Fractures

Visions of the earlier fight flickered behind Soren's eyes.

Aeternis had surged with augmented lightning, striking down at least seven—maybe nine—of the creatures in a single instant. The image lingered in his mind, hauntingly beautiful. His arm, outstretched. A radiant yellow arc carving through the swarm, their bodies igniting in a blinding flash before collapsing into scorched husks. It had all happened in less than a second—followed by an earth-shattering thunderclap that still echoed in his bones.

Soren had wondered, just for a moment, how terrifyingly powerful those abilities would become once he climbed higher in rank.

But then, a quieter thought crept in…

If he survived this—if he somehow made it out and found Auren—what reason would he have to continue? Maybe then… he could just disappear. Slip back into a normal life. Fade into quiet obscurity, far from monsters and divine weapons.

But for now—nothing was normal.

He had faced grotesque creatures, witnessed the ugliness of humanity, and wielded awe-striking power with his own hands.

The idea of revenge floated through his mind, but it felt hollow. Sure, he could chase down the one who threw him into this nightmare… but what would that even accomplish?

He didn't feel resentment. He didn't feel joy at being awakened. What he felt was emptiness.

Devoid of anyone to share the weight of his experiences. Devoid of anyone who truly cared—except for the blatantly annoying dagger strapped to his side.

Everything felt like it always had. Exploring the world… surviving through fleeting joys and bitter moments—only to keep them to himself. Only now, there was more than just joy. There was pain, blood, power, fear.

But at least—for now—he had a dagger to talk to. If he wanted to.

If everything went smoothly—if he lived long enough to return to civilization—maybe he could live quietly. Avoid the world of the awakened entirely. Stay hidden. Stay unseen.

His parents were dead. Auren was missing—maybe gone for good.

And Soren… he didn't have the strength to chase vengeance. Not now. Not against someone backed by an organization.

That alone made it easier to accept the silence. Easier to believe that staying low, unnoticed, was the smarter path.

Soren jolted awake to a searing wave of pain—hot, throbbing, and violent. His body lurched upward instinctively, a strangled breath escaping his lips as agony exploded from his leg.

His hands clutched at the wound on reflex, pressing down hard in an attempt to dull the sensation—but it was no use. The pain only intensified, pulsing through him like fire.

His jaw clenched as he grit his teeth, breath ragged from the shock of it. Only now, in the daylight, did he realize how much blood had soaked the forest floor beneath him.

It wasn't just a deep bite. It was damage—real, irreversible damage.

He forced himself to lift his hands from the wound to assess the extent of it.

And immediately wished he hadn't.

His stomach twisted.

The sight was gruesome—flesh shredded and torn wide open, blackened spots blooming along the edges like rot. Puncture holes ran deep enough to expose bone, and the entire leg looked mangled, almost inhuman. As if something had tried to chew him down to the marrow.

Blood drenched his hands. It was still oozing. Still warm.

His body shuddered involuntarily. The pain was making it hard to think.

With trembling fingers, Soren reached out and summoned Aeternis—realizing only now that the blade must've disappeared when he lost consciousness earlier.

The dagger materialized in his hand with a faint pulse of essence.

"Can you do healing magic or anything?" he asked, voice low and tight.

Aeternis paused. For once, its tone lacked its usual arrogance—quiet, almost regretful.

"I do not know healing… I have only been wielded by warriors. Thus, I've never learned it."

Soren stared blankly for a second, then let out a faint, exhausted exhale.

"...Great."

Soren quickly gathered his thoughts, scrambling to come up with a solution—anything to stop or at least slow the bleeding.

The first thought that came to mind was cauterization.

He raised Aeternis in one hand, trying to conjure the flames he'd summoned before. He focused hard, every ounce of concentration poured into the effort. But his body was sluggish, heavy, drained beyond exhaustion. There simply wasn't enough essence left in him to spark even a flicker.

His forehead was damp with sweat, his skin clammy. His pulse pounded in his ears. After several desperate, fumbling attempts, the truth settled in with a dull ache.

It wasn't going to work.

Soren sat still for a moment, staring at the mangled wound while gritting his teeth. Pain flooded his body, making it harder to think—but not impossible.

If essence couldn't save him, then he'd have to rely on something else.

His hands moved quickly. He tore a long strip of cloth from his new armor—rough, durable material meant to survive the wear of battle. He could only hope it was strong enough for what he was about to do.

He wrapped the strip tightly around his upper thigh, looping the other end through the handle of Aeternis and tying a firm, bracing knot.

