Chapter 3 — The Calm That Feels Like a Lie
Morning arrived without noise.
No alarms.
No sirens.
No distant engines fighting the dark.
Light crept into the room slowly, soft and patient. It slipped through wooden shutters and painted thin lines across the floor. Dust drifted in the air, lazy and unafraid.
Elias woke to the sound of birds.
He lay still for a long moment, listening.
There was no hum of power lines. No vibration beneath the walls. No System countdown ticking in the back of his head.
Just wind brushing against the house. Just firewood settling in the hearth. Just life, moving at its own pace.
His chest rose and fell.
Breathing still hurt, but less than before. The pain in his side had dulled into a deep ache, steady and manageable. He could feel the bandages wrapped tight around his torso, rough cloth against skin.
He stared at the ceiling again.
Wood. Real wood. Old, but cared for. Not metal panels pretending to be warm.
A normal house.
A normal morning.
His fingers twitched under the blanket.
Too normal.
Elias pushed himself up slowly, teeth clenched. Pain flared, sharp enough to make his vision blur for a second, but he didn't stop. He sat at the edge of the bed, boots on the floor, head bowed as he waited for the dizziness to pass.
He was taller than he remembered being.
That was the first thing he noticed when his vision cleared.
His legs looked longer. Leaner. Strong, but not worn down. His hands—still rough, still scarred—felt steadier. Younger.
He flexed his fingers.
They responded instantly.
No stiffness. No lingering damage.
This body wasn't the one that had been shot in a tunnel.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Elias?" his mother's voice called gently. "Are you awake?"
"Yes," he replied.
The word came easily.
Too easily.
The door opened, and she stepped inside with a small wooden bowl in her hands. Steam curled up from it, carrying the smell of broth and herbs.
She paused when she saw him sitting up.
"You should've waited," she said, worry flashing across her face.
"I'm fine," Elias said. "Mostly."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue. She set the bowl down on a small table and crossed the room, checking the bandages with practiced care.
Her hands were warm.
Solid.
Real.
"You heal fast," she murmured. "Faster than I expected."
Elias watched her fingers move.
Again, that faint green glow traced along her skin. Soft. Controlled. Like light guided by intent rather than force.
Magic.
He swallowed.
"What… kind of magic is that?" he asked.
She glanced up, surprised.
"You don't remember?" she asked.
"No," Elias said. He didn't bother lying further. "I don't remember much."
Her expression shifted. Concern replaced surprise.
She straightened and pulled a stool closer, sitting across from him.
"Magic is everywhere," she said simply. "In the land. In people. Some can use it. Some can't. Most fall somewhere in between."
Elias listened.
Simple words. Clear meaning.
Not like the System's layered explanations.
"I can guide small things," she continued. "Healing. Growth. Nothing special."
Nothing special.
Elias had seen what passed for "special" back on Earth. Weapons disguised as tools. Systems disguised as opportunity.
He nodded slowly.
"And me?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"You haven't shown any signs yet," she said carefully. "But that doesn't mean anything. Awakening can take time."
Awakening.
The word sent a chill through him.
A child ran past the open window outside, laughing. Another voice called after them. Footsteps thudded against packed dirt.
Life went on.
Elias forced himself to relax.
If this world wanted him to live, he would observe first.
Survival always came before action.
"Eat," his mother said, pushing the bowl toward him. "You need strength."
He obeyed.
The broth was simple. Salty. Warm. It filled his stomach and spread heat through his chest. Each swallow made him more aware of how empty he'd been.
As he ate, the door creaked open again.
This time, it wasn't gentle.
A smaller figure rushed in.
"Elias!"
A girl skidded to a stop beside the bed, breathless. She was young—twelve or thirteen. Dark hair tied into a messy ponytail. Her eyes were wide and bright, filled with relief.
She grabbed his arm without hesitation.
"You're really awake!" she said. "I thought you were dead!"
"Lyra," his mother scolded gently. "Don't jump on him."
Lyra.
The name landed with weight.
Sister.
The realization hit him slowly, then all at once.
Lyra let go, suddenly aware of herself. "Sorry," she muttered. "I just—"
"It's okay," Elias said quickly.
She looked up at him.
Really looked.
Then her lips wobbled.
"Don't do that again," she said, voice breaking. "Just… don't."
His chest tightened.
"I'll try," he said.
She sniffed, wiped her face on her sleeve, and nodded hard. "Good."
She smiled, then darted back out the door like nothing had happened.
Elias stared after her.
A sister.
He didn't know what to do with that.
By midday, he was allowed outside.
"Just the porch," his father said firmly. "No further."
Elias didn't argue.
The sun felt strange on his skin. Warmer than he expected. Brighter, but not harsh. The sky above was a clear blue, deeper than any he remembered. Clouds drifted slowly, thick and white.
He sat on the wooden steps, letting the light sink into him.
Verdan was small.
That was his first impression.
Not weak. Not poor.
Small in the way a place felt when people knew each other. When houses were built close, not for defense, but for warmth.
Stone paths cut through grass and packed earth. Wooden homes with sloped roofs lined the roads. Small gardens grew beside them, plants thick and healthy.
Mana lamps—small glass orbs set into metal posts—stood unlit in the daylight.
They hummed faintly.
Elias could feel it now.
Not just see it.
