Percy's time in the hospital was a testament to both his resilience and the grueling challenges of recovery. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled his lungs each time he stirred awake in the middle of the night, confined to his bed, his body refusing to obey his will. Immobilized, he became painfully aware of his dependence on the medical staff, each check-in from Dr. Mahindra serving as a stark reminder of the severity of his condition.
His injuries were far worse than he had initially assumed. Despite the IV Mana infusion drops gradually restoring some vitality—bringing a faint glow back to his dulled golden-blue eyes—his deeper, more essential systems were still in critical disrepair. The nurses worked tirelessly, applying specialized ointments and salves meant to accelerate regeneration. Yet, the process was slow, agonizingly so.
After three days of intensive care, he began to notice tangible improvements. His muscles, once drained of strength, started to regain their function, his skin repairing itself layer by layer. It was a small victory when he could finally sit up on his own, albeit shakily, and later, with gritted determination, take his first steps toward using the personal facilities. The experience was humbling. The shyness that came with requesting assistance for something as basic as relieving himself was met with gentle amusement from the nurses, their lighthearted teasing helping to alleviate the frustration of his helplessness.
Two more days passed, and with them came a long-awaited milestone—partial recovery. He was transferred from critical care to the rehabilitation ward, where physical therapy sessions and mobility exercises began in earnest. It was during this transition that Percy overheard a passing conversation between Nurse Rake and Dr. Mahindra.
"Two months?" The words rang in his head like a death knell. He had been unconscious for two whole months.
His mind raced with implications—his school life, the academic term, the crucial mid-term exams he had inevitably missed. A conversation with the principal was unavoidable, another burden added atop the pile of concerns he was already juggling. But even as the weight of these responsibilities pressed against him, Percy swallowed the frustration, forcing himself to prioritize. One step at a time.
Yet, physical recovery was only half the battle.
The first time a tray clattered to the ground in the hallway, the sharp, metallic echo sent Percy spiraling. His breathing grew erratic, his vision swam, and an uncontrollable tremor seized his limbs. The hospital walls blurred, replaced by flickering memories—flashes of chaos, the deafening roar of battle, the searing agony in his body. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to anchor himself to the present.
"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. That's what they call it."
The staff quickly intervened, their voices soft, their hands steady as they helped him through it. But the episodes continued—unexpected loud noises, sudden movements, even the rhythmic beeping of the monitors would sometimes trigger waves of unease. It wasn't just his body that had been wounded—it was his mind.
Dr. Kaltman, the assigned psychologist, had been adamant about prioritizing his emotional recovery. After a few sessions, the doctor reached a decision.
"He's not ready to leave yet."
Percy wanted to protest. His body had made enough progress, his strength was returning. But deep down, he knew the truth. The thought of stepping outside, of returning to a world that had continued moving without him, sent an unfamiliar shiver through him. He needed this. Whether he liked it or not.
Another two weeks. That was the compromise.
And then there was her.
The absence of his sister gnawed at him like an open wound. Days turned to weeks, yet she never came. The sister who had promised, who had always been there—where was she now? He had convinced himself, at first, that she was busy. Exams. Responsibilities. Something. Anything.
But the silence stretched on, and doubt began to creep in.
(She wouldn't just abandon me… right?)
Yet the longer he waited, the less certain he became.
The hospital's strict policy barring Percy from contacting the outside world—especially his sister—gnawed at him like an unsolved mystery. Dr. Kaltman's firm insistence that his sole priority should be his health made sense from a medical perspective, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. The isolation, compounded by the deafening silence from the one person he expected to be there, weighed on him, casting a shadow over his already fragile emotional state.
Percy had always remembered his little sister as warm, kind, and fiercely attached to him. No matter how many justifications he tried to conjure—her exams, her responsibilities—none of them explained why she hadn't visited even once. The gnawing uncertainty soon took a toll on him, and his health began to decline, prompting the doctors to place him under closer surveillance.
Desperate for answers, he attempted to reach out during one of his physical therapy sessions, pleading with the nurse to let him use a phone to contact his sister. His request was swiftly denied. The nurse's response, though delivered gently, left him even more bewildered. "I'm sorry, Mr. Magus, but we're under strict orders. You're not to contact anyone outside the hospital."
