I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping. My mind felt like it was about to explode. The memories of my hallucinations did not come slowly, but in a strong wave that washed over me mercilessly.
Lieutenant Richard. The wyvern rider. The elven leader. Elias. I saw their struggle, and I saw their pride. I was left with the unsettling feeling that I would see so much more.
As the world evened out, I braced against the wall, my legs weak but strong enough to stand. Letting out a deep exhale, I scanned the room. Seraya was slumped nearby, her breathing ragged and her face flushed red, squirming and mumbling something incoherent. Torren, however, was nowhere to be seen.
The gas was thinning, but the memories still clung to me like cobwebs: the feeling of a dragon's breath and teeth, the biting cold of the harsh elven winter, the mud of the battlefield, the love and protection of a father.
That wasn't a dream. It was like I borrowed, no, invaded their minds. I died twice and lived the life of two more in less than ten minutes, and yet I can still feel the phantom sensations of each of them.
It was then that I noticed something. My eyes watered, and I tried to blink it away. But when I opened my eyes again, everything looked different. The surroundings had shifted into a light grey hue, the edges of my vision shimmering like a faint glitch.
The dizziness was gone, replaced by a dull feeling, almost like being detached from reality itself. Worse yet, I couldn't tell which thoughts were mine anymore. The pragmatism of a farmer, the grim resolve of a soldier – it all clung to my mind, feeling more familiar than my own fear.
And most prominent of all were the four threads leading away to four figures in front of me. Figures that hadn't been there seconds before. It took me a while to recognize that these were the men I had inhabited. But their faces held that same glitch, unrecognizable. I had not seen myself fully during the illusions, and I figured that might be the reason.
The figure farthest to the left was the soldier I had inhabited first, standing straight and holding a spear in one hand, wearing the same familiar sabatons and chainmail armor. But as I focused harder on him, I felt a sudden pull, like a mental whisper, and an urge to find a metal insignia – his lieutenant's badge, lost in the mud of that forgotten battlefield. His figure was outlined by a faint green glow, while the others were more dull.
The whispering came again, more persistent, before I could finally make out the words:
"Return Richard's Insignia to the Hall of the Fallen."
It echoed in my head before fading away, leaving me with more questions than before. I shook my head in an attempt to dispel the intruding thoughts, turning to the next one in line: The Wyvern Rider.
He was dressed in a simple yet practical garment, alongside a pair of red leather glove and a pair of reinforced googles resting on his forehead, one lens missing.
His hand rested on a towering beast beside him, frozen in the motion of feeding. The beast, a red wyvern, towered above everything else in the room, barely touching the roof. Its long beak hung open, its gaze locked onto the piece of fruit the man held out.
This time, they were both outlined in a green hue, but much fainter than the lieutenant's – whose glow had faded the moment I lost my focus.
Again, the same whisper and pull returned, this time clear from the start: "Find my wyvern's bones in the cliffs of Valerock… Let her rest beside me."
The third figure, an elf in thick, furred clothing, was frozen in motion with his mouth open and his face tight with passion. One hand was behind his back while the other was frozen mid-gesture, as if addressing a crowd. He was, unlike the others, outlined with an orange glow. The whisper came once more:
"The First Blueprint sleeps in the Sunken Vault… protect it from being wielded by unready hands."
That, however, made me even more confused, and my brain immediately overanalyzed it.
Protect it? Protect it how? From who? And where the hell is the Sunken Vault? Is this even my job to steal elf-tech and act as a bodyguard for a blueprint? What if the elves are already guarding it? What if taking it makes things worse? What does 'unready hands' even mean?
Since the motionless visions wouldn't respond to my internal questions, I gave up and turned to the last one: a man holding a shortsword and a dagger, standing in that exact same position I had been in before the last illusion broke – Elias. He was clad in a simple farmer's outfit, now stained with blood. His outline was a dark red, glowing brighter than the previous ones.
"Brindleton … the earth trembled then… it trembles again. Protect them… before the ground breaks open."
My mind, now clear from the fog, tried to connect the dots. These men I had inhabited were now standing in front of me like statues, or more like characters in a video game I could choose. Each of them glowed with a different color, each seemingly carrying their own wish.
If this is like a game… the colors must be something connected to difficulty. Green for easy, orange for medium, and red for hard.
If my assumption was right, that would mean the faint pull I felt earlier might be connected to something I had to do. That sudden urge to find Richard's insignia and the whispers I heard might all be some kind of quest for me. A quest meant a reward. Most likely, it would grant me something worth the effort – like a new Skill.