A pressure in the air. Soft. Like water against skin.
Mana.
It was everywhere.
Liora waved from across the road.
She walked toward him, steps light. Today she wore a pale green tunic and dark trousers, sleeves tied back. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders.
"You're up," she said, smiling.
"Barely," Elias replied.
She stopped a few steps away, studying him.
"You look… different," she said.
"How?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Quieter."
He huffed. "I was never loud."
She smiled wider. "True."
She sat beside him, leaving just enough space to be polite.
For a while, they said nothing.
Children ran past again. Someone hammered wood nearby. A cart rolled down the road, wheels creaking.
The village breathed.
"This place," Elias said slowly. "It feels… safe."
Liora tilted her head.
"It is," she said. "Most days."
He looked at her.
"Most?"
Her smile faded a little.
"Monsters don't stay in forests forever," she said. "And borders are never as quiet as they look."
There it was.
The crack.
The lie.
Elias nodded.
"I saw something," he said. "Before I collapsed."
Her eyes sharpened. "What?"
"A creature," he said. "Not an animal. Something wrong."
Liora's hands tightened in her lap.
"Where?" she asked.
"On the road," he said. "Near the old marker stones."
Her expression darkened.
"That's close," she said.
Too close.
A chill crawled up Elias's spine.
He glanced down the road.
The marker stones stood in the distance—tall slabs of carved rock, half-buried and worn by time. Runes traced along their sides, faint but visible even from here.
"What are those?" he asked.
"Boundary markers," Liora said. "Old ones. They keep certain things out."
"Do they work?" Elias asked.
She hesitated.
"Usually."
Usually wasn't good enough.
The faint hum in the air shifted.
Elias felt it before he saw it.
The mana lamps along the road flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then steadied.
Liora noticed too. She stood slowly.
"That's not normal," she said.
Elias pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the spike of pain in his side.
"Get inside," he said.
She looked at him sharply.
"What?"
"Get your parents," he said. "Now."
Her eyes searched his face.
Something in his tone must have convinced her.
She ran.
Elias turned toward the road.
The marker stones were humming now.
Not softly.
Deep. Low. Uneasy.
The ground vibrated under his boots.
Dust rose in thin lines along the path.
Then the air tore.
It wasn't dramatic. No explosion. No flash.
Just… wrong.
The space near the stones warped, like heat rising off metal. The air folded inward, collapsing into a dark knot.
Elias's heart slammed against his ribs.
A shape pushed through.
It was tall. Too tall. Its body was twisted, joints bent the wrong way. Black skin stretched tight over muscle that moved like it didn't belong together.
Its head turned.
Eyes like wet glass locked onto him.
The smell hit next.
Rot. Iron. Something old and spoiled.
The creature hissed.
Elias stepped back.
The System flared to life.
[THREAT DETECTED]
[ENTITY: CORRUPTED BEAST — LOW GRADE]
[MISSION GENERATED]
His jaw clenched.
"Of course," he muttered.
The text shifted.
[MISSION: SURVIVE]
[OBJECTIVE: DELAY ENTITY UNTIL ASSISTANCE ARRIVES]
[FAILURE: FATAL]
No rewards.
No bonuses.
Just survival.
The creature moved.
Fast.
Elias dodged left as claws slammed into the ground where he'd been standing. Dirt and stone exploded upward. The impact rattled his bones.
Pain flared in his side.
He grit his teeth and kept moving.
The village erupted into noise behind him. Shouts. Screams. Bells ringing.
Good.
They were reacting.
Elias backed toward a low stone wall, keeping the creature in front of him. His eyes tracked every movement, every shift of weight.
No weapons.
No magic.
Just a wounded body and instincts honed by too many close calls.
The beast lunged again.
Elias ducked, rolled, felt claws slice the air above his head. He came up on one knee, grabbed a loose stone, and hurled it.
It bounced off the creature's skull with a dull crack.
Useless.
The beast reared back, mouth opening wide.
Elias felt the mana surge.
Something was coming.
He dove aside as a blast of dark force tore through the wall, stone shattering into fragments. Dust filled the air, choking and thick.
Elias coughed, vision stinging.
Footsteps thundered behind him.
"Hold it!" a voice roared.
A spear of light slammed into the creature's side, driving it back with a screech.
Guards.
Three of them. Leather armor. Spears tipped with faintly glowing metal. They moved as a unit, practiced and fast.
The creature snarled and turned on them.
Elias staggered back, chest heaving.
His father grabbed him from behind, dragging him away.
"You're hurt!" he shouted.
"I'm fine," Elias snapped, eyes locked on the fight.
The guards pressed forward. The creature fought hard, wild and desperate, but it was outmatched. Another spear pierced its chest. It collapsed with a wet, choking sound.
Silence followed.
Heavy. Shaken.
The corpse twitched once, then stilled.
The System panel faded.
Elias exhaled slowly.
Around him, the village buzzed with fear and relief. People gathered, whispering, staring at the dead thing on the road.
Liora stood among them, pale but steady.
Their eyes met.
She looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time.
Elias looked at the corpse.
A "low-grade" threat.
Near a quiet village.
Behind old markers.
Peace was real.
But it was thin.
And it was already tearing.
Elias understood it now.
This world wasn't peaceful.
It was waiting.