The door closed behind the healer with a soft click.
Arthur was alone.
He lay there for a moment, listening to the quiet. Floating orbs drifted overhead, their light casting gentle shadows across the white walls. Somewhere down the hall, voices murmured. Footsteps passed by. Normal sounds of an infirmary going about its business.
His body still ached, though the pain was manageable now. The healing magic had done its work, accelerating what should have taken weeks into days. His ribs felt tender but stable. His shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, but the sharp agony had faded. Even his ankle, swollen and useless hours ago, felt like it might actually support weight soon.
Two days. That's what the healer said. Two days and he'd be functional again.
Arthur took a careful breath, testing his ribs. They protested but held. Good enough.
'Time to see what changed.'
He reached for that familiar instinct. The pull toward something just beyond normal perception. The system responded immediately, a translucent window materialising in the air above him.
║ NOVA SYSTEM ║
NAME: Arthur Reinhart [Dual Soul - 37%]
AGE: 17
RACE: Human
CORE INFORMATION:
Rank: Lower Apprentice Core Color: White Max Potential: Lower Master
AFFINITIES:
Lightning
MARTIAL ARTS:
Thunder Blade Style (Uncommon) Mastery: 28% A sword technique that channels lightning through the blade, increasing speed and power.
MAGIC SPELLS:
Lightning Bolt (Common) Mastery: 68% Fires a concentrated bolt of lightning at a target. Spark Shield (Common) Mastery: 51% Creates a brief barrier of crackling electricity.
SKILLS:
[None]
TRAITS:
[???]
Arthur stared at the display.
Thirty-seven percent.
The Dual Soul progression had jumped from twenty-two to thirty-seven. That was... significant. Fifteen percent in one fight. One near-death experience.
'What the hell caused that?'
He focused on the bracket next to his name, willing the system to explain. Nothing. Just the percentage staring back at him, unchanged and unexplained. Whatever Dual Soul was, the system wasn't offering instructions.
Arthur's eyes moved down the display. His spell mastery had increased too. Lightning Bolt from sixty-one to sixty-eight percent. Spark Shield from forty-three to fifty-one. Both spells had jumped significantly.
That made sense, at least. He'd used them in actual combat. Real life-or-death situations where failure meant dying. Practice dummies and training sessions couldn't compare to that kind of pressure.
'Combat experience beats practice drills.'
His rank still showed Lower Apprentice. But something felt different. Arthur closed his eyes, turning his attention inward. He could feel his core, that sphere of white mana rotating slowly. And underneath it, pressure building. Energy coiling tighter. Arthur's memories supplied the context. This was what breakthrough felt like. The stage before condensing to the next rank.
Middle Apprentice. Soon.
Arthur dismissed the system window with a thought. The translucent display faded, leaving him staring at the white ceiling again.
Thirty-seven percent.
The number circled in his mind. When he'd first awakened in Arthur's body, it had been twenty-two. Now it was thirty-seven. The progression wasn't linear or predictable. Something specific triggered the increases.
'Near-death? Intense combat? Using Arthur's body to its limits?'
All of the above, probably. The wolf fight had been desperate. Brutal. He'd pushed this body further than it had ever been pushed before. Maybe that accelerated the soul fusion. Maybe surviving trauma bonded Oscar's consciousness deeper into Arthur's flesh and blood.
Or maybe he had no idea what he was talking about and was just guessing.
Arthur closed his eyes, turning his attention inward. Away from the physical world. Toward the core of energy that sat just below his sternum.
Mana.
He could feel it now. Not see it exactly, but sense it. A sphere of swirling energy, white like his core colour. It rotated slowly, pulling ambient mana from the air and circulating it through pathways carved into his body over years of training.
The pathways felt familiar. Arthur's muscle memory knew them intimately. Oscar's consciousness was still mapping them out, understanding how mana moved through this body differently than it had through his old one.
Except he'd never had mana before. Never had pathways or a core or any of this. Oscar had been a normal human from a normal world where magic was fiction.
Now it was his reality.
Arthur guided a thread of mana through one pathway. Slowly. Carefully. It moved like water through a pipe, following channels that had been reinforced through repetition. When he pushed it toward his hand, the mana gathered in his palm. He could feel the potential there. The mathematical formula for Lightning Bolt hovered at the edge of his consciousness, ready to be activated.
He didn't cast it. The healer would probably not appreciate lightning bolts in the medical wing.
Instead, Arthur let the mana dissipate. Pulled it back into his core. The process felt smoother than it should have for someone who'd only cast spells a handful of times. Arthur's training, however inconsistent, had laid strong foundations.
'If he'd actually taken it seriously, he might not have died.'
The thought was bitter. True.
Original Arthur had talent. Not exceptional, but solid. Lightning affinity. Thunder Blade Style was passed down from his father. Two combat spells learned young. Everything he needed to succeed at the Academy.
And he'd squandered it.
Trained half-heartedly. Coasted on his father's legacy. He only pushed himself after the entrance exam when he realised how far behind he'd fallen.
One week of serious training. Then a corrupted wolf killed him in a forest.
Arthur opened his eyes, staring at his hands. These hands had held a sword since childhood. Had practised forms until the motions became instinct. Had channelled lightning hundreds of times.
They were capable hands. Strong hands. They just hadn't been used to their potential.
'That changes now. No more slacking. No more half measures.'
If Arthur was going to survive in this world, he needed every advantage he could get. That meant training seriously. Pushing his limits. Using his knowledge from the novel to find opportunities and avoid disasters.
And figuring out what Dual Soul actually did before it finished.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," Arthur called.
