The headache didn't fade.
If anything, it sharpened.
Arun noticed it only after the excitement settled—after the chamber's noise dulled and his breathing steadied. It wasn't pain exactly. More like pressure, as if someone had placed a thumb behind his eyes and was slowly pressing inward.
He blinked hard.
The world stayed clear.
But something felt… tight.
A robed attendant shoved a folded cloth into his hands. "Wipe yourself off. You're being reassigned."
"Reassigned?" Arun asked.
The word came out steadier than he felt.
The attendant glanced at his status briefly, then lost interest. "Non-combat utility. You'll move with the labor group."
Labor group.
Arun followed the gesture toward the far side of the hall.
There were twelve of them. No glowing weapons. No loud celebrations. Just tired faces and uncertain stances. Some wore the same dazed expression he probably had minutes ago.
A tall man with calloused hands caught Arun's eye and gave a small nod. "Class?"
"Archivist," Arun said.
The man winced. "Unlucky."
Before Arun could respond, the headache spiked.
Hard.
He sucked in a sharp breath and nearly dropped to one knee again.
A blue screen snapped into existence.
[Mental Strain Detected]
→ Severity: Minor
→ Accumulation: Ongoing
So there was a cost.
Arun exhaled slowly and dismissed the window.
They were herded out of the summoning hall through a stone corridor that smelled faintly of metal and old incense. The air grew cooler the farther they walked. Torches flickered overhead, casting long shadows that stretched and warped with every step.
A woman beside him whispered, "Do you know what's happening?"
"No," Arun replied honestly.
She nodded, relief flickering across her face. "Good. Then we're equally doomed."
They emerged into daylight.
The fortress sprawled outward in tiers—stone walls, banners snapping in the wind, armored figures moving with practiced ease. Beyond the outer gate, the land dipped into a forested valley, mist clinging low between the trees.
Arun felt small.
Very small.
A horn sounded.
The labor group was handed tools. Picks. Ropes. Crude blades meant more for clearing brush than fighting.
"Escort's light today," the overseer said. "Stay close. If something moves that shouldn't—scream."
That did not inspire confidence.
They marched.
Minutes passed. Then more.
The headache pulsed steadily now, in time with his steps.
Arun focused inward.
Inventory.
The interface appeared instantly.
Fear (Suppressed)
Fatigue (Moderate)
Knee Strain (Minor)
All still there.
He hesitated, then selected Fatigue (Moderate).
Apply Condition?
Target: Self
Mental Cost: Low
He confirmed.
The stored fatigue poured back into him like wet sand. His shoulders sagged. His legs felt heavier with each step.
And then—
He canceled it.
The fatigue vanished again.
A new message flickered.
[Condition Cycle Detected]
→ Reapplication Count: 2
→ Mental Strain Increased
The pressure behind his eyes intensified sharply this time.
Arun clenched his jaw.
So it stacked.
Not on the body.
On the mind.
He didn't try again.
They reached the treeline.
The forest was quieter than it should have been. No birds. No insects. Just the wind whispering through leaves like something breathing slowly.
A man at the front froze.
"Did you hear that?"
Something moved.
Too fast.
A blur darted between the trees, low to the ground.
Someone screamed.
"Back!" the escort shouted. "Form up!"
It was small—no larger than a dog—but wrong in all the ways that mattered. Too many joints. Skin stretched tight over muscle. Its eyes reflected torchlight with a dull red sheen.
It lunged.
The escort's blade came down hard.
Too slow.
The creature twisted mid-air and raked claws across the soldier's arm. Blood sprayed across the forest floor.
The soldier shouted in pain.
Arun's vision sharpened.
A new window slammed open.
[New Condition Detected]
→ Bleeding (Minor)
Source: External (Observed)
Arun's breath caught.
Observed?
The creature landed, ready to spring again.
The escort raised his sword with his uninjured arm—but his stance was off. Unstable.
Arun didn't think.
He selected Bleeding (Minor).
Log Condition?
Source Stability: Weak
Risk: Moderate
He confirmed.
The headache exploded.
White-hot pain lanced through his skull, stealing his vision for half a second.
But the condition appeared in his inventory.
Bleeding (Minor)
The creature screeched.
It staggered mid-leap, claws digging into the dirt as its movement faltered. Dark fluid seeped from between its ribs—more than it should have been losing.
The escort didn't hesitate.
Steel flashed.
The creature collapsed, twitching once before going still.
Silence fell.
Arun dropped to one knee, gasping.
His hands trembled violently now.
A cascade of messages flooded his vision.
[Condition Logged: Bleeding (Minor)]
[External Source Logged]
[Mental Strain: Moderate]
[Warning: Unauthorized Interaction]
Unauthorized.
The word echoed in his head.
Someone grabbed his shoulder. "You alright?"
Arun nodded shakily. "Yeah. Just… dizzy."
The escort stared at the dead creature, then back at Arun. His eyes lingered a fraction longer than before.
"Lucky timing," he said slowly.
Arun forced a weak smile.
Inside, his inventory now held four entries.
Fear.
Fatigue.
Pain.
Bleeding.
And beneath them, faint but unmistakable:
[System Notice:]
External conditions are not meant to be retained.
Arun closed the interface.
His head pounded. His stomach churned.
But deep under the discomfort—beneath the warning, beneath the pain—something else stirred.
Possibility.
And for the first time, fear didn't feel like a weakness.
It felt like a resource.