Point of view: Lihan.
Lihan opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through a window covered with worn linen curtains. His vision took a moment to focus, and the first thing he registered was a rough wooden ceiling, with beams darkened by years of chimney smoke. It wasn't the ceiling of the house he shared with Ashe and Rei. It wasn't the ceiling of any inn he recognized.
Where...?
Memory hit him like a wave: the lava dungeon, the suffocating heat, the Magma Sliders moving in formation, the Fire Turtles with their impenetrable shells, the Magma Guards he had managed to defeat with cunning more than brute force. And then... the Fire Colossus. That final battle where he had climbed the burning body of the monster, scorching his hands as he buried his sword in the only weakness he could find.
He remembered the pain. The indescribable heat. The sensation of his sword melting between his fingers. And then... nothing. Absolute darkness.
Did I survive?
Lihan remained motionless for another moment, simply processing the fact that he was alive. He was breathing. His heart was beating. He could feel the rough but clean mattress beneath him, the thin blanket covering his body.
But there was something else. A strange sensation in his right arm. It wasn't exactly pain—rather a pulsing warmth, as if his limb had been submerged in constantly flowing warm water.
Lihan sat up slowly, feeling how his muscles protested with each movement. It wasn't the sharp pain of fresh wounds, but rather the stiffness of someone who had been immobile for too long. His back cracked audibly when he finally managed to sit on the edge of the bed.
And then he saw his arm.
"What...?"
The words died in his throat as he observed, completely astonished, what had once been his right arm.
From the elbow to the tips of his fingers, his limb had completely transformed. It was no longer human flesh—in its place, it was as if someone had carved an arm from black volcanic rock, veined with cracks that glowed with an intense orange-reddish brilliance. The light pulsed like a living heart, creating hypnotic patterns that ran across the entire surface of the transformed extremity.
It wasn't uniform. Some areas were darker, almost completely black, while others glowed so intensely he could see veins of magma flowing just beneath the rocky surface. The fingers maintained their basic shape—five articulated digits—but each one ended in what appeared to be sharp claws of pure obsidian.
Most fascinating was the transition. On his forearm, just below the elbow, the volcanic rock gradually merged with his normal skin. It wasn't a defined line but rather an organic blend, as if both materials—flesh and stone—had learned to coexist. Small veins of orange light extended a few centimeters beyond the main fusion, creating intricate patterns resembling luminescent tattoos.
Lihan slowly raised the arm, marveling at the way the light intensified with movement. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and to his surprise, they responded exactly as expected. He could feel everything—the rough texture of the rock, the constant heat emanating from the cracks, even the slight vibration that seemed to come from the very core of the transformation.
This... this is...
He closed his fist, observing how the cracks glowed more intensely with the muscular tension. When he opened it again, the glow gradually diminished. It was as if the arm responded not only to his physical commands but also to his emotions, to the intensity of his intentions.
The Fire Colossus, he suddenly understood. When I killed it... when my sword melted in my hands... something must have happened. Some kind of... absorption? Fusion?
He vaguely remembered the final moments of the battle. The heat had been so intense he thought he would die burned. His right arm had been completely enveloped in the flames of the Colossus's core when his sword finally penetrated deeply.
I should have died then, Lihan thought grimly. Any normal person would have died. But instead... this.
He rotated the arm, studying it from all angles. It didn't hurt at all. In fact, it felt... powerful. As if he had gained something that had been missing before.
He tried to move each finger individually. Thumb—check. Index—check. Middle, ring, pinky—all responded perfectly. Dexterity was intact. He could wield a sword with this arm, he was certain of it.
But there was more. He could feel something deeper, something that lay dormant within the volcanic rock. A potential. As if this arm could do things his normal human extremity never could.
Could it generate fire? Lihan wondered with genuine curiosity. Resist extreme temperatures? Strike with more force?
A darker thought slipped into his mind, one that surprised him with its coldness: Could I use this against the prince? Against Trent? Against anyone who tries to harm Ashe and Rei?
