the fireplace to his left, unlit and barely used. Small, but big enough to start something.

    ''Not ideal, but it''ll have to do.''

    He moved quickly, grabbing a burlap sack from beneath the bar and shaking out the old, rotting vegetables inside. Then, one by one, he stuffed the corpses inside, their limbs folding awkwardly, already stiffening from death.

    Albrecht reached for a bottle behind the bar, uncorking a high-proof spirit. He poured the liquid over the logs in the fireplace, letting the alcohol seep deep into the wood.

    Next, he gathered the thickest cloth he could find, wrapped his hand, and grabbed a burning candle from the bar counter.

    ''Here goes nothing.''

    He dropped the flame.

    The fire erupted instantly, climbing the logs hotter and faster than a normal flame thanks to the alcohol. Thick smoke curled toward the ceiling, the scent sharp and acrid.

    Albrecht wasted no time. The bodies went in one by one, burlap sacks and all.

    The first body hit the flames with a dull thud, and Albrecht forced himself to watch as the fire devoured it, licking at the fabric, blackening flesh beneath.

    ''It''s not enough. Now it would be handy to know a fire spell¡­''

    Bones didn''t burn easily. Cremation required extreme heat. A fireplace like this might not be enough.

    ''Or I just need something stronger.''

    His eyes landed on a wooden barrel near the kitchen entrance. He opened the lid.

    It was Lye.

    A cleaning agent, soap ingredient¡­ and potential corpse disposal tool.

    He didn''t hesitate. Scooping a handful, he tossed the coarse white powder into the fire.

    The effect was immediate.

    The flames flared blue-white, burning hotter than before. The flesh blackened faster, and the bones cracked and softened under the heat.

    He added more. The flames raged, turning bone into brittle fragments and flesh into nothing but curling ash.

    For over an hour, Albrecht fed the fire, ensuring that by the end, nothing was left but white embers and scattered cinders.

    The bodies were gone, but there was still one last problem: the smell.

    Even with the windows cracked, the scent of burnt flesh and charred fabric lingered in the air. If someone walked in, they''d notice.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Albrecht moved quickly, grabbing another bottle of alcohol, this time, one infused with citrus and herbs.

    Pouring it into a kettle, he set it over the still-burning embers, letting the scent of rosemary, lemon peel, and spice fill the room.

    Within minutes, the stench of death faded, replaced by the comforting aroma of a warm, spiced drink.

    With one last look around, Albrecht stepped back.

    The tavern was clean.

    It smelled of herbs and burnt wood.

    And no one would ever know three men had died here.

    Albrecht washed his hands, scrubbing away the last flecks of soot and ash.

    He glanced down at them¡ªhis fingers steady.

    He had disposed of three bodies without flinching.

    No trembling. No hesitation. No guilt.

    If anything, he felt worse about scamming Isla than he did about watching three people die.

    ''Am I really this kind of person?''

    Or had this world already begun to change him?

    With the tavern finally clean, Albrecht stepped outside. The crisp morning air was a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of the fire he had just used to erase three bodies.

    ''I need information. Maybe a map¡­''

    Across the street, Isla''s clothing shop stood exactly as he left it. The main street stretched out to either side, lined with various shops and stalls, the architecture blending timber, stone, and metalwork.

    The town felt far more vibrant than it had in the early morning. The streets were now brimming with people.

    Many people were dressed like merchants, and a few carriages were pulled by horses over the cobblestone floor, seemingly carrying goods like fish and bread.

    Albrecht chose to head left from the inn, following a sign that read "Market Square."

    As he walked, the street gradually sloped downward, leading into a bustling marketplace. Two additional streets fed into the square from the left and right, merging with the lively scene.

    Beyond the marketplace, a river flowed between stone walls, separating this town section from another. A grand arched bridge spanned the water, linking the marketplace to a street on the opposite side that followed the river''s path.

    Small wooden boats bobbed along the edges, moored beside trading stalls and open-air cafes.

    This was a magical sight, literally. A performer captivated the crowd by performing magic, his hands weaving through the air as shimmering streams of water spiraled around him.

    With a graceful motion, he sent droplets soaring, where they froze midair, forming intricate crystalline shapes that sparkled under the morning sun.

    A flick of his fingers shattered them into a glittering snowfall, only for the ice to reform into a magnificent sculpture, a towering dragon of frost, before dissolving back into mist.

    With one final motion, he conjured a swirling vortex of water, splitting it into dancing orbs that floated around the onlookers before vanishing into thin air, leaving only a refreshing coolness behind.

    Albrecht stood before a blacksmith''s stall, his eyes scanning the weapons displayed on thick wooden racks. Swords, axes, lances, and daggers gleamed under the morning sun, their polished edges reflecting the flickering forge fire nearby.

    A worn sign nailed to the front of the stall advertised weapons for sale and repair service, with the blacksmith hammering away at an anvil behind the counter.

    His gaze drifted toward the price tags scratched onto small plaques. The cheapest sword, a simple iron blade with a leather-wrapped hilt, was listed at 14 silver coins.

    The more refined ones, decorated with engravings, hovered at around 50 silver coins.

    The most expensive one, a longsword with a faintly glowing edge, was priced at two gold coins.

    ''Weapons aren''t cheap.''

    It was Albrecht''s first real glimpse at the world''s economy, and without money, he was at a severe disadvantage.

    Fortunately, he didn''t have to search far to find something even more valuable than a sword: information.

    Just behind the blacksmith stall, a small shop caught his eye. Unlike the open-air markets, this one was a proper stone-and-wood building with a carved wooden sign hanging above the entrance:

    "Wanderer''s Quill ¨C Bountys & Maps"

    ''Perfect.'' he thought, stepping inside.

 Chapter 6: Stolen Knowledge

    The interior was dim, lit only by a few oil lamps. There were no windows, giving the space a closed-in feeling.

    Shelves and racks lined every inch of the shop, some nearly overflowing with parchment, books, and scrolls stacked in chaos.

    Behind a wooden counter, an older man with thin spectacles sat at the back of the room, flipping through a small ledger. His posture seemed pretty relaxed as if he didn''t expect any business.

    A large bounty board stood near the entrance, its surface covered in aged parchment notices pinned in overlapping layers.

    Most were hunting requests for slaying wolves or bears, and some even for monsters like goblins.

    A few stood out among them: contracts not for creatures but for people. Mercenary work, high-risk assignments, offering many silver or even one or two gold coins for loyalty, discretion, or brute force. Some bore the seals of noble houses, others the marks of private guilds.

    But his gaze landed on a freshly posted wanted notice, the ink barely dried. The parchment was crisp, and the writing was precise and formal.

    [Wanted Notice]

    Name: Unknown

    Age: Estimated to be at least 50 years

    Appearance: Elegant Swordsman attire decorated with Valorian insignias. Silvery-gray hair and a well-groomed beard.

    Committed Crimes: Multiple Counts of Murder, Unlicensed Swordsmanship, Treason

    Bounty: 30 gold (Dead or Alive)

    Issued by: Central Continents Special Affairs Division

    Notice: This individual is highly dangerous. Any person found harboring, aiding, or withholding information regarding his whereabouts will be subject to immediate arrest, interrogation, or execution for conspiracy against the Central Continent.

    Those who provide reliable information leading to his capture will be rewarded accordingly and may be granted clemency for any prior offenses.

    [Wanted Notice]

    Albrecht adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders slightly, easing into a casual posture before heading toward the counter. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was pretend everything was fine.

    He stopped before the shopkeeper, keeping his voice steady. "I''m just passing through and lost my map. How much for a new one?"

    The shopkeeper glanced up, his gaze lingering for a second before gesturing lazily toward a nearby wooden stand.

    "Most maps go for three silver coins," he said.

    "But if you''re planning to travel, I''d recommend the Roads of Valoria instead. It details the roads and settlements of Valoria, including Vaelmont, and much else of use to a traveler."

    Albrecht gave a thoughtful nod, pretending to weigh his options.

    "Mind if I take a look?"

    The shopkeeper barely glanced up, already sounding bored.

    "Very well, but don''t crease the pages." He sighed and waved a hand toward a nearby shelf stacked with travel guides.

    Albrecht nodded, stepping toward the shelf while subtly glancing back. The old man had already returned his attention to his ledger, flipping through its pages with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ''Good, he''s Distracted.''

    The travel guides weren''t particularly thick, their leather-bound covers stacked neatly in rows.

    Instead of simply grabbing one, Albrecht slid out two, tucking one smoothly into the pouch clipped to his belt before pulling the other into plain view.

    Turning back toward the counter, he casually flipped through the pages, letting his eyes scan the text while keeping his expression neutral.

    Even from the first few lines, he could already tell this was worth having.

    The pages laid out territorial divisions, giving Albrecht a clearer understanding of where he was.

    The town of Vaelmont, his current location, belonged to the Kingdom of Valoria, a land of multiple towns and cities ruled from its capital, Valenheim.

    But Valoria itself was only a small part of a much greater domain. It was one of many territories under the Central Continent, an empire that spanned an entire landmass.

    Unlike Valoria, which governed itself internally, several cities were marked as directly controlled by imperial rule, suggesting that the empire held tighter authority over certain regions while allowing others a degree of autonomy.

    Turning the page, Albrecht came across a large, two-page spread, a detailed map that extended across the book''s spine. It depicted not only the Central Continent but also distant empires and independent regions, each separated by vast oceans.

    His eyes traveled north first to an imposing mountain range stretching across the upper section of another continent. Two notable locations were marked.

    One was a settlement named Frostveil, positioned in the western reaches of the mountains. It appeared to be one of the few places habitable in the frozen north.

    Further east, and deeper within the mountains, was a place called the Stronghold of the Swordsmen of the North. The book didn''t say whether it was a fortress, an independent order, or a remnant of some warrior tradition, leaving its purpose vague.

    Another site stood out beyond the mountains, far to the east: the Northern Magic Tower. It was marked alone, far removed from any surrounding cities or towns. Its placement suggested it was either meant to be isolated or protected by inhospitable terrain.

    Albrecht''s gaze shifted further south but still east across the map, where something caught his attention.

    The name Morgrek was written in bold letters, yet unlike the other regions, there was no further information. No towns, roads, or borders. Instead, a crude skull symbol sat beside its name, an ominous warning that spoke for itself.

    Closer to the Central Continent but still to the east was Sylvalis, a land labeled as an empire. However, unlike Valoria or other nations on the map, there were no markings for individual kingdoms or cities.

    The only thing present was a single enormous tree symbol at its center, labeled the World Tree. Whether Sylvalis truly lacked major settlements or if the map was incomplete remained unclear.

    Moving south, Albrecht noted the presence of several small, unnamed islands scattered in the southeast. There were no details about them, just empty ocean land patches.

    But to the southwest, something more significant stood out. A kingdom occupied a large island shaped like a crescent moon. It was labeled the Kingdom of Lunaris, and its unique geography resembled the celestial body it was named after.

    Albrecht studied the map carefully, taking in the names and territories, letting his mind piece together the world around him.

    He wasn''t just in a small kingdom. He was standing within an empire that was only a fragment of a much larger, more intricate world.

    Beyond the Central Continent were unknown empires, distant strongholds, and places where even the map offered no guidance, only symbols of caution.

    There was still too much he didn''t know, but one thing was certain. This world was far bigger than he had first imagined.

    Now, he just needed to leave without raising suspicion.

    With a quiet sigh, he closed the book with an air of indifference, tapping the cover against his palm as if contemplating whether or not it was worth the money.

    "Hmm¡­" he muttered under his breath, tilting his head slightly as though unimpressed.

    Then, he turned back toward the shelf, returning the book to its spot.

    He turned back to the shopkeeper, casual, uninterested.

    "Guess I''ll pass," he said with an easy shrug. "Not really what I was looking for."

    The old man barely glanced up from his ledger, adjusting his thin spectacles. He gave a lazy grunt of acknowledgment, more interested in his reading than in some random traveler''s decision not to buy a book.

    "As you will," the shopkeeper muttered, flipping a page.

    That was Albrecht''s cue.

    Without rushing, he walked toward the exit, keeping his posture relaxed, his hands empty, and his steps measured. A thief didn''t need to be fast¡ªjust convincing.

    He reached for the door.

    The moment he pushed it open¡ª

    A sharp, piercing noise split the air.

    It was a horrible shrieking sound, like metal scraping against the glass, ringing through the small shop with an unnatural, almost vibrating resonance.

    The shopkeeper''s head snapped up. His spectacles slid down his nose as his eyes went wide with realization.

    "Thief!" the old man roared, slamming his ledger shut as he jolted to his feet.

 Chapter 7: Escape

    Albrecht was momentarily frozen, not because of magic but due to panic.

    In the meantime, the man thrust his hand forward, and from the counter, a faint glyph flared to life, a swirling inscription of glowing blue runes pulsing with magic.

    ''Not good.''

    Albrecht didn''t have time to think.

    He bolted.

    The door slammed open as he launched himself into the marketplace. The alarm''s shriek didn''t stop¡ªif anything, it grew louder, echoing through like a siren.

    "Stop him!" the shopkeeper yelled.

    People turned. Heads swiveled. Some pedestrians stepped back in shock, while others looked ready to intervene.

    Fortunately, the marketplace had become more crowded despite the wanted criminal being on the loose. His only cover was a sea of moving bodies, merchants calling out deals, and carts rolling over the cobblestone.

    Albrecht lowered his posture, slipping into the mass of people.

    He didn''t run. He walked.

    Fast enough to make progress but slow enough to avoid suspicion, weaving through the shifting crowd.

    The shopkeeper''s shouting voice faded behind him, the alarm still screeching, but he was almost at the end of the marketplace.

    Just a few more steps, and he''d reach the bridge, the canal splitting the town in two. The buildings on the other side looked dense, the perfect place to hide in some alleys.

    Then, a heavy hand clamped down on his left shoulder.

    Albrecht tensed.

    He turned slowly, heart pounding, as he came face-to-face with a heavily armored man.

    The guard''s steel breastplate gleamed under the morning sun. Its surface was engraved with an imposing insignia: two eagle heads intertwined, their sharp beaks crossing like a symbol of authority and unwavering vigilance.

    "Stop right there, thief!"

    The man was big. Broad-shouldered, well-fed, with a thick beard and a sharp gaze that immediately locked onto him.

    ''Shit'' was all Albrecht thought in that moment.

    The guard''s grip was iron-tight, preventing Albrecht from moving forward. His fingers dug into the fabric of his vest, his strength undeniable.

    Albrecht didn''t have a weapon. Even if he did, there was no way he could fight a trained guard or soldier in the middle of a crowded marketplace.

    But he still had one advantage.

    By now, a large group of people had gathered, forming a loose circle around him and the guard. Some watched in silence, others whispered among themselves, speculating about the scene unfolding before them.

    From somewhere behind him, a woman muttered under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.

    "Hmph. Probably some disgraced noble turning to thievery. Just look at him."

    A few chuckles rippled through the bystanders.

    ''Is that supposed to be an insult or compliment?'' he thought.

    His lips twitched, but he forced himself to stay focused.

    ''Fine. You want a show?''

    With a dramatic sigh, he lifted his hands in surrender.

    "Alright, you got me," he said, turning slowly.

    The guard''s grip loosened slightly, his confidence taking over. He reached for the iron cuffs on his belt, shifting his hold for just a second¡ª

    And that was exactly what Albrecht needed.

    In an instant, he moved.

    He threw his weight sideways, twisting his shoulder downward just enough to slip completely free from the guard''s grasp.

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    The armored man reacted immediately, lunging forward¡ª

    But Albrecht was already gone.

    The moment his feet hit the ground, he shoved past the circle of bystanders, their startled yelps and gasps barely registering in his ears.

    He darted forward, legs pumping, racing toward the bridge.

    The guard roared in frustration, shoving past onlookers as he lurched forward, his heavy armor clanking with every step.

    But maneuvering through a dense crowd in bulky armor was anything but easy, each movement sluggish.

    "Stop that man!"

    He even unsheathed his sword, but Albrecht was already weaving through the marketplace, slipping between carts and merchant stalls.

    A nearby vendor grabbed a wooden crate and swung it into his path.

    Albrecht twisted mid-stride, narrowly dodging it. The crate slammed against the ground behind him, splintering open, apples rolling everywhere.

    Next, a thick boot shot out from the side.

    Albrecht barely had time to react. He jumped, his momentum carrying him just far and high enough to avoid getting tripped.

    ''What''s with this damn civil courage?'' he thought, gritting his teeth.

    The bridge was right there.

    He could already hear the rush of water beneath it and smell the damp stone of the canal walls.

    But just as he neared the arching stone passage, a second guard stepped forward at the far end. He was equally armored and blocking his only path forward.

    ''Shit. I shouldn''t have gone for the bridge.''

    If he stopped now, he was caught.

    If he turned back, the first guard would seize him.

    Only one option left: the canal.

    With no time to hesitate, Albrecht went left toward the bridge railing. He pushed off in one fluid motion, launching himself into the open air and into the canal below.

    The cold shock of the water hit him like a punch to the chest. The dark water swallowed him whole, muffling the distant shouts from above.

    For a brief moment, he just sank, the weight of his soaked clothes dragging him downward. Then instinct kicked in.

    He kicked hard, forcing himself upward, breaking the surface with a sharp gasp.

    The canal was deeper than expected, and the current was stronger than it looked. The stone walls on either side were smooth and slick with algae, rising too high for him to simply climb out.

    ''Damn it, no ladders?''

    He had to act fast before drowning.

    Albrecht turned to swim toward the right bank, aiming for the tighter district with its winding alleys. But just as he propelled forward, something slammed into him from behind.

    A small merchant boat.

    The force knocked him under, the water closing over his head in an instant.

    The world blurred into murky green and brown, the depths swallowing him. For a moment, he felt weightless, his limbs useless against the sudden rush.

    He fought against the drag, twisting his body, but then his left shoulder smacked hard against the canal wall.

    Pain jolted through him, a sharp burning throb spreading down his arm. He barely stifled a grunt, bubbles escaping from his mouth.

    He kicked furiously, breaking the surface again, gasping for breath.

    And that''s when he heard someone.

    "Over here! Grab my hand!"

    A woman''s voice, sharp and urgent, cutting through the noise of the city.

    Albrecht''s eyes snapped toward the right side of the canal.

    A woman stood at the water''s edge, perched on a low wooden platform extending slightly over the canal. She was leaning forward, one arm outstretched toward him, fingers spread wide.

    She was further ahead, and he was still drifting too much to the left.

