Raze reached for the door handle, fingers wrapping around the worn metal. Time to step out and figure out this world.
Crack.
Pain exploded behind his eyes.
"Ah!" He stumbled backward, hand flying to his head. The room spun. His vision blurred.
Thump thump thump.
His heart hammered against his ribs as something foreign crashed into his mind. Not his memories. Someone else's. No, not someone else's. The original owner of this body.
Raze Dragonheart.
---
A small cottage. Wooden walls. Garden out front.
Father's face, weathered but kind, eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Again, Raze. Swing again."
A wooden practice sword in small hands. Age seven, maybe eight. The weight felt right. Natural.
Swing. Swing. Swing.
"Good! You're a natural, son. You'll be strong one day. I know it."
Mother's voice from the doorway. "Dinner's ready! Come eat before it gets cold."
A little girl peeking around Mother's skirts. Big eyes. Bright smile. Three years old.
"Sophie! Look what I can do!"
Showing off. Making her laugh.
---
The memory shifted. Darker now.
Age twelve. The cultivation chamber. First core formation attempt.
Father's steady voice. "Breathe, Raze. Feel the mana. Draw it in slowly."
Energy flooding his body. Too much. Too fast.
Something wrong. Something breaking.
CRACK.
Screaming. His own voice, raw and terrified.
Pain like glass shattering inside his chest. Pathways fracturing. Core splintering into pieces.
Father's devastated expression. "No... no, not my son..."
The town healer's grim face. "Fragmented. I'm sorry. He'll never advance past Initiate."
The word echoing in his young mind. Cripple. Cripple. Cripple.
---
Present Raze gasped, tears streaming down his face without permission. The emotions weren't his, but they felt real. Shame. Crushing, suffocating shame.
Father spending gold they didn't have. Treatment after treatment. Nothing worked.
Mother growing thin. Worry lines deepening.
Neighbors whispering. "The crippled Dragonheart boy..."
Sophie, age five, holding his hand. "You're still my hero, brother."
Her smile. Always believing.
---
The memories accelerated. Flashing faster.
Age fifteen. The wasting sickness sweeping through town.
Mother collapsing. Father three days later.
Standing by their graves. Rain pouring down. Sophie crying into his chest.
Her small voice. "What do we do now?"
His answer, trying to sound brave. "I'll take care of you. I promise."
---
Moving to the city. A year of struggle. Doors slamming in his face.
"Fragmented core? We don't hire cripples."
"Too weak for guard work."
"Try the docks. They'll take anyone."
Manual labor. Backbreaking work. Three silver a day.
Sophie's bright spirit keeping him going. Her laughter in their tiny rented room.
"I found a flower today! Look, it's still blooming!"
Making her smile even when his back screamed and his hands bled.
---
Then the darkness.
Six months ago. Sophie coughing.
Black flecks on her handkerchief.
His blood running cold.
The healer's office. Sterile. White walls. The smell of herbs.
"Black Cough. Mana enhanced illness. It attacks the respiratory system, feeds on ambient magical energy."
"Can you cure it?"
"Yes. But the treatment is expensive. Rare ingredients. Constant mana regulation."
"How much?"
"Fifty gold coins. Full payment upfront, or we provide basic care only."
Looking at the pouch in his hand. Three gold. Twenty seven silver.
The healer's sympathetic but firm expression. "I'm sorry, son."
---
Three months of desperation. Working eighteen hour days.
Every odd job. Every humiliating task. Anything for coin.
Sophie getting weaker. Paler. The cough worsening.
Her brave smile. "Don't worry, brother. I feel fine."
The lie obvious in her sunken eyes, her labored breathing.
Lying awake at night, counting coins. Again and again. Praying for a miracle.
---
Mary. The innkeeper.
Finding him collapsed in the street from exhaustion.
Her offer. Free room. Daily meals. Just help with cleaning.
"I lost a brother once. I won't watch another child struggle alone."
Gratitude so intense it hurt.
Sophie moved to the healer's care facility. Mary helping with partial payments.
But still not enough. Never enough.
---
Yesterday. The head healer's ultimatum.
"Two weeks, boy. Bring the full fifty gold or we stop treatment."
Sophie's frightened eyes from her bed. Sheets soaked with fever sweat.
