The next morning, I woke up, and for the first time in over a week, my first thought wasn't a desperate plea for a quick death.
I lay perfectly still on the narrow mattress, staring up at the wooden beams, waiting.
Waiting for the familiar suffocating wave of agony to crash over me.
Waiting for the sensation of ground glass grinding inside my joints.
Waiting for my ribs to scrape against each other like broken chalk.
Nothing.
I blinked my single eye slowly.
Still nothing.
'…What?'
Cautiously—like I was testing a cursed artifact—I pulled the rough quilt down and sat up. My movements were slow, deliberate. If pain was hiding, I didn't want to provoke it.
I stretched my arms over my head.
Pop.
Crack.
Thud.
A chorus of deep, satisfying sounds echoed from my shoulders and spine. Not the brittle snap of fractured bones protesting movement. No. This was the good kind. The "I slept wrong" kind. The human kind.
'You've got to be kidding me.'
I flexed my fingers. No trembling. No stabbing ache in my knuckles.
The dull pulse that had been living in my chest for days? Gone.
I felt… light.
Not powerful. Not overwhelming.
Just… healthy.
I looked down. The crystal sphere was resting against my thigh, a good distance away from the bedside table where I had carefully placed it the night before.
Inside the glass, the blue and gold wisps floated lazily. They looked dimmer than yesterday. Like two fireflies that had burned through most of their fuel.
I picked it up. The glass was warm. Not hot. Just… warm.
"Did you do something?" I muttered.
The wisps ignored me. No reaction. Just a slow, synchronized orbit.
'You sneaky little saint.'
I placed it gently on the center of the wooden table—far from any edges this time—and stepped into the washroom behind the cottage.
I splashed cold water on my face.
My fingers froze mid-motion.
The texture was wrong.
Or right.
For the past week, washing my face felt like tracing a battlefield. Jagged scabs. Raised burns. Torn flesh stitched poorly back together by time and stubbornness.
Now?
My fingers slid over smooth skin.
No ridges. No cracks. No unevenness.
My breathing hitched.
There was no mirror in the washroom. Just a cracked ceramic basin and a faded towel. But I didn't need to see it to know.
'No way…'
I dried my face, trying not to smile too soon. Hope was dangerous. Hope liked to disappoint.
Silas had left fresh clothes on the stool. A clean white linen shirt. Dark trousers. Simple. Practical.
I pulled the shirt over my head. It hung loose on my shoulders. Silas was built like a man who fought the earth for a living. Broad chest. Thick arms. Solid core.
I rolled the trousers once. Twice. They still stopped just above my ankles.
'Too short for him. Too wide for me.'
I clenched my fist.
There was no humming current under my skin. No thrum of high-tier mana reinforcing bone and muscle.
'E-rank body,' I reminded myself. 'Don't get cocky.'
Before Liam gutted my Authority, my physical stats were flirting with A-rank peak. I could shatter stone with a casual punch. Leap across courtyards. Tank mid-tier spells.
Now?
If I punched a boulder, I'd probably sprain my wrist.
I exhaled slowly.
'One step at a time. I'm not coughing blood. That's progress.'
I grabbed the strip of black cloth Elara left out. Folded it. Wrapped it around my head, covering the hollow of my left eye.
I adjusted it slightly.
The cloth sat diagonally across my face. Clean. Dark. Sharp.
'Pirate aesthetic unlocked.'
A grin tugged at my lips.
'Edwin would 100% call this "mysterious protagonist upgrade."'
I stepped into the main hall.
Morning noise filled the cottage. Lily sat cross-legged on the floor, locked in an intense card battle with a neighborhood kid named Toby. Silas sipped tea while reading yesterday's newspaper. Elara was grinding herbs in a stone mortar near the door.
"Morning," I said casually.
Everything stopped.
Lily's card fell from her hand.
Toby squeaked and scooted backward like I'd just grown horns.
Elara's mortar froze mid-thump.
Silas slowly lowered the newspaper. His eyebrows climbed so high they almost left his face.
The silence was violent.
'…Oh no.'