    ''Move, damn body.''

    Fighting the pain in his shoulder, Albrecht angled his body, bracing his foot against the wall, and pushed off with everything he had.

    The sudden force propelled him sideways, sending a sharp ache through his already battered muscles.

    His muscles burned, water sloshing into his mouth as he pushed further, forcing himself toward salvation.

    Just a few more strokes, he was almost there.

    He threw everything into one last push.

    Their hands met.

    Her grip was strong, fingers locking tightly around his wrist. With a sharp yank, she hauled him upward.

    The wooden planks groaned beneath them as he toppled on top of her, drenching her in cold water from his soaked clothes.

    Albrecht, still catching his breath, realized his face was mere inches from hers.

    Her golden blonde hair was now splayed out beneath her, strands sticking to her damp skin.

    She blinked up at him, her striking eyes locked onto his.

    Albrecht swallowed.

    "¡­This isn''t my fault."

    She raised an eyebrow. "Then get off me."

    "Right. Yes. Of course."

    Albrecht tried to push himself up, but he was unable to do so.

    It was not just from the wet clothes dragging against him.

    It was not just from the awkward position.

    But it was because something was terribly wrong.

    His vision blurred, the edges of the world fading into white-hot agony as he instinctively clutched his ribs. Something was wet. Sticky.

    It wasn''t water.

    It was blood. His blood.

    A lot of it.

    Albrecht gritted his teeth, his breath shallow as he forced himself to look down.

    His entire right side had been ripped open.

    Muscle, flesh, and sinew had been carved away. His ribs were fully visible, pale against the dark mess of blood soaking the wound.

    For a second, he thought he saw something moving.

    Something inside him.

    His own organs shifted unnaturally, barely held together.

    ''Fuck''

 Chapter 8: Mirrorbound

    A stunned hush fell over the bystanders.

    One person gagged, and another muttered a quiet curse.

    His savior, however, remained perfectly calm.

    "That''s... bad," he muttered.

    Albrecht''s vision wavered. He could feel the world slipping sideways, his strength draining with every pulse of pain. He was losing blood too fast.

    Then, her voice cut through the haze, sharp and certain.

    "Listen to me."

    He barely registered when she grabbed his chin, forcing his dazed eyes to meet hers.

    "I''m Selene. And I know that you are an Outsider."

    His thoughts stuttered, barely keeping up with the pain.

    "Outsider?" he mumbled.

    "You don''t belong to this world?" she continued, looking at his face. "Which world are you from?"

    ''How does she¡­''

    It didn''t really matter how she knew.

    His throat felt like sandpaper as he tried to speak.

    "...Earth."

    Selene''s gaze didn''t waver.

    "And do you know what your innate ability is?"

    Albrecht winced, trying to process her words, but the pain was unbearable.

    His body was falling apart.

    What the hell was an innate ability supposed to be?

    "I don''t know what you''re talking about."

    His voice was strained, raw.

    "And I want to know who exactly you are and how you know all of this."

    Selene exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing.

    "That''s not important right now."

    ''What a cliche thing to say,'' he thought, frustrated.

    Was this how it ended? In a world that wasn''t his, bleeding out in the arms of a stranger?

    His sister¡­

    Would she ever know what happened to him?

    She pressed her palm flat against his chest, not aggressively, but firmly.

    "Listen carefully," she murmured. "You''re about to pass out. And you will definitely die if you don''t figure out your ability right now."

    Albrecht''s heart pounded.

    "You need to feel for it."

    "Feel for it?" His voice was hoarse.

    "Your ability is already there. You have used it before on accident. You just need to acknowledge it."

    The world was spinning.

    His thoughts fractured.

    But somewhere deep inside him, something besides his hanging-out organs shifted.

    Like a door creaking open.

    A concept not spoken aloud but etched into his very existence.

    A name.

    A truth.

    [Innate Ability - Mirrorbound]

    You can shift any physical damage you receive to another world, causing that realm to bear the impact instead. However, the usage puts a significant strain on your mind.

    ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö <¡ö>

    ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    [Innate Ability - Mirrorbound]

    ''What just happened?''

    The gaping wound remained, his ribs still exposed, flesh torn and slick with blood, every ragged breath sending fresh stabs of agony through his side.

    The pain was still there, sharp and relentless, but the crushing sense of imminent death had dulled. There was no longer any new blood flowing out of the wound.

    He wasn''t healed, far from it. His body was still failing, the injury still real. But something had changed.

    He no longer felt like dying.

    He could endure it now.

    Beneath him, Selene lay pinned, her golden eyes gleaming with an unreadable mix of amusement and intrigue as she studied his face.

    "You made it! That has to be the fastest awakening time ever," she said, laughing. Her tone was oddly excited.

    Albrecht barely had the breath to glare at her.

    ''Fastest awakening?''

    His body was still screaming in pain, and she was talking like this was some kind of competition.

    And now, a dull, throbbing ache bloomed behind his eyes, creeping through his skull like iron claws digging into his mind.

    The pain in his body was still very real, his wounds still raw, but something else was invading his thoughts, twisting at the edges of his awareness.

    Selene''s voice cut through the haze.

    "Let''s get you out of here. Try to keep Mirrorbound active."

    She shifted beneath him, slowly pushing Albrecht off herself before moving to her feet in a single, fluid motion.

    He barely had the strength to lift his head when she hauled him up with surprising ease, slinging his arm over her shoulder.

    Albrecht tried to protest, but his limbs were sluggish, his thoughts slow.

    "Selene... ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö?"

    Selene''s grip tightened slightly.

    "Selene¡­ where are you taking me?"

    "Somewhere safe. Just rest for now, but don''t fall asleep," she said.

    Albrecht wanted to protest, to ask more, but the creeping exhaustion was pulling him under, the weight in his mind pressing heavier and heavier.

    It was not just from the pain of his wound but also from using Mirrorbound. Something deep inside his mind twisted and stretched like an unseen force, grabbing his thoughts and pulling them apart, unraveling them thread by thread.

    The urge to deactivate it grew stronger with every passing second. His instincts screamed at him to stop.

    Some primal part of him, something deeply human, begged him to deactivate Mirrorbound, to let the injury return. The pain of a torn-open body was nothing compared to the suffocating pressure on his very being.

    But at the same time, another instinct clawed for control. A different kind of self-preservation. It urged him to endure, that survival, at any cost, was the only option.

    Two instincts, two opposing forces, locked in a silent war within him.

    A cold sweat dripped down his temple as his body trembled, caught between the two.

    "But still, who am I to complain? I am basically cheating death." he thought.

    At some point, the cobbled streets must have changed beneath them, but he hadn''t noticed. He was too wrapped in his own suffering, the crushing strain of keeping Mirrorbound active.

    He hadn''t even noticed where they were going.

    It wasn''t until the soft scent of a floral aroma hit him that he realized that they were no longer on the street.

    They were inside a shop.

    Albrecht forced his eyes open, blinking sluggishly. Rows of potted plants lined wooden shelves, clusters of herbs hung from the ceiling.

    It was a flower shop.

    A voice, low and composed, cut through the haze.

    "Selene?"

    The man standing near a shelf panicked. His hands fumbled, and with a sharp crash, a ceramic flower pot shattered against the wooden floor.

    His wide eyes flickered from Selene to the bloodied mess that was Albrecht.

    "Save him, " she said, walking past him and pushing through a wooden door at the back of the flower store.

    The room beyond was small, dimly lit, a simple cot tucked against the wall. A few cabinets lined the space, stocked with vials of unknown liquids, dried herbs, and tools that definitely weren''t used for arranging bouquets.

    Selene carefully dropped Albrecht onto a soft bed.

    The man followed behind them, his gaze landing on Albrecht''s wound.

    "How the hell is he still alive?" His voice carried more disbelief and curiosity than actual concern.

    She shot the man a cold, sharp look.

    "Do what you''re paid for, and don''t ask unnecessary questions."

    "Fine," he muttered, moving toward Albrecht.

    "But I hope you understand that I can''t heal a wound like this. The best I can do is stabilize for a few days until I run out of mana."

    The man sat on a stool beside him, holding his right hand over Albrecht''s ruined side.

    Albrecht could instinctively feel that he could now finally release Mirrorbound. The pain from the wound was obviously still there, but he no longer felt like going crazy. His mind only felt a bit foggy.

    "You need a very capable healer," the man went on, his expression grim. "Or a very powerful artifact."

    "Then just stabilize him," Selene said. "I''ll get a Chronos Watch."

    The florist''s head snapped up, but he refrained from asking any unnecessary questions.

    Selene left toward the door, leaving Albrecht with the strange mage.

    "All this¡­ from a damn metal pipe," Albrecht muttered bitterly, trying to strike up a conversation. He wasn''t much of a talker, but he desperately needed a distraction.

    The florist huffed, not looking up from his work.

    "Sure, a metal pipe. I guess you have too much honor to admit defeat in a fight."

    Albrecht stiffened slightly.

    "What?" His voice came out more defensive than he intended.

    "I''m sure it was a¡­ no, how exactly did I get injured?"

    "That''s a sword wound. Caused by a clean, deliberate strike. Whoever did this wasn''t just aiming to injure you¡­ they were trying to kill you."

    A dull chill ran through Albrecht''s spine.

    ''A¡­ sword?''

    That didn''t make sense.

    Albrecht had been in the canal. There was no fight, no enemy, just the current of water, the sharp impact of the merchant boat slamming into him, and the brutal scrape against the canal wall.

    But the wound said otherwise.

    So, who had attacked him?

    And why didn''t he remember?

 Chapter 9: Divine Vow

    "What''s your name?" Albrecht asked. He was curious about the strange young man who was pretending to be a florist while being capable of healing magic.

    The man barely looked up from his work. "I am called Heinz."

    "How do you know Selene?" he asked in return, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was fishing for something.

    "I don''t," Albrecht admitted. "We just met. She saved me, I think¡­"

    He frowned, the words tasting strange as he said them aloud.

    ''I''ve been in this world for half a day, and I''ve already met a crazy swordsman and a manipulative woman who might have tried to kill me. Great.''

    But that was the part that didn''t add up.

    ''Why would she try killing me just to save me afterward? And why can''t I remember being attacked?''

    None of it made sense.

    Heinz continued his work in silence. Albrecht had expected some kind of glow, a pulse of energy, or at least a tingling sensation from the magic. But there was nothing.

    No light, no warmth. Just Heinz holding one of his hands over his torn-open side like it was the most normal thing in the world.

    "Heinz," Albrecht started, watching the man''s steady hands. "Can you tell me about magic?"

    Heinz snorted. "Why would I do that?"

    Albrecht resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

    ''Asshole,'' he thought. But it gave him an idea.

    "What if I tell you how I survived?"

    That got his attention. Heinz''s hands stilled. His sharp, calculating eyes flickered up to meet Albrecht''s.

    Greed.

    Curiosity.

    Albrecht had him.

    "I''m interested," Heinz said after a pause. "Let''s make a divine vow."

    "A what now?"

    Heinz let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.

    "What, were you born in a place untouched by the gods?"

    Albrecht just stared.

    Heinz rolled his eyes.

    "A divine vow is a contract, usually between two parties. Both sides agree to a condition and a punishment if the promise is broken."

    That sounded useful, considering that Albrecht felt like only liars and mystery surrounded him.

    Heinz leaned in slightly.

    "So, are you interested? This way, we both get what we want."

    Albrecht considered it for a moment.

    "Alright. How does it work?"

    "I am calling for a celestial that will uphold the agreement we make."

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    Albrecht arched an eyebrow. "That easy?"

    Without further explanation, Heinz closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. It took only a few seconds before something happened.

    Albrecht felt it before he understood what was happening.

    The air grew heavy, not suffocating, but charged, like the atmosphere before a storm. An unseen force loomed over them, neither hostile nor welcoming. Just¡­ watching.

    Heinz opened his eyes. "There. Now, state your terms."

    Albrecht nodded, choosing his words carefully.

    "Alright. I''ll tell you how I survived, and I agree to truthfully answer any question you have about it. In return, you tell me everything I want to know about magic and that artifact Selene mentioned. You must also answer any of my questions regarding that matter truthfully."

    Heinz''s lips twitched slightly, almost a smirk.

    "You already knew what a divine vow was, didn''t you? There is no way that you just came up with these conditions."

    Albrecht shrugged. "Does it matter?"

    The truth was that he suspected that something like this existed, even if he had thought of it in a different way.

    "Maybe not," Heinz admitted, "but we still need to agree on the punishment for breaking the vow."

    Albrecht didn''t hesitate. "Since we''re both honest people, how about death?"

    Heinz blinked. Then he laughed. Then, he abruptly stopped laughing.

    "You can''t be serious."

    Albrecht smirked. "What''s the problem? You weren''t planning to lie, were you? Then a condition like this shouldn''t be an issue."

    Heinz''s expression turned unreadable, his gaze assessing.

    He said, "Fine. But in that case, you also have to answer any questions I have about Selene. Truthfully at that."

    "Fine by me as long as I can ask the first five questions before we alternate," Albrecht said.

    A tense silence hung between them for a moment before Heinz extended his hand.

    "Alright, now shake."

    "Wait, I have one more condition." Albrecht suddenly said.

    Heinz narrowed his eyes. "What is it now?"

    "We both cannot tell anyone about this divine vow, but we are allowed to share any information we obtain from it. Just not where we got it. Also, the Divine Vow ends when we both agree on it or one of us breaks the conditions. "

    ''Hopefully, I didn''t push it too far,'' he thought.

    Heinz sighed and rolled his shoulders.

    "I don''t see the point of it, but alright. But in return, you only get to ask the first three questions before we take turns. No more conditions."

    "Agreed."

    Albrecht then grasped Heinz''s hand, and the mysterious healer gripped back, holding firm.

    "The person shaking my hand and I agree to form a divine vow based on the conditions previously stated."

    But nothing happened.

    Albrecht raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

    "Now, we wait," Heinz said, his grip still firm. "The celestial overseeing our contract must finalize the terms."

    Albrecht frowned. "How long does that take?"

    "Typically a minute or less. Unless, of course, you made the terms a convoluted mess."

    A minute passed. Then another.

    It took around 5 minutes until Albrecht could feel something change. It wasn''t painful, but it wasn''t comfortable either. A subtle yet undeniable change, like an unseen thread, had been woven into his very being.

    A notification, no, more like a realization, surfaced in his mind.

    [Divine Vow Established]

    Participant A - Albrecht: Agrees to truthfully answer any questions from Participant B regarding the circumstances of Participant A''s survival on the 14th of Aureth, Year 147 ACC, and any person Participant A knows as Selene.

    Participant B - Heinz: Agrees to truthfully answer any questions by Participant A regarding magic and an artifact called Chronos Watch.

    Both participants may freely share any information obtained through this Divine Vow, provided they do not disclose that the knowledge was acquired through the vow itself or reveal that a Divine Vow was ever made.

    Participant A has the right to ask the first three questions. After that, Participants A and B take turns, starting with Participant B.

    The Divine Vow shall be nullified if both Participants mutually agree to its termination, releasing them from all obligations henceforth. Additionally, the vow shall be immediately dissolved should either Participant violate its terms.

    If either party is unable to answer a question due to a lack of knowledge, the question is considered void, and the asking party may pose another question instead.

    Breaking the Divine Vow will result in death.

    This Divine Vow has been approved by Orithiel. She, along with her cloud and any allied clouds, shall enforce the agreed-upon conditions if necessary.

    [Divine Vow Established]

    Albrecht exhaled. "So, it''s done?"

    "It''s done. Ask your questions." Heinz said.

 Chapter 10: Four Pillars of Magic

    Albrecht''s breath came out ragged as he shifted slightly on the bed. Even with Heinz''s magic dulling the worst of the pain, the wound still burned like fire.

    He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus.

    "Alright," he said, keeping his voice steady. "First question. What exactly is magic? Explain it to me like I am a child."

    "There are four types of magic. The one I am currently using on you is called Mana Sculpting. It is arguably the most difficult kind of magic but, in most situations, the most useful." Heinz said.

    "I assume I don''t need to explain what mana is?"

    He didn''t wait for an answer.

    "Mana Sculpting is the direct manipulation of mana, whether in the environment, people, or objects. The reason your wound isn''t worsening, and your organs are still functioning, is because I''m constantly feeding you mana, then manipulating it to sustain and even replace some of your body''s functions."

    Albrecht swallowed, the weight of what he was hearing settling in. Heinz was essentially keeping him alive manually with nothing but magic, like what life support machines on Earth do.

    "It requires extensive biological knowledge and a great deal of skill. Not just anyone can do this, especially for a wound of this size."

    Heinz''s voice carried the distinct tone of someone who knew exactly how impressive he was.

    "So you should be grateful."

    Albrecht resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

    ''Arrogant bastard.''

    "The next type of magic is Word Magic. It''s the first kind most people learn and, in my opinion, more suited for beginners and not real magic users."

    Heinz exhaled as if preparing himself to explain something so simple it physically pained him.

    "The caster channels their mana through spells formed as metaphors. The words serve as both guidance and reinforcement to control the mana flow. Take, for example, a basic ignition spell."

    His voice lowered slightly, becoming almost rhythmic.

    "A whisper of embers, a breath of dawn, ignite."

    Albrecht felt something shift in the air, faint but present. He imagined if Heinz had actually cast the spell instead of just saying it, a small flame would have sparked to life.

    "You can think of it as mana flowing into concepts," Heinz explained.

    "Certain parts of the spell need more emphasis. Embers and ignite are the key points. If you don''t direct your mana properly, the spell can weaken, misfire, or just fail entirely."

    ''I wonder if you could just skip a breath of dawn and get the same result... but I doubt it. If it were that easy, someone would''ve figured it out already.''

    Albrecht kept the thought to himself, not wanting to waste a question. He had wanted to ask the first few questions for a reason, even if it were only three instead of the five he initially wanted.

    And now, just two remained.

    But the Divine Vow was already proving its worth.

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    He had only known Heinz for maybe half an hour, yet he was already certain there was no way this guy would''ve willingly explained things so thoroughly on his own.

    But now, he had no choice. He was actually putting effort into explaining magic properly.

    Heinz continued after a brief pause.

    "Written Magic works similarly to Word Magic, except you inscribe spells onto a mana-conductive surface instead of speaking them. The material affects the spell''s potency. A thin piece of parchment won''t hold as much power as a spell carved into stone or engraved onto enchanted metal. But the core principles remain the same: mana control and proper word emphasis."

    Albrecht nodded slightly, absorbing the information.

