Noah stepped back into the village at dawn.
The first light of day washed over the quiet rooftops, casting long shadows through the mist. Chickens stirred in their pens. A few farmers dragged their tools to the fields, yawning—until they saw him.
Mud-covered.
Blood-stained.
Eyes glowing faintly violet.
They froze. Stared.
One of them whispered, "He was gone for two nights."
"Shouldn't've survived that storm…"
Noah walked past them without a word. Mira followed close behind, silent and alert.
[Vital Signs Stable | Adaptation Efficiency: 122%]
[Body Integrity: 84% – Minor Internal Damage Reconstructing]
He didn't limp. He didn't wince. But every step carried a weight. A wrongness. As if the world no longer aligned with him perfectly.
When they reached the healer's hut, Mira opened the door and ushered him inside.
The old woman, Yura, blinked twice before speaking. "What in the Skyfather's name…"
"He needs rest," Mira said sharply. "And silence."
Noah sat down slowly on the edge of the cot. He glanced at his arm—the one that withered during the Core absorption. It still looked… off. Veins blackened near the elbow. Fingers slightly longer than before.
He could feel something inside them twitching. Not muscle.
Not human.
Yura approached cautiously, placing a trembling hand near his chest. A faint blue light pulsed from her palm.
She gasped.
"What did you do, child?"
Noah looked up at her, eyes unreadable.
"I didn't do anything."
[System Notice: You are being scanned by a Tier-0 Healing Art.]
[Insufficient rank to detect structural modifications.]
Yura backed away. "Your spiritual body… it's fragmented. No. It's… layered."
Mira spoke up. "He touched a core. A sealed one. It cracked."
Yura stared at her, horrified. "That should have killed him. Or worse."
Noah muttered, "It almost did."
Silence followed. The air in the hut thickened with unspoken questions.
Finally, Yura sighed. "Stay. Rest. But whatever you brought back… keep it leashed."
That Night
Noah couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw things—memories that weren't his. Warriors battling in golden fields. Beasts the size of mountains dying with roars that shattered continents. A woman with silver eyes whispering in a language older than the world.
And through it all—his own face. Staring back at him. Sometimes smiling. Sometimes dying.
He sat up, breathing hard.
[Memory Fragment Detected: Origin Echo Processing…]
[Disorientation Normal. Maintain consciousness.]
What am I becoming?
[Answer: The sum of those you outlive.]
The answer didn't help.
Noah walked outside into the cold.
The village was silent. Stars blinked above, but they looked farther away than usual.
Then a voice—low, cautious—broke the stillness.
"You're not the same kid I used to trip in the river."
Noah turned.
It was Yarik. The blacksmith's son. Older by two years. Bigger. Stronger. Used to mock Noah constantly when they were younger.
Noah stared at him without replying.
Yarik stepped forward. "What happened to your face, freak?"
Noah tilted his head. "Do you want to find out?"
Yarik flinched. Just for a second. "Heh. So you did go crazy out there."
Noah stepped forward.
Not running.
Not threatening.
Just… moving.
And Yarik took a step back without realizing.
Noah stopped inches away.
"You don't scare me," Yarik muttered.
"Good," Noah said. "Because if I wanted to scare you—"
He raised a hand. Just two fingers.
The air around them bent.
Yarik's eyes widened. He couldn't breathe. Pressure crushed down on his lungs. His knees buckled.
Then it was gone.
Noah lowered his hand. "—you'd never sleep again."
He walked away.
System Log Updated
[Social Standing Shifted: +Respect | +Fear | -Trust]
[Villager Affinity Matrix Updated.]
Noah didn't smile.
He didn't enjoy it.
But he understood it.
Power wasn't about being liked. It was about being untouchable.
And tonight, the village understood something new.
He was no longer one of them.