The image of the prince abusing Rei filled his mind—that memory or vision or damned nightmare he had experienced in the dungeon. He clenched the rocky fist so hard he heard a soft cracking, like rocks grinding against each other. The cracks glowed with blinding intensity for a moment.
If that bastard tries to touch them, Lihan thought with a coldness he didn't know he possessed, I'm going to burn him alive. I'm going to wrap my fingers around his neck and watch as his skin melts from his bones.
He stopped, surprised by the violence of his own thoughts. That wasn't how he normally thought. Yes, he got angry—sometimes very much so—but he had never contemplated torture in such a... detailed way.
Is it the arm? he wondered with unease. Is it affecting me somehow? Or simply... after seeing all those nightmares, something in me changed?
He had no answer for that.
He shook his head, trying to clear the dark thoughts. There was no point obsessing over scenarios that hadn't happened yet. First he needed to fully understand what had happened to him, and then he could worry about how to use it.
Lihan was so absorbed examining his transformed arm that he didn't hear the footsteps approaching down the hallway. The door opened with a soft creak of hinges that needed oil, and a woman entered carrying a wooden tray.
She stopped abruptly when her eyes met Lihan's, and her expression passed from routine concentration to genuine surprise.
"Oh! You're awake!" she exclaimed, almost dropping the tray in her surprise.
Lihan looked at her, momentarily stunned by the interruption. The woman was middle-aged, probably in her forties, with dark brown hair speckled with gray that was pulled back in a practical bun at the back of her head. Her face was kind, with expression lines around her eyes suggesting she smiled frequently. She wore a simple work dress—coarse fabric in brown and gray tones—covered by a stained apron that had clearly seen many days of hard use.
Her eyes were a warm hazel color, and at this moment they shone with a mixture of relief and maternal concern.
"I... yes," Lihan finally responded, finding his voice. It sounded hoarse, as if he hadn't used it in days. "Where am I?"
"In Solvanta, young man," the woman said, regaining her composure as she approached the small table beside the bed. She placed the tray carefully, revealing its contents: a ceramic jug filled with fresh water dripping with condensation, a clean rag neatly folded, a small bowl with what appeared to be broth, and some additional bandages. "You've been in Healer Marik's house since... well, since you came out of the dungeon."
Lihan watched as she organized the items with practiced and efficient movements. There was a familiarity in her actions that spoke of years of experience caring for the sick and injured.
"I'm Marta," the woman continued, turning to look at him directly. Her eyes briefly drifted to his transformed arm, and although he saw a flash of apprehension, she controlled herself admirably. "I've been helping to care for you since you arrived. Lord Aldren will be very relieved to know you've finally awakened. We were all worried."
"How long...?" Lihan began, but Marta gently raised a hand.
"Let me go get Lord Aldren first. He'll want to speak with you personally." She paused, her expression softening even more. "But first, do you need water? Your throat must be dry."
Lihan nodded, suddenly very aware of how parched his mouth felt. Marta poured him a glass from the jug and handed it to him carefully, watching to make sure he could hold it firmly.
The water was cold and sweet, probably from a deep well. Lihan drank it gratefully, feeling how it soothed the roughness of his throat.
"Thank you," he murmured when he finished, returning the glass to her.
Marta smiled warmly. "It's nothing, young man. Now wait here—don't move too much, you're still recovering—while I go get Lord Aldren."
She left hurriedly, leaving the door ajar. Lihan could hear her quick footsteps moving away down the hallway, followed by muffled voices somewhere deeper in the house.
Alone again, Lihan turned his attention back to his arm. The light pulsed constantly, a hypnotic reminder of how drastically his body had changed. He flexed his fingers again, watching how the rock tendons moved smoothly beneath the surface.
What am I going to tell Ashe and Rei? he wondered with a touch of anxiety. "Oh, hello sisters, I defeated a giant lava monster and now I have an arm made of volcanic rock. How was your mission?"
The idea almost drew a hysterical laugh from him, but he held back. It wasn't funny, not really. This was serious. His body had been permanently altered in a way he didn't fully understand. And while it felt powerful, it also felt... alienating. As if a part of him was no longer completely human.
But if this can help me protect them, he thought with iron determination, then it will be worth it.