    "The last type of magic is Story Magic, and it''s the most recently developed. Mages across Renvaris are still arguing over whether it''s a branch of Written Magic or something entirely separate."

    ''Renvaris¡­?''

    That name. It wasn''t anywhere on the map from the travel guide. Not a kingdom, not a continent, not a city.

    ''The way he said it¡­ it''s not an organization or a faction. It sounds like¡­ a place. It has to be the name of this god-forsaken planet.''

    Albrecht barely had time to think about it, nor did Heinz have a chance to explain further.

    Footsteps approached.

    Selene entered the room, her clothes spattered with blood that was clearly not her own. In her hand, she held a breathtaking artifact, a rose-gold watch. Its face was a deep, gleaming blue, and the hands glowing with an ethereal white light.

    Albrecht had been prepared to ask Heinz about it, but now there was no time. They had to postpone their conversation. Not that any of them could reveal that anyway.

    Heinz''s eyes flickered toward the artifact, suspicion lacing his voice.

    "How do you intend to use the Chronos Watch to heal an injury like this? It''s impossible."

    Selene didn''t even spare him a glance. Instead, she looked at Albrecht, her golden eyes piercing as she asked,

    "Do you know what the Chronos Watch is?"

    Albrecht shook his head. "No, I don''t."

    She didn''t seem annoyed at his lack of knowledge like Heinz had been, something Albrecht had expected. Instead, she explained the artifact''s functionality with patience.

    "Chronos Watch manipulates time, but in a very specific way," she said, idly turning the rose-golden watch between her fingers.

    "It doesn''t reverse time. It only pushes it forward."

    Albrecht''s brows furrowed as he thought about that.

    "You mean it speeds things up?"

    Selene nodded.

    "Heinz, it''s time for you to leave. This is something I can''t show you."

    "What?" Heinz scoffed, clearly insulted.

    "I stabilized his wound, I even talked to him, and now I can''t even witness how you intend to use a high-tier artifact like Chronos Watch? Especially if you plan to use it in a way no one ever has?"

    His irritation was barely concealed.

    Selene gave him a slow, amused smile.

    "I can show you what it feels like to age into a shriveled old man within seconds. If that doesn''t sound appealing, then get out. I''ll call for you when it''s time to return."

    There was something in her tone, a blend of humor and threat.

    Albrecht could understand Heinz''s frustration. The man was arrogant, sure, but he also seemed genuinely fascinated by magic, especially how Albrecht had managed to survive with half his body torn open.

    For someone like Heinz, who clearly prided himself on his knowledge, being shut out of a chance to witness Chronos Watch in action must have been unbearable.

    Still, Selene wasn''t giving him a choice.

    Heinz scoffed but clearly knew better than to push his luck. He turned to Albrecht, exhaling sharply.

    "When I leave, I can obviously no longer stabilize you. So good luck."

    "Don''t worry," Albrecht muttered, already bracing himself to activate Mirrorbound again.

    Heinz shot Selene one last glance before stepping out of the room.

    As soon as the door clicked shut, Selene let out a small sigh and began wiping the blood from her clothes.

    "By your facial expression, I can tell that you''re using Mirrorbound. Keep it active until I say otherwise."

    Albrecht gritted his teeth, forcing Mirrorbound to remain active. The sharp, clawing sensation of his mind being stretched returned in full force, but at least it kept him alive.

    Selene, meanwhile, acted as if none of this concerned her. She sat down on the stool Heinz had left behind, her posture relaxed, and she casually wiped the last streaks of blood from her sleeves.

    "Let''s begin."

 Chapter 11: Chronos Watch

    "As I explained before, the Chronos Watch can accelerate the passage of time,"

    Selene said, her voice calm but firm.

    "Typically, it can only be used on non-fatal injuries, as fatal wounds would require decades, sometimes centuries, to naturally heal. Accelerating time to that extent would usually lead to death since the injury itself would worsen rapidly in the accelerated timeframe, even if I narrowed the effect to just the wound itself."

    Albrecht struggled to listen through the haze clouding his mind, the backlash from Mirrorbound leaving him dizzy and barely conscious. Agony surged anew from his ravaged side, no longer numbed by Heinz''s stabilizing magic.

    "But we have a loophole," Selene continued, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. Her gaze locked onto his, fierce and unwavering.

    In a situation like this, she suddenly seemed very trustworthy and even caring.

    "Your ability grants you near immortality. While it can''t heal your injuries directly, it prevents further harm once activated. This will protect you long enough for the Chronos Watch to speed through the healing process without causing your death."

    "¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö?" ¡ö ¡ö.

    Selene held the magical watch next to Albrecht''s gruesome wound.

    His entire right side was cut open, raw muscles twitching beneath shredded skin, tendons exposed and torn like frayed rope. Beneath the grotesque scene, his stark-white ribs gleamed horribly exposed.

    It was odd seeing no blood flowing, thanks to Mirrorbound.

    Worse yet was the sickening sensation of his organs shifting, twitching within the gaping wound, barely contained and threatening to spill out at the slightest provocation.

    Selene drew a deep, steady breath, then gently spun the watch''s delicate hour hand clockwise. A faint clicking sound filled the silence as the air grew thick and charged with tension.

    At first, nothing happened. Seconds dragged on, feeling like an eternity. Then came a searing, blinding pain, deeper and sharper than Albrecht had ever known.

    He convulsed, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. The wound pulsed violently, twitching unnaturally as if alive.

    He watched in horror and awe as the Chronos Watch forced his flesh forward through time.

    The clicking grew louder, quicker, as Selene steadily accelerated the motion of the watch''s hour hand.

    What started as hours per second rapidly increased to days, weeks, and then months, flashing by in mere heartbeats. The watch''s delicate hand blurred, spinning faster and faster, becoming a barely visible streak of light.

    Torn muscles writhed, stretching and knitting themselves back together strand by strand. The exposed ribs became obscured again by growing layers of blood-rich flesh, sinew slithering across bone with visceral precision, pulling taut before merging seamlessly.

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    His organs settled heavily back into their rightful positions, guided by an unseen force, rearranging themselves with surgical precision.

    Sweat drenched Albrecht''s skin, every nerve aflame, yet through the excruciating agony was undeniable relief as each second rapidly restored his mangled side.

    "Hold on," Selene urged softly, her voice steady yet surprisingly compassionate. Her fingers remained unwavering as she guided the watch hand relentlessly forward.

    Slowly and painfully, the edges of his torn skin crawled toward each other, closing over the wound inch by inch. His flesh sealed smoothly until only a faint scar remained¡ªan echo of the trauma he''d endured.

    Finally, Selene slowed her spinning, bringing the Chronos Watch to a gentle stop. Its soft clicking ceased abruptly, leaving a ringing silence in its wake, broken only by Albrecht''s ragged, exhausted breathing as he lay trembling yet whole.

    "You can release Mirrorbound now," she said gently.

    With relief flooding him, Albrecht allowed himself to deactivate Mirrorbound, instantly feeling the immense mental strain lift, replaced only by deep exhaustion.

    ''But why does she suddenly seem like such a reliable person?'' he wondered.

    "Heinz, you can come back in," Selene called sharply, her voice echoing slightly through the small storage room, which also served as a small medical facility.

    The door swung open immediately, revealing Heinz standing just outside. His prompt entrance only confirmed Albrecht''s suspicion.

    ''He was definitely eavesdropping,'' Albrecht thought, meeting Selene''s eyes. Her expression mirrored his own thoughts, though neither said anything aloud.

    Not that Albrecht particularly cared at the moment.

    Heinz''s gaze flicked to Albrecht, assessing him with thinly concealed curiosity..

    "Can you get up?" Selene asked Albrecht.

    "No, I think I need some rest," he answered, lying.

    The truth was that he wanted to continue his conversation with Heinz, who understood the hint.

    "I agree. He should definitely stay for at least the rest of the day." Heinz chimed in.

    "I see," Selene said.

    She rose slowly from her seat, carefully pocketing the Chronos Watch. Her expression hardened slightly as she considered their situation.

    "In that case, I''ll need to cover my tracks more carefully. It won''t take long before news spreads that the Chronos Watch has been stolen. And with the Central Continents Special Affairs Division already present, it won''t take long until they''re hunting for me."

    Selene was already at the door when she added:

    "I''m sure you have many questions, Albrecht, but they will have to wait a bit longer. I will be back in one or two hours."

    With that, she left, leaving not only Heinz and Albrecht but also a lot of suspicion behind.

    ''I don''t remember ever telling her my name¡­ or even what my ability is..'' Albrecht thought uneasily

    Even more troubling was her knowledge of the so-called Outsiders, people presumably from other worlds like himself.

    ''When she helped me in awakening my ability, she clearly already knew what it could do''

    But Albrecht also had to consider the possibility of every Outsider having the same ability or at least every Outsider from Earth.

    So that could have been just luck or coincidence, and the same could be said for her being at the right location at the right time. Just luck.

    What worried him the most was that he had trouble remembering certain things.

    ''When I asked where she was taking me¡­ didn''t I say something else first? What was it?''

    It wasn''t the first time he''d felt this way. Albrecht realized, with chilling certainty, that his memories weren''t just fuzzy. They were incomplete.

    He could clearly remember that he had forgotten something crucial, but not what that something was.

    He already couldn''t trust anyone, and now it seemed like that even included himself.

 Chapter 12: Divine Recoil

    Albrecht resolved to leave before Selene returned but not before extracting more vital information. He intended to fully utilize the Divine Vow he''d established with Heinz.

    "Heinz," Albrecht began carefully, "I believe I still have two questions left."

    A faint smirk appeared on his face. "Go ahead."

    Albrecht paused briefly, thinking about how Heinz had explained the four types of magic earlier, albeit incompletely, thanks to Selene''s interruption.

    Still, he''d gotten useful information already, far more than expected.

    "My next question is: Does magic capable of altering memories exist?"

    A flicker of surprise crossed Heinz''s eyes, subtle but noticeable.

    "Well, memory alteration isn''t common," Heinz said thoughtfully.

    "Historically, the Witch of Morgrek was infamous for corruption magic, including corrupting memories. But since her death, such magic has become extremely rare. Only high-ranking gods or perhaps very precious artifacts are known to have that kind of power."

    Albrecht absorbed the information quietly. Unfortunately, it didn''t seem to help him too much

    "One more," Heinz reminded him. He seemed impatient to ask his own questions.

    Albrecht nodded slowly, carefully choosing his last question. Thereon had mentioned something called authority, and while he could ask Thereon directly, he didn''t want to reveal his ignorance and raise suspicion.

    "What exactly is Authority?"

    Heinz sighed softly, his expression somewhere between amused and annoyed. Yet he explained patiently.

    "Authority is less a skill and more an innate force. Think of it as projecting your will or presence outward like physical pressure, almost akin to gravity. Every person has a certain amount of Authority, though for regular people, it''s negligible. But trained Swordsmen, powerful Mages, and even Paladins possess considerable Authority. If there''s a significant gap, a stronger individual can use Authority to suppress, intimidate, or even immobilize someone weaker."

    He paused, emphasizing the next point clearly.

    "It''s also essential for Realmcasting. Projecting Authority outward allows you to create a space, your own domain or sanctuary, where you control the very nature of reality within. Essentially, Authority forms the foundation of advanced magic and combat techniques."

    Albrecht listened carefully. He didn''t regret asking about it.

    "There are also other specialized uses, such as Soulbinding or dragon taming, but that''s beyond my expertise," Heinz concluded, clearly waiting to take his own turn now.

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    "Thanks for your help, Heinz," Albrecht said.

    "Don''t thank me yet. Now it''s my turn, and my question is simple and direct: How exactly did you survive that fatal injury?"

    Albrecht hesitated. Suspicion lingered heavily in his mind, making him wary.

    ''I''ve already revealed more than enough by showing my lack of knowledge. Heinz and Selene clearly know each other. It''s too risky to trust either of them entirely.''

    And while he didn''t trust Selene, he believed that there was a reason why she didn''t want to tell Heinz any information.

    With that thought, Albrecht''s answer was clear.

    "I don''t know."

    "What?!" Heinz exclaimed. For the first time, he seemed shocked, even stunned.

    "You can''t do that. We made a Divine Vow.. you have to give a proper answer," he added, clearly upset.

    Albrecht got up from the bed that he had been lying in since Selene had carried him into the storage room of the inconspicuous flower shop.

    "I don''t see what''s going to happen. How could some Vow even know what Information I have? I don''t know how I survived."

    This was obviously a lie. While he didn''t know the full details, he definitely had enough information to tell Heinz a few things, but he simply didn''t want to.

    He also thought that there probably were ways to verify information. There were probably ways to check one''s heartbeat with magic or maybe even view his memory.

    There was also the possibility that some kind of being or magic spell was always listening to everything, although that seemed more unlikely. Still, it was a magical word, so anything could be possible.

    But all of that didn''t even matter to Albrecht simply because he had no reason to be afraid of the consequences.

    Heinz was still in shock, so Albrecht used the opportunity to simply get up and leave.

    "Wait!" Heinz shouted, but it was too late. Albrecht was already stepping out..

    Suddenly, brilliant golden sparks erupted around Albrecht, violently igniting the air.

    The room flashed with blinding light, furniture splintered, flowerpots shattered, and shelves were sent crashing to the floor. Yet, amidst the chaos, Albrecht stood unharmed.

    [Innate Ability - Mirrorbound]

    You can shift any physical damage you receive to another world, causing that realm to bear the impact instead. However, the usage puts a significant strain on your mind.

    ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö <¡ö>

    ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö ¡ö

    [Innate Ability - Mirrorbound]

    He had taken a significant gamble by acting so boldly. There had been no guarantee Mirrorbound would protect him from Orithiel, the celestial who had sanctioned their Divine Vow.

    Yet Albrecht had carefully considered this risk. Heinz himself had made the distinction between gods and celestials, implying celestials were beings of lower rank.

    Though powerful, they couldn''t compare to true gods. At least, that was what he hoped.

    ''I mean, what kind of god would bother approving vows between humans? Compared to them, we''re nothing.''

    But even so, the attack from Orithiel had been instantaneous. There had barely been time between the appearance of the golden sparks and the violent explosion that followed.

    Without Mirrorbound, Albrecht knew he would have died instantly.

    He could feel the mental strain gnawing at him, threatening to break his concentration, but he couldn''t afford to deactivate Mirrorbound yet. He needed to endure, at least until he was certain the danger had truly passed.

    He could hear the angry Heinz shouting something behind him, but it seemed like he was too afraid to go anywhere near Albrecht, afraid of being hit as well.

    When he stepped outside, nothing looked familiar. He hadn''t been able to focus while Selene carried him, and now he had no idea where he was.

    The only thing he knew was that he had to find Thereon.

 Chapter 13: Ambition

    Albrecht had always been a good student. He was mostly quiet but focused and disciplined, the kind of boy teachers remembered for his perfect notes.

    Before being pulled into another world, he had been attending St. Aldwyn Academy on a scholarship. One of the best schools in the country. He''d earned his place there.

    Back when his parents were alive, life had been... normal. Not extravagant, but stable. They weren''t rich, but they lived comfortably.

    Upper-middle class, probably. Each parent had their own car. Their apartment was spacious, nestled in a bustling part of the city with big windows.

    His father was a doctor, and his mother a nurse. That''s also how they met. They had saved people for a living.

    Then everything changed.

    Albrecht was eight when it happened, and his sister, Nora, was six. It was the last day of school before the holidays, and their parents had promised them a surprise: an amusement park trip.

    Albrecht remembered waiting outside the school gates, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the street in anticipation. His father''s car pulled up. His mother smiled at him from the front seat.

    They never made it to pick up Nora.

    At an intersection only a few blocks from her preschool, an ambulance ran a red light, rushing to an accident, sirens blaring. Albrecht''s father had the green.

    Their car moved into the intersection, and the ambulance slammed into the passenger side.

    The impact was devastating.

    Albrecht, seated behind his father on the left side, was jostled violently but miraculously unharmed. His mother, sitting in the front passenger seat, took the full force of the blow. She died instantly.

    But fate wasn''t done.

    The crash shoved their vehicle sideways, right into the lane beside them. There, a small sedan had been driving.

    Long metal rods protruded from the rolled-down rear window, sticking out like a trap waiting for the wrong moment.

    That moment came.

    The wrecked car struck at just the right angle. One of the rods pierced through the driver''s side window like a javelin, impaling Albrecht''s father through the neck.

    He and his little sister had been put into an orphanage by government officials. They had never told Nora what happened to her parents. Whether out of negligence or cowardice, no one said the words aloud.

    That burden fell to an eight-year-old boy still soaked in shock and trauma.

    Now, that boy, nearly grown, was sprinting through the winding streets of Vaelmont, struggling to find the bridge that led to the other side of town.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Maybe that past was the reason he could withstand the pain of Mirrorbound.

    Or maybe it was something genetic. A quirk of biology. Or maybe¡­ he was just weird.

    Because at this moment, heart pounding, mind fraying, and body aching from strain, Albrecht felt something he shouldn''t have.

    Excitement.

    He was in a completely foreign, magical world. He had nearly been killed by drunken thugs but was saved by a swordsman who decapitated people without hesitation.

    He''d cleaned up three corpses and burned them in a fireplace, afraid that the Central Continents Special Affairs Division might search his inn for a wanted criminal that very well could have been Thereon.

    For the first time in his life, he stole something, and at that, without any hesitation. Only a travel guide, but he nearly got caught by city guards.

    He had to dive into a canal to escape, injured half his body, and was rescued by a mysterious woman who may have been the very one who injured him... and possibly tampered with his memories.

    He also discovered that he had an absurdly powerful ability that made him nearly immortal. He made a reckless Divine Vow and then broke it without any fear.

    Now, he was hunted, if not by Heinz, a mage with unknown strength, then possibly by Orithiel, a celestial being bound to enforce the vow.

    And Selene? She was almost certainly pissed. Maybe enough to come after him herself. Her agenda was also completely unknown.

    And to top it all off, he might be wanted for the theft of the guidebook, or worse, for involvement in the use of Chronos Watch, a high-tier magical artifact with the power to forward time.

    Everything should have felt like too much.

    But it didn''t.

    He was actually excited. Albrecht didn''t feel any fear.

    What did he even have to lose?

    If he was being honest with himself, the chances of ever returning to Earth and seeing Nora again were close to zero. Clinging to hope now felt like delusion. There was no point in comforting lies or naive dreams. Not anymore.

    He had accepted it. This world. This reality. But acceptance didn''t mean surrender.

