Chapter 11 — The Road That Teaches You How to Bleed
The capital let Elias go without ceremony.
No crowds.
No speeches.
No warning bells.
Just a gate opening at dawn and a road stretching into land that maps preferred to blur.
Mist clung low to the ground, coiling around the stone like something alive. The air smelled wet and metallic, as if rain had soaked into old blood and refused to let it go. Mana lines beneath the road were thinner here—older, patched, reinforced unevenly.
This wasn't a route meant for comfort.
It was a route meant for problems.
Elias walked alone.
That had been the condition.
No permanent escort. No visible guild banner. If the world was watching him now, it would do so without witnesses to hide behind.
He adjusted the strap of his pack and felt the familiar weight settle against his back. Supplies. Stabilizers. His mother's pouch. Liora's charm.
And the guild token.
Blank.
Unranked.
Unforgiving.
The System hovered quietly at the edge of his vision, translucent and patient.
It didn't guide him.
It didn't warn him.
It observed.
"Figures," Elias muttered.
The road dipped into a shallow valley where trees pressed closer together. Their branches were thin and crooked, leaves dark and glossy, catching what little light filtered through the clouds. The wind threaded through them with a low whistle that sounded uncomfortably like breath.
Elias slowed.
Not because he sensed danger—
—but because the absence of it felt wrong.
He remembered Earth.
The silence before a hit.
The quiet before a gun came out.
This felt the same.
The System flickered.
[ENVIRONMENTAL STATUS: UNSTABLE]
Elias stepped off the road and into the undergrowth.
The ground was soft, damp, layered with moss and rot. His boots sank slightly with each step. He moved carefully, placing his weight where roots broke the surface, keeping noise low.
He didn't know what he was avoiding yet.
That was the point.
The valley narrowed ahead, the road squeezing between two rocky rises. Old marker fragments lay half-buried near the edges—cracked, faded, their runes worn almost smooth.
Someone had tried to fix them once.
Someone had failed.
The pressure hit him then.
Not sharp.
Not violent.
A steady push against his senses, like standing too close to a fire you couldn't see.
Elias inhaled slowly.
"There you are," he whispered.
The System pulsed faintly.
[ANOMALY: PASSIVE FIELD DETECTED]
Passive meant it wasn't hunting.
It was waiting.
Elias stepped back onto the road and continued forward, posture relaxed, pace unhurried.
If something was watching—
He wanted it to think he hadn't noticed.
The first sign wasn't sound.
It was movement in the air.
A distortion, subtle but wrong, like heat shimmer without heat. Elias caught it just as it slid across the road behind him, cutting off retreat.
"Of course," he said quietly.
The distortion resolved.
A figure stepped out of nothing.
Then another.
Then three more.
Not corrupted.
Not fully human either.
They wore layered cloaks dyed in muted grays and greens, patterns shifting slightly as if the fabric itself resisted being seen clearly. Their faces were uncovered, calm, focused, eyes sharp with intelligence.
Believers.
Not the reckless kind.
The trained kind.
Elias stopped walking.
"So," he said, turning slowly, "you followed me out instead of ambushing the city."
One of them—a woman with cropped black hair and a thin scar across her lip—smiled faintly.
"We prefer clean spaces," she said. "Less interference."
Her voice was steady. Confident.
Not excited.
That made her dangerous.
Elias glanced at the others.
Four.
All positioned to deny escape routes. One behind him. Two flanking. One ahead.
Professional.
"You're early," Elias said. "Or I'm late."
The woman tilted her head slightly.
"You resonate strongly," she said. "Distance doesn't hide you."
Elias clenched his jaw.
"So what," he asked, "you're here to test me? Kill me?"
She shook her head.
"No," she said. "We're here to confirm something."
"And if you don't like the answer?" Elias asked.
Her smile faded.
"Then others will come," she said. "With less restraint."
The System pulsed hard.
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: MODERATE–HIGH]
[NOTE: HOST OUTNUMBERED]
Elias exhaled.
"Good," he said.
The woman frowned. "Good?"
"I was hoping you'd stop pretending," Elias replied.
He moved.
Not forward.
Down.
Elias dropped low, sweeping his leg across the damp road. Mud sprayed as the believer behind him lost footing for half a second.
That half-second mattered.
Elias rolled, came up near the rocky rise, and grabbed a loose stone the size of his fist. He hurled it—not at a person, but at the ground between two of them.