The footsteps returned, multiple pairs this time. The door opened completely, and Lord Aldren entered with Marta following closely. The mayor looked exactly as Lihan remembered him—a middle-aged man with silver-gray hair, face marked by years of responsibility, but eyes that shone with sharp intelligence and genuine kindness.
"Lihan!" The relief in Aldren's voice was palpable. He approached the bed quickly, stopping just far enough not to invade the young man's personal space. "Thank the Holy Father you're awake. We were starting to worry seriously."
Lihan tried to sit up straighter, but Aldren raised a hand in a reassuring gesture.
"No, no, stay seated. You're still recovering." The mayor dragged a wooden chair from the corner of the room and sat down, positioning himself to be at eye level with Lihan. "How do you feel? Pain? Dizziness?"
"I'm... fine," Lihan responded honestly, though his gaze involuntarily drifted to his transformed arm. "A bit stiff, but otherwise fine. Better than I expected, considering..."
Aldren followed his gaze and nodded solemnly. "Yes. Your arm. It was... unexpected, to say the least."
There was an uncomfortable pause. Lihan could feel the unasked questions hanging in the air between them.
"Lord Aldren," Lihan began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "what exactly happened after I entered the dungeon? My memory is... blurry after the final battle."
The mayor leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlacing over his lap. "Well, that's the thing, young man. You had barely entered the dungeon—literally, not even a minute had passed—when suddenly you came flying out of the entrance."
Lihan blinked, surprised. "A minute? But I... was in there for..."
"Weeks, from your perspective, I imagine," Aldren completed with an understanding nod. "Absolute rule dungeons are known to distort time. What for you were probably days or even weeks, for us was barely a fleeting moment."
The phantom clock, Lihan remembered. I should have paid more attention to that warning.
"You came flying out of the entrance as if you had been expelled by a great force," Aldren continued. "You were unconscious, covered in severe burns, and your right arm..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "...was in very bad shape. Charred, for the most part. Our healer thought we would have to amputate it."
Lihan swallowed hard. He had been closer to death than he thought.
"We brought you here immediately," Aldren gestured around the room. "Healer Marik did everything he could—healing your other wounds, stabilizing you. But when we tried to apply healing potions to your arm..." he shook his head in amazement, "it began to transform."
"Transform?" Lihan repeated, though he could guess what would come next.
"The burned flesh began to harden, to become dark. We thought it was necrosis at first, that we were losing it anyway. But then the cracks appeared, and the light..." Aldren looked at the arm with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. "Healer Marik said he had never seen anything like it. Whatever happened to you in that dungeon, it fundamentally changed that part of your body."
Lihan observed his arm again, processing this information. So the transformation had occurred after leaving the dungeon, not during the battle. Or perhaps the battle had initiated the process, and the healing potions had... completed it? Accelerated it?
"And the dungeon," Lihan asked, though part of him already knew the answer, "what happened to it?"
A broad smile spread across Aldren's face. "It disappeared. The moment you came out, the entire structure began to crumble. The runes faded, the entrance collapsed, and within minutes there was no trace that it had ever existed."
"And the heat..."
"Gone," Aldren confirmed, his voice filling with genuine emotion. "Immediately. We could literally feel the temperature dropping minute by minute. By the time we brought you here, it was already returning to normal. The crops—those that still lived—began to recover almost immediately. The wells began to fill with fresh water again."
The mayor leaned forward, his eyes moist with gratitude. "Lihan, you did it. You saved our town. You saved our lives, our livelihoods, everything. I don't have enough words to express how grateful we are."
Lihan felt something warm expand in his chest—not the warmth of his transformed arm, but something deeper. Pride, perhaps. Satisfaction. The feeling that, despite all the suffering, despite the nightmares he had experienced in the dungeon, he had done something good. He had made a real difference.
Rei and Ashe would be proud, he thought, and the idea made him genuinely smile.
"I'm glad I could help, Lord Aldren," Lihan said sincerely. "This town deserves peace. I only regret having taken so long to complete the mission."