    If anything, it meant the opposite.

    ''Wasn''t life on Earth kind of boring, anyway?'' he thought.

    Nothing but textbooks, exams, polite conversations, and classmates who always smiled upon seeing each other.

    He never considered them friends.

    To Albrecht, they were just background noise, fleeting distractions. Ordinary people, good for passing time but nothing else.

    His future was certain. He would have no trouble attending a prestigious university, finding a well-paid job, and leading a quiet and structured life.

    On paper, it was perfect.

    But when had he started to hate it?

    People would have envied him for his good grades, scholarship, "friends," and safe path forward.

    But wasn''t it all just... hollow?

    Where was the danger? The uncertainty? The part of life that made it feel real?

    Most people would think that he was definitely crazy. They would assume that he was a spoiled teenager who didn''t understand life and was not grateful for what he had.

    But was he actually crazy for thinking this way? Well, maybe he actually was. Not that he cared about what other people thought.

    There were also many people who considered him a genius, but what did that truly mean? Scoring a certain number of points on an IQ test didn''t mean anything. You could prepare for that.

    Then, was it being good at school? Maybe skipping a certain amount of grades?

    No¡­ to Albrecht, it meant being someone who would do the impossible, someone who would be considered crazy until he proved everyone wrong. That was a genius.

    Mastering swordsmanship, magic, whatever it took. He would prove that he was not crazy but a genius. And he had set himself a goal to do so:

    Conquering the world.

 Chapter 14: Vaelmont Library & Archives

    By now, he had been running for at least 10 minutes, but fortunately, he had found the bridge he had jumped off. It was the same bridge leading to the marketplace.

    There no longer seemed to be any guards, so he wasn''t too wary. The only immediate concern was the bloodstains on his clothes. He tugged at his cloak, trying to cover the worst of it.

    With a deep breath, he deactivated Mirrorbound. There was definitely the possibility that some divine being was still after him, but in Heinz''s flower shop, he had felt a certain pressure, like the presence of the celestial.

    But that was no longer the case, so he felt quite safe. At least, how safe you could feel in a situation like this.

    Judging by the sun''s position overhead, it had to be around the afternoon. That meant he had been in this world for at least eight hours.

    Now that the initial shock of waking up in another world had somewhat passed, he could think much more rationally. It was only obvious that one would be surprised to wake up in a situation like he did.

    Especially for someone who valued logic over everything else since nothing of this could be scientifically explained, at least with his current knowledge.

    Still, he wasn''t embarrassed by his initial reaction or thought process. He did not consider himself to be perfect, but he was confident in his ability to adapt to any situation, whether that was school, corporate life, or another world.

    Unfortunately, Albrecht''s initial attempt at gathering information failed. The travel guide he had stolen was now unusable because it had been soaked in water, and the ink was all over the place.

    Unfortunately, his first attempt at gathering intel had failed. The travel guide he''d stolen was completely ruined. The canal water had soaked through every page, smearing the ink into unreadable blotches.

    All he had now was what he could recall from memory: A rough layout of the world and a more detailed map of the Kingdom of Valoria.

    Heinz had provided some valuable insights, especially about magic. But when it came to culture, law, swordsmanship, and the finer nuances of this world, he was still woefully underinformed.

    As he retraced his steps back to the street leading to the Inn, Albrecht walked slowly, organizing his thoughts.

    ''What concerns me the most right now are my memories,'' Albrecht thought.

    ''Especially how I ended up with that wound in the canal. There''s no way a collision with the boat or the canal wall could''ve caused damage that severe.''

    He thought it over for a while, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt like he was chasing his own tail.

    Logically, Selene was the only possible suspect. She was the only one nearby when he was injured, and she had shown an uncanny awareness of his situation. And yet¡­ she had also been the one to save him.

    None of it made sense.

    If she was the one who attacked him, then she must have tampered with his memories. But there was also a more disturbing possibility: someone else had altered both of their memories¡ªleaving them equally unaware of what really happened.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    That theory felt far-fetched¡­ especially because of the other strange details.

    Selene had known his name.

    She had known his ability.

    She had known he was from another world.

    He had never told her any of that.

    Which meant¡­ she might have read his memories. But if that were the case, wouldn''t she also know about his suspicions? His doubts about her?

    ''Ahhh, it just doesn''t make sense!''

    He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

    The more he tried to piece it together, the more tangled it became. The truth was simple but frustrating: He didn''t have enough information. Not yet.

    He could already see the Inn, as well as the clothing shop where he had met Isla. He would later pick up his new training clothes, but for now, he would continue to gather intel.

    Albrecht passed the inn, this time walking in the opposite direction of the route he''d taken earlier to reach the marketplace.

    As he moved, his thoughts drifted¡ªuninvited¡ªto his little sister, Nora.

    No. He had to stop doing that.

    ''She''s fifteen now¡­ she can take care of herself,'' he told himself.

    He paused.

    ''Yes. Definitely. I have to believe that.''

    Albrecht had a storm of conflicting thoughts about this whole other-world situation.

    He missed his sister¡ªof course, he did¡ªand the worry gnawed at him more than he admitted. But at the same time, a part of him couldn''t deny it:

    Life back on Earth had felt¡­ dull.

    Here, in this strange, dangerous world, he felt something he hadn''t felt in years¡ªexcitement.

    ''Does that make me a bad person?'' he wondered, guilt and curiosity wrestling inside him.

    As he made his way through the now busier street, something caught Albrecht''s eye¡ªa library.

    A carved wooden sign hung above the entrance, reading: "Vaelmont Library & Archives."

    The building stood with quiet dignity, its wide double doors framed by polished stone and aged timber. Large windows flanked the entrance, displaying carefully arranged books that hinted at the knowledge waiting within.

    Peering through the tall windows, Albrecht caught sight of a warm, inviting interior¡ªtall shelves brimming with books stretched wall to wall while rows of polished wooden tables offered ample space for reading.

    Candlelight flickered softly across the space, casting a golden glow that made the whole room feel timeless and serene.

    It looked peaceful and inviting. So, without hesitation, he stepped inside.

    If there was any place to gather reliable information in this world, it had to be here. He also hoped to find another map, one he could study properly this time and commit to memory without the risk of water damage or thievery.

    Just inside, a librarian sat behind a tidy reception desk, flipping through a heavy book. She glanced at him briefly but said nothing, and Albrecht saw no reason to bother her¡ªfor now.

    The interior was well-organized. Signs hung from the ceiling, dividing the vast collection into major categories: Romance, Fantasy, Magic, Swordsmanship, and History, among others.

    Naturally, his eyes were drawn to the last three. He made his way toward the History section first.

    It was larger than expected. Multiple shelves were devoted to it, each marked with more specific labels carved into wooden plaques. Some appeared to be based on time periods:

    After Central Consolidation (ACC)

    Era of Wandering Gods (EWG)

    Age of Ash and Stone (AAS)

    Others were grouped by topic rather than chronology:

    Continent of Gorathal

    History of Valoria and Vaelmont

    Racial Origins and Wars

 Chapter 15: The Eternal Emperor: Aurex Solmirae

    Albrecht made his way toward the first row under the History section, the worn wood of the floor creaking softly beneath his steps. The signs on the shelves marked distinct eras and subjects, each neatly labeled in golden lettering.

    One shelf in particular drew his attention: After Central Consolidation (ACC), the era he assumed marked the current age of the world.

    Adjacent to it, still within the same aisle, were shelves labeled History of Valoria and Vaelmont.

    "Seems like those would overlap," Albrecht murmured to himself, eyes scanning the spines of dozens of books. "But maybe there are details that differ."

    His gaze settled on a thick tome with a black-and-gold cover that stood out from the rest. Its title was etched in silver ink: "The Eternal Emperor: Aurex Solmirae"

    Curious, he plucked the book from the shelf and flipped it over, reading the summary on the back:

    "Discover the origins of the man who would become a legend. From humble beginnings to divine ascent, follow Aurex Solmirae''s rise as he unified a fractured continent under a single banner. Learn how he earned the title of ''The Eternal Emperor,'' the foundation of his divine right to rule, and the legacy that still shapes the Central Continent today."

    It sounded like propaganda¡ªor mythology passed down as history.

    Still, he was interested in learning more about his world. Understanding the past could be essential to surviving the present and conquering the future.

    But one thing struck him as odd.

    ''After Central Consolidation. Hmh...''

    That name implied this was the period after the founding of the Central Continent¡ªa time still ongoing.

    He recalled seeing a few posters back on the street, listing the year as 162 ACC.

    ''So¡­ they''re living in a time period with a name?''

    It felt strange. On Earth, time periods were usually applied retroactively¡ªthe Renaissance, the Industrial Age¡ªbut rarely did a civilization name its present era with the kind of certainty that it would be remembered.

    Then again, this was a world with magic. Maybe things worked differently here.

    ''Whatever. Doesn''t change what I need to know.''

    He flipped open the book and turned to the table of contents.

    Chapter I ¨C Before the Empire: The Fractured Continent

    Chapter II ¨C Aurex of Solmir: Childhood and Origins

    Chapter III ¨C The War of Six Kingdoms

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Chapter IV ¨C The Pact of Three Gods

    Chapter V ¨C Founding of the Central Capital

    Chapter VI ¨C The Rise of Valoria

    Chapter VII ¨C Civil War: Silverbane Collective

    Chapter VIII ¨C The Solmirae Doctrine and Imperial Law

    Chapter IX ¨C Eternal Reset

    Chapter X ¨C Legacy and Immortality

    ''Wow¡­ that''s a lot.''

    The book was thick¡ªpractically a brick¡ªbut given the subject, that was hardly surprising. Still, he didn''t have the time or energy to read the entire thing, even if several chapters practically begged to be explored.

    Instead, he decided to skim strategically, focusing on the most relevant chapters, like Chapter I for background context, Chapter IV for the mention of gods, and the final three chapters.

    After flipping through the most relevant chapters, Albrecht managed to piece together a rough summary of the Central Continent''s history:

    Following the end of the Era of Wandering Gods, a cataclysmic conflict known as the Great Holy War reshaped the world. The Central Continent, as it is now known, was once part of a vast supercontinent but split away due to divine upheaval during the war.

    Most gods either perished or were sealed during that era, though the book lacked detailed accounts of the war itself¡ªonly hints and vague references remained.

    In the aftermath, various civilizations settled on the newly separated continent. Humans migrated to the western regions, while elves, beastkin, and other races took root in the east.

    A towering mountain range was a natural barrier between them, rendering travel and trade across the continent near impossible.

    The East flourished. With access to the ocean beyond the mountains, its civilizations prospered through maritime trade and fertile lands nestled in scattered valleys.

    The West, however, struggled. Isolated from the east by the mountains and blocked from the north by frozen seas, its development stagnated. The dwarves in the southern highlands remained largely secluded, uninterested in alliances or trade.

    The western region fractured into countless small cities and loosely organized kingdoms, many of which were locked in near-constant conflict over scarce resources.

    The southwestern plains were the most contested. Their temperate climate was ideal for farming, a rare luxury, as the north was too cold and the east too rugged to cultivate effectively.

    Then came the birth of a man who would change everything.

    In a small, forgotten village¡ªdestined to become the imperial capital of the Central Continent, Aurum¡ªa child was born.

    His name was Aurex Solmirae, though history would come to remember him by a far grander title: The Eternal Emperor.

    Gifted with unmatched charisma, intellect, and raw power, Aurex grew into a legend. He united the fractured west under one banner, forming the Kingdom of Valoria. Wars ceased, cities prospered, and the western lands began to flourish under his leadership.

    He led a campaign south to Lunaris, the dwarven island known for its rich mines and arable land. The conquest was swift and decisive.

    Rather than destroy, Aurex integrated the dwarves, bringing their smithing and engineering talents into the fold. Trade bloomed, cities expanded, and a new era of wealth began.

    But it wasn''t just political unity or conquest that made Aurex a godlike figure.

    He was the first human to wield both high-level magic and advanced swordsmanship in harmony.

    His light magic was said to illuminate entire battlefields, blinding enemies and inspiring his soldiers. No warrior or mage could match him, and many believed the heavens chose him.

    A new faith was born around him¡ªThe Radiant¡ªa religion that hailed him as the embodiment of divine order. His rule was not just political but spiritual. For decades, he led with unwavering power and vision.

    Peace, however, did not last forever.

    The eastern coalition of elves and dragons launched a devastating assault on Azurheim, a thriving city near the mountain range.

 Chapter 16: Princess in Distress

    But Aurex was prepared.

    He marched with a massive army of battle-hardened swordsmen and elite mages. His golden armor was said to gleam like the sun itself.

    The fierce, ancient, and feared dragons fell one after another beneath his blade. His magic shattered elven formations, and his authority alone was said to bring despair to the enemy ranks.

    The elves were driven back, and the dragons scattered.

    In the wake of victory, Aurex did not raze Syvalis. He offered peace¡ªon his terms.

    The East was forced into a non-aggression pact and trade agreement. Though technically independent, they bent to Valoriam''s influence from that day forward.

    With the West fully united, the South assimilated, and the East subdued, Aurex Solmirae''s empire called the Central Continent, reigned supreme.

    He did not age. He did not fade.

    Thus, he became The Eternal Emperor, a being above kings and gods alike.

    For the past 162 years, the Central Continent has been under his rule, unmatched by anyone else.

    At least, that''s what the book claimed. To Albrecht, it read like a blend of propaganda and half-truths¡ªglorified myth mixed with historical fact.

    Still, one thing kept gnawing at him: "Is this "Eternal Emperor" actually still alive?"

    Depending on how old Aurex Solmirae was when he unified the Central Continent, he could be over 200 years old by now. At the very least, he would be close to it.

    Thinking about it, it just sounded like an absurd number, even with powerful magic.

    He slid the book back onto the shelf and continued browsing the library for a few more hours. By the time Albrecht left, he felt satisfied with what he''d learned.

    Rather than diving into books on magic or swordsmanship, he had chosen to focus on history, culture, law, and geography.

    If he ever found himself in a situation where he actually needed to fight, no amount of reading would help¡ªno book could prepare him to beat a trained swordsman or practiced mage.

    So, he decided to gain the kind of knowledge that would help him avoid dangerous situations altogether. Something he had failed miserably so far.

    ''If only I''d found the library before that damned marketplace,'' he thought bitterly. But it was pointless. The past couldn''t be changed¡ªonly learned from.

    As Albrecht stepped out of the library, he was greeted by the warm hues of the setting sun

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The sky had shifted into a canvas of orange and deep violet, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. Lanterns were being lit one by one, their soft glow beginning to chase away the creeping dusk.

    Albrecht moved swiftly through the thinning crowd, making his way back toward the clothing shop where Isla had promised his training outfit would be ready by afternoon.

    "Hey! That''s him!" a deep voice bellowed from behind.

    Albrecht turned his head slightly and saw a broad-shouldered man pointing straight at him. The man was clad in thick, plated armor, a massive greatsword slung over one shoulder.

    Beside him, another figure¡ªleaner but just as imposing¡ªgripped a heavy mace in both hands, his armor darker, almost military in design.

    Both men had noticeably darker skin than most of the people Albrecht had seen in Vaelmont. It could have been a coincidence or a hint that they weren''t from around here.

    The already small crowd instinctively parted, giving the two armored men a clear path.

    Albrecht''s instincts screamed. He quickened his pace, trying to blend in with the passersby, hoping he could slip away before they caught up.

    No such luck.

    The smaller one struggled under the weight of his armor, but the bigger man moved with frightening speed. His heavy boots pounded against the stone with each stride as he closed the distance rapidly.

    Albrecht broke into a full sprint.

    "Wait!" he called over his shoulder, desperate to stall them.

    "There''s been a mistake!"

    But there was no hesitation in the man''s movements.

    The greatsword came swinging in a deadly arc.

    Albrecht barely turned in time to raise his arm, bracing for the blow. Metal met flesh with a dull, sickening thud¡ªand stopped.

    Blood didn''t spill, and bone didn''t shatter.

    Albrecht had activated Mirrorbound in time, transferring the damage elsewhere, but the impact still echoed through every nerve in his body. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground hard.

    Before he could recover, the sword was already rising again¡ªthis time aimed directly at his chest.

    Albrecht''s heart seized. He couldn''t keep this up forever.

    Then¡ªsteel rang against steel.

    A blade, small but solid, caught the strike mid-air, sparks flashing where they clashed.

    Albrecht blinked up through the haze of panic and pain¡ªand recognized the man immediately.

    Thereon Snowstride.

    Calm, precise, and utterly unshaken.

    Golden etchings shimmered along his blade as he pushed the attacker back with a single, deliberate motion. The force of the parry knocked the greatsword aside, and the bulky man stumbled half a step.

    "My potential disciple''s already managed to get himself in trouble, huh?" Thereon said with a dry chuckle, sarcasm lacing his voice.

    "Thank you," Albrecht said, deactivating Mirrorbound before getting up.

    Using that ability not only strained his mind but also gave him a bad feeling. He just couldn''t really understand why. It felt like he was missing something.

    "Don''t flatter yourself, princess. It''s not like I can let you die before I''ve taught you anything," Thereon said calmly, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

    By now, the smaller man had caught up, his mace resting heavily in both hands. He and his companion stood a few paces away, eyes fixed on Thereon¡ªnot with fear, but with measured caution, like seasoned fighters sizing up a dangerous beast.

    Thereon didn''t seem fazed in the slightest. In fact, he looked bored.

    Then, to Albrecht''s surprise, he turned his back on them¡ªon both enemies¡ªand glanced down at him with an amused glint in his eye.

    "If you want me to teach you," he said casually, "then land a hit on either of them."

    His smile widened.

    "Think you can manage that, princess?"

 Chapter 17: A Blade Too Heavy

    Albrecht stared at Thereon in disbelief.

    The larger attacker didn''t wait for Albrecht to decide. He lunged again, greatsword cleaving through the air with the weight of an avalanche.

    Thereon intercepted him mid-charge, their weapons meeting with a crack of steel. But he didn''t counter¡ªonly deflected, stepping aside to create an opening.

    "That one was for free," he said over his shoulder. "Next time, do it yourself."

    Thereon casually tossed his sword toward Albrecht. It spun once in the air, catching the last glint of the fading sun before Albrecht instinctively reached out and caught it clumsily.

    The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, the weight yanked forward with surprising force. It was far heavier than he had anticipated.

    He staggered, nearly losing his balance as the blade dragged his arm down and his body forward.

    ''He is insane¡­'' Albrecht initially thought.

    But then, another thought followed, cold and calculated.

