Chapter 11: The Cost of Survival

"What do you mean?" Thea asked, her brows knitting together.

Elric hesitated, his aquamarine eyes flickering with uncertainty as he chose his words carefully. "Well… they do heal people—for the right price, and only for those they know can afford it." He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "But for others—for people like you…" He pointed at me, his voice quieter now. "They'll use spells with side effects."

He let that hang in the air for a moment before explaining, "Most healers pick up these techniques after their first few missions. Powerful healing spells that work fast, like the one used on you. But they come with a cost—lasting damage if you don't take a long time to properly rest afterward. I didn't want to offer something like that, so I was offering healing at a cheaper price, using safer methods. But, like yesterday… most people choose the faster option, even if it costs them more."

"Like I did," Thea said softly, her voice laced with regret.

"It's not your fault," I said quickly, hoping to reassure her. "You didn't know. Besides, it's not permanent damage, right?"

Elric nodded, though his expression remained grim. "He's right—it's not permanent… yet. But if you keep fighting hard, get injured again, and rely on those same quick-fix spells to patch yourself up? That's when it starts to stick. Bone density drops, tendons lose elasticity, muscles stop working properly. And all the while, you're burning through every point you've earned just to stay on your feet."

His words hung heavy in the small room, each one painting a clearer picture of just how dangerous this hidden cost really was.

"Thank you," I broke the silence, my voice steady but soft. "For telling us. That couldn't have been easy. I promise we'll do our best to help you."

Elric let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Not much you can do. I'll just have to survive for now. I can patch myself up if—when I lose my matches. And I'll have to save up points to surrender if things get too bad."

I frowned, thinking about his situation. Most people don't like accepting pity or handouts without giving something in return. An idea sparked in my mind.

"Thea?" I said, glancing at her.

"Yeah? What is it?" she asked, her storm-gray eyes meeting mine with a flicker of curiosity.

"What do you think of having our first real disciple?" I said, letting the suggestion hang in the air.

Elric's head snapped up from where he'd been staring at the ground, confusion etched across his sharp features.

"Wha—" Thea started, her brow furrowing. Then, almost like a light bulb flicked on above her head, her expression shifted, and a smirk tugged at her lips. "Ohhh. Yeah, I think it'll work."

With acting skills that deserved at least some kind of award, she added with mock concern, "But Peter, how could he possibly pay us?"

I picked up her cue, stroking my chin thoughtfully. "If only there were some service he could exchange with us… Something valuable after fights, maybe something… essential."

I glanced at Elric, raising my eyebrows meaningfully, trying to nudge him into catching on. But instead of realizing what we were doing, he froze. His aquamarine eyes darted between us nervously, and he took a cautious step back towards the door.

"Are… are you two alright?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Thea pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly. "This is what I get for following your lead."

"Admit it," I said with an exaggerated huff, crossing my arms over my chest. "It was fun."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide the small smirk tugging at her lips.

"Alright, Elric, listen," Thea said, her voice taking on a steady, serious edge. "We'll teach you our new method of cultivation. Down the line, it'll let you take care of yourself—even as a healer."

"Ideally," I added with a shrug. Body refinement was still just a distant goal, hovering beyond the current limits of the Spiritual Reservoir Formation stage.

Thea continued, ignoring me. "In return, you'll heal us properly when we need it. We'll help you with any missions from your system if they're too tough to handle alone. And if we have the points to spare, we'll cover your surrender fees in fights

Elric hesitated, his sharp features creased with uncertainty. "Cultivation?" he repeated, the word heavy with skepticism and curiosity.

I leaned forward slightly, my voice calm but firm. "Listen, Elric. None of us—especially you—have many choices here. This helps all of us. You get stronger, we stay alive, and together, we'll have a much better chance of surviving whatever this place throws at us."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the offer settling into the air like a stone dropped into still water. Elric's eyes flicked between Thea and me, his brows furrowed in thought, his lips pressed into a thin line.

For a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then, he let out a small breath and gave a faint, determined nod.

"…Okay. I'm in."