"I don't want to die, Raze."
Holding her hand. Unable to promise she wouldn't.
The crushing weight of failure.
---
Last night. His room. This room.
Counting the coins one more time. Eight gold. Twenty seven silver.
Forty one gold short. Might as well be a million.
The despair. The shame. The guilt.
Parents' last words echoing. "Take care of your sister. Promise us."
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the empty room. "I'm so sorry."
Lying down. Closing his eyes. Hoping tomorrow would bring a miracle.
Not knowing he'd never wake up.
---
Raze collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
The emotions crashed over him like waves. Not his own, but impossible to separate. The body itself cried out, muscle memory of grief and desperation too deep to ignore.
"Sophie..." The name fell from his lips, and he meant it. Truly meant it.
A ten year old girl dying because he couldn't save her. Because the original Raze had been too weak, too poor, too broken.
Thump.
Something shifted in his chest. The fragmented core pulsed. The memories settled, integrating. Becoming part of him.
He wiped his tears with shaking hands.
"I took your body, Raze Dragonheart." His voice came out hoarse. "The least I can do is save your sister."
But it was more than obligation. The memories made it personal. Sophie's laugh. Her unwavering faith. Her brave smile hiding terror.
She was real. And she was dying.
Raze pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady but holding.
"I'll save her." Determination hardened in his chest. "For you. For her. Because she doesn't deserve to die."
And strategically, it made sense. In Records of Istea, Black Cough had a hidden cure. Most players never found it, but he knew. He'd read the wiki, studied the forums.
"One thing at a time. First Sophie. Then the world."
He reached for the door handle again. This time, no memories stopped him.
Creeeak.
The door swung open.
---
The hallway was narrow and dim. Wooden floors worn smooth by years of foot traffic. The smell hit him immediately. Stale beer, cooking meat, the sharp tang of unwashed bodies. Human noise drifted up from below. Laughter. Conversation. The clatter of plates.
Morning at the inn.
Raze moved toward the stairs, and his Inspect skill activated automatically.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Translucent status windows bloomed into existence above everyone in his line of sight. Information flowing like water.
He descended the stairs into the common room.
Rough wooden tables scattered across the space. A bar along the left wall, bottles lined up behind it. A cooking area in the back, smoke rising from a brick oven. Twenty or so patrons eating breakfast.
And above each head, their information.
[Patron]
Name: Marcus
Rank: Initiate (Mid)
Core: Blooming
Mana: C
Strength: D
[Patron]
Name: Helen
Rank: Initiate (Low)
Core: Fragmented
Mana: D
Endurance: C
[Guard]
Name: ???
Rank: Adept (Peak)
Core: Tempered
Mana: B
Strength: B (+)
Agility: B
Raze's eyes widened. The information came instantly, overlaying his vision like a video game HUD. He couldn't see specific skills or abilities. The Bloodline and Authority sections showed as locked. But the basic stats were there.
Most patrons were Initiate rank. Low or mid stage. Their cores ranged from Fragmented to Blooming, with a few Tempered scattered in.
Then his gaze landed on someone near the window.
[Adventurer]
Name: ???
Rank: Expert (Low)
Core: Refined
Mana: B (+)
Strength: A
Endurance: A
Agility: B
Raze's breath caught. Expert rank. That was three full ranks above him. Someone who could probably kill him before he finished blinking.
And then he saw the figure in the back corner.
Hooded. Sitting alone. The scan barely functioned, information flickering like a bad signal.
[???]
Name: [Blocked]
Rank: Master (?)
Core: Crystalline
Mana: S
[Further information restricted]
His heart skipped a beat.
Master rank. Crystalline core. That was at least four ranks above him. Maybe five depending on the stage. Someone operating on a completely different level of power.
Raze immediately looked away, careful not to stare. In a world with perception skills and danger sense, prolonged attention could be noticed. Could be threatening.
"Don't poke the dragon," he muttered under his breath.
The hierarchy crystallized in his mind. The ranking system he'd known from the game, now confirmed real.
Cores progressed through stages: Fragmented, Blooming, Tempered, Refined, Crystalline. And according to lore, beyond that lay Astral, Arcane, and Mythic, though those were legendary. Almost mythical themselves.