    Wasn''t this¡­ a chance?

    He wasn''t confident in his skill¡ªhe had never held a real sword before, let alone wielded one in a fight. But he was confident in Thereon.

    The old swordsman had handed over his only weapon, turned his back on two armed enemies, and still looked completely at ease. He wasn''t just confident¡ªhe was mocking and playing with them.

    That alone told Albrecht everything he needed to know.

    Surely, Thereon wouldn''t let him die. He was absolutely certain that Thereon would save him.

    And in the worst case¡­ he still had Mirrorbound. He hated relying on it, hated how it clouded his thoughts and tore at the edges of his mind, but it was better than dying.

    He couldn''t use it effectively in combat¡ªit dulled his focus too much¡ªbut as a failsafe? It would be perfect if he got seriously wounded.

    All things considered, his odds weren''t as bad as they looked.

    A tight breath left his lungs as he straightened his stance, the heavy sword resting awkwardly in his hands.

    "Alright, I will land at least one hit," he said to Thereon, answering his previous question.

    The armored man with the mace stepped forward first. He suddenly looked a bit nervous, and his movements even slowed down a bit.

    Albrecht was slightly confused by this, but he couldn''t let this opportunity pass.

    Albrecht tightened his grip on the sword. It felt too long, too heavy¡ªlike it belonged to someone else entirely.

    His arms already ached from just holding it. He''d never fought with a blade before, never even held a practice sword.

    Still, he raised it, unsure of how to stand or what to do, trying to mimic how Thereon had held his earlier.

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    The mace came down hard.

    Albrecht panicked. Every instinct screamed that if he tried to block it, he would die.

    He leaped to the side, his feet landing awkwardly on the uneven cobblestone.

    He crashed to the ground, pain lancing through his shoulder. His sword nearly slipped from his grip, but he scrambled upright before he could be punished for the mistake.

    Still¡ªsomething was off.

    ''Why didn''t either of them press the attack? And why aren''t they coming at me together?''

    The old swordsman hadn''t moved. He stood in place, standing casually and smiling. He was watching the big man with the greatsword¡ªthe two locked eyes¡ªsilent, unmoving.

    Albrecht''s eyes narrowed.

    ''I get it now...''

    He would later confront Thereon about it, but for now, he had to focus on the fight in front of him.

    The smaller one¡ªthe mace-wielder¡ªwas still active, still cautious. He flicked his gaze between Albrecht and his frozen ally. He looked like he wanted to say something, his mouth parting slightly...

    But no words came out.

    The silence between them crackled with tension.

    The man with the mace stepped forward, cautiously as if still unsure whether to commit. His grip tightened, and then¡ªwithout warning¡ªhe lunged, bringing the weapon down in a wide, heavy arc.

    Albrecht tried to sidestep, but his reaction was clumsy and delayed.

    The mace grazed his side, slamming into his ribs with bruising force. Pain exploded across his torso, and he stumbled, gasping.

    ''Too slow¡ªway too slow!''

    He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay on his feet. The impact hadn''t broken anything, at least not yet, but his entire side throbbed. He couldn''t afford another direct hit.

    The mace came swinging again, slower this time.

    Albrecht brought up the sword to block it¡ªtoo high, too shaky¡ªand the force of the blow sent vibrations rattling down his arms. His footing faltered again, but he managed to stay standing and wasn''t hit, barely.

    ''Thanks, Thereon'' he thought.

    He took a breath. Focused.

    This time, when the mace came at him, Albrecht didn''t try to meet it head-on. He ducked lower. The head of the mace whooshed past his shoulder¡ªclose enough to feel the wind drag against his hair.

    He countered, clumsily slashing forward with the sword. The blade caught on the man''s armored shoulder with a dull clang, doing little damage, but it forced the enemy to back off.

    ''Okay¡­ that''s something.''

    But he knew that Thereon wouldn''t count that as a hit.

    It wasn''t enough.

    By now, it had become clear that Thereon never truly expected him to land a clean strike. This was a test¡ªof effort, of resolve, of how far Albrecht was willing to push himself, even knowing he couldn''t win.

    And it made sense.

    No novice could beat someone even moderately trained in combat, not without sheer luck or overwhelming power. And this wasn''t luck. Albrecht had already been helped¡ªsubtly but undeniably.

    He looked again at the larger man, the greatsword still resting firmly in his grip. He hadn''t moved an inch since the fight began. Not because he was waiting¡ªbut because he couldn''t.

    Albrecht hadn''t noticed at first, too distracted by survival. But later in the fight, he realized it.

    ''Authority,'' Albrecht thought.

    It was the only explanation.

    He couldn''t feel it¡ªno pressure, no aura¡ªbut the clues were there just like Heinz had described: a force that projected power outward, suppressing and even immobilizing those weaker.

    And it wasn''t just the greatsword wielder.

    The man with the mace had clearly been affected, too. Sluggish movements. A hesitation before every strike.

    At that moment, he seemed like he wanted to speak but couldn''t. Like something was pressing down on him.

    Thereon was doing it. Holding both opponents back with nothing but presence.

    He didn''t expect Albrecht to win. That much was obvious. This wasn''t a real duel. It was a test. A challenge to see if Albrecht would keep going.

    But that only made Albrecht more stubborn.

    He tightened his grip on the sword, steadying his stance. His breathing was heavy, his shoulder still ached, and his hands trembled¡ªbut his eyes locked onto his opponent with a new focus.

    He wasn''t done yet.

 Chapter 18: To Prove a Point

    "Thereon!" Albrecht shouted, adrenaline surging through him as his feet moved across the cobblestone.

    "Don''t block his next attack! No matter what!"

    Thereon gave a quick nod, a dry, amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

    If Albrecht had the time to properly see his face, he would''ve noticed something rare¡ªsomething almost out of place.

    Thereon looked¡­ intrigued.

    And not just that. There was a flicker of pride in his eyes, buried beneath the usual sarcasm and composure, like a teacher seeing the spark of potential in a student for the very first time.

    It was not because Albrecht had fought well¡ªhe truly hadn''t.

    It also wasn''t because he''d shown skill¡ªthat was actually impossible since he had none.

    Instead, it was because he had taken the initiative and released what Thereon had been doing.

    To an observer, it would''ve been obvious. One attacker hadn''t moved at all. The other had slowed, hesitated¡ªhis strikes dulled by something unseen.

    But Albrecht was in the middle of it. Fighting for the first time, no less. Heart pounding, blood rushing, every instinct screaming at him to survive.

    And even then¡ªhe had calmly analyzed the situation.

    He didn''t just focus on his own movements or the opponent in front of him. He looked beyond the immediate. He read his surroundings.

    Thereon''s smile deepened¡ªnot just with amusement, but with interest.

    He was impressed, yes¡­ but more than that, he was curious.

    ''Is he really going to do it?'' he thought.

    He watched closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. Not because he was worried¡ªno, he could step in at any time¡ªbut because he wanted to see just how far Albrecht was willing to go.

    Because if Albrecht was about to do what Thereon suspected¡­

    Then, he wasn''t just bold. He was insane.

    The good kind of insane. The rare kind¡ªthe kind that made great warriors, terrifying leaders, or absolute monsters.

    And right now, Thereon wasn''t sure which one he was looking at.

    But he was eager to find out.

    The mace came in low and fast, aiming once again for Albrecht''s already bruised ribs.

    But this time, Albrecht didn''t dodge.

    He gritted his teeth and stepped into the strike.

    Now, there was no going back.

    The heavy steel head of the mace arced through the air, and at the very last possible moment¡ªjust before it would crush bone and tear through flesh¡ªAlbrecht raised his left arm.

    Pain shot through his entire body as the impact landed. His forearm screamed, bones straining to the brink, muscles tearing from the force. It was like trying to stop a wrecking ball with a bundle of sticks.

    But just as the blow made contact, he activated Mirrorbound.

    Stolen story; please report.

    A soft flicker pulsed through Albrecht''s mind like a taut thread being pulled.

    The worst of the damage shifted away, siphoned through the unseen tether that connected him to another world. To Earth. His home.

    His arm didn''t shatter¡ªbut it bent dangerously, sickeningly. The bone creaked, and the skin tore in places. Blood trickled down his fingers.

    But it held.

    Just barely.

    At first, Albrecht had considered timing Mirrorbound perfectly¡ªtaking the initial blow and activating the ability a split-second before the damage turned catastrophic. That had been the idea.

    But he dismissed it almost immediately.

    The timing was too precise, too narrow. At his current level, with no training and no second chance, it was simply impossible. One misstep and his arm wouldn''t just be broken¡ªit would be almost gone.

    So, instead, he tried something else.

    He controlled Mirrorbound¡ªnot completely, but just enough. He didn''t shift the entire blow to another realm. Instead, he let some of the force pass through. The damage remained partially in his body.

    Just enough to keep it real and make it look like he''d taken the hit. Just enough to keep his ability hidden.

    The pain was real. The blood was real.

    And unfortunately, so was the strain on his mind.

    He had hoped that by only partially activating Mirrorbound, the mental burden would be lighter.

    It wasn''t.

    The pressure clawed at his skull just the same, fuzzing the edges of his vision and making his knees wobble.

    Clearly, Mirrorbound didn''t scale gently. It was all or nothing when it came to the cost.

    So it was only worth doing in a situation like this, where had to hide the true extent of his ability.

    Wasn''t that ironic?

    He trusted Thereon enough to risk his life on him¡ªtrusted him to save him if this went sideways.

    But he didn''t trust him with his secret.

    ''Well, it''s not like he won''t have any suspicions,'' Albrecht thought.

    Thereon was no fool. He was a trained swordsman, so he would know that something was off, that the hit hadn''t landed the way it should have.

    Albrecht was sure of it.

    So if questions came, he''d be ready. He could say it was a minor ability. Something that reduced physical damage by half. Maybe add a long cooldown, say a week or so¡ªenough to sound plausible.

    That way, he wouldn''t appear threatening. Just¡­ useful.

    Because the last thing he needed was for his savior to become suspicious. Or worse, wary of him.

    But he also had to consider that maybe not everyone had an ability like him. Maybe it was something only for Outsiders¡­

    At the very least, Heinz had never mentioned anything like special abilities during his explanation.

    ''Perhaps I should have asked him about it. ''

    It didn''t matter now.

    What mattered was simple: Albrecht had taken the hit and survived.

    The mace-wielder stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He hadn''t expected that. Almost no one would''ve. His expression flickered, shock giving way to hesitation.

    He tried to step back.

    Too late.

    Albrecht''s left hand shot forward, grabbing hold of the mace''s shaft, locking it in place. His grip was tight. Unyielding.

    In a usual contest of strength, Albrecht would loose nine out of ten times, but currently, his opponent was in shock.

    With a pained snarl, Albrecht raised the sword in his right hand and thrust it forward, aiming slightly upward.

    Steel pierced flesh.

    The man gurgled, stumbling.

    Blood sprayed from the wound, a thick crimson arc.

    But Albrecht didn''t stop.

    He wrenched the blade free with a ragged breath¡ªand drove it in again.

    A second, more forceful thrust, this time pushing deeper. Right through the throat.

    The man collapsed, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

    Silence followed.

    Albrecht stood over him, chest heaving, blood dripping from his hands. With trembling fingers, he let go of Thereon''s sword. It clanged against the cobblestone, echoing through the empty street.

    He had done it.

    Not cleanly. Not with grace. The wound wasn''t instant, nor was it merciful.

    The man suffered, twitching on the cobblestones, choking on the blood that filled his throat.

    A wet gurgle escaped his lips, eyes wide with confusion, pain, and a fading spark of something terribly human.

    He didn''t die right away.

    It took half a minute.

    Thirty seconds of slow, drowning agony.

    And yet¡­ it was done.

    Albrecht had killed a man for the first time.

 Chapter 19: Eternal Suffering

    It''s the year 162 After Central Consolidation.

    Aurex Solmirae¡ªThe Eternal Emperor himself¡ªnamed this era.

    Arrogant, isn''t it? Naming your own time period, as if assuming your reign will matter enough to be recorded in the history books.

    But I suppose it doesn''t matter.

    There won''t be any future history books.

    Because in 30 years, this world¡ªRenvaris¡ªwill cease to exist.

    That means the end will come in the year 192 ACC. A precise date, not estimated, not guessed.

    How do I know this?

    Because I''ve lived through this world countless times.

    I call them iterations¡ªeach one a perfect repetition. A cycle. A loop.

    I think I''m the only one who realizes it. The only one cursed to remember everything.

    At least, I hope that because I truly don''t wish anyone else to suffer like this.

    History repeats with absolute precision. The same people. The same tragedies. The same end. Every single time.

    And no, I''m not doing anything about it.

    Because I can''t.

    I''ve been cursed with what I can only describe as Eternal Suffering.

    My memories remain intact with each iteration¡ªbut I have no control. I watch this world through my own eyes, living a life already written.

    Like a ghost trapped in my own flesh.

    I can''t change anything. I can''t scream or resist. I can only watch.

    Every time, I grow up in Azurheim, a sprawling city in the kingdom of Valoria. It''s mostly known for its prestigious swordsmanship academy, The School of Steel.

    Sounds grand, doesn''t it?

    But my life was never meant for glory.

    My family are farmers.

    And if you think that sounds dull, try living it forever.

    Just farming. Farming. And more farming.

    That''s my eternity.

    Great, isn''t it?

    Sometimes, I wonder if everyone experiences life the same way I do. Just watching¡ªlike a ghost inside their own body.

    Trapped, helpless, unable to change anything. What a terrifying thought.

    Right now, I''m eating bread with my wife and two children. I already know that our youngest, Ewan, will die.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    In two years, the royal family of Valoria will visit our city. They call it a parade, a celebration.

    That morning, I will ask Ewan to buy meat from the market. He will be only twelve years old, but our older son, Joren, will be sick that day¡ªjust like always.

    The royal family demands absolute respect. When their carriages pass, every citizen must bow.

    To stand is treason.

    But Ewan¡­ he won''t bow.

    He''ll be watching a cat run across a nearby rooftop.

    He''ll be smiling.

    He won''t even see the soldier step forward.

    The blade will come fast. He will be decapitated while staring into the sky.

    My wife will see it happen¡ªevery time.

    She always goes after Ewan, worried he might get lost on the way back home.

    And when she finally finds him... it''s just in time to watch him die.

    She runs home in tears, shaking, screaming, blaming me.

    She hits me. She breaks down.

    Then, she runs.

    Joren and I never see her again.

    A few days later, Joren will pass away from his illness.

    Quietly.

    Just like always.

    And then, it will only be me.

    I will be drafted as a soldier in the Second Holy War, which, from my perspective, is already a lost war.

    The Eternal Emperor always declares war against Gorathal, the western continent.

    It is a land full of terrible abomination.

    But they never cross the vast ocean or attack anyone.

    In fact, we humans are the ones who discover them first¡ªand we launch the first assault without hesitation.

    Almost the entire expeditionary force is wiped out.

    In response, Aurex Solmirae declares a Holy War.

    It becomes known as the Second Holy War, following the First, which took place just over a decade earlier.

    But unlike me, people don''t call them by these names.

    They call the first one the Great Holy War¡ªas if there was something noble in all that destruction.

    And the second?

    They call it the Holy War for Freedom.

    As if we were ever the ones defending anything.

    You might notice that I am pretty frustrated about the Holy War. That is not because I feel bad for the monsters living in Gorathal, its because this is the reason for the End of the World.

    A completely pointless war started for no good reason except to show off power.

    As the war situation turns dire, even people like me get drafted. But many, including me, don''t show up. At this point, the population will already lose the Emporer''s trust.

    It''s not like he needs it in any way.

    The result of the war doesnt get decided by farmers or simple soldiers, no¡­ only the truly powerful matter in a conflict of a scale like this.

    When there are people who can wipe out an entire fireball, then what''s the point of casting a small fireball?

    In a moment of desperation, the Eternal Emperor makes a fateful decision ¡ª to break the ancient seals binding the Deities of the Era of Wandering Gods.

    Their return is nothing short of cataclysmic.

    Divine powers long buried erupt into the world once more, and the gods clash with the demonic hordes of Gorathal in a war that even I, despite all I''ve witnessed across countless iterations, cannot fully comprehend.

    I only know this: The released mana tears the world apart.

    It begins slowly. The sky fractures, light bleeding through cracks like shattered glass. Time itself begins to behave differently, sometimes slowing down or speeding up.

    And then, one by one, the powerful begin to vanish.

    First, the gods. Then, the demons. Next, the so-called heroes¡ªthose blessed with strength, authority, and bravery.

    Even the Eternal Emperor, Aurex Solmirae himself, disappears into the unraveling storm.

    What follows is anarchy. Civilization crumbles. The fabric of the world no longer holds.

    And eventually, even the weakest¡ªpeople like me¡ªare erased, swallowed by the end.

    Not with fire. Not with violence.

    But with silence.

    The kind that only comes when a world dies.

    And then¡­ it begins again.

 Chapter 20: No Going Back

    ''I have just¡­ killed someone.''

    It was an odd feeling to take someone''s life.

    He didnt feel the sharp pang of guilt he''d been warned about in books or movies. It wasn''t the instant remorse they always talked about.

    It was quieter than that. Stranger, a more confusing feeling.

    He looked at his hands, stained red, trembling slightly.

    Did the act make him different from who he had been just seconds before?

    A hand touched his back¡ªfirm but not too forceful.

    He turned.

    Thereon stood beside him.

    No smirk. No dry remark. The usual sarcasm had vanished. His eyes held something softer now. Not pity. Not pride.

    It was Understanding.

    The kind of look only someone who had killed before could give.

    He followed Thereon''s gaze briefly, half expecting someone to call out, to scream, to rush to the dead man''s side.

    But there was no crowd.

    Most of the bystanders had fled the moment steel was drawn.

    And yet¡­ he felt eyes.

    Watching.

    Not from the street¡ªbut from behind windows, shadows, and doorways cracked just wide enough to glimpse what no one wanted to admit they had seen.

    But there was another gaze he felt even more strongly.

    His own.

    Not him standing here now, but a version of himself just hours earlier.

    The boy who blinked awake behind a tavern counter. The student who clung to reason and rules, who thought he could survive this world with clever words and quick analysis.

    That boy was watching, too.

    Watching a murderer.

    And he looked horrified.

    Albrecht tore his gaze away from the dead man at his feet, trying to find the other attacker¡ªthe larger one with the greatsword. But at first, he couldn''t see him.

    He was looking too high.

