The sound of splintering glass tore through the air.
Tyrius opened his eyes slowly. Translucent fractures—vast and jagged—were spreading through the air around the clearing.
Far above, a lone bolt of lightning hung suspended in the sky, casting its harsh light over the forest below. Its jagged form looked menacing—but something was wrong.
The semi-transparent fractures distorted everything they touched. Even space itself seemed to bend in their presence. Trees, stones, and light all warped unnaturally along those lines, twisting like a straw submerged in water. Everything felt disconnected—but the distortions weren’t the only problem.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
The realization hit like a weight.
The world around Tyrius had frozen. Slowly, he lowered his gaze in bewilderment. His eyes darted to the raindrops hanging motionless in the air—then settled on Marcus.
Frozen mid-strike.
His sword hovered inches from Tyrius’ throat.
Tyrius raised a trembling hand, turning it over—and scooped a few drops from the air. As they touched his skin, their time resumed, and the water drizzled away from his palm.
But why can I move…?
“All because of you, huh?”
The voice behind him was deep. Gravelly. It clawed at his bones.
Tyrius froze. His blood turned to ice.
Moments ago, he had made peace with death—but those words filled him with a fear he hadn't known was possible.
Without thinking, he threw himself forward, scrambling away from the voice. He hit the ground hard, rolled onto his back and whipped his head around—
No one was there.
The empty space behind him was somehow worse. The absence of the speaker unsettled him more than if someone had been standing over him.
Where is he?!
His breath came fast—too loud in the dead stillness. He scanned the clearing in a panic.
Nothing moved.
No wind.
No sound.
Only the pounding of his own heartbeat—like war drums echoing through a broken world.
“All for him.”
The voice came again.
Over there!
Tyrius’ head snapped back. His eyes locked onto a tall, hooded figure standing over the remains of his mother’s body.
The man’s head hung limply as he stared down at her, his black robes draped over him, shimmering with a strange texture—rich, unplaceable, and wrong.
Tyrius had never felt a skill activate before. He didn’t even know what it was supposed to feel like. But the moment his gaze landed on the stranger, something shifted.
His ability—[Spiritual Sensitivity]—began screaming at him.
Tyrius didn’t understand it fully.
But he knew.
He doesn’t belong in this world.
“Sorry I was late again,” the man said quietly, still not looking away from Lillia’s broken form.
For a long moment, he just stood there.
Does.. does he know her?
Mom never mentioned anyone like this before…
“I’d say it wasn’t my fault this time,” the man continued. “But maybe I should come clean—just this once.”
Was that... regret?
Surely something like him couldn’t feel something so human.
Tyrius dared not move. He couldn’t even breathe.
They stayed like that—him frozen, the man unmoving.
Then he was gone.
Did I blink?
Tyrius turned his head—and froze.
The man’s face was inches from his own. The shadow cast over from his hood was dense, but Tyrius could make out some features.
Dark brown eyes, emotionless and ancient, studied him with unnerving calm. Loose strands of hair framed his sharp features—each bone and angle carved like stone.
“Why?” the man asked simply.
It hit like a brick.
What do you mean—why? Why what? What if I answer wrong? Is he going to kill me?
Words froze in Tyrius’s throat. He didn’t know how to respond to something so vague—so loaded. The fear of saying the wrong thing rooted him in place.
“Why?”
The question came again, sharper this time. No amusement. No patience.
“Wh-why what? Why what, sir?” Tyrius stammered, forcing the words through a tight throat. He tried to smile—thin and polite—hoping the added courtesy might placate the being.
The figure just stared.
Seconds stretched. The silence pressed in. Tyrius felt the smile begin to slip as a cold bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.
And then—he saw it.
Just for a moment. A flicker behind those emotionless eyes. A twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Was that... amusement?
But before he could be sure, the man was gone.
Damn it. Did I blink again?
Where does he keep going?
“I said... why?”
The voice echoed from all sides—low, steady, thunderous.
Tyrius whipped his head around, searching the clearing. That strange sensation in the back of his mind was growing stronger now.
Ever since he’d seen the man, it had been there—an itch in his thoughts. Like something nudging him. Pulling him onward.
He let it guide him.
His skill—[Spiritual Sensitivity]—was reaching out. Helping him.
Whispering truths he didn’t understand.
But why now? Lesser skills weren’t supposed to activate like this…
Stop getting distracted. Focus.
“Why. Did. Lillia. Give. Her life. For you?”
Each word came like the swing of a hammer—measured, deliberate, inescapable.
Each word hit like a drumbeat, each from a different direction. Tyrius spun in place, searching. He thought—no, felt—the faintest shadows moving just out of sight.
I don’t know. I don’t know!
“Answer.”