A smile crept across Thea's face, and I let out a slow breath, relief washing over me.

"Welcome aboard, disciple number one," I said with a grin, holding out my hand.

Thea practically jumped toward Elric, her storm-gray eyes alight with excitement. "Alright, let's get started!"

"Fair warning, she's a cultivation freak—ow!" I recoiled as Thea's fist connected with my arm. It definitely wasn't a playful punch; internal strength was absolutely involved. "Okay, okay, point taken. I'm gonna cultivate over there. You two have fun."

Leaving them to it, I settled down a short distance away. Thea launched straight into the basics, her voice carrying that sharp enthusiasm she always had when talking about cultivation. I caught snippets—forming a focal point for internal strength, pulling in world energy, and the very real danger of popping your body if you rushed things. And our new discovery of using reservoir formation as the solution to that little nightmare.

Having already finished forming the reservoir in my left shoulder earlier, I got a head start on my left fist. The world energy flowed steadily through me, weaving into delicate, thread-like structures until I reached the barrier of the first half. I opened my eyes, flexing my hand experimentally, and glanced over.

Elric was sitting cross-legged, his brows furrowed in concentration as he meditated. Thea, just moments later, stirred from her own cultivation and stretched her arms over her head.

"Ready?" she asked, her smirk sharp with anticipation.

"Yeah," I said hesitantly. "But shouldn't we keep quiet? Elric's cultivating, after all."

"I'll be fine," Elric interrupted without opening his eyes. "In fact, I probably need to join. It'll help me fuse the world energy into my main channel."

"Great," I muttered, rising to my feet and preparing myself. "Another round with the mighty Princess Grandmaster."

Following the commander's earlier advice, I fared way better this time. I kept my stance tight, avoided wild swings, and—dare I say it—held my ground. I even managed to take Thea down a couple of times, though her bruised ego would probably never admit it.

Elric watched us spar with wide eyes, his gaze darting between our movements like he was trying to memorize every step. By the time Thea and I finally collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air, he spoke up.

"I have to fight you two?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and dread.

Through ragged breaths, Thea grinned. "Don't worry. We'll be easy on you."

She stood, brushing dust from her pants. "We can't let our first student fall too far behind. Come on, get up."

I silently cursed myself for not finding a shop that sold training mats. Elric's hesitant, jittery stance mirrored my own first spar with Thea, and what followed could only be described as a painfully familiar process. Thea was relentless but instructive, and Elric… well, he survived. Which was impressive in its own right.

Before we began consolidating our gains, Thea turned to him. "Any missions on your system right now?"

Elric shifted uncomfortably. "My current one is to heal a moderate injury, but it's hard to get someone to agree with me doing it. The guild doesn't allow freelancers."

"Well," I cut in, "we can just see after my match today. I'm sure you'll be able to complete it quickly."

"No," Thea interrupted sharply. Her voice carried an edge I hadn't heard in a while. "What if you get yourself killed? Even I'm surrendering all my matches. We should just wait until we get our sys—"

She stopped abruptly. Elric raised an eyebrow at the odd pause, glancing between the two of us.

I sighed, locking eyes with Thea. "Okay, I get it. But we—I can't keep turning down matches forever. Eventually, I'm going to have to fight."

She held my gaze for a long moment, her brows drawn together in something close to worry. Finally, she nodded.

"Fine. But let's at least finish this step first. Please."

Her voice was quiet but firm, and for once, I had no argument against it.

"Deal," I said softly.

Elric glanced between us again, his brows furrowed in confusion, but he didn't press. Instead, we all settled back into position, the quiet hum of world energy filling the small training room once again as we consolidated our gains.

Soon enough, the familiar sound of "Time's up" echoed through the training room. With heavy breaths and sweat clinging to our skin, we packed up and left, heading straight for the registration desk.

I glanced over at Elric. "You have enough points to surrender?"

He nodded, though his shoulders sagged slightly. "Yeah, I'll be okay today… but tomorrow—"

I held up my hand to stop him. "We'll take care of it. Just… take care of us when we need it, alright?"

Elric gave me a weak smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.