    He could only see something when his eyes dropped to the ground where the man had once stood.

    What remained wasn''t a body. It was more like a stain¡ªa grotesque smear of blood and crushed limbs sprawled unnaturally across the cobblestone.

    His armor had caved in like paper, twisted around him. His sword lay discarded nearby, untouched.

    It took Albrecht a moment to even register what he was seeing.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Just complete, unnatural compression, like the man had been crushed by an invisible wall.

    There was no wound, no visible slash or gash, just a body crushed flat as if the world itself had slammed down on it.

    Albrecht hadn''t even noticed it happen.

    One moment, the man had stood frozen, and now¡­

    Gone.

    He didn''t need to ask what had happened. Thereon had done it. Silently. Effortlessly.

    ''It has to be Authority¡­ what a frightening power.''

    "This is what it means to be a swordsman. This is what it takes."

    Thereon''s voice cut through the silence, steady and neither cold nor warm. Just true.

    "If you can''t live with that, then don''t draw your blade in the first place."

    He stepped closer, eyes flicking to the corpses on the ground.

    "It''s not the well-fed, well-armed ones you should fear."

    He gestured toward the fallen attackers with a tilt of his chin.

    "Instead, it''s the pale and hungry ones. The desperate kind. The ones with nothing left to lose. Men who love death more than you love life."

    Thereon''s gaze met Albrecht''s.

    "Do you still want to learn Swordsmanship from me?"

    It was the first time Albrecht had seen him this serious; not even when he''d spoken of Albrecht''s father had his expression been so firm, so direct.

    But Albrecht already knew the answer. He''d known it from the moment he woke up in this world

    "I do," he said, lowering his head. "I want to become your disciple."

    Thereon let out a loud chuckle and slapped him twice on the back, hard enough to make him wince.

    "No need to get all formal, princess."

    Albrecht groaned.

    ''Ugh¡­''

    "Why do you keep calling me that?"

    "You remind me of a story," Thereon said with a grin.

    "There was this pampered princess. She had white hair like you, got robbed, dragged halfway across the kingdom, barefoot and sobbing. But by the end of it?"

    He paused and raised an eyebrow.

    "She''d learned to gut a man with a spoon."

    Albrecht blinked.

    "What kind of stories do you read?"

    "The useful kind," Thereon said, smiling.

    ''Joking in a situation like this¡­ I guess that''s my new life.''

    The bodies still lay where they had fallen. The blood hadn''t dried yet.

    But thinking about the dead wouldn''t bring them back. It wouldn''t change anything.

    So what if that man had a family? A home? People he cared about?

    Albrecht had those, too. Or had. And in this world, that could be everyone''s story: loss, duty, desperation.

    Maybe that''s just how it was here.

    He took a breath, steady but quiet. His ribs ached. His arm throbbed. But his resolve didn''t waver.

    There was no time for mourning strangers. No room for guilt he couldn''t afford to carry.

    "Can you move? That last hit looked rough," Thereon asked, glancing at Albrecht.

    "Yeah," Albrecht said, brushing blood from his fingers.

    "Don''t worry about it."

    Thereon didn''t press the matter any further. His voice hadn''t been full of concern anyway, more like curiosity. But whatever he was thinking, he let it go.

    Instead, he said, "We''ll have to leave. I don''t like lingering after a fight. Especially one this messy."

    "Are we leaving Vaelmont now?" Albrecht asked.

    Yes. I always travel light," Thereon replied while pulling out a map from his pouch.

    "Okay. I just need to grab something first."

    Thereon raised an eyebrow but didn''t object.

    "Ten minutes. No more."

    Albrecht nodded and immediately broke into a sprint. His destination hadn''t changed. He had been heading there anyway before everything went sideways.

    The familiar wooden sign of the clothing shop swung gently in the evening breeze. He burst through the door.

    "Isla!"

    She appeared from behind the counter, her face paling as she caught sight of him.

    "Albrecht! What happened to you? Is that¡­ is that blood?"

    She looked horrified, eyes wide, voice shaking.

    Only now did Albrecht take a moment to look at himself.

    ''So that''s why everyone was staring¡­''

 Chapter 21: Stitched in Silver and Blood

    "Don''t worry, it''s not mine," Albrecht said, stepping into the shop.

    "Sorry for the mess. I''m kind of in a rush. Are the clothes ready?"

    Isla''s face, still pale from the initial shock, slowly regained some color. She blinked a few times and gave a small nod.

    "Uh¡­ yeah. Right here."

    From behind the counter, she pulled out a neatly folded set of clothes wrapped in dark blue fabric.

    A few other customers had gone completely silent, staring wide-eyed at the bloodstained customer. Albrecht ignored them.

    Isla unwrapped the bundle and handed it over.

    The undershirt was a pale gray, tight-fitting, and stitched from breathable material with light silver threading.

    Over it came a sleeveless, deep midnight-blue tunic with silver-trimmed edges designed for both mobility and durability.

    The flexible but sturdy trousers were tucked into reinforced black leather boots. A thin, white cloth sash tied at the waist pulled it all together, subtle yet striking.

    "Wow¡­ these look amazing," Albrecht said, genuinely surprised and excited.

    "I don''t know how I can ever repay you."

    Isla smiled, pleased at his reaction.

    "I''m glad you like them. My mother didn''t have time to enchant them with protection spells yet, so if you want to wai¡ª"

    "Sorry," Albrecht cut in, already reaching for the clothes.

    "No time. I''ve still got something else to take care of."

    Isla opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Albrecht had already pulled off his bloodstained shirt.

    Isla immediately turned her head to the side, flustered.

    "You could''ve at least used the fitting room¡­"

    Albrecht noticed that his left side¡ªjust beneath the ribs¡ªwas tinged a deep blue-purple, already blooming into a nasty bruise from the first mace strike that he didnt properly dodge.

    He winced slightly, brushing his fingers over the spot.

    Albrecht slipped into the new clothes as quickly as he could. It wasn''t that he wanted to rush off, but after the chaos he and Thereon had left behind, it was only a matter of time before someone came asking questions.

    He felt especially bad about Isla. She had clearly poured effort into these clothes¡ªthe stitching even matched the color of his hair.

    Finishing something like this in just half a day was impressive on its own, though Albrecht suspected she might have used a bit of magic to speed up the process.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Not that he minded, of course. Magic or not, the care she''d put into them was obvious.

    Once he finished changing, Albrecht stepped up to the counter and, without overthinking it, leaned in to give Isla a quick hug across it.

    "Eh¡ªwhat are you doing?!" she squeaked.

    But she didn''t pull away.

    If anything, she just stood there, flustered and frozen, more embarrassed than upset¡ªespecially with a couple of other customers now openly staring.

    Her cheeks turned bright pink as she glanced at them, then back at him with wide, confused eyes.

    "I hope we see each other again someday!" Albrecht called out, already running toward the door.

    "Wait! You said you''d come back to pay me soon!" Isla shouted after him, but he was already sprinting down the street.

    ''Someday, I really hope I will.'' Albrecht thought as his boots hit the cobblestone.

    He didn''t run far¡ªjust across the quiet street to the inn where he had first awakened in this world. He rushed inside and made for the stairway near the front, the one that spiraled upward toward the second floor.

    The upper level was lined with sleeping quarters, most of them modest and empty. But one door stood out.

    His name was carved neatly into the wood.

    ''Perfect.''

    He swung it open and quickly tore through the room. He didn''t have much time, so subtlety was tossed aside.

    Drawers flew open, clothes were tossed across the floor, and the mattress was halfway off the bed before he finally found what he was looking for: tucked into the drawer of a small bedside table.

    Inside it was a small object¡ªone he''d read about in the library. Something he would need soon.

    Slipping it into his pocket, he rushed back out of the inn, boots thudding against the wooden floorboards.

    He was rifling through the pouch, distracted, when he suddenly collided with someone outside.

    "Ahh! Sorry!" a voice squeaked.

    Albrecht looked up, only to be momentarily blinded by a cascade of soft, flowing hair that shimmered between deep blue and lavender in the fading evening light.

    She stepped back, brushing her hair from her face, clearly startled.

    "Isla, sorry, but I¡ª" he began, but she cut him off.

    "Just take this," she said quickly, voice small but insistent.

    In her hands was a golden medallion. He blinked.

    Inside was a color drawing of Isla, looking a little younger.

    It could have been from a year or two ago, but her striking hair was unmistakable. The portrait had been carefully hand-drawn, sealed beneath a smooth layer of polished glass.

    Albrecht accepted it gently, eyes flicking from the medallion to her.

    "Don''t take it the wrong way, okay? It''s not like a¡­ you know. It''s just so you don''t forget to repay your debt." she said, this time with more confidence in her voice.

    Albrecht smiled faintly.

    "I won''t forget it," he said.

    Albrecht put the medallion into the same pouch in which he had put the item he had just got.

    Then, without another word, he turned and hurried back across the street. Unfortunately, there was no time for any big farewells.

    Isla reminded him a bit of his little sister. She had also always been bad with words, just like him. In that way, they were all pretty similar.

    He and Thereon had agreed to meet at the marketplace. And while Albrecht didnt have any good memories of it, he at least knew the way.

    By now, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the town of Vaelmont in a dusky orange and violet hue. The evening air was crisp and laced with the faint scent of baked bread, burnt oil, and market spices long since packed away.

    The marketplace felt like a stage after the play had ended¡ªcurtains drawn, actors gone, and only the faint impression of drama lingering in the air.

    There were still many wooden stalls, just no people.

    Albrecht suspected that it wasn''t because it was already somewhat late but rather because of the events that had been happening that day.

    ''It certainly has been crazy,'' he thought, amused.

 Chapter 22: Suspicion

    Albrecht''s eyes scanned the open square.

    And there he was.

    Leaning against a wooden post near the center of the square stood Thereon, arms crossed and posture as relaxed as ever. He looked like he''d been waiting for hours, though it hadn''t been more than 10 minutes.

    "You took your sweet time, princess," Thereon said the moment Albrecht approached.

    "Did you steal the clothes somewhere?" he added with a smirk, eyes briefly flicking to the new outfit.

    Albrecht rolled his eyes.

    "No, I¡­ well, I technically didn''t pay for it, but¡­ it doesn''t matter," Albrecht said, waving it off.

    Thereon raised an eyebrow, amused.

    "I see. So someone mistook you for a lost beggar and decided to do a good deed?"

    ''Ugh¡­ aren''t old people supposed to be responsible and dignified?''

    "Just let''s get going," Albrecht finally said.

    They walked side by side through the quiet streets of Vaelmont, the evening settling into a gentle chill.

    The buildings cast long shadows across the stone roads, and the flickering lanterns lit their path in uneven patches of gold.

    Vaelmont wasn''t a large city¡ªmore of a fortified town, really. A modest trade hub, built around the canal that cut cleanly through its center.

    Small wooden bridges arched over the water, connecting the two halves like stitching over a wound.

    The inn where Albrecht had first awakened stood near the western side of the canal. Now, he and Thereon crossed eastward, their footsteps echoing softly on the cobblestones as they passed shuttered shops and empty food stalls.

    The last wisps of smoke curled from chimneys, and lanterns flickered quietly in their cradles, casting long, swaying shadows.

    They followed the gentle curve of the canal until they reached the stone bridge that arched gracefully across it.

    On the other side, the buildings grew slightly sparser, more utilitarian¡ªless about charm, more about function. Here, the main road widened and began its slow incline toward the city''s fortified outer wall.

    Albrecht''s steps slowed for a moment.

    This was where Selene had taken him before¡ªthe same route. The memory of the canal, the alley, the cold water rushing around him¡­ it all crept back like a fog. For a heartbeat, he tensed.

    But then he glanced ahead to Thereon, walking calmly, hands in his pockets as if nothing in the world could surprise him.

    That was enough.

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    Albrecht took a breath and kept walking. He was confident in Thereon.

    Only now did he notice that the older man was carrying two swords¡ªhis usual gold-etched blade at his hip and a broader, heavier one strapped diagonally across his back. Likely the weapon taken from the crushed attacker earlier.

    Ahead, the stone wall surrounding Vaelmont loomed, sturdy rather than tall, built for practicality rather than grandeur. Watchtowers rose at regular intervals, their torchlight flickering across the ramparts.

    The eastern gate stood open, flanked by two guards in polished steel armor, their spears planted firmly at their sides.

    According to the map Albrecht had glanced at earlier, this gate led into a dense stretch of forest. Beyond that, the road would eventually lead them to Azurheim, a city famous for its prestigious swordsmanship academy.

    Vaelmont itself was nestled in the central-western region of the Central Continent, under the banner of the Valorian Kingdom. While small, the town was well-connected, with several neighboring cities and villages forming a web of trade and travel.

    ''Hopefully, he doesn''t just dump me at the School of Steel,'' Albrecht thought as they approached the gate.

    But he didn''t truly believe that. Thereon might joke and laugh often, but he carried himself like a man with purpose.

    He had helped Albrecht survive his first real fight¡ªnot by shielding him, but by subtly leveling the field, giving him the chance to adapt and grow.

    Whether helping someone kill for the first time was truly the mark of a good mentor¡­ well, that was up for debate.

    Still, in a world like this, Albrecht figured it made Thereon at least a decent one.

    One of the guards stepped forward as they approached, holding out a hand.

    "Names and identification."

    Thereon reached into his cloak and pulled out a small silver plate etched with delicate runes. The metal glinted faintly in the torchlight.

    Albrecht fumbled in his pouch, pulling out the item he''d retrieved earlier from his room, his identity token. He took a short look at the medallion from Isla, which he had kept in the same pouch.

    Compared to Thereon''s, Albrecht''s identity token looked almost laughably plain¡ªjust a small piece of wood with his full name, Albrecht Moss, burned into one side and an official seal pressed onto the back.

    The guard ignored Albrecht''s token, instead narrowing his eyes at Thereons.

    "So, you''re a merchant?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

    "Don''t see any goods on you. Just the swords."

    Thereon smiled faintly as if he''d heard this line too many times before. His voice was mostly relaxed.

    "Well, an old man like me has to defend himself somehow, especially with all the bandits and evil in the world, don''t you think?"

    "Hmhh¡­ Where are you headed, and why leave at this hour?" the guard asked, his posture stiff, clearly uneasy.

    "I just received a letter from my niece," Thereon said, suddenly adopting a frail tone and slower voice, more befitting of an old man.

    "She''s fallen ill. We''re headed to Azurheim to see her¡­ Time is of the essence. The poor girl might not have long left."

    "In that case, please show me the letter," the guard said firmly, not budging. His eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced by Thereon''s act.

    By now, his partner had stepped closer, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword¡ªnot aggressive, but ready. His gaze flicked between Thereon and Albrecht, measuring.

    The first guard crossed his arms. "Just protocol. I''m sure you understand."

    Thereon sighed, rubbing his temple like a tired uncle dealing with fussy nephews.

    "Ah¡­ this old body," he muttered under his breath, swaying slightly.

    He reached slowly toward his side as if fumbling for a pouch where the letter would have been. But halfway through the motion, he stumbled forward, body slumping like it had given out beneath him.

    The guard on his right instinctively reached out to steady him.

    Big mistake.

    Thereon''s elbow shot upward in a sharp, explosive movement¡ªburying itself into the guard''s gut with enough force to knock the wind clean out of him. The man folded in half, collapsing with a choked gasp.

    The second guard moved in fast, attempting to draw his sword

    But he was too late.

 Chapter 23: The Way to Branlow

    Thereon was already on him, fluid as a flicker of wind. One step, and he was within striking distance.

    Thereon''s hand lashed out¡ªtwo fingers striking the side of the man''s neck with pinpoint precision.

    The guard crumpled without a sound.

    Thereon exhaled, like the whole ordeal had been nothing more than a minor nuisance.

    "Just act normal," he said, adjusting his cloak.

    "There are more guards on the other side of the gate. If they think we passed through the proper way, we won''t have to deal with any more trouble."

    With that, they passed through the other side of the gate without issue, their footsteps steady and unhurried as they followed the main road eastward toward the waiting forest.

    For a while, neither of them spoke. Only the soft crunch of gravel underfoot and the rustling of wind through distant trees filled the silence.

    After a few minutes, the outskirts of the forest came into view¡ªtall, ancient trunks rising like pillars from the earth, their dense canopy beginning to swallow the fading evening light.

    The well-worn road cut straight through it, wide enough for carriages, connecting Vaelmont to the distant city of Azurheim.

    "How long will it take to reach Azurheim?" Albrecht asked, glancing toward the looming treeline.

    "About two weeks on foot," Thereon replied flatly.

    "But we''re not going there."

    Albrecht blinked.

    "We''re not?"

    "As far as I know, there''s nothing else in the area," he said, thinking back to the maps he''d studied.

    "Except Branlow. And that''s just a tiny village."

    "There you go." Thereon gave him a half-smirk.

    "That''s where we''re going. It''s only a day''s walk from here. We''ll get horses and supplies there."

    "And then?"

    "I''ll teach you the basics. You get one or two weeks for that. Preferably one. So try not to be slow about it."

    A little farther ahead, the road split. The main path continued east toward Azurheim, but a smaller trail veered off to the south¡ªnarrow, uneven, and definitely not made for carriages.

    Grass and roots broke through its surface in places, and the overhead branches made it feel more like a tunnel than a trail.

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    Thereon turned without hesitation, taking the southern path.

    Albrecht followed without hesitation, though the narrowing path and deepening shadows tugged at his nerves.

    "Are we walking all the way to Branlow tonight?" he asked, glancing up at the darkening sky between the trees.

    "You and all your questions. Just have a little faith in your teacher." Thereon muttered, half amused.

    Albrecht didn''t reply¡ªjust kept staring at him in silence, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. Not really out of curiosity, but more simply to annoy him.

    After a few seconds, Thereon sighed theatrically.

    "No, we won''t travel at night. We''ll make camp before it gets too dark to see anything."

    He shot Albrecht a sideways glance.

    "A fool like you would trip over a root. Or no¡­ knowing your luck, you''d probably walk face-first into the next enemy. And then I''d have to save the little princess again."

    Thereon groaned dramatically.

    "Truly exhausting¡­" he added.

    ''Ugh¡­ I hope he gets eaten by a bear at night.''

    After traveling for another half an hour or so, Thereon finally came to a halt. Without saying a word, he turned and veered off the path, motioning for Albrecht to follow.

    They pushed through a thin patch of underbrush, the forest thick with the scent of pine and damp earth.

    A few more steps later, the trees opened up into a small clearing bathed in the last slivers of fading sunlight.