But I couldn't just jump to conclusions yet. I still had insufficient information, and I was still not out of the woods yet. We were in enemy territory, and with the gas gone, the clock was now ticking.
One more thing… how would I deactivate this vision? Frankly, it was beginning to be uncomfortable to look at the world. I rubbed my eyes, tried to shout "Turn off, turn off!" internally, and even hit my head.
None of it worked.
Then I took a step forward, and everything seemed to melt away, color and sound flowing back into place. The light blinded me for a second, adjusting to the now colorful world.
I returned to my senses fully. My thoughts were now thankfully not merged with any others, and the usual brainfog wasn't as severe as it tended to be. I immediately walked over to Seraya, reaching out before pausing.
Was it safe to shake her awake? Would it disturb anything? Would it harm her?
Nah… it'll probably be fine.
Putting a hand on her shoulder, I shook her gently. "Hello? Wakey, wakey…."
All I got in response was a weak groan and a furrow of her brows, but she didn't wake. It seemed that I couldn't force her out of her hallucinations, and I had no choice but to wait for it to run its course.
Still, she was even more beautiful up close. The paranoid part of me kept shouting at me to look away before she woke up and found me staring, but another part of me simply couldn't resist it.
She looked younger, more innocent, even if she had the expression of someone having an active dream. She didn't seem to be having a nightmare though, since her face wasn't contorted in stress or anxiety. The squirming from earlier had mostly stopped, but she was still breathing heavily, and her face was still red. It almost looked like she had a fever. I almost thought I noticed some wrinkles as well, but I had probably just imagined it.
My gaze briefly landed on her lips, but I quickly shook my head. As much as I'd love for her to wake up and lunge at me for no reason, I had to find Torren. However, that meant leaving Seraya, and also the fact that I'd have to search for him. All alone, in enemy territory. This left me to think unnecessarily long about what to do.
During that time, I didn't notice that Seraya had been stirring awake until she brushed against me to rub her eyes.
I basically jumped away, straightened up, and looked at a pipe on the roof as if it were the most exquisite art piece I'd ever seen. Then I turned my head to her, acting like I'd just seen her wake up.
"Finally awake?"
Her eyes, glazed and unfocused, landed on me. It almost looked like she had been smoking too much weed or something. Slowly, the focus returned and turned into recognition, but her flush only intensified.
"W-what? Wh-where am I?"
I quickly held up my hands in a placating gesture. "Calm down. You were just knocked out by the gas… I think."
I held out a hand, giving her a tentative smile. "You uh, okay? Was it a tough hallucination?"
She looked at my face, then at my offered hand, before taking it, her grip hesitant.
"Yeah… you could say that," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
In typical 'me' fashion, I leaned in with a reflexive "Huh?" to hear better. I earned only a half-hearted shove and a flustered, mumbled "Nothing!" in response.
Well, fuck you too then.
Of course, I did not voice my slight annoyance at what I knew was somewhat justified. I straightened up and glanced over at the only exit. "Ahem. So… we need to find Torren. He's not around here anymore."
I turned to her. "Do you know where we are?"
She brushed off her robes, her composure slowly returning. Her cheeks were still tinged pink. Scanning the room briefly, she gave a quick nod. "Yes, I believe we are on the upper level of the Sanctum. The nearest exit will bring us out to the slum district..." she trailed off, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry about all this. Truly."
I gave a half-hearted hum, focused on the doorway. The earlier vision was gone, but I could still see a faint, floating trace of that same blue line leading out and curving down the hallway. "It's fine, it's not your fault." I then pointed at the doorway. "What's that though?"
She was almost dumbfounded by my quick forgiveness, following where I pointed. She looked even more confused. "What do you mean? There's nothing there."
She couldn't see it? I must've sounded like an idiot. "Ahah… nothing. Thought I saw a rat scurry past or something. Anyways! Lead the way." I gestured grandly towards the door. "Ladies first."
It was only then that I noticed my speech was smoother than it tended to be. I'd stumble over my words around now, especially when trying to tell a lie, but I didn't. I was also speaking more confidently. Despite the disturbing memories the gas induced, I felt like I had been relieved of years of unnecessary social struggle.
I love you, mysterious gas!
Seraya let out a small sigh and guided me down the hallway. Incidentally, she was walking the same path that the blue line was showing me. It saved me any awkward excuses to follow it for the time being.
The deeper we went, the more the scenery changed. The walls became thicker, fading into a duller color. The pipelines became thinner and less messy, lined up on the walls like handrails.
I kept shooting furtive glances at Seraya's back as she led the way, my gaze lingering on her curves. A man had to appreciate a good view, after all.
Suddenly, she came to a halt, her ears twitching as if picking up a distant sound only she could hear. "Hero Kernt."
