Chương 1: New Lease

Two figures stood in the middle of an arena, watched by millions of citizens from dozens of worlds. Lights shined on their square platform, leaving not a single inch that could be hidden by shadows. On one side was Derek Brightblade, a copper-haired human with pale white flames orbiting around him. Luxurious robes of white and red were draped over him, and he wore a cocky smile upon his face.

Opposite to him was Cereweiss, a Ralasankar that resembled a half-octopus half-humanoid and who clasped hands with a tall floating angel made of ice. Pink, slimy tentacles fell from Cereweiss' head like dreadlocks that they swept aside. Their ice-cold red eyes and scowling expression was only broken when Derek taunted them by blowing a kiss. In return, they bared their wicked sharp teeth at the hotheaded human.

Both sides were waiting for the bell to ring, for the announcer to chop with his hand, before they went at each other's throats. Each of the fighters was strong enough to hold their breath for hours, so neither showed a single hint of movement until… RRRRINNNGGGG!

"GO!" the announcer shouted, and the two figures blurred on the stage. The cameras picked up the clanging sounds of their skills against each other, like steel against steel in a flurry. Gale winds exploded from the stage and cracks spread across the flooring under the weight of the two fighters' power. Then the stagelights whirred, cameras slowed, and those same figures came back into sight. They bore a thousand small wounds on their bodies that bled freely.

Derek huffed, the Brightflames for which he was named having grown smaller around him. But Cereweiss was even worse off, their angel having been melted half away. The little moment of disengagement was all they needed to use healing potions. It was an expensive expenditure, but one fighters on their level stomached for a chance at glory.

"Seraph, become my armour…" Cereweiss chanted once they were finished healing, and their angel opened up like a hollow shell. It draped over them, covering every inch in magical ice that leaked misty white smoke. A blade of frost crystallized from their right hand, aimed squarely at their opponent.

"Two birds with one stone, ever heard of that expression, squid-for-brains?" Derek scoffed, bringing all the flames circling him together between his hands.

"It seems our contestants are aiming to make their next clash their final one, dear audience! An homage to the swordfights of old? Or just fatigue from our epic tournament finally catching up t-" The fighters were annoyed enough at the announcer already, so they rushed in for their clash without waiting. Derek's flames condensed to a single point like a star between his hands. Cereweiss cleared the arena so fast their footholds broke apart behind them.

The two met a fraction of a second later, ice against fire, as Cereweiss' blade came within an inch of Derek's throat. Star that Ignites the Skies. A whistling sound, heightened to ear-piercing levels, burned across the arena. Shields went up around the audience stand as everything was engulfed in a massive light. And a dozen races from a dozen planets screamed in awe. Finally, the whistling receded, and the light along with it. Two dark shapes were within, but only one stood.

When the final motes of fire disappeared, Derek Brightblade was the victor. He was sweating on shaky knees, but still in better shape than his opponent. The area around Cereweiss was a crater peppered with flaming debris. No hint of the ice angel's armour remained on their laid out body. In its place instead were severe second and third-degree burns that disfigured them.

"And we have a winner!" the announcer shouted at the top of his lungs, and the audience erupted into cheers and confetti. Derek raised his hands waving to the crowd, plastering on his best smile for the cameras.

Ethan put down the tablet on his bedside table after turning down the volume. The rest of the stream was just a celebration of Derek Brightblade's victory after all. He'd be crowned a generational prodigy for this and his quick ascent through the fourth floor of the Realm Trial. Then he'd be given offers, promotions and enough money to do whatever he wanted with his life. He has such a cool Talent… Ethan thought, jealous.

He wished he had something as useful as Derek's Brightflame Manipulation, but it was one directly granted by the Gods. Someone like him would be lucky to awaken a Talent as useful as Cereweiss' Ice Angel instead. That was, if he could ever find a Talent stone, an impossibility by itself. The next Trial's in three days, right? Man… He'd seen advertisements for it and festivals being set up, even outside of his hospital room.

That was all normal people could do when the Realm Trial came around every decade, considering how expensive a single entry token was. Maybe I could've unlocked a powerful Talent if I'd scrounged up the money. People with strong Talents heal faster, right? Maybe it could've even saved me… No, gotta think positive, Ethan. What are what-ifs going to do for you anyways? He told himself as he rolled his strained wrists. Even holding a tablet for a while was apparently too much for him now.

He pushed himself up to his bed and sighed. His heart monitor kept beeping beside him, and that kept him from zoning out until the time of the surgery. Every passing second was more mounting pressure, and Ethan found himself fingering his family ring to distract himself. He pulled it away from his neck and turned it over again, reading the inscription one last time. Sole Kiryana Delofe, he repeated, just like he'd done a thousand times before. The words weren't in any language that Ethan knew.

