Waking Up

The red-haired man stumbled slightly as the transport rune flared and deposited him into a wide, open chamber. His body ached, bruises scattered across his arms and legs, but his grin remained firmly in place. "Damn, that was fun," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. The trial had been brutal, but it had pushed him to his limits in all the right ways. He felt sharper, stronger, and ready for whatever came next.

As his gaze swept across the chamber, it landed on a boy sprawled on the ground. Shirtless, barefoot, and clinging to a staff, the kid looked like he'd just survived the worst beating of his life. Blood streaked his face, and dark bruises painted his torso. The red-haired man scratched his head, his grin faltering.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, stepping closer. He loomed over the boy, his gaze shifting to the staff lying next to him. It looked sturdy—maybe worth something. A wicked grin spread across his face.

"Passed out already, huh? Guess you won't mind if I borrow this," he said under his breath, crouching down and reaching for the staff.

Movement from the corner of the chamber caught his attention, and he straightened, turning toward it.

A woman stood off to the side, her armor clearly homemade, with knives strapped to her thighs in a way that suggested she knew how to use them. Her sharp eyes darted between him and the unconscious boy, her expression unreadable but focused. She had a quiet intensity about her, the kind that set her apart.

The red-haired man's grin widened, his eyes lingering on her for a moment. "Well, aren't you interesting," he muttered under his breath, his tone low and amused. His thoughts wandered briefly, already imagining how she'd fit into his collection. She had fire—he liked that. But first things first.

Her focus, however, wasn't on him. Amelia's sharp eyes lingered on the boy sprawled on the ground, and her composed expression gave way to a flicker of surprise. She recognized him immediately. Silas. She hadn't seen him since the tunnels, hadn't expected him to survive the fight with the emperor mole and rat. Yet here he was, battered and unconscious but alive.

Her gaze tightened, scanning his bloodied face and the bruises marking his body. How the hell did he get through that? she wondered, a mix of disbelief and grudging admiration bubbling to the surface. That idiot. He looked completely out of place here, like someone who had clawed his way into this room through sheer stubbornness and willpower.

Her attention returned to the red-haired man, who crouched again to grab the staff, clearly oblivious to her recognition of Silas.

Before his fingers could touch the weapon, a figure materialized out of thin air, blocking his path.

The puppet.

Its smooth, featureless gray body was slender and humanoid, its glowing azul eyes locking onto him with a calm intensity that froze him mid-reach.

"Please refrain from interacting with each other unless directed otherwise," the puppet said, its tone steady and firm.

The red-haired man straightened slowly, his hand hovering near the staff. He cocked his head, looking the puppet up and down. "And what exactly are you supposed to be?" he asked, his grin returning. "Some kind of guardian angel for passed-out kids?"

The puppet tilted its head slightly, its glowing eyes unwavering.

The red-haired man crossed his arms, his posture loose but his tone sharp. "Listen, Gray, I don't know where you came from, and I don't really care. But I'm not exactly in the habit of taking orders from furniture." He gestured toward the staff. "You think this kid needs it? Look at him—he's done. If you're so worried, you carry it for him."

He took a step forward, his grin widening. "Now, get out of the way before I—"

The puppet moved.

It was instantaneous. One moment, it stood several feet away; the next, it was directly in front of him.

"The will of the world and my creator's protocols prevent me from causing permanent harm," the puppet said, its tone calm but firm. "But I am authorized to deliver a lesson."

Before the red-haired man could react, the puppet's smooth, humanoid hand rose and touched his chest.

Electricity surged through him, sharp and overwhelming. His body convulsed, his knees buckling as pain ripped through every nerve. He collapsed with a strangled scream, his hands clawing at the air.

Amelia didn't move, her knives untouched at her sides as her sharp eyes flicked between the red-haired man, the puppet, and Silas. She had already sized up the red-haired man the moment he arrived—arrogant, wild, and reckless. His actions now confirmed every instinct she'd had about him.

The puppet's voice broke through the red-haired man's screams, calm and unyielding. "If your fist isn't the strongest, show respect."

The red-haired man writhed on the ground, electricity sparking through him, his body jerking violently. The punishment lasted a full minute before the puppet finally stepped back, withdrawing its hand.