    To Albrecht, the clearing seemed slightly unusual, not that he had much outdoor survival experience. But its floor wasn''t just dirt or grass but a patch of firm, packed gravel mixed with loose stone.

    The forest canopy overhead still held onto the day, but shadows were creeping in fast, stretching long and thin across the mossy ground.

    The hush of evening had settled fully into the woods¡ªno birdsong, no rustling animals, just the faint whisper of wind through leaves.

    Thereon gave a short nod as if this was exactly the spot he''d been looking for.

    "Start gathering firewood. Only dry branches that are no thicker than your wrist," he said, his voice curt but not unkind.

    "Okay, but how are we going to sleep?" Albrecht asked.

    "Leave that to me. Just get the firewood, a lot of it. More than what you would need for a regular campfire." Thereon replied.

    Albrecht opened his mouth to question him again but thought better of it. He gave a small shrug and turned toward the trees, trudging off into the nearby underbrush.

    He made sure not to wander too far. Getting attacked by animals or even monsters would be bad, but Thereon making fun of him would definitely be worse, at least for Albrecht.

    After a while, Albrecht marched back toward the clearing, arms full with a comically large stack of branches piled high in both hands, nearly blocking his view. Twigs poked him in the face, and dry bark scratched at his arms, but he didn''t slow down.

    He wanted to make Thereon happy.

    Obviously, not because he liked him¡ªhe told himself that more than once¡ªbut because a teacher in a good mood was a teacher more likely to answer questions.

    And Albrecht had a lot of questions.

    When Thereon saw him returning, arms full of branches, he gave a thumbs-up.

    "Good. Drop them here," he said, gesturing toward the gravel patch at the center of the clearing.

    Albrecht dropped the heavy bundle of branches onto the gravel with a grunt, rolling his shoulders as he straightened.

    His arms were sore, but he kept his face composed¡ªhe didn''t want to give Thereon the satisfaction of seeing him worn out.

    There was also the small detail that he''d been cut open, smashed in the ribs, and nearly had his arm broken by a mace.

    Not to mention, earlier that same day, he''d swum through Vaelmont''s canal, slammed into the stone wall, and got hit by a passing merchant ship.

    ''Overall, definitely not a great day.''

 Chapter 24: A Bed of Fire

    But Albrecht didn''t see the point in getting all mopey about it. What was done was done. Better to focus on the now¡ªespecially the immediate issue: how the hell were they supposed to sleep without freezing to death?

    It was already getting cold, and the fact that he was wearing flexible but not very thick training clothes certainly didnt help. He also couldn''t carry his old clothes around, so he left them at the Islas shop.

    And a campfire would certainly help, but the ground would still be super cold.

    "Hey! Stop staring holes into the air. What do you think you''re doing?" Thereon said.

    Albrecht was startled.

    "What do you mean?" he shot back.

    "I brought the firewood, didn''t I? I thought you were setting up the beds!"

    His tone was a mix of confusion and slight irritation. Albrecht crossed his arms, eyeing Thereon with disappointment.

    He had hoped¡ªmaybe even expected¡ªthat the old man had some kind of magical artifact. Or maybe a subspace pouch or summonable tent, just anything.

    But so far, Thereon had done¡­ absolutely nothing.

    "I am setting up the beds. But we need more wood." Thereon said.

    Albrecht stared at him.

    ''Does he want to start a wildfire or what?''

    It had been a long, exhausting day, and his patience was running low. His ribs still ached, his arm throbbed, and the temperature had started to drop.

    But despite everything, he grumbled under his breath and obeyed, returning a few minutes later with another¡ªslightly smaller¡ªbundle of firewood.

    By the time he stepped back into the clearing, the fire had already been lit.

    And it was¡­ big.

    Not towering high with flames, but wide¡ªfar wider than a regular campfire. A low, sprawling blaze that stretched across the gravel like a glowing carpet. Thereon was calmly adding more wood to it, arranging the branches like pieces in a puzzle.

    Albrecht dropped the bundle nearby and took a cautious step closer, squinting at the blaze.

    "Don''t tell me you actually plan for us to sleep on the fire," he muttered.

    Thereon didn''t even glance up.

    "Not on the fire. Over it."

    "That doesn''t make it sound any less insane," Albrecht said.

    "There''s a method to it," Thereon replied. "Just wait for an hour or so."

    Thereon continued feeding the fire with the rest of the wood Albrecht had gathered, expanding it into a wide, glowing bed of flames.

    Albrecht stood nearby, arms crossed, frowning.

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    "Could you maybe explain what exactly you''re doing?" he asked, trying to sound polite¡ªthough his expression said otherwise.

    This old man was really testing his patience.

    Thereon shot him a side glance, smirking.

    "Impatient little brat," Thereon muttered under his breath. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he explained:

    "Alright, listen carefully. We wait about an hour¡ªlong enough for the fire to burn down into a bed of coals. Not flames. Coals. The kind that holds heat for hours without going out."

    He crouched next to the fire, poking at it with a stick.

    "Once that''s done, we spread a thin layer of gravel over it. Not too much¡ªjust enough to stop us from cooking ourselves. The heat seeps up through the gravel and keeps us warm all night."

    Albrecht raised a skeptical brow.

    "And we just¡­ sleep on top of that?"

    "There won''t be silk sheets or any goodnight kisses. But if an old man like me can sleep on hot rocks without whining, then you''ll survive too¡ªprincess."

    He gave Albrecht a sideways grin.

    "All that complaining just makes the nickname more accurate," he added with a dry laugh.

    They sat close to the large fire, its flames flickering and spitting occasional sparks into the air as they slowly began to die down into a bed of glowing coals. Night had fully settled over the forest, and the trees cast long, jagged shadows under the pale light of the moon.

    For Albrecht, it felt like the perfect opportunity to ask some of the questions that had been rattling around in his head all day.

    Like that silver identity plaque.

    Back at the gate, the guard had immediately assumed Thereon was a merchant after seeing it. That probably meant silver plaques were used for merchants. But why pretend to be one in the first place?

    He leaned forward slightly, watching Thereon poke the fire with a stick, purely out of boredom.

    "Thereon, why did you show the guard that silver identity plaque? If you''d just pretended to be a worker like me, couldn''t we have avoided all those questions?"

    Thereon sighed, the kind of long, drawn-out exhale reserved specifically for dealing with dumb questions from younger people.

    "Kids like you really know nothing about the world," he muttered.

    "Sitting in the same city your whole life, reading books, acting clever, but never stepping outside to see how things actually work."

    He tossed a stick into the fire and gave Albrecht a long glance.

    "Back when I was your age, I became an adventurer and explored half the continent. Fought bandits, sailed pirate-infested waters, and even fought a dragon!"

    Albrecht squinted, unsure how much of that was sarcasm and how much he was expected to believe.

    "But to answer your question seriously," Thereon continued, his tone leveling out,

    "you''re only allowed to leave a city after golden hour when you''re a registered merchant. Laborers, craftsmen, or commonfolk¡ªlike your identity tag says¡ªaren''t usually permitted through the gates in the evening."

    Thereon leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, watching the sky through the gaps in the trees.

    "Honestly, I wasn''t too confident in the cover. It was a bit of a gamble. But smaller towns like Vaelmont tend to have lazy guards¡ªespecially on a day like today. So, I figured I''d give it a shot. Worst case, we''d just do what we ended up doing anyway: push through by force."

    Albrecht tilted his head.

    "Why, especially today, though?"

    "There was a lot going on," Thereon said, waving a hand vaguely.

    "First, they were already on edge looking for that wanted criminal. Then someone stole a Chronos Watch¡ªan expensive artifact, big deal. And on top of that, we caused a nice little brawl in the middle of town. So yeah, the guards had their hands full."

    He flashed a mischievous grin.

    "Oh, and by the way¡ªI''m that wanted criminal! Haha. But don''t worry, I''m innocent¡­ of at least some of the crimes they''re accusing me of."

    Thereon glanced at Albrecht, clearly waiting for a reaction.

    "I thought you''d be more surprised. Maybe shout or something. Don''t believe me?"

    Albrecht shook his head.

    "No, I believe you. Honestly, I kinda figured. I wasn''t sure, but the timing was too suspicious. You shaved your beard and changed your clothes, yeah¡ªbut the moment you show up, the Central Continents Special Affairs Division starts scouring the town, looking for an old swordsman. It wasn''t hard to put two and two together."

 Chapter 25: Nightmare

    After some light conversation, Thereon suddenly stood up and strode over to a patch of solid grass beyond the gravel. Albrecht nervously followed him, thinking that there might be bandits or a monster.

    "Let me show you something," Thereon said, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes.

    Before Albrecht could ask, Thereon raised his blade¡ªand drove it straight into the ground.

    A pulse of invisible force rippled outward¡ªAlbrecht felt it before he saw it. The air grew dense, and with a deep rumble, the ground split open around the sword''s edge.

    A narrow but incredibly deep fissure tore into the ground, cutting straight down into the earth like a knife through butter. It had to be at least 30 meters (100ft) deep. Albrecht couldn''t even see the bottom.

    "What the hell¡­?" he muttered, taking a cautious step back.

    Thereon, completely unbothered, withdrew his sword and instead raised his hand above the hole. A few seconds passed.

    Then, a stream of crystal-clear water surged upward from the depths, curling unnaturally through the air and hovering just beneath Thereon''s palm.

    "Albrecht, open your mouth," Thereon said, grinning.

    "Wait¡ªwhat?"

    Before Albrecht could properly protest, the stream lunged at him.

    A high-pressure blast of water slammed into his face, flooding his mouth and nearly knocking him over.

    ''Can this be considered as¡­ waterboarding?'' he thought, choking slightly as he tried to breathe.

    After a few torturous seconds, the stream slowed, adjusting its pressure. It now hovered in the air like a tame ribbon, gently flowing into Albrecht''s mouth at a much more drinkable pace.

    He coughed a few times, finally catching his breath.

    ''At least I''m no longer thirsty¡­'' he thought, glaring up at Thereon with dripping hair and zero dignity left.

    "Next time, just hand me a damn cup," Albrecht muttered, wiping his face.

    Thereon laughed, which made him nearly choke on the same water he''d conjured. He coughed once, then grinned like it had all gone exactly according to plan.

    After they were done, the water stream scattered into droplets that fell like mist, vanishing into the dirt. The last of it hit the ground with a gentle splash, leaving only a damp circle around the still-warm fissure.

    "You act very unfitting of your age, to say the least," Albrecht told Thereon, but the old man just waved his hand dismissively.

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    After all of that, they finally went to sleep.

    Albrecht drifted off the moment his body touched the gravel-covered warmth, exhaustion finally dragging him under.

    The fire beneath the earth had cooled to a steady heat. It certainly wasn''t that comfortable, but at least he felt warm. And for the first time that day, he felt¡­ still.

    But that stillness didn''t last. In his dream, he was back in Vaelmont, watching a man.

    That man and his family stood out in the crowd since they had darker skin than the rest of the people, so Albrecht could follow him with ease.

    Even though he didnt know why he was following him, wasn''t this just a man spending a day with his family?

    He held the hand of a young girl on his left¡ªAlbrecht guessed she was around fifteen. On the girl''s other side, she clutched the hand of a woman. Most likely, her mother.

    The girl walked between them, holding both their hands, the perfect scene of a happy family.

    From behind, Albrecht could only make out her long, dark brown hair and youthful frame, but it was enough to remind him of his sister.

    Then, they suddenly stopped. The man gently slipped his hand from his daughter''s grasp.

    When the man turned around, the sight made Albrecht freeze.

    In an instant, his simple traveler''s clothes were gone, replaced by dark, militaristic armor, battered and scarred. It was the same armor Albrecht had seen up close in battle.

    Clutched in the man''s hand was a thick, iron mace¡ªits spiked head stained a dull, rusty red. But it wasn''t only the weapon or the armor that made Albrecht freeze.

    It was the man''s eyes.

    They were uncertain¡ªjust as they had been during the fight. At the time, Albrecht had assumed the hesitation was because of Thereon''s Authority holding the man back. But now¡­ now he understood.

    That wasn''t the only thing that had caused the pause in his strikes. The stiffness in his movements. And the glances toward his companion.

    Albrecht was looking into the eyes of a man who didn''t want to kill. He was seeing a man with fear in his heart.

    In those eyes, Albrecht didn''t see a monster. Instead, he saw a father and a husband¡ªsomeone who hadn''t yet crossed the line.

    Albrecht was no longer watching the man. He was no longer in Vaelmont at all.

    Instead, he found himself standing apart¡ªlike a spectator in a dimly lit cinema, watching it all unfold from afar. There was a glowing image in front of him. Like a projection on a massive screen, the memory played out with eerie clarity.

    There was the man, standing still, mace in hand. The weight of hesitation still lingered in his stance.

    And there, across from them, stood Albrecht with Thereons sword in hand. Shoulders tensed. Breathing uneven. Eyes burning not with hatred but endless determination. It was the determination to kill someone.

    Albrecht¡ªthe version of himself in the memory¡ªrushed forward. He tried to speak, to call out to the version of himself he was watching. To tell him to stop. To wait. To try talking to the man. But no sound came.

    Instead, the man collapsed. The strike wasn''t clean. It wasn''t trained or precise. It was desperate. Brutal. Messy.

    The little girl turned around, running toward him. She dropped to her knees beside the body, her small hands grabbing at his arm, at his shoulder, shaking him like he was simply asleep.

    Albrecht saw her face clearly now. It was his sister''s face.

    Same age. Same long, chestnut-brown hair. The same tearful, trembling expression he remembered from the time their parents died.

    The girl sobbed, her small frame shaking as she pressed her hands against the blood-soaked armor, trying to wake him. The man gurgled once, maybe twice. A wet, choking sound. Then silence.

    The Albrecht from the scene turned away. Shoulders rigid. Face pale.

    He didn''t look back.

 Chapter 26: The Man in the Void

    The projection began to blur at the edges, colors bleeding like wet paint, but the sounds only grew sharper. The girl''s sobs echoed through the darkness, warped and looping like a broken record stuck in grief.

    Her voice tore into him.

    "Papa¡­ get up¡­ please¡­!"

    Albrecht clutched his ears, but the sound didn''t stop. His heart pounded against his ribs. Each breath came shallow, jagged.

    The dream twisted. Shifted.

    He was no longer in Vaelmont. Instead, he stood in a vast, black void where even his own shadow had vanished.

    The man¡ªthe girl''s father¡ªstood before him.

    And behind him, others emerged, thousands of people.

    Their faces were lost to the darkness, their eyes hollow, their mouths forever silent. A crowd of corpses gathered in the dark, all staring at him. Accusing. Waiting.

    Albrecht turned¡ªonly to find himself.

    Older. Taller. A stranger with his face. His hair was longer and matted with blood. His eyes were no longer the soft, curious blue¡­ but a deep, burning red.

    In his hand, a sword. Still wet with something that shimmered darkly in the void.

    That version of him didn''t speak.

    He simply smiled.

    Watched.

    And smiled.

    Albrecht screamed and woke up.

    Gasping, drenched in sweat, he shot upright, his hand reaching for a weapon that wasn''t there.

    The forest was still.

    Across the clearing, Thereon sat upright, watching him with a serious expression.

    Albrecht blinked, his breath still unsteady. He felt something sliding down his cheeks. He touched his face.

    "Am I¡­ crying?" he asked, voice low, almost dazed.

    Thereon studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his gaze shifted upward.

    "No," he said. "It''s just raining."

    Albrecht looked up.

    The sky above the canopy was dark and wide, with stars blurred behind a thin veil of clouds. He instinctively raised a hand, palm open toward the heavens.

    A few droplets hit his skin, soft and cold.

    ''Just rain,'' he repeated in his mind.

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    Was what he had seen just a dream¡ªsome cruel illusion born from guilt and exhaustion?

    Or was it something more? Perhaps a warning or prophecy¡­

    Maybe even a glimpse of a future where he would stand among corpses, blade in hand, and smile.

    Could he really become that man?

    "Alright! Let''s do some training!" Thereon suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands like an overexcited coach.

    Albrecht blinked.

    "What? It''s raining and in the middle of the night. Also, I¡ª"

    "There won''t be a warm sunrise and friendly sparring matches when your enemies come swinging. You think they''ll wait for good weather or consider your feelings?" Thereon snapped, voice rising like a drill sergeant.

    "Now get up and give me fifty push-ups! You''re not made of sugar, are you? The rain won''t kill you, but I might if you don''t get your ass moving!"

    And that''s how Albrecht ended up training in the middle of the night, his shirt soaked, muscles aching, and rain dripping into his eyes.

    Thereon never asked any questions, never pushed. It was obvious he was just trying to distract him, but honestly¡­ Albrecht appreciated that.

    The weight of suddenly waking up in another world, of killing someone, of not knowing who he was becoming¡ªit pressed down on him harder than any weapon could.

    But he wouldn''t give up. If this world demanded blood to be spilled, then Albrecht would spill it.

    After all, he wanted to conquer the world.

    And if that dream really was a prophecy, then maybe, just maybe, it wasn''t only a warning.

    Maybe it was a glimpse of a future in which he was strong enough to overcome anything standing in his way.

    It was a dangerous thought. A crazy one, even for him. He didn''t want to become a mindless killer. He didn''t want to lose himself.

    But not everything in that vision had to be bad.

    <hr>

    The next day, they picked up the pace and reached Branlow by the afternoon.

    The village sat just beyond the forest''s edge, small and simple. At its center stood a modest town square, with four main streets feeding into it like spokes on a wheel.

    A few narrow alleys branched off here and there, but that was the extent of Branlow''s urban complexity.

    What it lacked in buildings, it made up for in farmland. The surrounding landscape was a patchwork of sprawling fields, neatly fenced pastures, and weathered barns.

    It was clear that this was a place where most people worked the land and lived quiet, practical lives.

    Branlow''s only inn was run by a man named Gareth, who Albrecht thought of as the major¡ªthough calling him that was a bit of a stretch.

    The village didn''t really have an official governing structure. Gareth was just¡­ the guy who collected the taxes settled disputes, hosted travelers, and made sure things didn''t fall apart.

    The so-called town hall was actually just Gareth''s house¡ªlarger than most, sure, but nothing grand. It served as an inn, meeting place, and courthouse all in one.

    To Albrecht, it seemed like the kind of place where nothing ever happened.

    ''Finally, some peace,'' he thought, letting out a quiet sigh as he stared up at the wooden ceiling.