It wasn't latin, or greek or anything from this world or any other world. He'd even tried scrounging up some money (when he could work, that is) to pay for a Designer who could translate it, but even they didn't know what the inscription meant. Sole Kiryana Delofe. Still, it brought him comfort. A nurse popped into his room and greeted him while he was transfixed with the ring. She flinched a little looking at him, and he couldn't blame her. He must've looked like a ghoul to her.

He'd had fair skin and black hair back when he was healthy, but now he looked sickly pale with oily split ends and a gaunt frame. Like a dead man walking. Not dead, Ethan. Not yet.

"Mr. Collins? You're awake. Are you feeling ready for the procedure?" She asked him. Ethan looked at the ring one last time, placing it and the cord it was attached to on his bedside table.

"I am now." She brought in a gurney, and some of the other nurses helped urge Ethan's body onto it slowly and carefully. He felt like a porcelain doll that would crack if handled just a tad bit roughly. Not after today, though. When this is over, I'll be the same as everyone else. They rolled him into the surgery room and his worries spiked. But he kept them down in his mind. Sole Kiryana Delofe, Sole Kiryana Delofe…

he told himself, and it even worked to get his hopes up a little bit before the mask came down and the anesthesia kicked in. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Coming out of anesthesia was a familiar experience to Ethan by this point. He let the haze of forced sleep fade away from his body as he was lowered onto his bed. It was hard to move afterwards for a while, but he chalked it up to him recovering from the surgery. They let him eat and rest, but ultimately, they had a verdict to give. Dr. Cooper walked into his room to deliver it.

"Ethan… we need to talk," he said, and Ethan's heart dropped. Dr. Cooper tried his best to put on a smile, but Ethan had dealt with him long enough to know it was a mask. This too was a familiar experience for him, but one that he'd prayed and hoped dearly not to hear again.

"How are you feel-""Spare me the smalltalk, doc. Did it work?" Ethan cut through. He'd had enough of being softened up before a crushing reveal. Dr. Cooper sighed before meeting Ethan's pleading eyes.

"I ran some tests with my Talent once we were done with the surgery and… there's no easy way to say this, Ethan, but we don't think it'll take," Dr. Cooper dropped the news on him. Ethan's head slumped downwards, and he lost the strength to move it even an inch.

"Is there… anything else we can try?" he asked hopefully. The pitiful expression that the doctor thought he had hidden well but was obvious to Ethan said everything he needed to hear. Ethan ran a slow hand down his chest, over the various surgery scars that had marred his body over time. Not a single one of them had done the job.

"If it failed, then… how long do I have left?" Ethan asked.

"We… don't know. It could be that your condition suddenly stabilizes. But… if it keeps worsening as it has, a week or so would be my best guess. Though with some intervention, we can keep you here to extend that as far as we can, and look for alternative methods if you prefer. Or… if you'd like to say any goodbyes,," Dr. Cooper offered, the last part more solemnly, as if he'd been trying to find his way to the words without being too obvious that there was no hope. Ethan let out a mirthless chuckle. Goodbyes?

To who?

"If I'm going to die, doc… I'd rather not spend my last days hopped up on drugs or plugged to a machine," Ethan told him. The man paused, but Ethan's expression let him know he was done with the pretenses. He straightened and gave a nod.

"I understand. I'll give you some time alone, and then we can talk about options?"

"... Yeah, sure." Dr. Cooper was out of the room quickly after that, which Ethan was thankful for. He didn't know how long he could've held his tears back. Once the dam broke, Ethan couldn't stop himself from crying. Tears flowed freely onto the white linen sheets of his bed. He placed his hands to his face, but the droplets found their way through the gaps between his fingers. And hiccuping sobs echoed around him for minutes. Gods, why? Why me? Haven't I suffered enough already?

Why can't you just give me a break already? Ethan wiped his nose with his elbow and reached over to his bedside table without looking. His hand scrounged for his ring, the one thing that brought him comfort in this world. But it was gone. He looked up and saw that there wasn't a trace of the thing left on the table. W-what? Did somebody take it? It angered Ethan, and he pushed himself off of his bed with immense effort. His legs were shaky, so he used the wall as support as he looked around. Where the hell is it?

What kind of sick thief steals a patient's ring? His anger grew the longer he went without finding the thing, and he pushed himself out of the room in a huff. There, under the clinically cold hospital lights that illuminated the hallway, he found the culprit. It was a tall bald man wearing a thick brown coat, and dangling from his gloved hand was the necklace that held his ring.

"Hey!" Ethan shouted—which sounded like a hoarse cough barely louder than normal speech—just as the man turned the corner.

"Come back here!" he shouted again, before starting into a coughing fit. Ethan stumbled across the hallway, painfully aware of the looks he was getting from the other patients. But he didn't care. He just wanted the damn ring back for a while before he died. Each step across the hallway was an effort, and Ethan forced his way through it, staying just out of reach of the thief the entire time. Some of the nurses tried to ask him, what was wrong, but Ethan kept on. Didn't they see the thief running away?

