Morgath stirred, his senses slowly coming back to him. The familiar scent of his old bedroom filled his nose—the faint mustiness of the wooden walls, the soft, aged cotton of his sheets. He blinked, groggy at first, his body feeling surprisingly light. Too light.
His heart raced. The last thing he remembered was collapsing, the spell draining the life out of him. But now...?
He threw off the blanket, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down at his body. His legs—whole. No longer limp, no longer dead weight beneath him. His skin, once marred with scars from a lifetime of mishaps, injuries, and pain, was smooth, flawless. Not even a trace of the accident remained.
But one question gnawed at him, even as triumph began to bubble within his chest. Why had he fainted?
"System," Morgath called, his voice hushed but steady, "what happened? Did I overdo it? Is it always going to be like this—collapsing every time I cast something major?"
A soft chime echoed in his mind, the familiar voice of the System responding.
[No. The outcome was based on your intention behind the spell.]
Morgath furrowed his brow. "My intention?"
[Yes. Your wish was to heal yourself completely, immediately. As a result, the spell consumed nearly all of your mana, pushing you to the brink of collapse. Had your spell been less efficient, you could have faced far more severe consequences than just losing consciousness.]
He swallowed hard. "So... what should I have done?"
[You must approach these spells differently. Rather than aiming to complete the task in one go, it would have been wiser to wish for progress—to start the process of healing rather than finishing it in a single cast. This way, your body and mana could work in stages, allowing you to stop at any point without draining all your energy.]
Morgath let the words sink in. Progress, not perfection. He had pushed for immediate results, for the finish line, when he should have been pacing himself. "So, I almost burned out, huh?"
[Correct. You succeeded, but just barely. Next time, be cautious of how much you wish to accomplish at once.]
He nodded slowly. There was a quiet relief in knowing that he hadn't failed completely, but the lesson was clear. The System was warning him—if he wasn't careful, the next time he attempted something so reckless, the consequences could be far worse than just passing out.
For a moment, Morgath sat in silence, staring at his hands, flexing his fingers. He was whole again—more than whole. But this new power wasn't something to rush into without thought. It demanded patience, understanding.
With a newfound respect for the mana that had healed him, he whispered, "Thank you."
Morgath stood at the top of the staircase, his heart pounding in his chest. This was the moment of truth. He had healed, but now came the real challenge: convincing his parents he wasn't crazy. After the incident last night—collapsing, muttering those alien-sounding words—he could only imagine what they must be thinking.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. The smooth wood of the banister felt foreign under his hand. It was the first time in months that he was doing it without help. One step after the other, Morgath descended the stairs, each step solid, confident.
As he reached the bottom, he heard his father's voice from the living room, tension thick in his tone.
"I don't care what he says, Angela. After what happened last night... those words... We need professional help. He could have brain damage!" His father was pacing, phone in hand, mid-dial.
Morgath's blood ran cold. A psychiatrist? No. That would only complicate things.
Just in time, he crossed the threshold into the living room. "Dad, stop!"
His father froze, phone halfway to his ear. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Morgath, standing there on his own two feet, no wheelchair in sight. His mother gasped, one hand flying to her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Morgath?" His father's voice was barely a whisper.
He sighed with relief, lowering his hand. Crisis averted. The last thing he needed was for anyone outside the family to start prying into his recovery. Especially since he had no way to explain it.
"Listen, I know what you're thinking," Morgath started, his voice calm but firm. "I'm fine. I'm not brain-damaged, and I haven't lost my mind."
His parents exchanged a look, disbelief etched across their faces.
"How is this possible?" his mother asked, stepping forward, her eyes scanning his body as if searching for any trace of the injuries that had once defined him. "You... you gave up. The doctors said... We thought you couldn't recover."
Morgath took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. "I didn't give up. I just learned something—something that's beyond what most people can understand right now."
His father's expression darkened. "What are you talking about?"
"I can't explain everything." He couldn't tell them about the System. "But I need you to trust me. What I'm about to say... it might sound strange, but it's important. There's something coming, something big. The universe... it shared knowledge with one person from every intelligent species. I'm one of them."
His father's brow furrowed, skepticism clear. "The universe? Morgath, this is—"
"Please, just hear me out." Morgath raised his hands, cutting his father off. "I don't expect you to believe everything right away, but in a few months, the world is going to change. The spiritual energy has arrived in our universe—it's going to start manifesting soon. It'll condense into stones, and those stones will change everything. People will start to investigate them, awaken to new powers, new abilities, but it'll happen slowly for most. Only a few of us are aware of what's coming."
His mother shook her head, overwhelmed. "And how do you know this? Why you?"
"Because," Morgath said, his voice steady, "I was chosen, just like others across the universe. We're not the only ones. The knowledge has been passed down to one person from each intelligent species. I can't explain why or how, but I know this: I'm not crazy, and I didn't make this up. My recovery alone should be enough proof."
