A week had passed since I first woke up in Elara's spare bed, basically dumping my broken existence on this quiet village's doorstep.
A whole week. Seven long days of staring at wooden ceiling beams, sipping bitter willow-bark tea, and trying to convince my own body that it didn't need to fall apart every time I put weight on my left leg.
Nothing magically improved. No dramatic protagonist recovery montage. No background music. No sudden enlightenment. I still can't walk straight. My center of gravity is a joke thanks to the missing eye, and half the time my own legs betray me, sending me stumbling into doorframes or face-first into dirt.
'And my mana?'
Let's just say we're not on speaking terms.
I tried circulating it a few more times after that disaster in the courtyard. Every attempt ended the same way: agonizing, breath-stealing pain that left me curled on the floor, sweating through my clothes like I'd just survived another execution attempt. I'm not some masochistic fantasy hero who thinks suffering equals growth. If my body is screaming that it's about to tear itself apart, I'm going to listen.
Which is why, logically, I should be sitting on the porch right now with a blanket over my knees.
Instead, I'm walking deep into Oakhaven's forest, holding the surprisingly strong hand of a ten-year-old girl.
Lily leads the way like she owns the place. She marches through the underbrush with fearless confidence, pigtails bouncing with every step, humming some completely off-key tune that somehow makes the looming forest feel less suffocating.
If anyone from the Academy saw me right now—Alden von Astra, the anomaly who killed thousands of demons with ease and protected the Academy—being escorted through the woods by a child because he's too crippled to walk straight?
Edwin would laugh himself into a coma.
But I have a reason to be here.
A desperate one.
My storage ring.
Before the Sifting—before Liam von Ravel stripped me down to the studs of my soul—I'd hidden my storage ring inside my uniform lining. Old habit from my past life: never show your most valuable assets.
I don't remember if it fell off in the Black Cell… or if it came with me when the System tore space apart and dumped me here.
I searched the shredded, blood-crusted remains of my clothes. Nothing.
This forest is my last hope.
There are practical reasons, sure. Inside that ring is Alister's treasury. Billions in gold. I need that money. I refuse to freeload. Elara used her rarest herbs to drag me back from death. Silas is feeding an extra mouth on a guard's salary.
'I'm not some thug who takes kindness for granted.'
I'll pay them back. Even if I have to dump a literal mountain of gold in their yard.
There's also the mysterious sword hilt from the underground trial. Useless right now since I can't even circulate a spark—but leaving an ancient artifact rotting in the dirt feels criminal.
But those are just the logical excuses.
'The real reason?'
Inside that ring are small, stupid things.
A cheap festival plushie.
A woven bracelet—identical to the one tied around my wrist.
And a magical imprinter with photos from our beach trip.
Photos of Alisia.
The sunlight in her silver hair. The almost invisible softening of her eyes when she looked at the frozen rose I made. Her hand resting against mine on the sand.
'I can't lose those.'
I would crawl back into the Inquisition's Black Cell if it meant getting those memories back.
They're the only tether I have left to the boy I was trying to become.
And the promise I made to her.
"Have you been playing this deep in the forest a lot?" I ask, my raspy voice cutting through the rustling leaves. "You seem pretty familiar with the paths."
I sound like a nagging dad.
Lily stops and spins around with a dramatic pout.
"I don't usually go this deep. It's just… that day I saw a really cute white rabbit. But it ran away. So I followed it. And then it ran away again."
I sigh heavily. "Lily, don't go this deep without your dad or another adult. It's dangerous. You're just a kid."
Hands on hips.
Maximum ten-year-old indignation.
"Hey! I am not a kid! I'm a ten-year-old big girl!"
I offer a weak, crooked smile. "Ten is still a kid, Lily."
She opens her mouth to argue—
Rustling.
Sharp. Close.
My body reacts before my brain remembers I'm broken.
I yank my hand from hers and shove her behind me. My right hand snaps down, grabbing a thick tree branch from the dirt.
I drop into a defensive stance.
Fire detonates across my ribs.
My muscles scream.
Breathing turns shallow.
But I don't drop the stick.
My single eye locks onto the shaking grass.
'Come on,' I think, adrenaline flooding me. 'If it's a beast, I've got one good swing. Make it count.'
The grass parted.
With a flutter of wings, a fat, brown pheasant burst out of the underbrush, a small green insect clamped firmly in its beak. It flapped awkwardly into the lower branches of a nearby oak tree, completely ignoring us.
I stood there for a long moment, the heavy stick trembling in my grip.
Slowly, the adrenaline crashed, leaving me dizzy and nauseous. I lowered the branch, letting it drop to the forest floor with a dull thud. I pressed my hand against my aching chest, forcing myself to take long, slow breaths.
I looked over my shoulder. Lily was clutching the hem of my shirt, her dark eyes wide with surprise. She wasn't looking at the bird. She was looking at me.
She had seen a broken, half-blind boy instantly throw himself between her and perceived danger without a second thought.
I forced my tense shoulders to drop and offered her a calm, reassuring smile, trying to mask the fact that my legs were currently vibrating like plucked bowstrings.
"See?" I said softly. "Dangerous forest. Vicious, bug-eating birds everywhere."
Lily blinked, then let out a small, nervous giggle. She let go of my shirt and slipped her hand back into mine. Her grip was a little tighter this time.
"Come on," she said, her voice softer now. "It's just a little further."