Percy felt the walls closing in. Why? What possible reason could there be to keep him completely cut off?
He confronted Dr. Kaltman about it in his next session, demanding an explanation. Her response was firm, her tone unyielding. "The most important thing you should be focusing on is your recovery. Everything else comes second. I understand your frustration, Percy, but my stance will not change."
That was the last straw.
The suspicion, the secrecy, the forced isolation—it all made his blood simmer beneath the surface. He clenched his jaw and resolved that, no matter what, he would get answers once he was out of this place.
Weeks passed, and Percy gradually regained his strength. The hospital eventually moved him from the rehabilitation ward to an observation room, a significant sign that he was nearing full recovery. Unlike the sterile, impersonal environment of his previous room, this one had a more comfortable feel—better furniture, a private bathroom, and most notably, a full-body mirror.
The first time he caught sight of himself in that mirror, he paused.
His complexion had fully returned to its natural sun-kissed tan, a stark contrast to the sickly pallor he had when he was first admitted. His black hair, once matted and uneven due to the toll of his injuries, had regrown thick and wavy, framing his striking features. But what stood out the most were his eyes—his golden-blue irises, previously dulled by fatigue and trauma, now gleamed with renewed vibrancy. Even his lips, once cracked and pale, had regained their healthy pink hue.
He barely recognized himself.
The change didn't go unnoticed. As he walked the hospital halls for his routine stretches, he became hyper-aware of the lingering stares from nurses, medical assistants, and even a few doctors. Some would do a double take, others fumbled with their paperwork in a feigned attempt to look busy, and a select few outright blushed when he made eye contact.
The stark difference in treatment was almost comical.
Before, when his body had been frail and unrecognizable, many had avoided making direct eye contact, haunted by his near-death appearance. Some of the newer nurses had even fainted the first time they laid eyes on him. But now? That eerie image had been replaced with something else entirely—something they coveted.
Some more than others.
By the second-to-last week of his hospital stay, Dr. Mahindra had officially signed off on his medical care. At this point, the only reason he remained in the hospital was for his ongoing sessions with Dr. Kaltman.
And much to her surprise, Percy's emotional recovery had progressed far faster than she had predicted.
"Percy how are you feeling?" she inquired, watching him closely.
"I'm doing well," he responded smoothly, his tone calm and self-assured.
Dr. Kaltman narrowed her eyes slightly. "Is there anything on your mind? Anything you'd like to discuss?"
Percy exhaled, leaning back against the chair. "Honestly? I know that what happened to me isn't something I'll ever forget, but I'm confident that I can return to my life with my head held high." He flashed her a small smile, one that was neither forced nor hollow, but genuine.
And that was the moment she felt it.
A strange, breath-stealing sensation that caught her completely off guard.
Throughout all their sessions, Percy had remained guarded—always staring blankly at her before responding, his emotions veiled behind an unreadable mask. She had worried at one point that he was exhibiting signs of bipolar disorder, but those concerns were dismissed when he spoke about his trauma with complete composure, devoid of stress or anxiety.
Yet now, with just one smile, she felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
It was ridiculous. Unprofessional.
Dr. Kaltman was renowned for her high standards when it came to a potential partner, yet here she was—speechless over a single expression from a patient.
But, regardless of any personal feelings, she knew she couldn't delay the inevitable.
Percy Magus was ready to leave.
On the final day of his hospital stay, Percy prepared himself with a newfound sense of ease. The moment he had long awaited had finally arrived—his discharge.
As he made his way through the hospital, he exchanged parting words with the staff, offering genuine gratitude to those who had helped him along his recovery. While some responded with warm smiles, others struggled to maintain professionalism, flustered under his gaze.
Reaching the reception desk, he handed over his discharge papers.
The receptionist took them, returning a bright smile. "It's wonderful to see you fully recovered, Mr. Magus. We're all going to miss you."
Percy, exuding confidence, smirked ever so slightly.
"This is the last time we'll see each other."
With those final words, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit, stepping out into the world once more.