The impact shattered fragile mana residue embedded in the soil.
The field collapsed.
The air screamed.
All four believers staggered as the passive suppression snapped, their cloaks flickering violently.
Elias didn't wait.
He charged.
The first believer met him head-on, blade flashing into existence—a short, curved weapon etched with faint symbols. Elias ducked the slash, slammed his shoulder into the man's chest, and drove him backward into the rock face.
Bone cracked.
The man gasped, surprise flashing across his face before Elias struck again—elbow to throat, knee to ribs, hand snapping up to wrench the blade free.
The second believer attacked from the side.
Elias twisted, letting the blade graze his sleeve instead of his arm, and used the stolen weapon to parry. Metal rang, sparks flying as mana flared briefly along both edges.
Pain flared in Elias's side.
He ignored it.
He stepped inside the guard and struck.
Once.
Twice.
The believer collapsed, breath leaving him in a wet gasp.
The woman moved then.
Fast.
Too fast.
She closed the distance in a blink, hand glowing faintly as mana condensed around her fingers. She aimed not for Elias's body—
—but his chest.
His heart.
Elias felt it.
That sharp, focused intent.
The System flared.
[REACTIVE RESPONSE: LIMITED]
"Not yet," Elias growled.
He shifted his weight at the last moment, letting the strike slam into his shoulder instead. Pain exploded down his arm as mana tore through muscle.
Elias roared and countered, driving the blade into her side.
It didn't go deep.
A ward flared, deflecting most of the force.
They separated, breathing hard.
The last believer hung back, eyes darting, calculating.
The woman straightened slowly, blood seeping through her cloak.
"You adapt quickly," she said.
"I had practice," Elias replied.
She studied him, eyes sharp.
"You're not awakened," she said. "Yet you fight like someone who survived it."
Elias didn't answer.
He lunged.
She met him again, and the world narrowed to movement and impact. Blades clashed. Stone shattered. Mana sparked and died.
Elias felt his stamina bleeding away, each movement heavier than the last.
The System remained silent.
It wouldn't save him.
That was his job.
The woman feinted left, then struck low. Elias barely caught it, his guard slipping as pain screamed through his injured shoulder.
She saw it.
Her eyes sharpened.
"This ends now," she said.
She gathered mana, compressing it into a tight, lethal arc.
Elias did the only thing he could.
He stepped forward.
Into the strike.
The mana tore into his side, ripping cloth and skin. Elias screamed—but he didn't stop moving.
He slammed his forehead into hers.
The impact was brutal.
They both staggered.
Elias didn't let go.
He grabbed her cloak, dragged her close, and drove the blade up under her ribs where the ward was weakest.
The ward shattered.
The blade went in.
The woman gasped, eyes wide—not with fear, but understanding.
"So that's it," she whispered. "You really are… a break."
She went limp.
Elias let her fall.
He turned just in time to see the last believer run.
Not retreat.
Run.
Elias didn't chase.
He couldn't.
He dropped to one knee, breath coming in ragged pulls, vision swimming. Blood soaked into his clothes, warm and sticky.
The road was silent again.
Birds didn't return.
The System flickered.
[ENGAGEMENT RESULT: SURVIVED]
[CONDITION: CRITICAL FATIGUE]
Elias laughed weakly.
"Bare minimum," he muttered.
He forced himself to his feet and stumbled toward the trees, away from the road. He needed cover. Distance.
He collapsed behind a fallen trunk, hands shaking as he dug into his pack. He pulled out the stabilizer Rowan had given him and hesitated.
Emergency use only.
This qualified.
Elias bit down on the stopper and drank.
The potion burned like fire sliding down his throat. Heat flooded his veins, dulling pain, knitting torn flesh just enough to keep him conscious.
Not healed.
Functional.
Elias lay back, staring up at the gray sky filtering through leaves.
"So that's the road," he whispered. "Teach you how to bleed."
The System pulsed softly.
Not approving.
Not disapproving.
Recording.
After a long while, Elias pushed himself up and staggered back toward the road. He didn't look at the bodies again.
He didn't need to.
The message was clear.
The world wasn't waiting for him to grow stronger.
It was testing whether he would survive long enough to matter.
Elias wiped blood from his mouth and started walking.
One step at a time.
That day, Elias learned a rule the guild never wrote down:
If the world bleeds you early,
it's because it expects you to bleed it back later.