Chapter 11 – A Year Later, and Still I Remember
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It's been a year now, and yet… I still can't forget what happened to Gram Village. I blame myself. I thought I knew everything — every mechanic, every hidden narrative in Alfiria Saga, but this… this tragedy was fated to unfold right at the game's very first Narrative Dialogue.
The dragon that destroyed the village… was no ordinary enemy. It was one of the three Final Bosses of Alfiria.
AL Draco — the black dragon, its wings stretching wider than rooftops, its roar shaking the very soil.
Fi Mento — a corrupted Tree of Life, able to spawn countless minions laced with the element of Nature.
And then… the one no one knew.
Dark Emperor Firia, the last bearer of a Sacred Treasure.
Unlike the others, his existence was only revealed through one of the most obscure Hidden Quests. Most players never even made it that far. The dragon and the tree were both classified as World Bosses— entities that spawn randomly, without warning.
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I sat silently on the grassy slope, facing rows of quiet graves. The village cemetery had grown far too large. I placed a wildflower on each grave — one by one. This had become my daily ritual after a long hours spent grinding rare items— offerings to pay the toll of the Resurrection Penalty imposed by the System.
My memories… all that's left of them is thirteen years— the earliest years when I first began playing, everything else was gone.
Twelve years, the time when my player avatar had already grown powerful — I offered them up. I gave them away to the System's cruel exchange, along with them, I lost all memories of my childhood, my school years, even the bitter years of working and surviving in the real world.
All of it. Gone.
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"System."
John Leben [Lvl. 20]
HP: 560/560 (+70)(+300)
MP: 50 (+500)
Class: [None]
Rank: [White]
Title: [Dark Knight] [Beast Hunter]
Skill: [Mirage Lvl. 10]
Str: 1 (+5)(+21)
Int: 1 (+5)
Dex: 12 (+5)(+5)
Con: 26(+5) (+7)
Wis: 0 (+5)
Available Points: 0
Skill Points: 9
Resurrections Remaining: 13
Memory Penalties: 45
I checked the contents of my Deep-Storage Adventurer's Bag:
×999 Great Liger Tooth (rare)
×999 Great Liger Tooth (rare)
×999 Great Liger Tooth (rare)
×999 Great Liger Tooth (rare)
×999 Great Liger Tooth (rare)
A full year… I had done nothing but hunt Great Ligers in the Jera Forest. The bag can hold ×999 items per slot after killing the same monster over and over again. No more EXP to gained from killing it. A loop of pain and purpose.
I had built a temporary shelter near the ruins of Gram, waiting… hoping. Hoping that someone, some merchant, would pass by and tell me a new Gram Village had risen— the trigger for Alfiria's new beginning.
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Flashback…
I knelt beside a shallow grave I had dug earlier, my hands, calloused and dirtied from grief, trembled slightly as I reached into my Storage.
From the bag, I pulled Henda's Skeleton. I buried her gently beside her fiancé — the two reunited at last.
"…Brave warrior…"
A frail voice broke the silence. I turned.
The old man who had given me the Hidden Quest was standing nearby, tears already welling in his tired eyes, I approached him silently and handed him the pendant.
"She… never let go of it," I said softly. "Even at the end… even in fear, even with her final breath… she clutched it."
He held it to his chest, and wept. I opened his status window out of habit.
Weber [Lvl. 1]
HP: 10 / 10
MP: 0
Class: [Villager]
Rank: [None]
Title: [None]
Skills: 0
STR: 5
DEX: 0
CON: 1
The people of Alfiria… they were no longer NPCs. They were real now. If they died… they stayed dead.
[Hidden Quest: Complete]
Reward: Torn Map (1 of 6)
"You kept your word… and for that, I thank you," the old man said, bowing deeply. "This is all I can give in return. Please forgive me."
He pressed a worn, torn scrap of parchment into my hand — part of something larger.
A map.
We stood quietly, side by side, watching over the graves of the lovers, for a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then, with one last look, Weber turned to leave.
He was from a village far beyond Gram. He had only come to Jera Forest… to visit his son's grave.
End of Flashback...
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Even after a full year of relentless grinding. I still couldn't be sure if these rare items were enough to satisfy the Resurrection System. Sometimes, I wondered—was any of this still worth it? Because this world… this Alfiria I thought I knew after twenty-five years — it no longer felt like the one I once played.
A few days passed. A merchant happened to pass by. He looked around, puzzled—wondering why someone was still living near the ruins of what was once Gram Village.
He turned his eyes to me and asked, "Brave soldier, have you been living here long?"
I glanced at him while I was busy repairing a broken part of my temporary shelter.
"I've been living here for a year."
"Why would you endure staying in this place? It's cursed and was attacked by a great dragon. Aren't you afraid?"
My eyes widened.
I stepped forward, drew my sword, and pointed it straight at him.
"Cursed?" "If you have nothing good to say, leave now."
I saw him tremble in fear as he looked up at me, voice shaking.
"Forgive me, brave soldier. I was only carried away by my emotions… My daughter died in Gram Village. I was only hoping I might find something left—anything to remember her by," he said, his voice breaking.
"She built a small apothecary in Gram."
I lowered my sword and looked at him carefully.
"You're Marda's father?"
His eyes widened as he stepped closer and grabbed my arm.
"You knew my daughter?"
I introduced myself and invited him to sit with me by my shelter, so we could speak properly. I told him how I met Marda, and what she did every day.
The merchant, who introduced himself as Nathan, began to cry. He was older, with his long hair tied neatly back, and dressed in simple merchant's clothing.
I stood and offered to show him something. He followed me without question, though he looked confused. We walked for a few minutes. Then we arrived at the graves.
There were no names, but each was carefully marked—with something left behind. A burnt book was tied to the wooden marker of one grave, its edges blackened but pages still bound together.
Another grave had a broken sword driven into the soil, the hilt still clinging to dried leather. Near the largest tree, a weathered apron with faded stains was folded neatly beneath a stone, a dried herb bundle resting beside it. And there, at the end, hung from one of the markers, was a small blue ribbon, gently swaying in the breeze.
Nathan's eyes widened—and he fell to his knees in tears.
"Forgive me, Sir Leben... I didn't know the burden you carry is heavier than mine."
I told him to stand, then handed him a small potion bottle—the last one Marda had ever made for me. He took it gently and pulled it close to his chest, embracing it.
He began to sob, asking Marda for forgiveness for not being there in the moments she needed help the most.
"I will slay that dragon... even if it's impossible."
"That is the promise I made—before I buried them."
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