I flinched as if caught red-handed. It took me a few seconds to realize she meant me. "Y-yes?"
She glanced back, unaware of my brief fluster. "Something's ahead. We need to be careful."
Problem already. Of course.
"Maybe it's Torren?" I whispered, having lowered my voice. "Do you know if there are a lot of patrols or anything like that around here?"
She shook her head. As I walked up to her side, she whispered, "Normally, this area would be bustling. It's weird enough that we haven't encountered a single person yet. I'd reckon the Somnus Gas led to an evacuation."
"Right, there was the gas," I muttered. "What even was that? This Somnus Gas, you called it? Why the hell would someone gas this entire place just to catch me?"
Her mouth opened to reply, but before she could speak, a sudden gust of wind roared through the corridor, strong enough to make us both stagger. I braced myself against the wall, and Seraya clung to me for a second to steady herself before immediately pulling away when she realized who she grabbed.
"What was that…?" I asked, more to myself than to her.
Seraya didn't answer, her expression tense as she listened for more. Up ahead, the corridor split into three narrower passages. She peered down each one, her pointed ears twitching slightly.
"I… I think the central path leads back toward the residential quarters," she whispered, her voice still unsteady. "But if they're searching for us… that's where they'll expect us to go. The left path smells of something burnt and metallic. The alchemy labs, perhaps? And the right…" She sniffed the air softly. "Something damp and mold. Possibly a disused section, or… drainage."
She blinked, then shook her head slightly, as if clearing static. When she looked at me, her expression was strained. "Which way should we go? We need to find your tetrabrachian companion."
So much for knowing this place like the back of her hand.
I glanced at the glittery glowing line only I could see, pointing down to the mold-smelling right-hand passage. Seeing as things couldn't get any worse, I decided to place my trust in this weird vision.
"There," I said, pointing to the right.
Seraya didn't question it, and with a quick nod, she led the way once more. Perhaps she trusted my guidance since I'm the hero, and she's been told a bunch of stuff about how 'reliable' they are?
The moldy passage became more narrow, the walls slick with condensation. Seraya's shoulder brushed against mine in the tight space, and she flinched away like I was made of hot iron.
"Sorry," she mumbled, not looking at me. "It's just… the ventilation systems shouldn't be this damp unless the runoff pumps failed."
I had no idea what that meant. The way she said it, though—tense, worried—meant it wasn't good.
The blue line glowed brighter ahead, curving left around a broken pipe. I followed it, Seraya close behind. Then I heard a low, rhythmic thud, like something heavy being hit repeteadly.
"That's not machinery," Seraya whispered, her ears twitching.
We rounded the corner and saw him: Torren, his lower arms braced against a collapsed metal door, his upper two pummeling it with efficient, tired blows. His hair was greasy with blood and something else I couldn't identify.
He glanced over, and a tired grin split his face. "Hero! 'Bout time. This damn thing's jammed, and there's something alive scratching on the other side."
Seraya's eyes widened. "That… that leads to the relic vaults. Nothing in there should be alive."
The scratching grew louder and sharper, like claws on stone.
Torren shrugged. "Then either you're wrong, or we're about to meet the Crimson Sun's pet." He then shot me a strained grin. "Mind helping me out here?"
I stared at the door. The scratching was getting faster, more frantic. Something was definitely in there, and it really, really wanted out.
"Help how?" My voice came out a little too high. "I can't exactly punch through metal or anything."
Seraya stepped forward. "Your Skill from earlier."
Her earlier fluster was gone, replaced by something more focused. "You used it against Father Kuger's weapon. The locking mechanism is small, and if the metal isn't enchanted…"
Right. [Dismantle]. I'd completely forgotten about that. Three uses a day, and I'd already used one back in the room with Mira and one on Kuger. That meant this was my last use for today, and I hoped this counted as "small."
I moved closer to the door, avoiding Torren's blood-smeared arms. Up close, I could see where the metal frame had buckled, pinning the door shut. But near the handle was a heavy, fist-sized lockplate, etched with faint, fading runes.
Please don't be enchanted. Please don't be enchanted.
I placed my hand over it, closed my eyes, and focused. That same thread-of-mana feeling from the book oath surged up, but weaker, more controlled. A warm tingle spread through my palm.
"Dismantle."
There was a sharp crack, and the lockplate flaked and split along invisible seams, crumbling into dull grey dust that sprinkled to the floor. The runes flickered and died, and even the scratching stopped. The backlash wasn't as severe as with Kuger's weapon this time, but my hand began to ache harder than the first time. I flexed my fingers, and noticed that there was no numbness this time.