Aldren waved a hand dismissively. "So long? Young man, from our perspective, you solved in minutes a problem that had plagued Solvanta for weeks. If that's 'taking too long,' then I'd love to see what you consider efficiency."
Lihan laughed softly, though the laugh was cut short when a more practical question crossed his mind. "How long have I been unconscious? I mean, since I came out of the dungeon?"
"Approximately six hours," Aldren responded, and Lihan almost sighed with relief. "You arrived just after dawn, and now it's mid-afternoon. Nothing too worrying, though we were wondering if we should send a messenger to your guild."
Only six hours. Lihan felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders. That meant Ashe and Rei were probably returning from the mission to the guild. It meant they hadn't been worrying for days or weeks. It meant he still had time—time to return, time to train, time to prepare for... whatever came next.
Sure, maybe I'll arrive after my sisters get to the guild, and Rei and Ashe will still worry, but at least I haven't lost too much time.
Time to stop Trent before he does something.
The thought came with crystalline coldness, and Lihan had to consciously control his expression so it wouldn't darken. This wasn't the time. Not with Aldren watching him with such gratitude and concern.
"Six hours is perfectly manageable," Lihan said with a light tone he didn't quite feel. "Though I imagine I need to officially report that the mission is complete, right?"
"Ah, yes, of course." Aldren stood up, gesturing toward the small table where Marta had placed the tray. "Your equipment is there—your backpack, or what was left of it, and your guild medallion. Marta and some of the other villagers repaired your backpack as best they could. It was the least we could do."
Lihan followed Aldren's gaze and indeed saw his backpack resting on the small table. It looked... different. Newer, somehow. Someone had patched the burned holes with fresh leather, had replaced the straps that had melted, and had reinforced the seams that had weakened. It wasn't perfect—he could still see the scars of the damage it had suffered—but it was functional. More than functional.
"Thank you," Lihan said quietly, feeling another wave of warmth. "You didn't have to do that."
"Nonsense," Aldren responded firmly. "It's the least we can do for someone who risked his life for us."
Lihan slowly got up from the bed, testing his balance. His legs felt stable, though a bit shaky from lack of use. He approached the small table and picked up his guild medallion—a metal disk the size of his palm, engraved with the guild symbol and his personal information.
"Can we do the official confirmation now?" Lihan asked, turning to Aldren. "I'd prefer to have everything in order before departing."
"Of course." Aldren took from his pocket an object Lihan hadn't seen before—a small crystal mounted in what appeared to be an ornate handle. "This is a mission verifier. When I bring it close to your medallion, it will register the completion."
The mayor extended the crystal and held it near Lihan's medallion. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, both objects began to glow—the medallion with a soft blue radiance, the crystal with pure white light. The lights pulsed in sync for several seconds before gradually fading.
"Done," Aldren announced, putting away the crystal. "The mission is officially marked as completed. Your guild should now know that you've completed the mission. Congratulations, Lihan."
Lihan nodded, though a question crossed his mind. "The physical rewards mentioned on the poster? The gold pieces and the enchanted water?"
"Ah, yes." Aldren's face brightened. "I almost forgot. Come with me—it's all prepared downstairs. And I can give you back your repaired backpack too."
The mayor headed toward the door, gesturing for Lihan to follow him. Marta, who had been waiting patiently near the entrance, gave them an encouraging smile as they passed.
Lihan picked up his backpack, surprised by how much lighter it felt without all the equipment he had carried into the dungeon. His sword was gone, melted in the heat of the Fire Colossus. His potions were depleted. Even his clothes had been replaced—now he wore a simple linen tunic that someone must have provided while he slept. Fortunately his scarf was unharmed, since it was enchanted with Ashe's protection magic.
I'm going to need to completely re-equip myself, he thought with a touch of resignation. That's going to be expensive. Comic tears fall down his cheeks.
But at least he had the mission rewards. One hundred gold pieces was a decent sum—enough to buy basic equipment and have some left over. And the enchanted water... well, it depended on what kind of enchantment it had, but any magical object had value.
He followed Aldren downstairs, his footsteps echoing on the wooden steps. Healer Marik's house was larger than he had initially thought—two floors, with several rooms for patients. They passed through a hallway where he could hear soft voices—probably other patients or medical staff.
