The barbarian tent breathed with the cold.
Even with the central brazier burning low, frost clung like a second skin to the inner furs, thin veins of white tracing along leather seams. The wind outside whispered through the bone-slung charms hanging from the entrance flap, their faint clacking like old teeth chattering in the throat of winter.
Kel lay on the narrow bed of packed furs, hands folded behind his head, coat loosened at the collar. Above him, the ceiling of stitched hide rose and fell slightly as the wind pressed against it. An ember in the brazier cracked with a soft, tired sound.
Reina, Landon, and Sera had already scattered to their own tents—rest, reports, quiet conversations by the fires.
Kel was alone.
Alone with his breath.
Alone with the silence inside his chest where pain used to live.
He exhaled.
Slow.
Steady.
"Status," he whispered.
The word did not need volume.
It needed intention.
The world shifted without moving.
A faint, familiar overlay peeled itself away from reality—
and the translucent pane appeared at the edge of his vision, soft white lines engraved against the dim interior of the tent.
He turned his head slightly, eyes focusing.
The window opened.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Kel von Rosenfeld
Age: 13
Race: Human
Titles:
— Cursed Heir — REMOVED
— Walking Death Flag — REMOVED
— The Doomed One — REMOVED
— Lakebound Witness — ACTIVE
House: Rosenfeld (One of the Seven Pillars of the Empire)
Condition:
— DEATH CURSE (LIFTED)
— MANA SYSTEM: UNSEALED (AWAITING INITIAL ACTIVATION)
— AURA CHANNELS: STABILIZING
— PHYSICAL GROWTH: RELEASED (UNRESTRICTED)
Base Stats:
Vitality: 62
Strength: 58
Agility: 60
Endurance: 57
Mana: 41
Aura: [CORE ACTIVE – ANOMALOUS TYPE: RED IRREGULAR]
Resistance: 65
Luck: ??? (Unreadable – External interference)
Charisma: 49 (EXCEPTIONAL)
Linked Effects – Blessings & Modifiers Applied:
[Blessing: Sairen's Stillwater Accord] – PERMANENT
All core stats increased by 200% (x3 multiplier).
Passive Effects Active:
— Stillwater Resilience – Drastically increased recovery rate when calm or stationary.
— Reflection Sense – Enhanced battlefield awareness near any water or mist.
— Drowned Noise – Emotional disturbances are muted; easier to maintain mental clarity under pressure.
— Moonlit Veil – Slight veil over presence when under moonlight or near water sources.
— Bound Witness – Shared perception anchor with [Scarder Guardian – Sairen].
Skills:
— "Essence of Breath: Foundational Form" (Lv. 5)
— "Basic Swordsmanship – Rosenfeld Style" (Lv. 4)
— "Noble Etiquette & Courtly Bearing" (Passive)
— "Strategic Discourse – Low Tier" (Lv. 3)
— "Cold Requiem – Bowmanship" (Lv. 3)
Blessings:
— [Sairen's Stillwater Accord]
Traits:
— "Iron Thread – Ascended Weave"
— "Strain Adaptation – Awakened"
— "Anomalous Aura Core: Red Irregular"
— "Inherent Charisma – Sovereign's Echo"
Spirit Link:
— Scarder Guardian (Sairen) – Active
Kel's pupils tightened.
For a long moment, he simply stared.
Then a sound slipped past his lips—a breathless, incredulous exhale.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
He shifted, propping himself onto an elbow. The fur under him rustled softly, the brazier's ember-glow outlining the hard line of his jaw and the faint shadows under his eyes.
He hadn't fully processed it during the walk from the lake.
Too much had happened in too little time.
Now—
the numbers stared back at him.
Base stats already this high… and now tripled…
He focused.
The window adjusted, showing effective values beneath the base:
Effective Vitality: 186
Effective Strength: 174
Effective Agility: 180
Effective Endurance: 171
Effective Mana: 123
Effective Resistance: 195
Effective Charisma: 147
Kel exhaled again.
"…This is beyond broken."
As a player, he had chased this blessing.
Late-game.
Near the end of some of his longest runs.
He remembered the numbers. The threads of forum speculation. The hidden triggers no one else had discovered.
But this——
This is early game.
Thirteen years old.
Barely into the establishment phase.
"Most protagonists," he muttered, eyes glinting faintly in the dim light, "don't even touch these values by level fifty."
His lips curved up.
Slowly.
Almost unwillingly.
"I'm not just ahead of the curve," he whispered. "I broke it over my knee."
The thought should have felt intoxicating.
It did.
Partly.
But beneath that—
there was weight.
Power like this did not exist without cost.
Even if the system didn't show it yet.
He folded his arm behind his head again, lying back down, the pale glow of the window hovering above him like a ghostly constellation.
His gaze slid to the new line near the top.
Lakebound Witness.
Title.
He focused on it.
A secondary overlay flickered open.
[Lakebound Witness]
You have formed a mutual pact with the guardian of Scarder Lake. You are no longer merely observed by fate—you observe it back.
Effect: Slightly increased perception of "world anomalies" and hidden paths. Easier to sense when events deviate from expected routes.
Kel's brows rose slowly.
"…So that's the narrative tag for it."
A player's grin sharpened his features for a heartbeat.
A hidden flag for hidden flags.
Hidden routes.
He scanned further down.
Spirit Link: Scarder Guardian (Sairen).
That one, he knew.
The game wiki pages—half-baked, full of speculation—had never truly mapped this.
Late-game event. Only accessible under certain moral alignments. Only if you didn't betray her at Scarder's second awakening…
He remembered reading all those lines as someone outside the story.
Now, he was inside.
His fingers tapped lightly against his chest.