Torren didn't waste a second. He braced all four hands against the door and heaved. With a groan of stressed metal, it slid inward a foot, grinding against the floor.
A wave of cold, dry air washed out, smelling of ozone, old stone, and something else I couldn't identify.
Seraya peered into the darkness, her eyes wide. "The vaults are climate-controlled. That smell… it shouldn't be here."
Torren wiped his brow with a lower arm. "Well, it is. You two stay behind me. Hero, if you've got any more magic tricks, now's the time."
I didn't. I had no [Dismantle] uses left, and a [Reflex] Skill that only worked if I saw the attack coming. Not exactly very 'magical'.
We squeezed through the narrow opening and made our way inside.
The room was larger than I expected, lit by the same faint crystal lamps set into high walls. Shelves lined the space, crammed with broken swords, crystalline orbs, a rusted gauntlet that shined from the inside. In the center of the room stood a large, transparent cylinder, like a glass prison.
And inside it was a small figure. Far smaller than I expected it to be from the sounds I heard earlier. Hunched in the center of the cylinder was a creature about the size of a large cat, but all sharp angles and matted, dusk-purple fur. It had only one large, white eye on its face and sharp teeth, and its bat wings, which was torn in places, were wrapped tightly around itself. It was shivering, but clearly not from a chill.
I had no idea what it was. Some kind of… bat-monkey-thing? Either way, it looked kinda creepy.
"A narelith," Seraya whispered, her voice tight with something between awe and horror. "But… the records said the 31st Hero donated a stable, evolved specimen for study. This isn't evolved… It's regressed."
She stared at a small sign at the base of the cylinder, and I leaned in to read it.
Specimen: Narelith (Regressed).
Acquired: 31st Hero, Yosuke Minato.
Status: Contained. Do not feed mana.
Core instability observed post-donor separation. Regression to Phase 1 confirmed. Study suspended.
Before I could ask what any of that meant, a sound caught us all off-guard.
The narelith uncurled, and with startling speed slammed itself against the glass with its whole body with a dull, painful thud. It did it again, and again, almost as if it was trying to get our attention. But most unnerving of all – its single eye was fixed on me.
Then, with a sound like cracking ice, the glass began to fracture from the repeated attacks.
"Shit," Torren muttered, bracing for an attack.
The fracture spread, the narelith being relentless. So when it stopped for a few seconds, we all thought it might've given up, before it threw itself forward one more time, shattering the cylinder using the last of its strength.
Shards of glass rained down, and the narelith tumbled out, shaking off shards of crystal. But it didn't look strong, or dangerous. It was more like a desperate animal, corned and scared.
Before I could react, it rushed towards me, fast and low. I froze, my [Reflex] Skill screaming at me to dodge, but my feet were stuck. Torren moved to block its path with his giant arms outstretched to grab it, but it was too small for him to properly catch it and slipped between his legs.
But when it reached me, it didn't attack. Instead, it reached my leg and bit down on my calf.
I braced for pain, but… it barely hurt, more like a puppy teething me. I looked down to see it clinging to my pant leg, shivering, its single eye staring up at me.
It wasn't trying to hurt me. More like it was trying to hold on.
Seraya gasped. "It's… it's trying to imprint. But it's regressed. It shouldn't be able to form a new bond unless…"
Before she could finish, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor behind us. Kuger's voice, amplified and cold, cut through the silence.
"Seal the vault! They've released the specimen!"
Torren moved to block the doorway, his four arms raised. "Time's up, kids. Decide, and do it fast."
I looked from the shivering narelith on my leg to Seraya's pale face. It was shaking, its single eye wide and pleading. It looked… scared and abandoned. Like something left behind.
Just like Mira.
I then remembered the feel of channeling mana into the book's sigil, how it was like a thread from my core. The sign said not to feed it any mana, but what if it was for THEIR safety?
Maybe I could… feed it? Just a little.
I didn't know what would happen, but leaving it here with Kuger felt wrong. And I was beginning to feel the stress of time running low, and my indecisiveness didn't help at all. Either way, what's a worse thing that could happen in this situation?
Kuger called out again, his voice closer now. "Do not let the hero touch the specimen! He will destabilize it further!"
I hesitated. The sign had said "DO NOT FEED MANA", but I was considering doing the opposite. Kuger was screaming outside, but I found myself feeling no urgency. But the narelith was shaking, clinging to my leg like I was its last hope. Just like Mira had been.
Screw it.
I lowered my hand. "Hey," I whispered. "It's okay."
My palm glowed faintly. The narelith's eye followed my movement, but it didn't flinch. Its bite on my calf eased slightly, just enough to feel like it was waiting, or expecting.