Ready to find the truth.
Just as Percy was about to leave, he was halted once again.
"Now, how will you be paying your hospital bill?" the receptionist asked sweetly.
Percy froze mid-step, his expression utterly blank. "Eh?"
The receptionist giggled at his dumbfounded reaction. "Your bill, sweetheart~!"
When Percy took the invoice from her hands, his vision nearly blacked out. His fingers trembled as he read the ungodly number staring back at him.
A million dollars? Fifty thousand on top of that?! And don't even get him started on the thirty-seven cents.
"Surely, you didn't think all this was free, right?" she asked, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. But to Percy—who currently had exactly zero dollars and zero cents to his name—her smile was less "angelic" and more "devilish tax collector come to claim his soul."
He slowly turned his head, his gaze scanning the staff members who had "helped" him recover. Just days ago, he had seen them as kind-hearted healers, gentle souls dedicated to their craft.
Now?
Now, he saw them for what they truly were. Blood-sucking leeches. Predatory monsters who wouldn't hesitate to drain you dry—not of blood, but of every last cent in your pockets. And when you were nothing but a financially ruined husk? They'd bill you for that too.
"Percy? Percy!" The receptionist's saccharine voice snapped him back to reality. She leaned forward slightly, still beaming. "How will you be paying your balance of one million fifty thousand four hundred ninety-eight dollars and thirty-seven cents?"
Percy turned his head ever so slightly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I can't pay that amount right now."
"I'm sorry, what was that?" she said, cupping a hand behind her ear in mock concern. "You're a little hard to hear right now!"
Percy gritted his teeth.
"I said—I CAN'T pay that amount right now."
The receptionist gasped in exaggerated shock. "Oh nooo! You mean you can't pay? Well, that's quite the problem." She pouted dramatically before perking up again. "Buuut, since we're reasonable people, we'll let you go if you can pay at least half of it upfront!"
Percy narrowed his eyes. (Fake. Every bit of it.)
Before he could retort, his body tensed. A sudden, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor—so subtle that only the sharpest observer would have noticed.
The receptionist's cheerful façade faltered for a brief second. (What was that?)
But before she could press the issue, Percy's tone turned businesslike.
"Do you have a payphone nearby?"
Blinking at the unexpected request, she gestured off to the side. "Yeah, right over there."
Without another word, Percy turned and strode toward the phone, leaving the receptionist and the gathered staff whispering behind him.
"You think he's calling his sister?" one of them murmured.
"No way," another scoffed. "She didn't even visit him once while he was admitted. Why would she suddenly care now?"
Meanwhile, Percy picked up the receiver, dialed a completely fake number, and pressed the phone to his ear. His posture, his expression—everything about him looked convincing.
"Infinite Omega System," he spoke smoothly into the receiver. "You pinged. What do you want?"
A mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
{Master, it is time to cash in the life/death benefit.}
Percy was stunned. Over the past three weeks, he had familiarized himself with the abilities granted by the welcome packages, but their true value was only now beginning to sink in.
Eternal Lucky Charm – Grants the owner a passive boost in luck. [However, be warned: the luckier you become, the unluckier you may be later.]Life/Death Benefits – Due to the abrupt end of your karmic life cycle, Destiny & Fate have granted you the ability to withdraw substantial sums from your universal bank account—within reason. [However, excessive withdrawals will result in a penalty three times the withdrawn amount.]Absolute Immunity – Grants the user total invulnerability to all harm—be it poison, physical damage, or otherwise. [However, while this ability is active, the owner loses all emotions. Prolonged exposure may result in irreversible detachment.]
At first glance, Percy had dismissed these abilities as gimmicks. But in time, he realized they were far more powerful than he had initially thought. The excitement of finally being discharged had made it difficult to restrain himself, but somehow, he had managed.
Now, however, he was faced with a pressing issue.
"Alright, so how do I actually use this benefit?" Percy asked, frowning slightly.
{Master, you can withdraw the funds directly from your account. There's no need for physical cash. Just use the debit card I provided you.}
A notification appeared before his eyes. As he opened it, a dazzling card materialized in his vision. It wasn't just any debit card—it was forged from pure, flawless diamond, with his name etched in gold.