There—beneath bones, between heartbeats—he could feel something subtle. Not a foreign presence intruding.
A quiet thread.
Like the echo of still water at the edge of hearing.
He flicked his gaze back to the Blessing description.
All core stats increased by 200% (x3 multiplier).
Permanent.
"In any normal balance patch," he said under his breath, "this would get nerfed to hell."
His smile turned sharper.
"But there is no patch."
No developers.
No hotfix.
Only him.
And whatever rules this world had been built upon.
A faint echo brushed the edge of his awareness.
Not sound.
Not words.
Pressure.
Like a fingertip running along the surface of a cup of water.
You are amused.
The awareness came not from the system window.
But from the link itself.
Sairen.
He didn't move.
Only his eyes shifted slightly toward the tent's ceiling.
You can feel that much? he thought back, not speaking aloud.
Her presence stirred—cool and calm, like moonlight on still water.
Not amusement itself, came the impression. Only the ripple it leaves in you. The way your breath changes when you peer inward.
Kel's fingers curled slightly in the fur.
I was… checking the consequences.
Ah, she replied. Mortals and their numbers.
He almost huffed.
Almost.
You don't see them, he thought. It wasn't a question.
See what?
This. Status window. Everything quantified. All of this… text.
Silence.
Then—
No, she said. Your soul has strata I can feel. Depths. Shifts in potential. But not… "numbers." Those are yours.
Kel relaxed.
So his suspicion was correct.
Only I can see this. Because I'm not from here.
Because he was a player first.
A transmigrator second.
A character last.
His lips twitched.
Good.
It meant no one—not even a mythical guardian—could fully grasp how far his foundation now exceeded normal limits.
Not without very close study.
He slid his focus back to the passive list.
Stillwater Resilience. Reflection Sense. Drowned Noise. Moonlit Veil. Bound Witness.
Each one a hidden mechanic dressed as poetry.
Stillwater Resilience—I recover faster when I don't thrash.
Reflection Sense—as long as there is mist or water nearby, my perception grid is expanded.
Drowned Noise—panic, anger, fear… dampened. Easier to act.
That one…
He closed his eyes briefly.
The world had been loud inside his skull once—pain and dread and that constant, dull readiness for death.
Now—
there was a quiet.
Too quiet?
He studied the feeling.
No.
Not numbness.
Just…
room to think.
Is this what it's like, he wondered, to live without a curse and with a mythic blessing stacked on top?
His heart beat.
Slow.
Steady.
He watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
"…I could get used to this," he murmured.
Sairen's presence shifted again.
You examine your own shape like a smith testing a new blade, she observed. Do you not fear what this power makes of you?
Kel opened his eyes.
The ceiling greeted him, shadowed and dim.
I'd be more afraid, he thought, if I was still weak.
A faint, almost imperceptible coolness scanned along his thoughts—like a lake tasting the weight of a stone dropped into it.
You carry ambition and restraint in the same hand, she said. A dangerous combination.
"Dangerous," he said softly, "is another word for useful in this world."
His voice sounded small in the tent—swallowed by furs and leather and distant drumbeats outside.
Still, the words were firm.
If I don't become strong enough to change the script, I die at someone else's convenience. If I become strong enough without any anchor, I turn into the thing I hate.
He stared at the status window again.
At the Lakebound Witness title.
At Sairen's Stillwater Accord.
At Sovereign's Echo.
This is my anchor.
The contract.
The guardian.
The people walking with him.
Not moral purity.
Not naive justice.
Just—
Chosen ties.
He let his gaze slide away.
The window stayed, hovering in the corner of his vision like a second moon.
He tensed his hand, feeling the new strength.
He could crush the wood of the bed frame without trying.
He did not.
He flexed his ankle beneath the fur.
He could outrun most trained knights now.
He stayed.
He closed his eyes and focused on his breath.
In.
Hold.
Out.
Essence of Breath responded eagerly, the Lv. 5 form humming through his ribs. Air no longer scraped. It flowed. He could feel how each inhale met his now-stable aura core, how the Red Irregular pulsed in time.
He imagined activating mana for the first time.
Not yet.
He smiled faintly.
One step at a time.
You are holding back, Sairen noted.
Always, he replied.
A pause.
Why?
Because I know where this can go.
He didn't explain further.
She did not press.
The link quieted, settling like a calm surface once more.
Outside, footsteps crunched past the tent.
A shadow fell across the flap—broad shoulders, familiar gait.
Landon.
He paused, as if listening.
Then walked on.
Reina's voice drifted faintly from another tent, discussing tomorrow's path with Sera—measured, low, confident.
Kel listened for a while.
Then let his head sink deeper into the fur.
His status window remained open, its glow the only unnatural light in the tent.
He studied himself.
Not with vanity.
Not with awe.
With the detached, clinical precision of a player analyzing a build.
High stats, insane permanent buff, mythical spirit link, anomalous aura, unsealed mana…
Early game.
He huffed softly.
"…If this were just a game," he whispered, "I'd be laughing into my keyboard right now."
Here—
there was no keyboard.
Only his body.
His choices.
His consequences.
His eyes drifted halfway shut.
The window dimmed at the edges, responding to his fatigue.
He spared one last glance at the title near the top.
Lakebound Witness.
A boy who once carried death as his only future—
now carrying a lake's gaze inside his chest.
"Fine," he murmured, lashes lowering completely. "Let's see how far we can push this, then."
The status window faded at last, dissolving into the dark like mist over still water.
In the silence that followed, Kel's breathing evened out.
Outside, winter pressed its ear against the tent, listening.
Inside, beneath fur and leather, a mortal and a mythical presence shared a quiet—
both aware that from this point onward…
the world would not remain unchanged if he simply kept walking.