We walked for another ten minutes before the dense canopy broke, revealing a small, sunlit clearing.
Lily stepped forward, pointing a tiny finger toward the center of the grassy area. She adopted the dramatic, hushed tone of a storyteller.
"Right here," she said, gesturing broadly. "There was a big tear in the air. Like someone ripped a piece of paper! And then a blinding golden light poured out, and you fell from the sky, right out of nowhere, and hit the ground." She pointed to a patch of earth where the grass looked distinctly flattened and slightly scorched. "The golden light was everywhere, so bright it hurt my eyes. And then... it was just gone."
I stared at the flattened grass. The imprint of my own near-death experience.
"Alright," I murmured. "Let's see if I brought anything with me."
We started searching.
If I still had my [Stellar Mana Authority], this would have taken exactly two seconds. I could have extended a thin veil of mana across the entire clearing, using the ambient energy as an extension of my own senses. The metallic, spatial density of a storage ring would have stood out like a beacon in the dark.
But I didn't have the Authority. I just had one blurry, tired human eye.
I limped around the perimeter, using a fresh stick as a makeshift cane, kicking aside piles of dead leaves and peering under ferns. Lily was on her hands and knees, combing through the tall grass with the meticulous dedication of a treasure hunter.
Fifteen minutes passed. My back was throbbing, and a dull headache was beginning to pulse behind my bandages.
'Maybe it didn't come with me,' I thought, frustration bubbling in my chest. 'Maybe it's sitting on the floor of the Black Cell, and Liam is currently trying to crack it open.'
I was just about to call it off, ready to admit defeat, when a sharp glint of light caught my eye.
I stopped, squinting upward.
About ten feet off the ground, wedged securely into the Y-shaped fork of an old elm tree, something metallic was catching the afternoon sun. Trees don't reflect sunlight.
"Found it," I breathed.
I limped over to the base of the tree. The ring was mocking me. Ten feet was nothing. A month ago, I could have cleared that height with a lazy, unreinforced jump.
I raised my stick, stretching my right arm as high as it would go, trying to hook the ring.
Pain flared violently in my shoulder joint, a sharp reminder of the bones that had been shattered and hastily fused back together. I gritted my teeth, pushing onto my tiptoes, swiping the stick at the branch. I missed by a solid three feet.
I dropped my arm, panting, a bitter curse dying on my lips.
"Don't worry!"
I looked down. Lily was standing beside me, her hands on her hips, radiating absolute confidence. "I got this."
Before I could tell her to be careful, she practically launched herself at the elm tree. She found footholds in the rough bark with the practiced ease of a kid who spent more time in trees than on the ground. She scrambled up the trunk, her small hands gripping the branches, until she was perched right next to the fork.
She reached out, plucked the metallic band from the wood, and grinned down at me.
"Catch!" she yelled, tossing it.
I caught it cleanly with my right hand, exhaling a massive sigh of relief. "Good job, Lily. Come on down, slowly."
She scaled down the trunk, and I reached out to help steady her as she dropped the last few feet to the ground. She brushed the bark dust off her dress, looking immensely proud of herself.
"Thank you," I said genuinely.
I opened my palm to look at my prize.
The relief vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, sinking weight.
It was my storage ring, yes. But it could barely be called a ring anymore. The dark, ancient metal was warped and bent into a jagged oval. Worse, the spatial crystal embedded in the center—the actual anchor for the dimensional pocket—was fractured. Deep, spiderweb cracks ran through the gem, dulling its usual deep blue luster to a milky, dead grey.
'No. No, no, no.'
My pulse quickened. I closed my eye, isolating the tiny, pathetic fraction of mana I could still access without triggering a physical collapse. I carefully, gently threaded a microscopic sliver of energy into the ring, just trying to establish a connection. Just trying to open the door.
The cracked crystal flickered. A weak, sickly light pulsed deep within the gem.
My face brightened. 'Come on. Just open once.'
The light sputtered. It flared for a fraction of a second, hot and unstable, and then died completely.
Nothing came out. No gold. No sword hilt. No photos.
I stood there in the silent clearing, staring at the warped piece of metal in my hand. I tried again. I pushed a little more mana into it, gritting my teeth against the resulting ache in my chest.
Flicker. Sputter. Death.
The spatial matrix was completely shattered. The pocket dimension inside was either collapsed, sealing everything in an unreachable void, or the anchor was too damaged to bridge the gap to reality.
I closed my fist around the ring, the jagged edges digging into my palm.
"Another broken thing," I whispered to myself, the words tasting like ash. My body, my mana, my system, and now the only thing connecting me to the life I had built. "Just a collection of broken things."
I felt a small, warm weight against my side.
Lily had stepped closer, wrapping her arms around my waist in a tight, sudden hug. She didn't say anything. She didn't ask why the magic ring didn't work. She just pressed her face against my side, offering the simple, unquestioning comfort of a child who knew when someone was hurting.
I stood perfectly still for a moment. Then, slowly, I rested my hand on top of her head.
The photos were gone. The gold was gone. The power was gone.
But as I looked down at the little girl holding onto me, and felt the quiet, steady rhythm of the forest around us, a strange, stubborn resilience flickered in the dark spaces of my mind.
I wasn't dead.
"Come on, Lily," I said softly, my voice steadying. "Let's go home."
I slipped the broken ring into my pocket, took her hand, and turned my back on the clearing.