Finally they emerged into a main room that served as a combined reception space. It was simple but clean, with functional furniture and windows that let in abundant afternoon sunlight.
On a table in the center of the room was a leather pouch and a small glass bottle filled with liquid that glowed with a soft silvery radiance.
"The one hundred gold pieces," Aldren said, pointing to the pouch, "and the enchanted water. The local potion maker prepared it personally. He says it will completely restore your energy and heal any minor wounds with a single drink. Only usable once, as specified."
Lihan approached the table, first picking up the pouch. It was heavy—the gold coins inside clinked satisfyingly. He put it in his repaired backpack, making sure it was well secured in one of the internal pockets.
Then he picked up the bottle of enchanted water, holding it up to the light. The liquid inside swirled with an ethereal quality, almost as if it had a life of its own. He could feel the magic emanating from it—a soft tingling against his fingers.
This could save my life someday, he thought, carefully storing it in another padded pocket of his backpack.
"Thank you, Lord Aldren," Lihan said sincerely, turning to face the mayor. "For everything. For taking care of me, for the rewards, for the repaired backpack. For trusting me with this mission in the first place."
Aldren waved a hand dismissively, though his eyes shone with emotion. "As I said, it's the least we can do. You saved our town, Lihan. You saved our lives. No amount of gold can pay for that."
There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, the kind that comes after something significant has been accomplished. Then Lihan cleared his throat, his expression becoming more practical.
"Lord Aldren, I need to ask you something else. Do you have transportation available? I need to get to... well, eventually I need to get back to my guild, but first there's a place I need to visit."
"Transportation?" Aldren tilted his head curiously. "Yes, we have some carriages. Where do you need to go?"
Lihan hesitated, not entirely sure how to describe the place he had seen in his visions. "It's... it's hard to explain. A futuristic city with skyscrapers and advanced technology. I know it sounds strange, but it's important."
To his surprise, Aldren didn't seem completely puzzled. "Do you mean Neothalis? The city of shining towers?"
"Neothalis?" Lihan repeated, testing the name. It sounded right, like something his subconscious had been whispering. "Yes, I think so. Do you know the place?"
"I know of it," Aldren clarified. "It's quite far from here—several days' journey, at least. And to be honest, I'm not sure if anyone in Solvanta knows the exact route. But..." he paused thoughtfully, "let me ask around. Maybe someone has traveled in that direction before."
"I would appreciate that very much," Lihan said gratefully.
Aldren nodded decisively. "Come with me. There's a small plaza in the center of town where we can gather some people. If anyone knows anything, we'll find out."
They left the healer's house onto the streets of Solvanta. Lihan blinked under the bright afternoon sunlight, his eyes adjusting after being indoors for so long. The town looked... better. Significantly better.
The air no longer vibrated with that oppressive heat he had experienced when he first arrived. The streets weren't covered with dry dust and cracked earth. Instead, there was a touch of humidity in the air, and he could see small signs of recovery everywhere: green shoots emerging in withered gardens, wells being refilled, people moving with an energy that spoke of renewed hope.
As they walked toward the plaza, villagers began to notice them. Conversations stopped. People turned to look. And then, gradually, they began to approach.
"It's the adventurer!"
"The one who killed the monster!"
"He's awake!"
Within minutes, a small crowd had formed around them. Lihan felt suddenly very conscious of all the attention, a flush rising up his neck. He wasn't used to this—normally Rei and Ashe took center stage when they completed important missions.
But here, there was only him.
Aldren raised his hands, calling for silence. The crowd obeyed, though the excited murmur continued as a constant bass.
"Friends," the mayor began, his voice projecting across the plaza, "as you can see, our young hero has recovered. And now he needs our help."
That captured everyone's attention. People leaned forward, clearly eager to help in any way possible.
"He needs transportation to a city called Neothalis," Aldren continued. "It's a long journey, and we need someone who knows the way, or at least can guide him in the right direction. Has anyone here traveled in that region?"
Silence. People looked at each other, shaking their heads. Neothalis was clearly too distant, too exotic for this small farming town.