The command was final.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Tyrius’s mouth opened, but his voice cracked.
“Because... she was my mother?”
It sounded more like a question than a defense. His voice trembled. So did he.
A bone-chilling laugh followed. The sound echoed from everywhere—closing in.
He felt the blood drain from his face. His limbs went numb.
He knew he had answered wrong immediately. Sweat gathered on his forehead. His breath was growing ragged.
“Because she was your mother?” the man sneered, mocking. His voice was distant like a ghost in the night.
“Of course she did it because she was your mother. That’s what mothers do.” His tone shifted—flat, stern, and heavy.
Tyrius blinked.
The man was standing over him.
Far above, the frozen lightning bolt lit the sky—its pale light casting the figure’s towering shadow across Tyrius.
He loomed, hood drawn low, the darkness beneath it so complete that not even a hint of his face could be seen now.
Tyrius gasped and scrambled backward, falling onto his back in a panic.
He’s dead serious.
A ripple of energy pulsed outward from the man. Tyrius froze at its touch, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes locked onto the stranger’s.
“Do you fear me?” the man asked coldly, his voice dry and dismissive. His gaze bore into Tyrius like a weight.
“Y-yes,” Tyrius choked out, nodding weakly.
“Good. An honest answer.”
The figure vanished.
Then—he was crouched over Tyrius, nose to nose.
“Let’s try this again,” he said. “Why?”
The same question.
It irked him more than he realized.
He had just lost everyone he considered family—
And now this stranger… interrogating him like it was all his fault.
His frustration boiled over.
“I don’t know why she did it.” Tyrius blurted out.
“I don’t know why George did it either. I never asked for any of this. I never wanted people to die for me!.” The words came faster now, spilling out of him.
Anger. Grief. Guilt. All tangled together in his chest.
The man didn’t speak. He only stared—unmoving, unreadable. Then, with an imperceptible nod, he turned away.
For the first time, Tyrius saw him move like a man—not a phantom.
He walked with effortless grace, circling Marcus’ frozen form before returning to Lillia’s body.
As he passed, the suspended raindrops shifted—rippling and dancing around him, parting as if unwilling to touch him.
Each droplet drifted back to its place, resuming its perfect stillness the moment he passed.
“Well now, that is a shame.”
The man’s voice was deep—and laced with sorrow.
With the barest shake of his head, he dropped to one knee. The mud squelched beneath him.
Tyrius almost gasped.
He kneeled?
A being like this—kneeling? Dirtying his robes without hesitation?
Even the earth felt unworthy of touching him.
Gently, the man reached into the small divot where his mother’s torso had lain. He pulled free the black stone she had tried to give Tyrius—now slick with her blood.
Red drops slid down his fingers, pooling at his wrist before falling silently to the ground. He turned the relic over in his palm for a moment, studying it.
Then his gaze returned to what remained of Lillia.
“Did you hear that, Lillia?” he muttered—barely audible. A scoff followed. “I’m afraid your death may have been in vain. What a pity.”
His tone was mournful. Mocking.
“You traded your life for his, and he doesn’t even know why.”
He looked back to the stone in his hand. With precise care, he lifted it between his fingers. A light squeeze—
Crk—
White fractures spread across its surface. It shattered into dust.
“Hey! Stop! That was Mom’s! Why did you break it!?” Tyrius yelled.
The man turned his head so fast, Tyrius barely saw the motion.
The stranger’s brown eyes locked onto his.
And Tyrius immediately regretted speaking.
“You don’t even understand her sacrifice,” the man said coldly, dust falling from his fingers. “Yet you think you’re worthy of questioning this?”
Under normal circumstances, Tyrius would’ve bristled.
This stranger appeared out of nowhere, asked impossible questions, and shattered the one thing his mother had tried to give him.
But now?
The buzzing in his skull was deafening. Every fiber of his being screamed:
This man is power.
More power than Tyrius had ever felt.
And it was growing.
“No,” the man said. “You know nothing.”
“That crystal was mine. Lillia was allowed to hold it—for a time. That time is over. It has served its purpose.”
What is he talking about…?
“So, Tyrius,” he said, his voice turning glacial.
How does he know my name?
“Since you seem to be lacking so much knowledge at the moment...”
He rose to his full height—casting a long shadow over Tyrius that stopped just short of swallowing him.
“Allow me to teach you a few things.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
It wasn’t a threat.
It was inevitable.
With slow, measured steps, the man began to circle Tyrius, his hands clasped behind his back like a sage.
“She sacrificed herself for you. She gave her life so that you could live.”
“Well, y—” Tyrius tried to interject. Of course he knew that was true at some level.
“And yet,” the man continued, speaking right over him, “you lie before me... dying.”
