The next day came in softly.
Ethan stirred, his body heavy but no longer screaming. His eyes fluttered open to the warm glow of early dawn spilling across the room. A thin curtain danced gently at the open window. The scent of morning dew and old wood filled his nose.
He was in bed.
He didn't remember how he got here.
Maybe Alden had carried him. Or maybe Hera had used one of her spells. He didn't care. He was just grateful to be breathing.
Slowly, he pushed himself up. Every joint ached. His muscles throbbed like they had been rebuilt from scratch—which, in a way, they had.
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers.
They were stronger. He could feel it. His grip, his control, even the way his arms moved. But they were also… different. Not just in strength, but in weight. As if the System had pressed something deeper into his bones. Something permanent.
Ethan let out a slow breath.