Percy blinked, momentarily stunned.
"This is... absolutely insane," he muttered, running a finger over its pristine surface. "But there's still a problem."
The system remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate.
"I can't just walk up to the counter and slap this thing down," he reasoned. "I was admitted to this hospital three months ago with nothing but the clothes on my back. If I suddenly pull out a diamond-encrusted card, they'll start asking questions."
{…}
{Master, you are overthinking it. Just pay the bill and leave. What are they going to do, arrest you for settling your medical expenses? Stop worrying and go.}
Percy exhaled, feeling slightly ridiculous. Yeah... The system's right. The moment I settle the bill, they have no reason to keep me here any longer.
Hanging up the fake phone call, he strolled back to the reception desk, still mulling over the system's uncharacteristic tone. (Was it just me, or did it sound… irritated?)
"Hello again," he greeted the receptionist, feeling oddly awkward.
The girl looked up and gave him a polite—if somewhat skeptical—smile. "Yes, sir?"
"I'd like to pay my bill with this," he said, sliding the diamond card across the counter.
The receptionist picked up the card and examined it with obvious confusion. But, trained to process payments and not question them, she typed in the necessary details and submitted the bill for processing.
Percy swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious. What if it gets declined? What if this whole thing was a system glitch? What if—
Approved.
The green checkmark on the screen almost made him exhale in relief. The receptionist blinked, eyes slightly widening before handing back his card.
"You're all set. Have a great day, Mr. Magus."
Percy took the card and turned to leave when—
"U-um!"
He paused. Turning back, he found the receptionist fidgeting, her cheeks tinged pink.
"C-can I get your number?" she asked, her voice laced with nervous anticipation.
For a moment, Percy was taken aback. Then, he chuckled, finding her flustered expression oddly endearing.
"Ah, sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "My phone was destroyed in the accident. But tell you what—I'll give you my home number. When I get a new phone, I'll call you."
Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, but she quickly handed over her phone. After entering his number, he returned it to her with a smirk before bidding a final farewell.
As Percy reached the hospital's exit, he hesitated.
The doors stood before him—just a step away.
Excitement, eagerness, curiosity, hope… all swelled within him, making his chest feel light, almost weightless.
But then—sadness.
Pain.
Confusion.
Like invisible chains, the emotions gripped him, refusing to let him take that final step. For months, this hospital had been both his prison and his sanctuary. The moment he walked through those doors, he would be stepping back into a world that had moved on without him.
A world where his sister hadn't visited him.
A world where everything had changed.
Could he really just walk out and pretend everything was fine?
His hand clenched into a fist.
"So much has happened in just three months…" Percy murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
"I fought for my freedom and won. I secured my own wealth. Then, just as I thought I had control over my life, I was struck by lightning—killed in one world, only to awaken in another. A world unlike anything I've ever known."
His gaze lingered on the doors ahead, the weight of everything pressing down on his chest.
And yet… his thoughts darkened. (In all this time, my sister never reached out. No call, no message—nothing.) A bitter chuckle left his lips. (Looking back, I feel lost… but for some reason, it's not unbearable. Because no matter what, at every step of the way, you've been there.)
A presence, unwavering.
{Master,} the system's voice resonated in his mind, steady and absolute. {You do not need to carry this burden alone. I will always be by your side. No matter what path you take—whether you descend into madness, become a murderer, or rise as a tyrant feared by the world—one truth will never change.}
{We are bound by destiny.}
{If your uncle dares to stand against you, if your sister turns her back on you, if the world itself seeks your destruction… know this.}
{I will be there. Always.}
A quiet exhale left Percy's lips, the words offering some small measure of comfort. But the storm within him did not settle.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. His heart pounded in his chest.
"Beyond these doors… everything changes, doesn't it?" His voice was steady, but beneath it, an unspoken tremor of anticipation.
{Yes.}
A beat of silence. Then—
{Are you ready?}
A slow smile formed on Percy's lips. It wasn't one of certainty, nor of reassurance. But it was real.
"Yes," he said, stepping forward. "I am."