The door opened. A young nurse poked her head in. "Your sister is here. Should I send her in?"
'Here we go.'
Arthur nodded. "Yes, please."
The nurse disappeared. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the door didn't open. It slammed.
A girl stormed through like a hurricane given human form. Light brown hair whipped around her face. Hazel eyes with hints of yellow blazed with fury and fear in equal measure. Air swirled around her unconsciously, making her hair and clothes ripple despite being indoors.
Cecilia Reinhart. His sister. Sixteen years old. Air affinity. Currently looking like she wanted to murder him and hug him at the same time.
"You fucking retard!" The words exploded out of her. "How the fuck could you nearly get yourself killed?!"
Arthur blinked.
'Jesus, Arthur, what language did you teach your sister?'
"Cecilia, I—"
"Don't 'Cecilia' me!" She crossed the room in three strides, stopping at his bedside with her hands planted on her hips. "Do you have any idea how scared I was? I get a message saying my brother's in the medical wing, in critical condition, and might not make it, and I'm supposed to just stay calm?!"
Her voice cracked on the last word. The anger wavered.
Arthur saw it then. Underneath the fury and the swearing. Fear. Raw and genuine.
She'd thought he was going to die.
His chest tightened. Not from his injuries.
"I'm sorry," Arthur said quietly. "I didn't mean to worry you."
"Worry me?! Worry me?!" Cecilia's hands came up, gesturing wildly. Air currents whipped through the room, making the floating orbs bob and weave. "You were fighting a corrupted monster alone! In a forest! What were you thinking?!"
"I wasn't thinking. It just... happened."
"It just happened," Cecilia repeated, her voice flat. "Right. Because corrupted wolves just spontaneously appear and force you to fight them."
Arthur couldn't help it. Despite everything, despite the pain and the fear and the weight of two lifetimes pressing down on him, he almost smiled. "Pretty much, yeah."
Cecilia stared at him. For a moment, her expression didn't change.
Then she punched his good shoulder. Hard.
"Ow! That's the one that doesn't have a hole in it!"
"Good!" But her voice cracked again. "You idiot. You complete idiot."
She collapsed into the chair beside his bed. All the fire went out of her at once. Her hands covered her face.
"I thought you were going to die," she said, muffled. "The message said you were barely alive when they found you. That you'd lost too much blood. That you might not..."
She didn't finish.
Arthur's throat felt tight. Arthur's memories supplied context. Cecilia was all he had left. Their father was dead. Their mother is gone. Just the two of them against the world, clinging to each other and the dream of making it through the academy.
If Arthur died, she'd be alone.
And now Oscar was in Arthur's place, wearing his skin, lying to her every second she thought he was her brother.
'I'm sorry,' Arthur thought, though he didn't know if he was apologising to Cecilia or to the original Arthur. 'I'm sorry for taking his place. I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for all of it.'
But he couldn't say any of that out loud.
Instead, Arthur reached out with his good arm. Put his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm okay," he said. "I'm alive. I'm here."
Cecilia looked up. Her eyes were red. "You're an idiot."
"Yeah. I know."
"A complete idiot."
"Also aware."
"If you ever do something that stupid again, I'll kill you myself."
Arthur managed a weak smile. "Deal."
Cecilia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Took a shaky breath. The air currents around her settled, no longer whipping through the room in response to her emotions.
"The healer said you'll be fine," she said. "Two days and you can leave."
"That's what she told me."
"Good." Cecilia straightened in her chair. Some of the fire came back to her voice. "Because you're going to train properly from now on. No more of this half-arsed practice routine. You're going to take it seriously. Understand?"
Arthur nodded. "I understand."
"And you're not training alone anymore. Not until you're strong enough that a corrupted monster can't nearly kill you."
"Cecilia—"
"I mean it, Arthur." Her eyes locked onto his. "Promise me. No more stupid risks. No more training alone where something can ambush you. Promise."
The weight in her voice was real. This wasn't just worry. It was desperation.
Arthur met her gaze. "I promise. No more stupid risks."
Some of the tension left her shoulders. "Good."
They sat in silence for a moment. Cecilia's hands twisted in her lap. Arthur could see her fighting with something. Trying to decide whether to say it or not.
"What?" Arthur asked.
"Nothing."
"Cecilia."
She sighed. "I just... you're all I have left. You know that, right?"
Arthur's chest tightened again. "I know."
"So don't die on me. Please."
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise."
Cecilia nodded. Stood. "I have to go. Training session in an hour. But I'll come back tomorrow to check on you."
"You don't have to—"
"I'm coming back." The fire was back in her voice. "And you're going to be awake and not dying when I do. Got it?"
Arthur smiled. "Got it."
She moved toward the door. Paused with her hand on the handle. Looked back. "I'm glad you're okay. Even if you are an idiot."
Then she was gone.
The door closed. The room fell quiet again.
Arthur lay back against the pillows, exhaustion pulling at him despite having been unconscious for hours.
He thought about Cecilia. About the fear in her eyes when she thought he might die. About the promise he'd made to her, knowing he'd probably break it eventually because this world wouldn't let him play it safe.
He thought about the original Arthur. About the brother she'd lost without knowing it. About the life Oscar had taken by waking up in someone else's body.
'I'll protect her,' Arthur thought. 'For both of us. I'll make sure she doesn't end up alone. Whatever it takes.'
His eyes drifted closed. Sleep pulled harder.
The Dual Soul percentage sat in his mind. Thirty-seven percent. More than a third of the way to... something. Some transformation he couldn't predict or prepare for.
Whatever happened when it reached one hundred percent, Arthur would face it when it came.
For now, he just needed to survive.
One day at a time.