Thea and I walked to the registration desk while Elric hung back. He'd sign up after our fights were done, just in case we needed him immediately afterward. It wouldn't do any good if he was stuck in his own match when we needed patching up.

As we handed our orbs over to the attendant, Thea turned to me, her storm-gray eyes sharp with concern. "Peter?"

"Hm?" I responded, distracted by the green flicker of my orb being scanned.

"You promised, alright? Just surrender." Her voice was firm, but I could hear the quiet tremor beneath it.

"Yeah, no problem." I patted her shoulder lightly.

But even as I said the words, I couldn't meet her eyes. The promise felt heavy in my chest—heavier than it should've been.

Before either of us could say more, my name was called.

It happened so much faster than the last time. My stomach clenched, and I turned away from Thea, unable to let her see the look on my face. I didn't want to lie to her, but… I was different. I had to be. If I couldn't get used to fighting people with systems—people stronger, faster, and better equipped than me—then how could I survive here?

Besides… now we had a healer. Now we had Elric.

The stone elevator stood waiting, and I stepped in without looking back. The doors clanged shut behind me, and the descent began. The platform jolted slightly as it moved, the dim light of the shaft casting eerie shadows across the stone walls.

I sank to the floor, knees pulled up, hands pressed against my thighs, trying to steady my breathing. The elevator shuddered to a stop, and the doors ground open with a low creak.

The artificial arena stretched out before me—a familiar imitation forest with dense trees, uneven ground, and the faint smell of damp earth lingering in the air. Across the way, my opponent was already waiting.

He held a metal polearm—a spear-like weapon with a broad, flat clubbed end gleaming faintly in the arena's lights. His eyes met mine, sharp and assessing.

The same system announcement from before echoed overhead.

"System!" we both called out in unison.

"Confirmed: Warrior class. Blessing: Spear Guard. Confirmed: Late Bloomer."

The moment the words finished, something shifted in him. His posture straightened, his grip on the polearm tightened, and his gaze locked onto me like I was prey.

"Begin."

He charged, and when close enough, he lunged.

The blunted tip of the spear shot forward in a blur of silver, slicing through the air with terrifying speed. I barely managed to sidestep, feeling the wind of its passing brush against my cheek. My feet found the uneven ground, and I forced energy from my main channel into my legs, flooding them with strength. My reservoirs in my shoulders and arms pulsed faintly with readiness.

He didn't let up. The spear flicked upward in a sharp arc, aimed for my ribs. I twisted my torso just in time, feeling the cold metal graze against my shirt. He was relentless, pressing forward with quick thrusts, each one forcing me back step by step.

But then—an opening.

Maybe because he didn't expect much from me, he overextended slightly on a downward strike, the pole digging into the soft earth. I didn't think. I just moved.

I lunged forward, closing the gap faster than he expected. My hand shot out, grabbing him by the throat, my fingers pressing into the hollow just beneath his jaw. With all the force I could muster, I pulled him downward.

He hit the ground hard, his polearm slipping from his grasp as I landed on top of him.

My fist came down.

The first punch connected with a dull thud, skin meeting skin, knuckles scraping against cheekbone. The second followed, then the third. My breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, my vision narrowing until all I could see was his face—his wide, panicked eyes, his bloodied nose, the growing bruises spreading across his skin.

I couldn't stop. My arms kept moving, fists crashing down over and over, each strike accompanied by a sickening crack or muffled groan.

Then, a sound—a sharp, brittle snap—cut through the fog in my mind.

I froze.

My hands trembled where they hovered in the air, blood smeared across my knuckles, dripping slowly onto his swollen face. His eyes were still open, unfocused, barely conscious.

I stumbled back, my breath catching in my throat as I stared down at him. Blood pooled under his nose, tiny droplets sprayed across the dirt beneath him.

What did I just do?

My hands shook as I looked down at them—shaking fingers stained crimson. This wasn't my blood. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't self-defense anymore—it was me. I did this. I caused this.

My stomach twisted painfully, and I staggered backward, nearly tripping over my own feet. My chest heaved, and for a moment, I thought I might vomit right there in the arena.

