Chapter 2 : Things That Don't Heal
Aaron woke up to the sound of machines.
Not loud or dramatic beeping like in movies. Just a steady, quiet rhythm. Soft electronic breaths keeping time with his.
White ceiling and cracked paint
A faint smell of antiseptic mixed with something older, something metallic that never truly left hospitals no matter how much they were cleaned.
He blinked once, then twice.
His body felt wrong.
Not injured. Not broken. Just heavy. Like every muscle had been stretched, rewound, and left slightly out of alignment. When he tried to move his fingers, they obeyed but with a delay, as if they were checking whether permission had been granted.
"Sir?"
The voice was cautious. Professional.
He turned his head slowly.
A nurse stood beside the bed, tablet in hand, eyes sharp but not unkind. She looked relieved when she saw him.
"You're finally awake," she said. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Aaron… Yaghan," he replied. His throat burned.
She nodded. "Alright. Do you know where you are?"
"The hospital."
"Do you know what day it is?"
He paused, then answered "Tuesday."
The nurse made a note. "That's correct."
She checked his vitals with efficient movements. Heart rate, pupils, reflexes. Everything was normal.
Too normal.
"You were found outside a collapsed Rift zone," she said. "No visible injuries. No mana poisoning. No core exposure. You were unconscious for twelve hours."
Twelve.
Aaron stared at the bed.
"No fractures," she continued. "There's also no internal bleeding. In other words, you're lucky."
Lucky.
The word felt almost mocking.
"Your team didn't make it," she added gently.
The ceiling blurred.
Aaron closed his eyes.
"I know," he said.
She hesitated, then placed the tablet aside. "Rest. A doctor will come by soon."
She left quietly.
The machines kept breathing.
He layed there for a long time.
Not sleeping.
Thinking hurt too much.
Every time his mind drifted toward the Rift, toward those beings, a pressure formed behind his eyes—firm, warning. Like touching a scar that hadn't healed yet.
So he focused on smaller things.
The hum of electricity in the walls.
The scratch in his throat.
The way his chest rose and fell perfectly, like nothing had gone wrong.
That bothered him the most.
He should have been hurt or even dead.
He remembered falling. The pain. The rubble. The monsters that ate him.
Yet his body felt… reset.
As if it had been rewritten.
A doctor came by. Asked a few questions. Ran more scans.
Everything came back clean.
"Your mana circulation is still abnormal," the doctor said, frowning at the results. "Still registering as inactive."
Aaron expected the usual look after that.
Pity.
Disinterest.
Confirmation.
"F-Rank," the doctor muttered, more to the screen than to Aaron. " Your still the same."
Aaron nodded. "I understand."
The doctor studied him for a moment. "You should be alright in a few days."
Aaron didn't say anything.
He was discharged three days later.
No celebrations. No follow-up mission offers. Just a thin folder and a polite reminder to avoid Rift zones unless officially assigned.
Outside, the city moved on.
People walked. Cars passed. Screens displayed Hero rankings and casualty numbers like weather reports.
Aaron stood still for a moment, duffel bag at his feet.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message.
Hospital Wing C — Room 417
His chest tightened.
The hallway smelled different.
Less antiseptic, more metal.
Wing C housed long-term patients. Those who needed time, money, or miracles.
Aaron stopped outside the door.
He inhaled.
Smiled.
Then stepped inside.
His brother layed on the bed, both legs encased in heavy white casts, elevated and suspended by metal supports. Machines hummed softly around him. His face looked thinner than Aaron remembered. Paler.
But his eyes lit up instantly.
"You're alive," his brother said.
Aaron laughed. "Barely."
"Don't joke like that," the boy snapped—then relaxed, a crooked grin forming. "Idiot."
Aaron walked closer, careful not to touch the casts. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I lost a fight with a truck," his brother replied. "Doctor says I'll walk again. Eventually."
Eventually.
Aaron nodded. "That's good."
There was a pause.
Then—quietly—"They said it'll be expensive."
Aaron's smile didn't falter. "I'll handle it."
His brother stared at him. "You're F-Rank."
Aaron met his gaze. "I know but I'm not giving up."
"You don't have to—"
"I will," Aaron said firmly.
Silence settled between them.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
"You always say that," his brother muttered. "And you always do it anyway."
Aaron reached out and ruffled his hair gently. "Get used to it."
That night, Aaron didn't sleep.
The hospital couch was uncomfortable, but that wasn't the reason.
Something felt close.
Not watching.
Waiting.
Every time he closed his eyes, he felt a presence at the edge of his awareness—cold, precise, patient.
Like a cursor hovering over a selection.
At exactly 03:00, it happened.
The air shifted.
Not physically. Conceptually.
Aaron's vision flickered.
A translucent interface appeared before his eyes.
Clean, minimal, emotionless.
Text formed.
[TRAIT DETECTED
CLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWN
DESIGNATION: PLAYER]
Aaron sat up sharply.
The interface didn't move.
It didn't glow.
It didn't acknowledge his reaction.
More text appeared.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…
USER IDENTIFIED
VISIBILITY: AUTHORIZED USER ONLY ]
His heart pounded.
He looked around.
No one else reacted.
The machines continued humming.
His brother slept peacefully.
Aaron swallowed.
"…What?" he whispered.
The system did not answer.
A new window opened.
╔══════════════════════╗
" STATUS WINDOW "
╚══════════════════════╝
⟨⟨ CORE STATS ⟩⟩
Strength: 6
Agility: 6
Endurance: 7
Mana: 0
Focus: 12
Aaron stared.
Focus.
That wasn't a standard stat.
Another panel slid into place.
[DAILY MANDATORY QUEST GENERATING]
His breath caught.
The timer began counting down.
[TIME REMAINING: 21:00:00]
Aaron felt it then.
Not pain.
Expectation.
Something ancient, cold and absolute had wrapped itself around his life—and it wasn't ready to let go.
Not ever.
End of Chapter 2