Each core type had three stages. Low, Mid, Peak. The plus signs he'd seen on his own stats indicated he was at the peak of his current stage, ready to break through.
Most people in this room were normal. Workers. Guards. Low level cultivators just trying to survive. But that Master in the corner? That was a walking catastrophe. Someone who could level buildings.
"Raze!"
He turned. A woman in her thirties approached, weaving between tables with practiced ease. Flour dusted apron, brown hair tied back, warm eyes that crinkled when she smiled.
[Mary Thorne]
Name: Mary Thorne
Rank: Initiate (Mid)
Core: Blooming (Mid)
Mana: C
Charm: B
Endurance: C
The innkeeper. Mary.
The memories supplied context. Three months of kindness. Free room. Free meals. A lifeline when he had nothing.
"You're up early." Mary's smile was genuine, but concern flickered in her eyes. "Usually have to drag you out of bed for morning shift."
"I..." Raze's throat tightened. The memories were too fresh. "I need to see Sophie today."
Mary's expression shifted. Became sadder. She glanced around, then gestured to an empty corner table.
They sat.
"The healer sent word last night." Mary's voice dropped low. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked so exhausted."
Dread coiled in Raze's stomach. "What word?"
"Sophie had a bad night. High fever. Delirious. They're doing what they can with basic care, but..." She didn't finish. The implication hung heavy.
Without full treatment, Sophie was dying. Slowly. Painfully.
Mary reached into her apron. Pulled out a small leather pouch.
Clink clink.
The sound of coins.
"Five gold." She pressed it into his hands. "It's all I can spare right now. I know it's not enough, but maybe it buys a few more days. Maybe you can figure something out."
Raze stared at the pouch. Five gold. Mary ran a small inn. This was probably a significant chunk of her savings.
The original Raze's gratitude flooded through him. Overwhelming. This woman had given so much, expecting nothing in return.
"Thank you, Mary." His voice came out thick. "For everything. I mean it."
Mary squeezed his shoulder. Her hand was warm, calloused from work. "Your shift starts at noon. But go see your sister first. She asks about you constantly. Tell her I'll visit tonight with soup."
"I will."
Mary studied his face. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You seem different today. I can't put my finger on it. Steadier somehow. More focused."
Raze managed a small smile. "Maybe I finally got enough sleep."
"Maybe." She didn't sound convinced. "Just... be careful out there, Raze. The city's dangerous for someone with your condition. Don't do anything stupid trying to get money fast."
"I won't."
Liar, a voice whispered in his head. But necessary lies. He couldn't explain what he was. What he knew.
Mary stood, patting his shoulder once more before returning to the kitchen.
Raze sat alone, the pouch heavy in his hand.
Clink.
He did the math automatically.
Current funds: Eight gold, twenty seven silver. Plus Mary's five. Thirteen gold, twenty seven silver total.
Needed: Fifty gold.
Shortfall: Thirty six gold, seventy three silver.
A fortune for someone like him. Impossible odds.
But he had advantages the original Raze didn't. Knowledge. Game knowledge. The Black Cough cure existed. A hidden quest chain that most players missed. Rare herbs that could be gathered if you knew where to look. An alchemist who'd make the medicine for a fraction of the healer's price.
He could do this. He had to do this.
Raze pushed away from the table and headed for the door. Morning sunlight streamed through the grimy windows. The city sprawled beyond, vast and dangerous.
His Inspect skill pulsed, ready to analyze. His Absolute Genius talent hummed with potential. His A rank Mana waited to be unleashed.
As he reached the door, he glanced back once. The Master in the corner still sat motionless, hood obscuring their face. A reminder that this world was full of power he couldn't comprehend yet.
Creeeak.
The door opened. Fresh air hit his face. The sounds of the city rushed in. Merchants hawking wares. Cart wheels on cobblestones. Distant smithy hammers.
Raze stepped out into the street.
Sophie was waiting. His little sister, pale and feverish, fighting for every breath.
"First, I save Sophie." His hands clenched into fists. "Then I save the world from Alex Dawnsblade's chaos."
The healer's facility was across town. Twenty minute walk through crowds and noise.
He started moving, weaving through the morning rush.
"Hold on, Sophie. I'm coming."