The archer's bow hit the black glass first with a sharp clack that echoed too loud in the sudden hush. Then his knees gave out. He folded like paper, arms wrapping tight around his middle as if he could physically hold himself together. I stood frozen five meters away, palm still burning from where that silver thread had ripped free and slammed into me. The skill had fired clean. Too clean.
Regret.
I'd taken every last scrap of it.
He didn't scream. Didn't curse. Just curled tighter, forehead pressed to the ground, shoulders shaking with silent, endless weeping. Tears pooled beneath his face, spreading dark on the glass. His breathing came in ragged hitches, like someone who'd forgotten how lungs were supposed to work.
I felt it crash into me next.
Not a gentle wave. A flood.
Cold. Heavy. Sharp enough to cut.
Every late-night grind session instead of calling home. Every promise he'd whispered to a little sister about birthday credits that never arrived. Every debt notice he'd swiped away like it didn't exist. Every friend he'd ghosted because "one more dungeon" sounded easier than explaining why he was still broke. Every mirror he'd avoided because the tired stranger staring back made him sick.
It wasn't abstract guilt. It was specific. Visceral. Names. Faces. Dates. Words he'd never said. Doors he'd never walked through.
My knees buckled. I dropped hard, one hand slapping the ground to catch myself. Stability nosedived.
Thirty-five → twenty-nine → twenty-four → nineteen.
Hallucinations piled on instantly, thick and suffocating.
I saw his mother at a small kitchen table, chair opposite her empty, dinner plate untouched, eyes red from crying again.
Saw his little sister—eight or nine—sitting on the front step with a cheap wrapped box in her lap, staring at the street long after dark.
Saw myself reflected in every scene. Same hollow cheeks. Same debt shadows under the eyes. Same excuses I told myself every time I logged in instead of facing the collectors. Same slow rot eating everything that used to matter.
My chest tightened so hard I couldn't pull in a full breath. The bleed debuff pulsed hotter. Seventy percent transfer now. Real ribs felt cracked open. Real lungs burned like I'd inhaled smoke.
Lyra's gauntlet clamped my shoulder. Fingers dug in. "Aren!"
Her voice sliced through the noise in my skull.
I blinked up at her. Visor raised. Eyes wide and furious and scared all at once.
The archer whimpered once more, then went quiet. Curled even tighter. Breathing shallow and fast, like he was afraid to exist.
Kira rushed over, staff already flaring green. "What did you steal from him?"
"Regret," I managed. Voice cracked. "Every bit."
Echo Theft's icon sat dead gray in my hotbar. Cooldown jumped to forty-eight hours. Extreme cost warning blinked underneath in angry red.
Kira's heal washed across me. Green light tried to soothe the fire in my side. It dulled the sharpest edges. Didn't touch the deeper ache.
"That was reckless," she said. "You can't keep ripping pieces out of people like that. Or letting them rip pieces out of you."
Elara knelt beside the archer. She didn't touch him. Just watched his trembling shoulders. "He's still breathing. Still here. But… empty. The System will reset him eventually. Wipe the slate clean. Make him forget he ever carried that weight. Right now, though… he's free of it."
Free.
The word tasted like ash in my mouth.
I'd taken the one thing that kept him human. The thing that made him feel anything at all. Turned a living person into a breathing shell so I could test a skill I didn't even understand.
And it had cost me almost everything.
I forced myself to stand. Legs shook. Vision swam for a second before it steadied.
The truce timer hit zero.
Red strobes flashed across the arena again.
Blood Crucible active.
Shouts erupted from the edges.
Vex's voice cut through the rising noise. "No more mercy, Voss! The anomaly dies today!"
Hunters surged forward from every direction. Vex at the front. Sword high. Mask gleaming. Behind her came the rest—shadow-plate elites, archers nocking arrows, mages already channeling black fire.
Lyra drew her swords. Blue hum filled the air like an electric storm.
Kira raised her staff. Green barriers snapped up around us in a wide dome. Fragile. But something.
Elara stepped in front of me. Dagger ready. "We hold here. Together."
I gripped my sword tighter. Pain screamed through my side. Bleed debuff pulsed hotter. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer against cracked bone.
Stability nineteen.
I looked at my team.
Lyra—visor down now, stance low and lethal.
Kira—mana low but eyes steady.
Elara—small, scarred, unbreakable.
Then I looked at the hunters closing in.
At Vex's raised blade.
At the inverted city waiting to swallow us whole.
The chorus sang louder from below. Deep. Hungry. Calling my name.
I took one step forward.
Voice low. Certain.
"Let them come."
The first arrows flew.
Kira's barrier flared bright. Arrows shattered against green light.
Lyra exploded forward. Swords spinning blue arcs. Two hunters dropped before they even reached us.
Elara darted low. Slipped between legs. Dagger found throats.
I charged Vex.
Our blades met. Sparks flew.
She was fast. Trained. Ruthless.
But I was desperate.
I parried. Countered. Felt the impact jar real bone.
Pain spiked. Seventy percent transfer. Ribs screamed.
Stability eighteen.
I gritted my teeth. Kept swinging.
Vex laughed behind her mask. "You're bleeding out already. Feel that? That's reality catching up."
I didn't answer.
Just Overwrote her gauntlet mid-block.
Reinforced Plate → Paper Thin.
Her arm buckled on the next clash. Gauntlet cracked.
She staggered.
I pressed.
Stabbed.
She twisted away. Blade grazed my shoulder.
New scar. Hot. Real.
Bleed surged.
Stability seventeen.
Vision narrowed.
Hallucinations flickered at the edges again. The archer's mother. My own mother. Both crying. Both fading.
I roared.
Lyra appeared beside me. Slashed Vex across the back.
Vex spun. Blocked.
Kira's heal hit me. Green light poured in.
Enough to keep me standing.
Elara flanked. Dagger sank into a hunter's thigh. He dropped screaming.
The fight blurred.
Blades. Barriers. Blood. Code.
Hunters fell.
But more kept coming.
Vex retreated a step. Raised her fist.
"Finish them!"
The arena shook.
From the obelisk core rose a new wave.
Larger shadows.
Guild elites.
One carried a massive warhammer.
Another wielded chain whips of black light.
They charged.
I met the hammer-wielder.
Dodged the swing. Felt wind from it ruffle my hair.
Counter-stabbed.
He laughed. Blocked.
I triggered Rollback.
Three seconds rewound.
Dodged again.
Stabbed.
This time it landed.
He staggered.
But Stability dropped.
Sixteen.
Fifteen.
The bleed hit eighty percent transfer.
Real heart stuttered.
I gasped.
Lyra yelled my name.
I couldn't answer.
Vision tunneled.
The chorus sang louder.
Closer.
I looked at my team.
Fighting. Bleeding. For me.
I looked at Vex.
Smiling behind her mask.
I looked at the timer.
20:47:19.
I looked at my sword.
Then I looked inside myself.
At the hollow space where regret used to live.
And I whispered.
"Not yet."
I charged.
One last push.
For them.
For me.
For whatever was left.
The chorus roared in answer.
And the darkness swallowed us whole.