A cold line of sweat slid down my back.
'Did it go wrong? Do I look like a polished skull? Did my skin fall off entirely?'
"What?" I asked, voice climbing half an octave. "Why are you all staring at me like that?"
Nobody answered.
Lily suddenly bolted down the hallway.
'Fantastic. I've traumatized a child.'
She came sprinting back seconds later with something behind her back. She skidded to a stop in front of me and dramatically shoved her hands forward.
A small silver-backed mirror nearly smacked my nose.
I flinched. Then looked.
My breath caught.
The scars were gone.
Every jagged burn. Every knife mark. Every cruel reminder of the Inquisition's "hospitality."
Gone.
My skin was smooth. Pale. Clean.
The only thing left was a single vertical silver scar running down the left side of my face, slipping beneath the eyepatch and reappearing just below it. Clean. Sharp. Permanent.
A signature.
A reminder.
But the horror show? Erased.
I touched my cheek slowly.
It felt unreal.
A laugh escaped me—half disbelief, half relief.
"Well," Silas finally said, standing up slowly. "I don't know which god you've offended or impressed, boy. But that's not normal."
Elara stepped closer, tilting my chin. "No inflammation. No swelling. The tissue regeneration is flawless…"
"I woke up like this," I said smoothly. "Guess I'm just built different."
Lily poked my arm.
"Are you sure you're not a ghost?" she asked suspiciously.
"Last I checked, ghosts don't get hungry," I replied. "And I'm starving."
The tension dissolved into chatter. Questions flew. I deflected. Smiled. Shrugged.
Eventually, breakfast resumed.
The second I had a chance, I slipped back into my room and closed the door.
I picked up the crystal sphere.
"You're the one," I whispered.
The golden wisp flickered faintly.
"You healed me."
A tiny spark of gold flashed inside.
I grinned.
"You're not just a parasite. You're a miracle."
The sphere felt slightly cooler now. As if it had spent something.
'You used your own energy to fix me.'
That realization hit differently.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
No grand speech. Just that.
I stepped into the backyard.
The chopping block was waiting. Logs piled up like yesterday's humiliation.
I grabbed the rusted axe.
Paused.
Swung it lightly in my hand.
It didn't feel like a brick anymore.
'Oh?'
I set a thick log on the block. Widened my stance. Engaged my core.
No mana. No tricks. Just mechanics.
Hips. Shoulders. Grip.
I brought the axe down.
CRACK.
The log split cleanly in two.
I stared at it.
A grin spread slowly across my face.
"Oh yeah," I muttered. "We're back."
Not peak. Not broken either.
Functional.
I chopped through the entire pile. Each swing cleaner than the last. Sweat rolled down my back, but it felt earned. Alive.
When I finished, I didn't feel crushed. I felt… restless.
So I stepped outside the gate.
And I ran.
The village path stretched ahead. Morning air filled my lungs easily.
People stared.
The crippled boy from yesterday was gone.
Now there was a lean, eye-patched teenager running with smooth strides and quiet intensity.
Let them stare.
I pushed faster.
After a few hundred meters, reality punched back. My lungs burned. My legs felt heavy. A stitch dug into my side.
I slowed, bending over.
'Stamina is trash.'
Healed ≠ powerful.
I straightened.
And started running again.
'There's no time.'
Even if I claw back A-rank stats… it's not enough.
My enemy isn't a bratty student.
He's an SS-ranker.
A man who tears Authorities out of souls.
To beat him? I can't return to my peak.
I have to break it.
Even without Growth Acceleration. Even without cheat codes.
'I can still bleed for it.'
I ran harder.
Wind whipped past my face. My single eye narrowed.
If the world won't hand me power anymore…
'I'll carve it out myself.'
Muscle by muscle.
Breath by breath.
Step by step.
I will not stay weak.
I will walk back into that Academy on my own terms.
'Just wait, Liam,' I thought, a dark smile forming beneath the eyepatch. 'You didn't end me.'
'You gave me a reason.'
My legs trembled.
My lungs screamed.
I took one more step anyway.