Lihan's hope began to fade—maybe he would have to find his own way after all—when a voice spoke from the back of the crowd.
"I know the route. More or less."
The crowd parted, revealing a man of about forty years with disheveled brown hair and a beard that needed trimming. He had the weather-beaten look of someone who had spent a lot of time on the roads—eyes squinted against the sun, tanned and wrinkled skin, callused hands from handling reins during long hours.
"Joren," Aldren greeted with clear recognition. "You know the way to Neothalis?"
Joren approached, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "Not directly, no. It's too far for a direct trip from here. But..." He looked at Lihan evaluatively, "I know the route to Calle Celes, in the country of Astravane. From there, Neothalis is only another day or two of travel."
"Calle Celes," Aldren repeated slowly. His expression clouded. "Joren, that place has a... reputation."
"Yes," Joren admitted with a grimace. "It's not the safest destination. Rumors say crime has skyrocketed in recent years. Robberies, assaults, worse. It's not the kind of place I'd want to take someone."
Lihan stepped forward, his voice firm. "I don't care about the danger. I need to get to Neothalis, and if Calle Celes is the fastest way, then that's what I'll do."
Joren studied him for a long moment, his eyes assessing not just Lihan's words but the determination behind them. Finally he nodded slowly.
"Well, if you're sure..." he looked at Aldren. "I can take him. I have business in that direction anyway—supplies to deliver to some smaller towns along the way. If the young man is willing to deal with some stops, I can guide him to Calle Celes."
"I would be incredibly grateful," Lihan said, and then, to everyone present's surprise, he bowed deeply in formal reverence. "Please, accept my most sincere gratitude for this favor."
Joren seemed uncomfortable with the formal gesture. "Uh, stand up, boy. It's nothing so dramatic. Besides," he added with a crooked smile, "you saved our town. It's the least I can do."
Aldren smiled broadly, clearly pleased with how things had turned out. "Excellent. Joren, can you take young Lihan in one of the cargo carriages?"
"The big one should work," Joren agreed. "It has extra space, and the merchandise is well secured. We can leave tomorrow at dawn, if that suits you," he directed this last part to Lihan.
"Tomorrow at dawn is perfect," Lihan confirmed, though part of him wanted to leave immediately. But no—he needed a proper night's rest, needed to make sure he was fully recovered before undertaking another long journey.
And I need time to think, he admitted to himself. Time to process everything I've seen and experienced. Time to figure out how to use this arm.
"Then it's decided," Aldren declared with satisfaction. He turned to the gathered crowd. "Friends, our young hero departs tomorrow. Tonight, we must show him our gratitude properly—"
"NO!" Lihan interrupted quickly, raising his hands in a gesture of panic. The last thing he wanted was some kind of elaborate banquet or public celebration. "No, please, nothing grand is necessary. Just... just being here, knowing the town is safe, that's reward enough."
But the crowd didn't agree. Voices rose in protest, people insisting that something had to be done. And then, from the crowd, the children emerged.
They had been waiting on the periphery, too shy to approach before. But now they ran forward—half a dozen children of varying ages, from perhaps six to twelve years. Their faces shone with unadulterated admiration, the kind of hero worship that only children could express so purely.
"Big brother!"
"The hero sir!"
"You killed the fire monster!"
They clustered around Lihan, tugging at his tunic, trying to touch his transformed arm (though some shrank back nervously when the cracks glowed more intensely with their excitement). Their voices overlapped each other in a chaotic chorus of enthusiasm.
"Is it true you fought a giant made of lava?"
"Did it hurt when your arm transformed?"
"Will you teach us to be adventurers?"
"My mom says you're the bravest adventurer in the world!"
Lihan found himself overwhelmed by the pure joy and admiration emanating from these children. He knelt down, putting himself at their level, and a genuine smile—the first in what felt like weeks—spread across his face.
"Hello," he greeted warmly. "Yes, I fought the fire monster. And yes, my arm looks a bit different now. But you know what? The most important thing wasn't that I was brave—it was that I had a reason to fight. I wanted to protect all of you."