His parents stared at him in silence, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
"And I need you to keep this between us," Morgath added, his tone softening. "If this information spreads before the right time, it could cause chaos. Mankind isn't ready for what's about to happen. The world is divided, and we can't afford to add more uncertainty or panic to the mix. Additionally I want to use those few months where I'm the only one who knows it for my benefit, to become stronger before others even catch a wind of it. After all, I'm not resistant to modern weapons, yet. It this information was to disclose now I could be apprehended and used like a lab rat. The others will learn about it soon enough, once the stones start to appear, but for now... we need to be careful."
His father sat down heavily on the couch, his hand running through his hair. "This is... a lot to take in, Morgath."
"I know," Morgath replied. "And I don't expect you to understand it all right away. But please, just trust me. I wouldn't ask you to keep this secret if it wasn't important."
His mother stepped forward, placing a hand gently on his arm. "You're walking, Morgath," she whispered, her voice full of awe. "You're really walking."
He nodded, offering her a small smile. "I am."
His father looked up, still shaken but with a hint of acceptance in his eyes. "Alright. We'll keep it quiet."
"Thanks, now let's sit down. I will explain what I know."
Morgath watched as the weight of his words sank into his parents, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. His father, still seated on the couch, stared at the floor, processing everything. His mother stood next to him, her hand resting on his arm, her face lined with concern and pride.
"This... all of this," his father began, his voice low, "it's hard to wrap my head around, Morgath. But if what you're saying is true, we're about to face something the world isn't prepared for." He looked up, meeting his son's gaze. "You're asking us to trust you with a secret that could change everything. And I believe you. It's just... a lot."
Morgath nodded. "I know, Dad. I wouldn't ask you to keep this quiet if it wasn't for a reason. But once things start happening, you'll see that I'm not wrong. I just need time."
His father, Thomas, exhaled deeply, glancing at his wife before speaking again. "Alright. We'll keep it between us. But Morgath, this world you're describing... it sounds dangerous."
"It is," Morgath admitted, "but it's also full of opportunity. You don't have to worry. I'll make sure you and Mom are safe."
His mother, Angela, stepped forward, worry creasing her features. "But what about you, Morgath? What does all of this mean for you?"
Morgath hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It means that I'm... different now. After what I've learned—after healing myself—I realize that I'm not like you and Dad anymore." He gestured vaguely around them, to the familiar surroundings of the home where he had grown up. "You both want peace. A quiet, happy life. And that's great, but... I need more. I have to get stronger. I can feel it inside me—the desire to grow, to push beyond the limits of what's possible."
Angela's face fell, her eyes searching his. "Morgath, we want you to be happy. But what are you saying? That you're leaving?"
He nodded slowly. "I have to. I need space to cultivate, to focus on my training without distractions. I've been thinking... there's that unused plot of land we own, the one on the edge of the city. Could I take it over? It's far enough from here that I won't disturb you, but close enough that I can still help if you need anything."
His father frowned, exchanging a glance with his mother. "That land's just sitting there. We bought it years ago, but never did anything with it. It's empty, Morgath. There's nothing there—no buildings, no utilities. How do you plan to live out there?"
Morgath smiled faintly, the confidence in his voice undeniable. "I don't need much. A tent will do for now. Later, when I've honed my skills, I can manifest a proper building using the true language. I have the power to do it."
Thomas stared at his son, a mixture of pride and unease crossing his face. "If this is what you want..." he trailed off, clearly hesitant, but ultimately nodding. "It's yours. We never had plans to develop it, it was just an investment in case the price of lands in that area increases. Just promise us that you'll stay safe. Don't push yourself too hard."
"I won't, Dad." Morgath turned to his mother, who was biting her lip, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Mom... I'll come back when I can. I know this is hard, but I need this time. And I'll make sure that when the time comes, you both can live peacefully, without worry. I promise."
Angela shook her head, wiping her eyes. "I just don't want to lose you again, Morgath. I don't want you to disappear into this... this world of cultivation and forget about us."
Morgath stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "I could never forget you. But I have to do this. It's the only way to protect you, to make sure that when the world changes, we're ready."
She held him tightly, reluctant to let go. "Just... don't stay away too long."
They stood there for a long moment, the weight of their impending separation heavy between them. Finally, Morgath pulled away, giving his father a firm nod.
"I'll head out soon. There's no time to waste."
His father stood and clasped Morgath's shoulder. "Go do what you have to do, son. We'll be here when you're ready to come back."
With that, Morgath turned and made his way to the door, his heart heavy but resolute. He had made his decision. As much as he loved his parents, their path was no longer his. He was on the edge of something far greater, and he couldn't afford to let anything—or anyone—hold him back now.