But before I could, a sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by an impact that felt like a sledgehammer slamming into my side. Pain exploded across my ribs, and I heard it—a sickening crack.

I hit the ground hard, my breath wheezing out in a sharp gasp. My vision swam, and for a moment, all I could process was pain. White-hot, blinding pain blooming across my torso like wildfire.

The boy was standing—standing!—polearm in hand, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, staining the collar of his clothes. His swollen eye was nearly shut, his breathing ragged, but his expression was clear and sharp. The haze that had clouded his gaze before was gone. Whatever fog I'd put him under had cleared, and now he looked at me like I was an actual threat.

His grip on the polearm tightened, his knuckles white around the shaft of the weapon. His eyes were locked onto me—not with anger or hatred, but with something colder. Determination.

Move, Peter. Move!

I forced my legs to obey, rolling to the side just as the polearm came down, embedding itself into the dirt where my head had been moments before. Dust scattered into the air, and I coughed violently as I scrambled back to my feet.

Pain flared up my side again—every breath, every movement sent sharp spikes of agony radiating through my chest. But I couldn't stop. Not now.

He pulled his weapon free with a grunt, his feet shifting with practiced ease as he reset his stance. For a brief second, neither of us moved. We just stared at each other across the uneven forest floor, the tension between us sharp enough to cut steel.

He lunged again, the polearm sweeping horizontally with a blur of motion. I ducked low, the blade passing inches above my head. Using the momentum of my crouch, I surged forward and slammed my shoulder into his chest.

It wasn't graceful. It wasn't clean. But it worked.

He stumbled back, his footing breaking for just a second. It was enough.

I grabbed his polearm with one hand and shoved it downward, locking it against my hip. With my other hand, I balled up my fist and swung upward, catching him under the chin with a sharp, desperate punch.

His head snapped back, and he staggered, but he didn't fall.

Why won't he fall?! Are stats really this ridiculous?

I focused. With a shaky inhale, I pulled at the energy in my shoulder reservoir, feeling it flood into my arm like liquid fire. My muscles burned as the power surged through them, and for one fleeting moment, I felt strong.

He lunged at me again, polearm stabbing forward like a snake. But this time, I was ready.

I sidestepped, grabbed the shaft with both hands, and yanked.

The polearm slipped free from his grip and clattered uselessly to the ground. His eyes widened in shock, and in that brief moment of hesitation, I stepped forward.

My knee drove into his stomach with every ounce of strength I could muster.

He doubled over with a sharp gasp, his knees hitting the ground. I could see the fight leave his eyes—see the exhaustion, the pain, the reality of his injuries catching up to him all at once.

I stumbled back, clutching my ribs as every breath felt like dragging shards of glass through my lungs. My vision blurred around the edges, and my legs trembled with the effort of holding me upright.

He stayed down.

A horn blared above us—a sharp, final sound that signaled the end of the match.

Continuing the fight will result in severe punishment. Winner: Late Bloomer. Please return to the elevator and the result will be recorded on your orb.

I struggled to my feet, every movement sending sharp, fiery jolts of pain through my ribs. My breaths came shallow, each one barely pulling enough air into my lungs.

Stumbling backward, I glanced one last time at the crumpled, unmoving form of the boy lying in the dirt behind me. His chest rose and fell faintly, proof that he was still alive. But the image of his bloodied face, swollen and smeared with red, was burned into my mind.

The stone doors of the elevator slid shut with a dull thud, sealing me away from the arena. The world outside disappeared as the platform began to ascend.

I slumped down against the cold wall, my legs giving out beneath me as I stared down at my trembling hands—hands still stained with his blood.

In this world, this is normal. One day, I'll go to war. One day, this might not even bother me. But right now… this felt so wrong. And yet, it was just the beginning. The first step down a road I wasn't sure I wanted to walk.

A hollow chuckle escaped me, sharp and humorless. "Thea's gonna be pissed," I muttered, wincing as the motion jarred my ribs.

I let my head fall back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion threatened to pull me under.

"At least Elric can finish his mission."