The children looked at him in awe, drinking in every word. A small girl—she couldn't have been more than seven years old—timidly reached out and touched the back of his rocky hand. Her eyes widened when she felt the warmth.
"It's warm," she whispered in amazement. "But it doesn't burn."
"No," Lihan agreed gently. "It wouldn't hurt you. The things that make us different don't have to scare us—we just have to learn to use them correctly."
I'm talking to myself as much as to her, he realized.
He spent the next few minutes answering the children's questions, letting them examine his arm (though carefully supervising to make sure no one got too close to the brighter cracks), and even doing some simple tricks—flexing his fingers to make the lights pulse in patterns, adjusting the intensity of the glow with concentration.
The children were delighted, laughing and clapping. And Lihan... Lihan felt something warm and precious expand in his chest. It was different from the pride he had felt completing the mission. This was purer, simpler.
This was the feeling of mattering. Of making a real difference in real lives. Of being seen not as a B-rank adventurer trying to catch up with his stronger companions, but as a hero.
When he finally stood up, he found his eyes were moist. He blinked quickly, trying to clear them before anyone noticed.
Too late. Marta, who had been watching from the edge of the crowd, gave him an understanding smile that said she understood exactly what he was feeling.
"It's okay," her expression seemed to say. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed by kindness."
Aldren approached, placing a hand on Lihan's shoulder—the normal one, Lihan noted, not the transformed one. A gentle consideration.
"These children," Aldren said quietly, only for Lihan, "talked about you while you slept. They asked us if the hero would be okay, if he would wake up. For them, you represent hope. Possibility. The idea that even when things seem impossible, someone will come to fix them."
Lihan had to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat. "I just... I was just doing my job."
"No," Aldren contradicted gently. "You were doing much more than that. And they know it."
The crowd began to gradually disperse, people returning to their daily tasks, though not without first approaching Lihan individually. Each one had something to say—a thank you, a blessing, a small gift (which Lihan tried to refuse but was overwhelmingly outnumbered).
By the time they finally made their way back toward the healer's house, the sun had shifted significantly lower in the sky, casting long golden shadows across Solvanta.
"You should rest tonight," Aldren advised as they walked. "You have a long journey tomorrow, and though Joren is competent, Calle Celes is... well, it's exactly as dangerous as the rumors suggest. You'll need to be at your best."
Lihan nodded, though his mind was already racing ahead. Calle Celes. Astravane. And eventually, Neothalis.
Why Neothalis? Because in his visions, that's where Rei had disappeared. That's where something had gone terribly wrong, where she had been... mechanized. Turned into something less than human.
I have to find out what's happening there, he thought with dark determination. I have to understand the threat before it can happen. Before it's too late. Plus I need to get some kind of camouflage for my arm and if there was a place that could do it, that was Neothalis.
Though it disgusted him to obtain something from that place. He wasn't ignorant that having an arm like this would bring discrimination in many places and with Neothalis's technology he could get some kind of illusory device or something that could contain his normal arm and restore it to normalcy.
But for now, for tonight, he would allow himself to rest. He would allow himself to enjoy the warmth of Solvanta's gratitude, the innocent joy of children who saw him as a hero.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.
Tomorrow, he would start his journey toward understanding—and hopefully, toward preventing—the nightmares that had plagued him in the dungeon.
Tomorrow, he would begin to become the hero his sisters needed him to be.
But for now...
For now, he just smiled as the sun set over Solvanta, casting everything in warm golden tones, and allowed himself to feel—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
.
.
.
Morning came too soon.
Lihan woke before dawn, his body automatically responding to years of training with Rei that had instilled the discipline of rising early. The room was dark except for the dim glow of his transformed arm, which provided barely enough light to navigate.
He dressed quickly in the clothes the villagers had provided—not his usual adventurer's gear, but it would serve. A simple tunic accompanied by his faithful scarf, sturdy pants, combat boots that had seen better days but were comfortable. His repaired backpack rested in the corner, filled with the few belongings he had left. And lastly he put on the black magical glove that the town had given him at his request.
(Imagen)
It made Lihan feel a bit guilty for taking advantage of their goodwill, but the glove was going to be very useful while he found the permanent solution.