"What are you doing?" Seraya whispered urgently. "If it's regressed, its core could be leaking. Uncontrolled mana exposure could—"
"I don't know what I'm doing," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "But it's not trying to hurt me."
My fingers brushed the dirty its ears, feeling the cold and trembling fur between. I thought about the thread of mana I'd pushed into the book's sigil that one time. I tried to picture it again, this time down my arm and into my hand. Into it.
Nothing happened at first, and I considered giving up and pulling back my hand. Then, a faint warmth spread in my palm.
The narelith shuddered at the contact. Its eye widened, and a tiny, pathetic sound escaped it, like a bird's chirp. The biting pressure on my leg vanished completely as it released me, scrambling up my pants with surprising speed, and pressing its whole small body into my chest.
"Woah!" I exclaimed, startled at the sudden action, but instinctively wrapped my arms around it.
"Holy shit," Torren muttered from the doorway. "You just tamed it."
Kuger's voice rang out from just outside the vault. "Stand aside, mercenary! That specimen is property of the Order! Defiance will lead to punishment!"
"Come and move me, mask-face," Torren snarled back.
"You think me a monster," Kuger spat, his voice dropping into something colder, wearier. "But when the Lumenari comes, it will not care for your morality. It will burn this world to ash. We are forging tools for survival, Hero, even if the hammer must strike living flesh."
"That creature is a failed experiment," he continued, his voice rising, "Yosuke Minato left it because its core became unstable without him, a weapon without a trigger. In our care, it could have been stabilized, studied and remade. In yours… it is a walking disaster waiting to detonate. Give it back, Hero, before it falls apart and takes you with it!"
Another impact shook the door. Torren's feet slid an inch on the stone. "He's not just talking! They've got a ram!"
The narelith nuzzled against my shirt as my arms wrapped around it. Its fur was still dirty, but it had stopped shaking. I could feel the faint, slow pulse of its heard against my ribs, slowly steadying.
Seraya stared in shock, her lips parted. "It stabilized. Just from… contact? That shouldn't be possible unless…"
Her eyes snapped to mine. "You fed it mana, didn't you?"
I startled. "A-A little… I think." I admitted, rubbing the back of my head. "Sorry?"
She opened her mouth to reply, or maybe complain, but a sudden thud against the door made us all jump. Torren braced his hands harder against the door, his feet sliding an inch on the stone floor.
"They've got a ram," he grunted. "Or something heavy. We need another way out. Priestess! Any secret tunnels around here that we can use?"
Seraya flinched at his voice, before regaining her composure. Her gaze swept over the room. "R-right! The vaults are sealed for security. The only exit is… the way we came."
Another impact from outside caused dust to rain down from the ceiling.
The narelith in my arms chirped again, louder this time. It wriggled and turned in my grip, pointing one clawed finger toward the back of the vault. It was pointing at a section of a wall lined with old, dust-covered shelves.
Then it looked up at me with that one big eye, as if waiting for me to understand.
I didn't. But the weird path only I could see suddenly flared to life, cutting straight through the air toward that same wall. Very convenient.
"There!" I called out louder than I intended, pointing toward it. "Something's back there. Maybe an exit."
Seraya hurried over, brushing dust from the shelves. Behind a stack of rusted scroll tubes, her fingers found a seam in the stone. "It's a maintenance hatch, but it's sealed from the outside. We'd need to…"
She trailed off and glanced at my hands. It took me a few seconds to realize what she meant, and I shook my head.
"I'm out of Dismantle for today. I can only use it three times a day."
Torren took another heavy hit against the door, snarling. "Then we're doing this the hard way."
He shoved away from the door, letting it burst inward a few inches before slamming it back with a mighty heave. Then he turned, lowered a shoulder, and charged the wall.
The impact was so strong that it cracked the stone nearby into a spiderweb and shook shelves enough to almost tip them over. The narelith buried its face in my shirt, shuddering from the loud sound.
Torren hit it again, and a section of the wall buckled inward. Not much, but enough to reveal the darkness beyond.
"Go!" he roared, bracing against the door again.
Seraya didn't hesitate. She squeezed through the gap, and I followed, clutching the narelith to my chest. The space beyond was tight, damp, and smelled like something rusty.
Torren backed toward us, still holding the door, before turning and squeezing his massive frame through the broken wall just as the vault door finally gave way.
As Torren squeezed through the broken wall, Kuger's final shout followed us into the dark: "He left it because it was broken, Hero! Just like he left the hornless tenebrim! You cannot fix what he discarded!"
We didn't wait to see who came through. We ran.