Chapter 311 - Barely a Recovery

"What… ngh…"

Rynold woke up to a world of hurt. He was well beyond the confines of what would be considered 'fine.' And, even though he didn't look it, Rynold had something far worse off than the pain that he felt.

"Don't move," the old man ordered. He sat right in front of Rynold, sitting in a cobbled stool while Rynold had had more comfortable experiences.

Nevertheless, something about Rynold felt entirely off. Aside from the fact that he was plopped down on the floor while his neck barely propped his head up, Rynold felt far worse. The uncomfortable stare the old man was giving him threw him off even further. But, before Rynold could even put his finger as to what was wrong with him, the old man had the decency to cut him off.

"You've noticed it, huh?" the old man's dead stare seeming pierced Rynold's soul, "There's something deeply wrong inside you. Hm. I originally thought you were something of an exception. However, well, you can tell for yourself what happened."

Even so, Rynold was still more confused than actually aware of what happened to him. He stared back at the old man, dazed to a tee.

"Hm. Perhaps I've overestimated you then. Nevertheless, what you are feeling now is a result of a conditional phenomenon for beings trapped here. And, what you experienced is nothing more than an illusion to achieve that point."

"Got a," Rynold groaned mid-sentence as he tried to move from his rather uncomfortable position, only to give up half a second later. "Got a word for it? Heh."

"I told you to not move," the old man disappointingly remarked, then proceeding to explain. "The phenomenon has no declarative term. It is more of a condition ¬— one that is present to every creature in Hell. What you experienced was what would have happened to most of us before we ever reached the Nevermore. And, based on what just happened, it is more violent and uncontrollable here than out there."

"W-what?"

Rynold, still dazed, couldn't understand a word of what the old man had said. While he understood something had happened to him, there was still no clarification of the subject matter.

"Right…," the old man sighed and shook his head. He then stood up, walking to the other side of the room. There were noticeably some signs of an explosion. To which, Rynold had no idea what caused it.

"This," the old man pointed to the blast's origin, "This was you. What happened, you ask? You imploded, leaving me quite a mess to clean up. While you lay there unconscious of what occurred, I took to myself to study on what we can consider 'ground zero."

"You're saying I blew up? How's that even possible?"

"Son, you know what happened here," the old man looked back at Rynold, eyes narrowed to a small accusing look, "It is only a matter of time until it had. What remained of you out there is no longer with you now."

At that moment, Rynold's face dropped.

No wonder everything about him felt desensitized. His body didn't feel quite the same as it used to. While Rynold knew that something about him was wrong, he hadn't realized that things were actually far, far worse than he had first thought.

"Don't tell me."

In an act of desperation, Rynold tried to will his Mana to life. He conjured Mana through his Mana Channels and did the most basic of spells — Augment.

But, it was to no avail. And, going beyond that, it did nothing at all. Rynold couldn't even feel the Mana inside him any longer. What had helped him throughout the entire journey in the New World was now… entirely gone.

"Mana Egress," the old man said with a hint of disdain, "What you are currently feeling is the aftereffects of such an event."

Rynold looked at his hands. His whole world felt like it was spinning. His hands were trembling out of control while his stomach felt queasy. Rynold was having a panic attack. And it was a big one at that.

"Kid," the old man turned around and walked back over to Rynold. Noticing that Rynold was losing it, the old man didn't hesitate to knock some sense into him… with a swift kick, of course.

"Focus. You are here. Now. There is nothing you can do about the past and the sooner you accept this absolute truth, the better you are for it. Do you understand?"

"I…," Rynold still felt lost, unsure of what else he could do.

"Listen to me," the old man threw a small chunk of metal at Rynold's feet, "You must know that you have a gift. Your arrogance is a testament to such a fact. However, you must understand that surviving here is now not the way you are used to. Learn how to survive by relying on your physical prowess more than anything else. This place is Hell for a reason. Do not let it get to you as it had already had. Do you understand?"

"I d-don't…," Rynold hesitated.

"Yes, you do. That dream you saw, it was nothing more than an illusion to sink your very soul deeper into the darkness. While the monsters of the outside world haunt their domains, the wraiths take command here. Using your Mana recklessly had caught their eye."

Rynold looked up, this time registering what the old man had said. He was slowly recovering his sanity, with his sense of judgment and comprehension having fully recovered first.

"A what?"

"A wraith, ethereal creatures of the Nevermore that never show themselves. They prey on fear, exacerbating their target's emotional trauma to inflict what would have felt like mental anguish," the old man explained without skipping a beat. He knew Rynold was struggling with some demented form of mental whiplash. Nevertheless, he continued.

"These creatures find souls trapped in the Nevermore and make their lives more of a Hell than this place would otherwise be. It was only a matter of time for yours. And wielding your Mana did not help your case."

"Let me guess," Rynold sighed and kicked himself off what appeared to be a bed, "You've experienced this before then?"

The old man looked to Rynold, surprised that he had all so suddenly recovered.

"You're…," the old man was caught off guard for but a second, then almost immediately refocused on the task at hand. "Never mind that now. What matters now is that you have recovered. Which…"

"I'm fine," Rynold shrugged off what would have incapacitated any other person, "There's work to do like you've said. I can't afford to sit by and just watch as this dimension takes me for a horrible ride."

Rynold decided not to dwell on his current condition any longer. While he slid his feet on the ground as he moved forward, Rynold had his sights set on finishing what he had first set out to do. Despite the glare and the silent protest from the old man, Rynold didn't want to sit by any longer.

"You're not going to finish that," the old man snickered as he knew that Rynold was far too stubborn to know that he needed rest more than anything else at the moment. "There's too much impedance. The metal you're using is too impure. The device would implode at first use."

"And you know this because...?"

Casting doubt, Rynold went to the side and lifted the workbench up. Well, he tried to, anyway. Rynold was far worse off than he had first thought. His body ached as if he had been in a long, drawn-out battle the night before.

"I know this," the old man walked over and reached for the workbench with ease, "Because it's not the first I've seen of it. There are concepts brought to life regarding this same device. However, they are normally sizable, meant to power cities. So much so that it would even power a floating city without any maintenance."

"So, you're saying you've dealt with this before?" Rynold asked as he placed his hands on the workbench, "Then, what the hell's the matter with it?"

"While the composition alone is impressive, the base foundations are not. There are far too many problems. Chances are, it will not result in anything you would be satisfied with."

Rynold tossed a glance over to the old man before looking back at the small device in his hand. Despite his firsthand experience in creating the device, Rynold knew it was a long shot. He knew that the thing was nothing more than an experiment.

Now that Rynold had no access to his Mana, he had no other way of recreating his initial result. The one thing in his hand was his only shot. Which, given the stakes and all, Rynold was not in a good spot to risk anything without a proper result. Any mess up, no matter how minuscule, might cause him to lose out on his progress. And, even further, lose out on his life in Hell.