Then, teeth clenched, he gripped the dagger's hilt and gave it a sharp twist.

A shriek nearly escaped his throat as the fabric bit deep into his flesh.

Aeternis, ever inconvenient, muttered dryly, "I'm not a medic—"

"Shut the hell up," Soren snapped, his voice strained with pain.

He twisted again, forcing the pressure tighter. His muscles screamed in protest. The pain in his thigh flared—sharper now, hotter—but it was different from the wound below.

This pain meant the bleeding was slowing.

He could feel the nerves below his thigh beginning to go numb, a tingling sensation crawling down his leg as circulation was choked off. Still, he gave one more forceful twist—another agonizing moan tearing from his lips.

But he didn't stop.

Pain was better than bleeding out.

The crude tourniquet wouldn't fix anything, but it bought him time.

His leg went cold—numb from the thigh down—and his vision swam again, the strain catching up to him.

But for now… he was still alive.

Soren felt his body temperature shift—cooler now, colder than before.The blood loss was catching up to him. Every breath felt heavier, his limbs weaker. His fingers trembled faintly as he tried to stay conscious.

He clenched his jaw.

If only he could find that group… If only the old man was here… or if Aeternis was actually useful…Maybe then he wouldn't be dying alone in a forest that didn't care.

With effort, Soren tried to stand on his one good leg, bracing himself against a root.But the moment he rose, the world tilted violently. His balance gave out. He collapsed back down, arms scraping against the ground.

Still, he tried again—stubborn, gasping, teeth grit against the spinning in his skull.But his vision was fading fast now, everything blurring into a watercolor mess. His head was pounding, and a thick haze clouded his senses.

And then… he saw something.

A figure. Clear. Solid. Standing just a few steps ahead.

His lips parted slightly, the word leaving him in a soft, disbelieving whisper.

"Auren…?"

The figure smiled—that same mischievous grin from childhood, eyes squinting in that playful way he always had when they used to sneak around the backyard.

"Mom and Dad are waiting for us," Auren said gently, his voice laced with warmth. "Come on… let's go."

He extended a hand toward Soren.

Soren stared at it, stunned, reaching out in slow motion—fingers outstretched, hoping, aching for the comfort of a familiar touch.

But there was nothing.

His hand grasped only air.

And then he collapsed—his body crumpling forward, face hitting the ground with a muffled thud.

Soren struggled to turn onto his back, breaths shallow and uneven.

His eyes stared coldly at the canopy above. The leaves swayed gently, far beyond his reach—distant and untouchable. He raised his hand toward them, fingers trembling, as if trying to grasp the sky.

But he couldn't reach it.

He never could.

And maybe… he never would.

That's how it was. That's how it would always be.

The shadows shifted, casting across his face as he let his arm fall. His palm landed over his eyes, shielding him from the golden light above.

His voice came out low and bitter, barely more than a whisper.

"I hate it… all of it."

"None of them can even begin to understand—not even a glimpse of it."

Aeternis interrupted with an uncharacteristically sincere question."Why do you bear such hatred in your heart?"

Soren coughed, gasping for breath.

"Why… why?"

"I want to know and do everything, but I fail at commitment. I try to understand everyone, but I can't relate to them. I try to understand Auren… but he left me in the dark.""I'm favored by a goddess—but not by humans."

His voice cracked, rising just slightly—painful, bitter.

"Why?! Why can't they see me? I'm here!"

His voice weakened with every word, fading into the dimming world around him.

"I'm just tired… in pain… and I want to go home. Back to the quiet life I once lived.""This… I never asked for any of this."

"I never asked to be saved… or to be guided down this path."

"I just… I just want everything to go back to how it used to be..."

His words dissolved into silence.

His chest heaved, breaths becoming heavier, erratic—until it felt like he was choking on air.His vision blurred, the light bleeding out of the world around him.

And yet… something faint stirred beneath the surface.

A flicker. A pulse.Not of strength—but of refusal.A subtle, quiet resistance woven into the threads of his body.His essence—though drained—moved again. Just barely.Sluggish… trembling… but lingering.As if some unseen force, silent and unwilling, had chosen not to let him fall—not yet.

Aeternis spoke once more—soft, sincere, almost gentle.

"Sometimes, you must turn your back to the audience to guide the orchestra. But don't worry… you're still just a child, lost in the woods. Your time will come."

But Soren couldn't hear it anymore.

The world was fading.

And then, in the silence—a word echoed through the darkness.

"Healing."