Light pressed against his eyes with an intensity that felt almost hostile, forcing its way through his closed lids until he could no longer ignore it. With a soft groan, he lifted a hand and covered his face, turning his head slightly away from the source.
"That's… bright…"
His voice came out rough, but steadier than before. The weakness still lingered in his body—heavy in his limbs, dull in his chest—but it no longer felt like it would swallow him whole.
He lay there for a while, breathing slowly as his senses returned one by one. The surface beneath him was firm and structured, nothing like the cold, uneven stone he faintly remembered. It took a moment, but the realization settled in.
He was lying on a bed.
As his awareness sharpened, he lowered his hand just enough to glance upward. Near the top of the wall, a narrow opening had been cut into the stone and reinforced with thick iron bars. Sunlight streamed through it in pale beams, cutting across the room and landing directly where his head had been resting.
He shifted slightly, adjusting his arm to block the light more comfortably as he exhaled.
Think.
His thoughts felt scattered at first, like fragments drifting just out of reach. He tried to gather them, pulling at whatever he could hold onto.
He remembered darkness—cold, suffocating darkness—and the feeling of being enclosed in something tight and unfamiliar. There had been a sound, sharp and distinct, like something unlocking. Then movement, faint at first, followed by a dim glow and strange noises echoing through a corridor.
The memory sharpened as he focused.
He had been walking, barely able to support his own weight, dragging himself along a wall while something ahead drew him forward. There had been light. There had been sound.
And then he had turned a corner.
The image that followed came back with brutal clarity.
Bodies—four of them—torn apart and scattered across the stone. Blood had soaked into the ground, dark and thick, and those creatures… those massive spider-like things… had been feeding on what remained.
His eyes snapped open.
He surged upright, panic crashing over him all at once.
The sudden movement overwhelmed his still-weakened body. Dizziness struck immediately, his vision blurring as his balance failed him. The instinct to run—to get away from that memory, from those creatures—took hold before he could think.
Instead of escaping, he fell.
His body hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. He scrambled backward on instinct, hands slipping as he pushed himself away, his chest tightening as panic refused to loosen its grip.
"No… no—"
He dragged himself across the floor until something snapped tight around his leg.
The force yanked him to an abrupt stop.
He froze, his breath catching as he looked down.
A chain was secured firmly around his ankle, the metal cold and unforgiving against his skin. It stretched back toward the bed, pulled taut from where he had tried to flee.
For a moment, he simply stared at it, his mind struggling to make sense of what it meant.
"What… is this…?"
He grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled.
It didn't move.
The metal held firm, completely unyielding.
A different kind of tension settled into him then—quieter than the panic, but just as suffocating.
Before he could react further, the sound of the door opening behind him broke the silence.
The faint creak of hinges echoed through the room.
His entire body went rigid.
Without thinking, he twisted around and scrambled toward the bed, dropping low and crawling beneath it as quickly as his weakened body would allow. Pressing his back against the wall, he tried to make himself as small as possible, forcing himself to stay still.
Heavy footsteps entered the room.
A pair of large brown boots came into view just beyond the edge of the bed.
A sigh followed.
"I can see the chain leading under the bed."
The voice was clear, firm—and completely meaningless to him.
The words were just sounds.
He didn't respond.
Didn't move.
Seconds passed in silence.
Another sigh broke it.
The boots shifted, then began to move, each step slow and deliberate as they approached. They stopped right beside the bed, close enough that he could see the worn leather and faint scuff marks along the soles.
A large hand reached down and gripped the edge.
Before he could react, the entire bed lifted.
Effortlessly.
The sudden movement exposed him completely, leaving him lying flat against the floor as he stared upward, eyes wide.
The man holding the bed looked down at him with a steely, unyielding gaze.
"Stop playing games and come out. Now."
The boy didn't understand a single word.
He remained frozen, unable to respond.
The man's patience ran out.
Without another word, he reached down and grabbed the front of the boy's shirt, lifting him off the ground in one smooth motion.
The fabric tightened painfully against his neck. He winced, instinctively grabbing at the man's wrist with both hands, trying to relieve the pressure.
Now, face to face, he could see him clearly.
The man was enormous—easily over six feet tall, with a broad, powerful build. His arms were thick with muscle, his movements controlled and deliberate. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with short black hair and a well-trimmed beard.
But it was his eyes that held the boy in place.
Sharp. Brown. Unforgiving.
They stared at him with a quiet intensity, as if daring him to try something.
The boy's grip faltered.
Slowly, he released his hands and lowered them, a silent sign of surrender.