    Thereon had already told him that they''d begin training the next day, so for now, Albrecht was simply lying in bed, savoring the rare moment of calm. The mattress wasn''t exactly soft, but it wasn''t gravel either¡ªso he wasn''t about to complain.

    Best of all, they had separate rooms.

    Which meant no sarcastic old man muttering nonsense in his ear. No smug laughter. No dramatic life lessons disguised as insults.

    Just silence.

    At least, that''s what he had hoped for.

    Instead, faintly through the wooden walls, he heard something that could only be described as a dying animal crying for help.

    It was a flute, and Thereon was playing it.

    Albrecht didn''t consider himself musically gifted. In fact, his music teacher once told him that had the rhythm of a malfunctioning clock.

    But even he could tell that the tones were all wrong. It was as if Thereon had taken it upon himself to wage war against melody itself.

    Albrecht buried his face into the pillow and groaned.

    ''Of course, he plays the fucking flute. And, of course, he sucks at it.''

 Chapter 27: Building a Warrior

    The next day, the real training began.

    They didn''t have a proper training ground or dojo¡ªjust wide stretches of farmland and the occasional shaded patch beneath the trees. It was enough, apparently.

    Albrecht was told he''d be training with the oversized greatsword taken from one of the attackers in Vaelmont. He still didn''t know why they had targeted him, but it clearly hadn''t been a random robbery. They had recognized him. That much was obvious.

    But without more information, thinking about it was a waste of energy. The same applied to Selene¡­ and his missing memories. Whatever mystery lay behind, it would have to wait.

    For now, his world was narrowed down to a single purpose: to survive Thereon''s training.

    Which, so far, felt more like punishment than education.

    The first week didn''t involve swordplay at all. No techniques. No stances. Not even a stick to swing around. Just endless running, pushups, sit-ups, squats, planks¡ªanything that would break him down physically.

    Thereon wouldn''t even let him touch a sword.

    Every time Albrecht asked a question, Thereon would roll his eyes, giving a vague answer.

    And if that wasn''t bad enough, the old man seemed to go out of his way to be insufferable. The criticism never stopped¡ªwhether it was about Albrecht''s posture, breathing, or how stupid his face looked when he did push-ups.

    And that was just during the training.

    In the evenings, in their separate rooms at the inn, Thereon somehow managed to be even worse.

    He had randomly found a flute lying around his room and decided it was the perfect time to become a musician, even though he''d never played an instrument before.

    Albrecht had initially hoped it was part of some deep lesson, maybe a metaphor for progress or a demonstration of personal growth.

    But no. After a few days of torturous squealing from the next room, it became clear.

    There was no lesson. Thereon was just an annoying old man with too much free time and absolutely no sense of music.

    When the first week passed, Thereon clicked his tongue and muttered that Albrecht was too slow at building muscle.

    ''How am I even supposed to accelerate muscle growth? It''s not like I can just inject testosterone.''

    His gaze drifted toward the fields surrounding Branlow. There were plenty of farms¡ªwheat fields, vegetable plots¡­ and livestock. Lots of livestock.

    He was pretty sure he''d seen not just cows but bulls, too.

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    ''Wait¡­ isn''t there that myth? About eating bull testicles to boost testosterone?'' The idea sat in his brain for a few seconds too long.

    He blinked.

    ''Maybe I should¡­''

    Then, he immediately shook his head.

    ''No. Absolutely not. I still have some dignity left.''

    Besides, science did not support that claim. It was just a myth. Also, that was exactly the kind of thing that Thereon would suggest.

    Albrecht sighed.

    The old man was rubbing off on him. And not in a good way.

    Sometimes, thinking about nonsense was¡­ kind of fun. Was this how people felt watching anime?

    He''d never actually watched one himself, but he''d caught glimpses while his sister binged through her favorites. And it certainly had not left a good impression.

    There was that one scene during a cooking duel where some guy took a bite out of rice and exploded out of his clothes, screaming something in Japanese like he''d tasted the meaning of life.

    Yeah¡­ he didn''t miss that kind of nonsense.

    But after a week in this world, there were definitely things he did actually miss. Obviously, his sister. But also the mundane stuff, books, good food, even something as simple as a proper shower.

    Here at the inn, showering meant standing behind the building while a couple of buckets collected rainwater and hoping no one walked by. It felt like something out of a caveman documentary.

    Thankfully, that seemed unusually primitive¡ªeven for this world. Public bathhouses and natural hot springs existed, and wealthier folks apparently had it even better.

    Rich nobles could enjoy hot showers via magic, though not cast by themselves, of course, but by trained servants with water-affinity spells.

    According to Thereon, it wasn''t that hard to learn. What he''d done the other night¡ªpulling water straight from the ground, was considered a basic water magic application.

    But the part where he split the ground open wasn''t so simple. It required a different level of control and power, one that would likely draw unwanted attention.

    That was also why he didn''t use it to give them a proper shower. Quiet travel meant staying unnoticed, and doing something like that was definitely the opposite.

    Thankfully, Albrecht was allowed to rest over the weekend. Apparently, Thereon had just enough common sense to understand that overtraining could actually slow muscle growth.

    Back on Earth, Albrecht had worked out a bit. Nothing too serious¡ªjust enough to stay in shape. For a few weeks, he''d even taken Jido classes, a modern, streamlined form of Jiu-Jitsu.

    Unfortunately, the gym had to shut down after a certain¡­ incident.

    But compared to what he was doing now, that felt like child''s play.

    Thereon made sure to push him to his limits¡ªor, at the very least, as close to the edge as possible without completely breaking him. Every day was a grueling blend of muscle fatigue, mental exhaustion, and constant mockery.

    When Albrecht was finally allowed to hold the greatsword, he expected something exciting.

    Instead, he was told to practice a single, basic forward swing.

    One motion. Over and over.

    He was to repeat it 300 times each day.

    No footwork drills. No parries. Just that same forward strike.

    Before and after sword training, he still had to do all the physical exercises from the first week¡ªrunning, pushups, planks, and the work.

    "Repetition builds form," Thereon said.

    "Form becomes instinct. And instinct is what keeps you alive."

    Albrecht wasn''t sure if it was wisdom or laziness on Thereon''s part, but he didn''t really have a choice.

    So he swung the sword. Again and again.

    And every day, it felt a little less heavy.

 Chapter 28: Wither Vein

    "Are you not feeling well?" Albrecht asked cautiously.

    Gareth, the innkeeper¡ªand by default, Branlow¡¯s closest thing to a mayor¡ªlooked pretty bad. His skin had a faint purplish tint, and the veins in his arms were noticeably swollen.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ don¡¯t worry about it. Just a cold. Common in this region...¡± he muttered between fits of coughing, each word slightly strained.

    It was noon. Just yesterday, Albrecht and Thereon had agreed to leave for Azurheim within the next three days.

    His training had been progressing at least somewhat well. It was hard to tell, but he took Thereon¡¯s cryptic feedback after demonstrating his first sword form as a good sign.

    Thereon had said, ¡°Mhm, I¡¯ve seen worse.¡±

    From him, that was practically a compliment.

    Albrecht left the inn shortly after, only having stopped by to catch his breath. He made his way toward the fields.

    After a few minutes, he found him.

    Thereon stood at the edge of a sprawling wheat field, facing away, flute in hand. The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over his silhouette.

    Albrecht stopped a few paces back, arms crossed.

    To call what Thereon was doing ¡°playing the flute¡± would¡¯ve been generous.

    ¡®More like¡­ producing random noise that doesn¡¯t follow any kind of musical structure,¡¯ Albrecht thought.

    ¡°Why are you playing the flute?¡± he asked aloud, raising an eyebrow.

    Thereon paused mid-wheeze. After a few seconds of winded silence, he answered without turning.

    ¡°I need to ask Gareth for a favor. Specifically, to lend us a horse so we can get to Azurheim faster. I also want to teach you mounted combat¡ªand I¡¯m guessing you¡¯ve never even ridden one?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Albrecht replied.

    ¡°But again...how does playing the flute help us in getting a horse?¡±

    This time, Thereon turned around a mischievous grin on his face.

    ¡°Gareth¡¯s wife used to play. He misses the sound. So, I¡¯ve been playing it regularly to lift his spirits. Impress him, even. Thought it might soften him up for the favor.¡±

    Albrecht stared.

    ¡°I mean¡­ I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re bad at it,¡± he began carefully, ¡°but I think you might have achieved the opposite. Gareth looks really sick. His face is all purple. His veins were bulging like they were about to pop.¡±

    Thereon''s smile vanished in an instant.

    ¡°What did you just say?¡± he asked sharply, stepping forward.

    ¡°Relax, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not your fault¡ªhe said it was just a cold. Honestly, if you tell him why you¡¯re playing, he might even appreciate the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Where is he?¡± Thereon cut in, already moving.

    ¡°The inn¡ªwhy? What¡¯s going on?¡±

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    But Thereon was already gone. He crossed the field in seconds, closing the distance that had taken Albrecht minutes to walk.

    Albrecht sprinted after him, heart pounding¡ªnot just from the chase but from the look on Thereon¡¯s face. It wasn¡¯t anger or embarrassment.

    It was fear.

    And when someone like Thereon had fear, it meant that something was very, very wrong.

    Albrecht hurried after him, catching up after a minute of running as fast as he could.

    Some part of his brain still insisted that Thereon was just playing a bad prank, but his expression looked really serious.

    It was similar to how he looked at Albrecht after he woke up from the nightmare.

    ¡°Gareth!¡±

    Albrecht reached the inn, breath ragged, and slid the wooden door open.

    Thereon was already inside, crouching over Gareth¡¯s motionless body.

    The innkeeper had collapsed¡ªface-down near the edge of the counter.

    And now¡­ now it was clear.

    This wasn¡¯t a simple cold.

    Before, Albrecht had exaggerated a bit¡ªjoking about Gareth¡¯s purple skin and swollen veins. The man had looked unwell, sure, but not dying.

    On Earth, he would have immediately called emergency services upon seeing something like purplish skin. But in a world like this, symptoms like that could certainly be considered more normal.

    Also, Albrecht wasn¡¯t a moron. If it had looked like his veins were actually going to explode, then he would have been concerned, magical world or not.

    But¡­ what he was now seeing looked like something out of a horror movie.

    Gareth¡¯s skin had turned a deep, unnatural violet¡ªlike bruised fruit left too long in the sun.

    His veins bulged and twisted under his skin like thick cords, pulsing grotesquely across his arms and neck. One had ruptured near his elbow, blood leaking out in a slow, oozing stream. It was dark. Almost black.

    If it had been an artery, it would¡¯ve sprayed. But even as a vein, it was¡­ wrong. All of it was.

    Albrecht froze, the horror settling in.

    ¡°This¡­ it wasn¡¯t this bad earlier,¡± he said, voice quiet, almost disbelieving. ¡°I swear.¡±

    Thereon didn¡¯t respond immediately. His hands hovered above Gareth, eyes scanning the body, his focus absolute.

    ¡°You said he didn¡¯t look like this earlier?¡± he asked, his voice low and sharp.

    ¡°When describing his look, I might¡¯ve¡­ exaggerated a bit. He looked off, yeah, but nothing like this. Just a little pale, purple in the face, some swelling. It didn¡¯t seem¡­ serious. I just wanted to tease you for your bad flute-playing skills.¡±

    Thereon exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.

    ¡°Don¡¯t blame yourself,¡± he said.

    ¡°At a glance, the symptoms resemble a common illness from this region. Usually harmless¡ªespecially for adults. But I saw Gareth earlier today. His skin was clear. No redness. No flushed face. And that would be the first sign of the cold you''re thinking of.¡±

    ¡®I see¡­ that''s why he immediately knew that something was off.¡¯

    The non-dangerous disease had similar symptoms to this; it was just that those symptoms developed differently.

    Thereon stood up slowly, voice hardening.

    ¡°That leaves only one possibility.¡±

    He looked Albrecht dead in the eye.

    ¡°Wither Vein.¡±

    Albrecht swallowed.

    ¡°That¡­ sounds serious.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not just a disease,¡± Thereon said flatly. ¡°It¡¯s a curse. And worse, it can spread.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no treatment?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We have no time. He¡¯s as good as dead.¡± Thereon said, looking at Gareth.

    Albrecht took a shaky breath, then nodded. ¡°What do we do?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s only one rule for now: don¡¯t drink any water. Not from the well. Not from barrels. Nothing. If this is Wither Vein, the source is likely waterborne.¡±

    Thereon moved toward the door, cloak swaying behind him.

    ¡°We need to warn the others. You knock on the nearby homes¡ªstart with the east side. There aren¡¯t many.¡±

    ¡°What about the farms?¡± Albrecht asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the outer fields,¡± Thereon said. ¡°They¡¯re more spread out. And I can move faster.¡±

    Albrecht hesitated for a second, then glanced at Gareth¡¯s collapsed body.

    ¡°Is it safe to touch him?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a good chance it is,¡± Thereon said.

    ¡°But don¡¯t. A curse is man-made. Someone crafted this. From what I have seen before, it only spreads by water, but It could have been modified to spread through other ways.¡±

 Chapter 29: Almost

    ¡®Fuck.¡¯

    This was the third house Albrecht had entered.

    Well, broken into was more accurate. Nobody had answered the door, so he¡¯d forced his way in.

    And every time, it was the same¡­ everyone was already dead.

    The sight inside each home was horrific. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, skin a deep, bloated purple. Their veins bulged in grotesque patterns, making them look less like people and more like something alien.

    He didn¡¯t know any of them. Not their names. Not their stories.

    But that didn¡¯t make it easier.

    Thereon had said this was a human-made curse.

    But who the hell would do this?

    And, more importantly¡ªwhy?

    ¡®Branlow is just a small village¡­¡¯ he thought bitterly.

    When reaching the fourth house, he barely held onto hope as he raised his hand to knock¡ªbut then, he froze.

    A sound.

    Crying.

    Faint. High-pitched. Fragile.

    ¡®A child?¡¯

    Without any hesitation, he stepped back and slammed his foot against the door. The wood splintered and cracked, giving way beneath the force of his kick.

    It still startled him a little¡ªhow easy it had been. Two weeks ago, he wouldn¡¯t have had the strength. But now, with Thereon¡¯s training behind each movement, he didn¡¯t struggle.

    After all, someone inside might still be alive.

    He stepped through the broken doorway into darkness.

    The smell hit first¡ªblood and rot, heavy and cloying. The floor creaked beneath his boots, the wood sticky in places. In the faint light slipping through a cracked window, he saw streaks of blood trailing across the floor.

    A small figure was crawling near the back wall.

    Albrecht¡¯s stomach twisted.

    The child¡¯s parents lay nearby, their bodies unmistakably afflicted¡ªbloated, purple, unmoving.

    He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

    When he''d brought the blade with him, he''d done so with quiet resolve. Thereon had told him the truth: there was no cure for Wither Vein without a Paladin. If the curse had taken root, the only mercy left was a clean death.

    And now, a child was crawling beside the corpses of his parents.

    Could he do it?

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    His chest tightened. Could he really do it if he had to?

    Kill a child?

    The boy looked no older than three¡ªmaybe four.

    Albrecht stepped closer, slowly, voice low and careful.

    ¡°Hey¡­ what¡¯s your name?¡±

    The child froze.

    Then, after a long pause, he whispered:

    ¡°Lio.¡±

    It was barely a breath, more a vibration in the air than a word.

    Albrecht forced a smile though his hands still trembled.

    ¡°That¡¯s a cute name, Lio. Can you do something for me?¡±

    No answer.

    But he continued anyway.

    ¡°I need you to turn around, okay?¡±

    His heart pounded. His breath slowed. One hand hovered near the hilt of his sword.

    He didn¡¯t want to. Gods, he didn¡¯t want to.

    But if Lio turned and revealed those telltale signs¡ªbloated skin, violet veins pulsing beneath the surface¡ªthen there would be only one option left.

    Not just because the curse might spread through more than just water.

    But because ending it quickly¡­ would be the only mercy he could offer.

    The boy began to shift.

    Each movement felt like it took hours. He crawled slowly, arms trembling beneath him, the blood on the floor smearing beneath his palms. His sleeves were long, covering most of his arms. His face was still hidden.

    Albrecht took half a step forward, holding his breath.

    Finally, Lio turned around.

    His skin was clear. No purple tint and no bulging veins.

    Just a pale, frightened face streaked with tears. His eyes were wide and glassy but alive. Fully, unmistakably alive.

    Albrecht exhaled sharply¡ªrelief crashing over him like a wave.

    He moved quickly, crossing the room in two strides and scooping the child into his arms. Lio clung to him instinctively, small arms wrapping tightly around his shoulder.

    It was familiar¡ªuncannily so.

    For a moment, Albrecht didn¡¯t see the village, the cursed house, or the bodies.

    He just saw Nora.

    His little sister, years ago, after their parents died. The weight of her in his arms, the tremble in her voice.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he whispered.

    He turned and walked out of the house, shielding Lio¡¯s face from the sight of the corpses behind them.

    There was no need for him to see that.

    Not now.

    Not ever.

    ***

    He couldn¡¯t possibly take Lio with him while checking the other homes, so he brought the boy back to the inn and left him in his room.

    Albrecht knew how cruel that was.

    Lio was likely in shock, traumatized beyond comprehension. He needed comfort¡ªa steady voice, the warmth of someone who cared.

    But there was no time. No better option.

    He had to warn the rest of the village. There were only a few houses left, and so far, the streets remained eerily quiet. Then again, in a place as small as Branlow, that wasn¡¯t unusual.

    When he reached the bakery¡ªwhere the owners lived in the rooms beside it¡ªrelief washed over him.

    They were still alive.

    He managed to warn them and two more families as well. One was unharmed. But in the other, the father had already died.

    If Thereon was right, and Wither Vein spread through water, then survival came down to one simple thing: luck.

    ''What if I had decided to drink something while resting at Gareth¡¯s inn?''

    The thought sent a chill through him.

    It could¡¯ve been him lying on the floor. Bloated. Purple. Dead.

    The only reason he hadn¡¯t shared their fate¡­ was his reluctance. He¡¯d never fully trusted the hygiene in this world¡ªnot when it came to food, and especially not water.

    So he made a habit of collecting rainwater in a glass and heating it before drinking it, just in case.

    He¡¯d felt silly at the time, even paranoid.

    But that same caution may have saved his life.

    The village¡¯s well was close to the inn. Gareth had likely drawn water from it. And so had everyone else living nearby.

    There were still far too many unanswered questions about Wither Vein.

    But one thing seemed very likely: the well had been cursed.