“Dying? What d—?” Tyrius asked, his concern breaking through.
“Your soul, boy.”
“You've been leaking life essence this entire time we've been speaking.”
Tyrius’s eyes widened. He turned inward—felt it. The faint trickling sensation deep within, like warmth slipping from a crack inside his chest. It had been there ever since he was struck with that lightning bolt.
That's my soul? And its draining away? That's bad right?
How do I stop it?
He focused, panicked, trying to squeeze down on the sensation—compress it, twist it, fold it, anything. But nothing worked.
It kept slipping. And the longer he felt it, the more he noticed the edges of his body were growing cold, like the leak was pulling the heat from his limbs.
Am I going to die?
The realization scared him more than any event he had experienced tonight.
He’d already accepted death once tonight. Twice, even.
But this—this was different. This wasn’t death from weakness.
This was death from ignorance.
And that… that made him angry.
“I can help you, you know.”
The man had stopped circling. He stood tall, directly above Tyrius now, looking down.
He can save me?
“How do I fix it?” Tyrius asked, eyes wide, voice rising with urgency. “I’ll do anything.”
For the first time, he didn’t look at the man with fear—but with defiance.
“Ho-ho…” He let out a low chuckle.
“I don’t think you could pay the price.”
“I’ll pay any price,” Tyrius snapped. “As long as I get to live. As long as I get to see more of this world.”
He struggled to his feet, swaying, but held his gaze high.
He wanted the man to see his resolve.
A crack of amusement tugged at the man’s lips.
“Perhaps,” he muttered, “your mother’s sacrifice wasn’t wasted after all.”
He reached up and pulled back his hood.
He looked young—no older than Tyrius’s mother had been. A chiseled jaw lined with rough stubble, sharp features, unmistakably masculine.
“You will give me your life,” he said, tone shifting. “For the foreseeable future.”
His eyes bore down into Tyrius like a blade.
“Done.”
The moment the word left Tyrius’s mouth, something wrapped around his soul.
He had still been clenching it, futilely trying to stop the leak—but now… now something else gripped it.
It pulled.
Like unseen fingers prying open his own, one by one, tearing away his resistance.
And then—
SNAP
A force rushed through him.
A searing pain erupted from his chest.
Tyrius cried out and dropped to the ground, clutching his chest as his body twisted.
He curled in on himself, writhing, as the pressure inside him turned to agony.
Where once he had stemmed the leak, now it felt like someone was squeezing—trying to drain everything from him.
He’s killing me!
The man knelt beside Tyrius’ head.
“Do you want to live?” he whispered into his ear.
Tyrius could barely hear him over the pain. His body twisted and convulsed, unresponsive. He wanted to listen—but he couldn’t move.
Rough fingers gripped his chin. The man’s hand was calloused, firm, unyielding. Tyrius was lifted from the ground, his face forced upward.
Their eyes locked. The man’s gaze burned—not with anger, but with purpose.
“DO YOU?”
The voice didn’t just echo—it rippled through the air.
Tyrius’ soul continued to drain. The darkness crept closer now, curling in from the edges of his vision. But—he managed a small, trembling nod.
Instantly, warmth surged around him.
My soul stopped leaking!
Then a surge of heat flared through his shoulder, causing him to grunt. The unknown force intensified, seemingly burning his wound—until, with a violent force, his missing arm erupted from the mangled flesh.
The searing pain quickly dulled into something warm, even comforting.
The effort drained what little he had left. Tyrius let himself fall into the sensation.
It felt like a thick, soft blanket had wrapped itself around his body—shielding him from the cold, from death, from everything.
The man released him, and Tyrius collapsed back into the mud.
Only now, the mud didn’t feel so cold. It felt safe. Exhaustion quickly took hold of the boy.
Above him, the man rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully.
“Do you know why I’m here, boy?”
The man’s voice sounded distant to Tyrius, and he could only shake his head weakly
The man grinned. Wicked. Sharp.
“Your mother gave her life so that you may live…”
“…I’m here to ensure that you do.”
The lines in the sky began to tremble. They twisted. Folded. Warped in on themselves—spiraling down toward them like reality was unraveling.
But Tyrius didn’t care.
His eyes were already shutting. He didn’t know if it was sleep, or the shock finally getting to him. He didn’t care.
Whatever. Let it come.
As darkness wrapped around the boy and took hold of his mind, he had but one thought.
Why does everyone keep throwing me on the ground today…?
—
Congratulations!
Skill [Spiritual Sensitivity (T0)] has met hidden requirements.
Hidden Requirement: Sense the presence of a Great Being.
Enhancing Lesser Skill…
[Spiritual Sensitivity (T0)] → [Spiritual Sensitivity (T0*)]
