[Body in critical condition: All limbs are broken, bones fractured, heavy brain damage, skull fracture, massive blood loss...]
[Warning: Death is possible]
[Must not let human die.]
[Commencing emergency healing...]
[Healing all injuries...]
---
It was black—pitch black. A void of nothingness. Was this death? It sure felt like it.
I floated, or maybe I didn't. It was impossible to tell. My senses were gone, stripped bare like leaves in the wake of winter's wrath. The silence was deafening, the kind that makes you wonder if you're even thinking. But then, like an uninvited guest, memories clawed their way back.
The Gates of Traversy. The fall.
Oh, yeah. I broke through the Gate, didn't I? And then… nothing. Just the sky, a fleeting moment of freedom, followed by the unforgiving ground. Classic Lance—survive the impossible just to die in the dumbest way imaginable.
---
When consciousness returned, it was like being dragged through shards of glass. My entire body ached, but aching was good. It meant I wasn't dead. Yet.
The first thing I noticed was the cushion beneath me. Soft, far too soft for the hellscape I was used to. Where was I? My blurred vision eventually cleared, revealing a barren room—if you could even call it that. Four walls, a bed, and a door. No windows. No weapon.
My spear. I reached for it instinctively, only to find my hand grasping at air.
I sat up, every muscle screaming in protest, but panic doesn't care about pain. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of fractured memory. Revenants? No. This didn't feel like their style. Kidnappers? Maybe. Or worse—another one of the system's twisted games.
Speaking of the system...
The system. It had to be the system. Again.
This wasn't the first time it had pulled me back from the brink of death. No, the system seemed hell-bent on keeping me alive. Not out of kindness or mercy, though. If anything, it felt... spiteful. Like some twisted parent yanking their reckless child out of danger only to shove them back into the fire.
"Thanks for the save, I guess," I muttered bitterly, though I doubted it cared. It was like a sadistic puppeteer, yanking the strings just to watch me dance. It kept me alive, yes—but only just alive. Always on the brink, always struggling, always stuck.
Before I could spiral too deep into self-pity, a sound cut through the silence—the faint creak of a door.
Instincts that I had honed for many years took over. I was off the bed in a flash, ignoring the blinding pain as I braced myself for a fight. Whoever dared step into this room wasn't walking out unscathed. My fist was cocked, ready to deliver a blow that would shatter bone—
—and then I froze.
Standing before me wasn't a Revenant or a soldier or even some kidnapper. It was… a child.
A human child.
She was tiny, with blonde hair that glimmered like sunlight and wide, pearly blue eyes filled with fear. Her pale skin seemed almost translucent under the dim light, and she clutched the hem of her skirt with trembling hands.
My fist hovered inches from her face. One wrong move, one reflex too late, and her head would've been pulp.
"A… human?" The word stumbled out of my mouth, heavy with disbelief. I hadn't seen another human in fifty years.
The girl didn't respond. She just stared at me, frozen in fear. Her lips quivered before she let out a shriek—high-pitched and piercing—and bolted out of the room, her tiny feet pattering against the wooden floor.
Then came voices.
Outside, muffled voices followed her cries. But they weren't the guttural growls of Revenants or the eerie whispers of the damned. No, these were… normal. Human.
"Baby, are you okay?" A deep, masculine voice—steady but concerned.
"The man is scary, Papa!" That was the girl, her voice cracking with fear.
"I told you to leave him in the forest, Leon!" This voice was sharper, a woman's voice, laced with anger. "We don't know where he came from! And now look—our child is terrified!"
"Would you rather I let him die?" the man, presumably Leon, shot back. His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a hint of frustration. "He was injured. What kind of person would I be if I left him to be eaten alive?"
They were talking about me.
I pushed the door open, slowly, cautiously. The murmuring stopped as the family turned to face me.
The girl—blonde and teary-eyed—hid behind the man I assumed was her father. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and rugged, with dark hair and a face that looked like it had seen its share of battles. The woman beside him was striking, with sharp features and an expression that could curdle milk.
They all stared at me like I was some wild animal. To be fair, I probably looked the part—disheveled, bloodstained, and still radiating the kind of energy that screamed don't mess with me.
And then the system chimed in, as if I wasn't dealing with enough already.
[Warning: Detecting WBS for the first time...]
WBS? What fresh hell was this?
Before I could even ask, the system, as if it could read my mind, helpfully clarified:
[WBS, or more commonly known as World-Bound Souls, are souls bound to their world, unable to traverse the Layers. They are not Runners.]
"World Bound Souls?" I repeated, frowning. "So... they're human, but not from my world."
For a moment, I felt… something. Envy, maybe. Or pity. The system treats Runners like some sort of reward, when it reality it is not. Supernatural powers, mana, magical abilties. They all came with a price. The endless struggle. And yet, they stood here, in this tiny pocket of safety, living lives untouched by the madness I'd endured for decades.
The explanation raised more questions than answers. What was this place? Who were these people? And why was I here?
The family stared at me, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity. I stared back, trying to make sense of the situation.
Fifty years without human contact, and now this.
I wasn't sure if I should feel relieved or terrified.