Chapter 145: The Relic's Truth

*Date: 33,480 Third Quarter — Thornbrook Village* - A month ago

Pain was the first thing Aris felt when consciousness returned.

His broken arm throbbed with every heartbeat. The bruises on his ribs screamed with each shallow breath. The magic blocker strapped to his head was covered in dried sweat, and the metal bands itched like fire against his scalp.

The smell was worse than the pain.

The room stank of blood and waste and fear. Aris's stomach heaved, but there was nothing inside to vomit. He looked toward the bucket in the corner and saw that Rodran had apparently cleaned it while he slept. Small mercies.

The door opened.

Rodran entered carrying a plate piled high with food. Bread. Cheese. Some kind of meat. The smell of it made Aris's mouth water despite everything.

"Sorry I went overboard yesterday." Rodran's voice was soft, almost contrite. "Let's make peace, okay?"

Aris stared at him. This man had beaten him. Broken his arm. Chained him to a wall. And now he wanted to make peace?

He pulled the plate toward himself with his good hand. The food was better than anything he had eaten in days.

"Can you also open the windows?" Aris forced the words out. "I can't bear the smell anymore."

"Sure, sure." Rodran jumped up and opened both windows. Fresh air flooded the room, and Aris took a deep breath. "We can make potions to fix your arm, right?"

"I suppose." Aris chewed slowly. "If you want, I can show you a mending potion. But it won't take effect instantly like max tier potions."

"Have you broken your arm before?"

Look at this, Aris thought. Look at this situation. He chained me. Broke my arm. And now he's asking questions like we're old friends discussing the weather.

He controlled his anger. "Once in our universe. Once here at the academy. The nurse gave me a mending potion, but I think it was tier three. It took three days to fix the arm."

"Oh, that's still good!" Rodran's eyes brightened. "Maybe if we add..."

"No."

"There's no healing potion with blood infusion. Those are for power."

"Okay, okay, whatever you say." Rodran held up his hands. "Maybe I was trying to go too fast. I can start slow and actually earn my titles."

Aris mumbled under his breath. "If you're not..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

---

Rodran moved to the corner where Aris's belongings had been dumped. He rifled through the small bag Aris had carried from the caravan, pulling out items one by one.

Then he stopped.

In his hands were two objects. The witness stone, diamond-shaped and gleaming. And Lyra's relic, the spherical device with the cord that could read player statistics.

"I was going through your stuff." Rodran held up the relic, turning it in the light. "This doesn't seem to belong to our world. What is it?"

Aris's heart clenched. He didn't want to tell the truth, but hope of escape was growing smaller by the minute. Better to play along.

"It's for seeing your status in the game."

"Is it yours? Did players come here with these?"

"No, it's not mine. It belongs to a local friend. She left it for me."

"So it can work on us?"

"Yeah."

Rodran's eyes gleamed. "Show me."

He brought the relic to Aris and placed it in his shackled hand. Since Aris's right arm was broken, he couldn't pull the cord himself. He gestured for Rodran to hold the device steady. Then he pulled the cord with his left hand and tried to connect it to Rodran's temple.

Rodran jerked back. "You do it first."

Aris rolled his eyes but complied. He pressed the cold metal to his own temple, and his character screen flickered into existence.

ARIS ORVELLIS

Level 1

Titles: Blood Scion, Echo Touched, Healer's Apprentice, Academy Student (Former)...

"Level one, huh?" Rodran leaned closer, reading the display.

"Yes. The game closed the day I entered." Aris kept his voice flat. "And to prove it's still running, look at the titles and magics learned."

Rodran's face soured as he scanned the list of achievements. "Now put it on me."

Aris pressed the relic to Rodran's temple.

RODRAN KURBELIS

Level 12 (MAX REACHED)

Dabble Alchemist. Veteran Farmer. Veteran Herder.

"What the hell is this?"

Aris fought hard not to laugh. The irony was too perfect. All of Rodran's desperate attempts to become powerful, and the universe had already decided his fate.

"There was no limit on your screen," Rodran said, his voice rising.

"Yeah." Aris kept his face neutral. "You were born a villager. And your max level is twelve. Sorry, but there's no room for you to advance until they shut down the game truly. Only the nanites in my blood and the nanites in your blood determine what we can and can't do."

"What the hell are nanites?"

"They're tiny machines interacting with the world."

Rodran's face twisted with rage. He cursed and ripped the cord away, throwing the relic onto the table. The spherical device spun wildly, hitting the candle first and then the inkwell. Rodran cursed again and rushed to the table to fix his mess, but his elbow caught the witness stone. The diamond-shaped rock fell from the table and hit the dirt floor.

Aris's eyes widened. The stone was nearly indistinguishable from the rocky floor. Gray on gray.

Rodran was focused on wiping the ink that had spilled across the table. "I'm going to bring a cloth. I'll be back."

The moment the door closed, Aris moved.

His broken arm screamed in protest as he extended it toward the witness stone. The pain was incredible. Blinding. His vision swam, and tears poured down his face. He felt like he might faint.

But he endured.

He always endured. He had to. There was no one left to help him. He had to do it himself.

His fingers brushed the stone. He stretched further, and the pain became a white-hot fire in his arm. But finally, finally, he touched it. With the last drop of strength he possessed, he pulled the stone toward himself and stuffed it through his shirt, pressing it against his chest.

He didn't know how much experience was stored in the stone. But his screen showed at least twenty-five levels of excess power waiting to be used.

He had to wait. Had to kiss his toes and play along. Because tonight would be a blood bath.

---

When Rodran returned with a cloth, Aris was slumped against the wall, seemingly unconscious from exhaustion. The man cleaned the table and prepared the ingredients for the mending potion without noticing the missing stone.

They spent the afternoon working on the potion together. Aris walked Rodran through each step, his voice flat and mechanical. And by some miracle, whether it was luck or desperation, they actually produced a good batch.

Rodran applied the potion to Aris's arm but wouldn't let him manifest healing magic to accelerate the process. "Can't have you getting any ideas," he said with a nervous laugh.

The potion worked slowly. The pain in Aris's arm began to ease, and the swelling went down. But the relief brought something else with it. Exhaustion.

Aris's eyes grew heavy. His body, pushed beyond its limits for days, demanded rest. He fought against it, knowing he needed to stay awake for the night ahead.

Rodran returned with dinner. Bread and soup. Aris grabbed the food, hoping it would wake him up. But as he ate, his eyelids grew heavier. His head nodded forward.

This wasn't natural. This wasn't just tiredness.

"Sorry, Aris." Rodran's voice came from far away.

He felt hands pushing him down onto the hay bed. Felt his sleeve being rolled up to his shoulder.

"Turns out..." Rodran's face swam in Aris's darkening vision. "...it was actually all in the blood. Thanks for telling me."

Then darkness claimed him.