The man watched him for a moment, then gave a small nod. With his other hand, he lowered the bed back into place behind them, setting it down as though it weighed nothing at all.
Only then did the realization fully settle in.
The man had been holding him a full foot off the ground with one hand… while lifting the entire bed with the other.
The thought barely had time to register before the man let go.
The boy dropped.
He landed back on the bed, bouncing slightly before hitting the wall behind it.
Without another word, the man turned and stepped out of the room. Moments later, he returned carrying a chair, which he dragged inside and set down heavily.
Behind him, another figure entered.
An older woman.
Her white hair was tied back neatly, her posture slightly hunched, her skin marked with fine lines of age. At first glance, she appeared frail—someone who should not have been in a place like this.
But the moment she stepped into the room, something deep inside the boy reacted.
A sharp, instinctual fear gripped him, far stronger than anything he had felt before. It wasn't loud or chaotic like panic—it was cold, immediate, and absolute.
Danger.
He tried to pull away, pressing himself tighter into the corner of the bed.
The woman's bright green eyes narrowed slightly as she observed him.
"Hoo…"
The man glanced at her. "What?"
"I released a small amount of my mana," she said calmly. "And he reacted."
Her gaze lingered on the boy.
"Either he has strong instincts… or he can feel the aura I emitted."
The man's expression hardened further. He stepped forward again, looming over the boy.
"Who the hell are you," he demanded, his voice low but edged with steel, "and what happened to the party of adventurers?"
The boy stared at him, fear tightening his chest.
He didn't understand.
Not a single word.
He remained silent.
The man's patience snapped.
He straightened, towering over him, and shouted, "Speak!"
The force of his voice shook the room.
The boy flinched violently, curling in on himself.
"I—I can't understand what you're saying!" he blurted out, his voice panicked and desperate.
The words meant nothing to them.
The man paused.
The woman tilted her head slightly.
They exchanged a brief glance.
"What did he say?" the man asked.
"I don't know that language," the woman replied shaking her head. "But-."
She lifted her hand. A bracelet on her wrist glinted faintly, and with a subtle flicker of light, a small box appeared in her palm.
She opened it.
Inside were four identical rings.
"These should allow us to have a basic understanding of each other." She spoke as she removed a ring and slipped one onto her finger.
Not wanting to waste any time she handed another to the man. Taking a third, she stepped forward and offered it to the boy.
He hesitated, uncertain.
She gestured gently, encouraging him.
Slowly, he reached out and took it, his eyes flicking between the two of them before sliding it onto his finger.
The moment it settled in place, a faint surge of energy traveled up his arm and into his head.
He flinched.
"What was that?!" he said, startled.
The woman nodded. "That is the effect of the ring."
The boy froze.
His eyes widened.
"I… I can understand you…"
The realization filled his voice with disbelief.
The woman gave a small nod. "Yes."
Before he could say anything more, the man stepped forward again.
"Now that you can understand me," he said sharply, "I'll ask you again. What happened to the Dancing Leaf's party?"
The boy blinked, confusion replacing his shock.
"Who… is that?"
The man's jaw tightened.
"The group of four," he said, his voice growing colder. "The ones slaughtered in the ruin."
The boy's face went pale.
The memory returned, vivid and horrifying.
The creatures.
The bodies.
"We sent a team after they didn't return," the man continued. "A seer divined their last known location. When we reached the ruin, all we found were scraps of bodies and torn cloth. The only way we identified them was through two of their guild badges."
He stepped closer, his presence pressing down on the boy.
"Now tell me," he growled, "what happened to them!?"
The boy shrank back, shaking his head.
"I don't know!" he said quickly, panic rising again. "I just woke up there! I didn't even know where I was!"
His voice trembled as he continued.
"When I got out… I saw them. Those spider things… they were…"
His words faltered as the image resurfaced.
The man didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he glanced toward the woman.
She held a small device in her hand, watching it carefully. After a moment, she frowned.
"He's not lying," she said.
She paused slightly before adding, "But I can't be sure he's telling the whole truth."
Glancing at the still trembling boy, she turned towards the hulking man whose fist when clinched so hard his palms where starting to bleed.
"Thale, I believe it's best if you give me some time with him." Glancing at the blood dripping onto the stone, she spoke softly and slowly. "Alone."
The man's gaze returned to the boy, cold and heavy.
"We'll figure out what happened," he said. "And if you had anything to do with it…"
His voice dropped, low and dangerous.
The threat lingered in the air as he turned and walked out. As he left, he removed the ring from his finger and handed it back to the woman without a word.
The door shut behind him.
Silence settled over the room once more.
The woman remained where she stood, her green eyes fixed on the boy.