When he went downstairs, he found that Marta was already awake, preparing a simple breakfast in the healer's house kitchen.
"Good morning," she greeted cheerfully, as if it weren't a sin to wake up before the sun rose. "I thought you'd want something in your stomach before departing."
Lihan gratefully accepted the plate of warm porridge and bread she offered him, eating methodically while his mind was already miles away, contemplating the coming journey.
By the time he finished, the sky had lightened to that gray-blue shade that preceded actual dawn. Marta accompanied him outside, where they found Aldren already waiting along with a small group of early-rising villagers.
And there, on the main road, was the carriage.
It was larger than Lihan had expected—a sturdy wooden vehicle designed to transport heavy goods across difficult terrain. Two strong horses were already hitched to the front, impatiently pawing the ground. The back was loaded with well-secured boxes and barrels, but there was enough free space for a passenger.
Joren was doing final inspections, checking the straps, making sure everything was secure. When he saw Lihan approaching, he nodded with approval.
"Right on time. Good trait in a traveling companion."
Aldren stepped forward, extending his hand. Lihan shook it firmly—with his normal hand, the mayor noted with a touch of relief that Lihan pretended not to notice.
"Safe journey, young man," Aldren said warmly. "And if you ever pass through here again, know that you'll always be welcome in Solvanta."
"Thank you," Lihan responded sincerely. "For everything."
He turned to find that more villagers had gathered—the stragglers who had come to see him off. And there, pushing through the legs of the adults, were the children from yesterday.
"Big brother!" called the little girl who had touched his arm. She ran forward, holding something in her small hands. "I made this for you!"
It was a simple charm—a piece of braided rope with a small wood carving attached. The carving was crude, clearly made by a child's hands, but it represented something that could be an adventurer holding a sword.
Lihan knelt down, accepting the gift with genuine reverence. "It's beautiful," he said quietly. "I'll carry it with me always."
The girl lit up, then impulsively lunged forward and hugged him. The other children followed suit, clustering around Lihan in a massive group hug that almost knocked him over.
And that was it. That was what broke the last defenses he had been maintaining.
Tears fell freely down Lihan's face as he hugged the children back, his vision blurring and his throat too tight to speak. They weren't tears of sadness, exactly—they were something more complex. Relief, gratitude, the overwhelming weight of being seen as important, as worth something.
When they finally separated, Lihan had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand—the normal one, automatically. The children looked at him with understanding that went beyond their years.
"It's okay to cry," one of the older boys said seriously. "My dad says only real heroes care enough to cry."
Lihan laughed—a wet, choked laugh, but genuine. "Your dad is a wise man."
He stood up, composing his expression as best he could. He made one last gesture of farewell to the gathered crowd, then turned and climbed into the back of the carriage. Joren gave him an understanding look—clearly he had seen similar scenes before—before climbing up to the driver's seat.
"Ready?" Joren called over his shoulder.
"Ready," Lihan confirmed, his voice only slightly hoarse.
With a snap of the reins and an encouraging shout to the horses, the carriage started moving. Lihan watched as Solvanta became smaller and smaller behind them, the waving figures diminishing to dots, then disappearing completely as the road turned.
Only then did he allow himself to relax, leaning back against the cargo boxes and looking at the gradually brightening sky above him.
The journey to Calle Celes, and eventually to Neothalis, had begun.
And with it, the next chapter of... whatever his life was becoming.
Lihan raised his transformed arm, watching how it caught the first real sunlight. The cracks glowed like liquid fire, beautiful and terrifying at once.
Rei. Ashe. I'll protect them. At any cost.
Even if it means becoming a monster myself.
The thought came with cold certainty, and for the first time since waking up, Lihan didn't push it away.
Instead, he embraced it.
Because some things were worth becoming a monster for.
And the people he loved were definitely on that list.
.
.
.
Author's note: Lihan is about to meet a new character, and she is female. I've already given some clues in this chapter. I wonder if you can guess who she is. There will also be a great battle against an evil character who is Rank A, almost Rank S. Don't miss it in the next chapter.
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