They should be chasing him!

"Mr. Collins, what are you doing? You're scaring the other patients!" One of them said, barring his way. Ethan recognized him for handling the rowdier patients.

"That thief took my ring!" Ethan shouted, annoyed.

"Who are you talking about?"

"The bald man in the coat? Didn't you see him?" Ethan asked.

"Mr. Collins, I really think you should get back to bed…"

"Not until I get it back!" He tried to thunder past, but the nurse grabbed onto Ethan firmly.

"You're acting unusual, sir. I'm going to have to take you back to your room." And give the thief the chance he needed to run away? Ethan wouldn't allow it, couldn't allow it. But he couldn't get out of the nurse's grasp either. He was just too pathetically weak. Instead, he had to try another way.

"I-I'm sorry, you're right… I… I just got some bad news and I guess it made me a little mad… Can you please just let me go? I promise not to cause any more problems…" He made the half-baked excuse quickly, but thankfully the nurse didn't care enough to press it. After taking a moment to look embarrassed, as the nurse returned to what were certainly more important duties, Ethan continued his chase of the specter on his own, but this time without all the shouting.

The thief went down more and more hallways, always just out of range. Until finally, they reached an abandoned floor of the hospital and a dead-end. The thief had nowhere to run, and it didn't seem like he would try either.

"You! I know you took my ring, now give it back!" Ethan shouted once he reached the dead-end himself. The bald man was shrouded in darkness. The lights on this floor of the building didn't work, so he couldn't see any hidden weapons the thief would've been holding. Doesn't matter. I'll get that ring back even if it kills me. Not like I have a lot of life left to lose anyway. The thief taunted him by showing the ring between his fingers, turning it around.

"'Sole Kiryana Delofe.' It's risky keeping an inscription in the old tongue like this."

"What are you talking about?" Ethan asked. And how can you read it in the dark?

"Your mother never got to tell you the meaning of those words, did she?" the bald man turned to Ethan, and for the first time, he got a look at his features. He had dark bags under his eyes, an unshaven beard and yellow teeth that stank of cigarettes. For a second, Ethan thought he noticed a pitying look upon the man's face. But none of that mattered to Ethan as much as the words the man said.

"You knew my mother?"

"I did. A long, long, long while ago. And that's not the only thing I know, kid. I know about your Talent killing you too, and I know just how to fix it." Ethan stared blank-faced at the man. I have a Talent? And there's a way to cure me? The questions piled into his mind. Before he could ask any of them, he saw the darkness around the man recede unnaturally, and Ethan realized too late that he wasn't just dealing with a thief. He was dealing with someone who had a Talent himself. A Designer.

Fear took control of his body in an instant. Shivering sweats rolled down his head as he tried to eye a way out of the place. I-I need to run, now! But as soon as Ethan turned, the man in the coat was there again, blocking his path.

"For someone on the edge of death, you're clinging onto life quite hard." He leaned in closer, "That's good." His body reacted violently, and Ethan punched the man in the coat. He caught the blow easily, his hand blurring up to meet Ethan's. It felt like Ethan had hit a soft sturdy wall instead of a person. He tried to pry himself out of his grasp, but at the end of the day, the man in the coat was a Designer, and Ethan was not.

"Relax. I'm not here to hurt you," the man said, before finally letting Ethan go. Ethan took a few steps back involuntarily, keeping the man in sight the entire time. He brought his fists up for protection, knowing in his heart it was probably a worthless gesture. He barely had the strength to lift his arms. The man bared his hands in a show of peace, but Ethan knew just as well as anyone that Designers didn't need weapons, they were weapons. He wouldn't drop his fists.

"Still don't believe me? Here, then." The man threw the ring back at Ethan and he caught it reflexively. He looked back up the cloaked figure, swallowing the lump in his throat with sudden confusion. He just… gave it back to me? He waited for some kind of trick. For the ring to vanish or turn into ensnaring shadows, but nothing like that came.

"The name's Raphael Magnus. I'm a… fixer, let's say." Ethan looked at the man with undisguised caution and fear.

"Why did you even take the ring in the first place?" he asked.

"Here's not the place to talk. Follow me if you want to know more and you'll find out whether I'm telling the truth. Or… stay here and die. Your choice." He threw some clothes onto the floor and turned away.

"Put those on if you're going to follow. I don't want to keep answering why a patient's tagging along." He didn't wait for an answer from Ethan. Raphael was moving further out of sight every second, and so was the thin hope of Ethan's survival. He knew just how stupid this was, following a man he didn't know into Gods-knows-where. But what other choices did he have? My life's already forfeit. What more could I lose? Ethan plucked the ring from the necklace, and placed it on his finger.

He prayed for luck to the six Gods, put on the clothes and followed after Raphael.