The red-haired man collapsed forward, gasping for air. His limbs trembled as he pushed himself up onto his knees, his face twisted with pain. But after a moment, a hoarse chuckle escaped his lips.

"Ah, fuck me, that hurt," he muttered, his voice raw. He wiped sweat from his brow and grinned up at the puppet, his expression both sheepish and defiant. "Alright, you win. Mister Puppet Man, I humbly apologize. I'm an ass. Happy now?"

Amelia's expression didn't change as she watched him. She couldn't decide if he was insane, completely reckless, or just too stubborn to admit when he was beaten.

A soft groan from the boy on the ground drew her attention. Silas stirred, his fingers twitching as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked slowly, his face twisting in confusion as he took in his surroundings.

Silas pushed himself up weakly, one hand clutching his staff. His body bore bruises, but the worst of his injuries had been healed, leaving behind a patchwork of soreness and exhaustion. His gaze darted between the puppet, the red-haired man, and Amelia, his grip tightening on the staff as he tried to process what was happening.

The puppet's Azul eyes shifted to Silas. Its voice, steady and deliberate, echoed through the chamber.

"There is no harm to be found here. Congratulations. Each of you shall receive a technique suitable for your Dao."

Silas groaned softly as he tried to gather his thoughts. He wasn't dead. That much was clear, but the haze in his mind made everything else murky. His fingers clenched the staff instinctively as he scanned the room, taking in the red-haired man and… Amelia? She was here too? His gaze flicked around, but the other two women he expected to see were nowhere to be found.

He stood slowly, his legs shaky, his mind racing. He stayed quiet, unsure of what to say or do. What the heck is going on? The last thing he remembered was the fight. The Dao. But everything after that was… blank. His jaw tightened. He'd been fighting, pushing past every limit, and then… Dammit. He rubbed his temple, frustration and confusion bubbling up in equal measure.

The puppet's voice cut through the silence, its calm tone unyielding. "The cultivation system did not inform you that this was merely a trial with no threat of death." it said directed at Silas.

Both the red-haired man and Amelia blinked in unison, their expressions shifting to incredulity. The red-haired man frowned, his hands twitching toward his sides as though ready to start another argument. Amelia's brow furrowed deeply as her knives stayed at her thighs, untouched but clearly ready.

"Wait a second," the red-haired man said, his voice rising. "You're telling me I paid those damn fees to figure out it wasn't life or death, and the kid here didn't even know?!"

Amelia said nothing, but her eyes darted toward Silas, sharp and calculating. She remembered her system's prompt—a small fee for the translation and difficulty level. She had chosen a moderate challenge, trusting its recommendations.

Silas, however, blinked blankly at the puppet, his mind scrambling to process the words. "Wait…" he said slowly, pointing at the featureless gray figure. "You mean to tell me… this was all fake? The life-and-death crap? All of it?"

The red-haired man shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "Kid didn't even know!"

Inwardly, Silas deadpanned. What the heck, system?!

The response came instantly, the familiar sarcastic tone ringing in his head. Sometimes the best assist is the untold truth, like a father letting their child walk for the first time, knowing they'll fall and get a little bruise. But it's okay—because they'll get back up.

Silas blinked. What?

The system's voice chimed back, cheerfully. And hey, if they don't get back up, it's not like they're your kid anyway. Keep walking!

Silas groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as a strange mix of frustration and amusement washed over him. He wanted to be mad, but somehow, the system's ridiculous logic almost… made sense. Almost.

A small, tired smile tugged at his lips despite himself. "You're unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

The red-haired man pointed at Silas, laughing loudly. "Look at him! Kid thought he was gonna die, and now he's smiling about it. You're a strange one, I'll give you that."

Silas sighed, shaking his head as he steadied himself. He was still trying to comprehend everything that had happened—the fight, the blank in his memory, and now this revelation. But as he stood there, bloodied but alive, he felt something shift inside him. He wasn't sure if it was relief, frustration, or just the lingering haze of exhaustion. Maybe all of it at once.

He straightened, clutching his staff a little tighter. Whatever this trial had been, he had survived it, gained some understanding about the dao, and it sounded like he was getting a reward.

He could live with that.