"What happened?"
Sol asked in a low voice, followed by a few seconds of silence, before answering his own question:
"Ah yeah, my head was crushed."
Sol looked around, but found nothing but intense darkness surrounding him from all sides, with a light shining down on him from above.
He was wearing a long black coat, beneath it a black high-collared jacket, his long hair tied tightly. Sol glanced at the clothes, then returned his gaze to the darkness without any reaction, as if it were normal.
"I don't think this is the Dream realm's barrier."
Sol said, remembering what that white-haired copy had said about the Vigilance Flame being closed.
"It seems I'll be here for a while."
he was aware of how slow his regeneration was, knowing it might take time for him to regain consciousness.
He walked forward, cutting through the darkness without any destination. Cold air enveloped him from all sides, its source unknown, and a deep silence broken only by the sound of Sol's footsteps—like leather-heeled shoes clicking on a hard floor—along with the scent of post-midnight cold. A pleasant, poetic scent—the best kind for poets.
If not for the light following Sol and shining down from above, he would have thought his eyes were still closed from the sheer darkness.
"After my skull was crushed, they might think I'm dead. And the body..."
Sol paused for a moment before continuing:
"I hope they don't bury it. Digging my way out of dirt is exhausting... Burning would be bad too...fire lasts a long time as long as there's something to burn."
As Sol walked through the darkness, the cold air current increased slightly ahead of him and vanished behind him, as if respectfully asking him not to continue forward. The cold midnight scent turned into a smell of moisture and wet wood, mixed with the foul odor of cold mold.
The texture of the ground beneath him changed. It seemed as though the hard floor had transformed into decaying wooden planks that creaked with every step.
A white light appeared, shining on something at a distance from Sol. He headed toward it, and as he approached the light, the moldy smell and moisture increased, until he reached its source.
It was a small boy, curled into himself, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his face on them. The boy had soft, slightly long black hair falling over his sides. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt, heavily stained, with a torn woolen vest over it that looked like it had been stretched hard.
There were dark purple marks on the back of his pale neck, shaped like lines.
Beside him lay an old, worn-out backpack, surrounded by papers that had lost their white color, and ancient-looking books that were nearly antique.
The boy trembled slightly before slowly raising his head, revealing a face covered in bruises and old scars alongside fresh wounds. One of his eyes was dark, barely open from a heavy punch. Dried blood stained the corner of his mouth and nose. The purple mark on his neck was now clear—strangulation marks from some kind of rope.
The boy sitting on the ground stared at Sol for a few seconds without speaking, with that hollow, empty eye, heavy with dark circles. Sol stared back, but there was a strange look on Sol's face—a mixture of condescension and contempt.
"C... can you... help me?"
The boy spoke after several seconds, but his voice sounded hoarse—perhaps from the strangulation on his neck, or maybe a cold from the chill. The cold was intense, and the damp mold as well.
The boy raised his right hand, covered in scars and burn marks, toward Sol. He wasn't asking for something—he was giving. In his fist was a kitchen knife, and he wanted to give it to Sol.
"It's... it's hard for me... can you... do it?
..please."
Sol's gaze intensified before he said sharply:
"How ugly you are. Playing the victim and begging for pity, when you're the cause of all this."
The hollow expression on the boy's face didn't change. He raised the knife higher, then said coldly:
"Go... go ahead... you can... do it again."
Sol took a few steps forward, his light merging with the boy's light, becoming one large light illuminating them both.
Sol's hand moved slowly toward the knife, but stopped just before it. For a few seconds, Sol remained like that in silence, then pulled his hand back to his side, turned his head, and said:
"I don't feel like it anymore... and I've already killed you once."
He turned and walked away from him, the large light above him, leaving the boy to drown in the cold darkness, alone and without light.
A distant light appeared before Sol again, growing larger with each step he took toward it. This time, the light wasn't white—it was golden. And it wasn't shining on something—it was illuminating the horizon of darkness from afar.
The golden light wrapped around Sol completely, then intensified until Sol closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw a ceiling covered in scattered, colorful decorations—seemingly random, but not. It was the tent's ceiling.
"The body has healed. And it seems they didn't bury me either."
Sol was lying on a fur bed, covered with heavy blankets in various bright colors. When he tried to get up, he noticed he was completely naked.
[Hey... you're awake.]
"Hah, yeah... How long have I been like this?"
[I don't know, but it seems like a long time.]
"Seems you're getting used to that answer."
[You think so too?... It doesn't matter. What matters now is that I have many questions I want to ask you.]
"About what?..."
Before Sol could finish, a woman entered the tent where Sol was. It was Siraria, Arisu's wife. She was carrying some blankets in her hands.
Seeing Sol awake, she was slightly surprised, then a calm, beautiful smile traced her face before she placed the blankets by the entrance of the room and said in her soft voice—sweet as a spring breeze, flowing gently into the ear and bringing a light comfort to the soul:
"Honored Sky Dweller, I see you have awoken. I will go and fetch you clothes."
"Why is she speaking to me? Could Arisu have given her the injection too?"
Sol asked internally before the system's voice replied:
[Maybe. Why don't you ask her?]
Before Siraria could turn and leave, Sol said:
"Wait... where is Arisu?"
Siraria looked at Sol in confusion, then her smile and calm, beautiful features returned:
"Forgive me, Honored Sky Dweller, but I cannot understand your revered language. My husband told me about this—he said you would understand my speech while I wouldn't understand yours. He told me to inform him when you woke. So if you need anything, please wait until he comes. I hope you're not offended."
Sol nodded to her. Siraria smiled and left the room.
[So she doesn't understand you.]
"Yeah."
[It seems that Arisu did not tell his wife about it.]
Siraria didn't take long to return, carrying clothes in the same dark colors as the tribe members' clothes—not white And without jewelry. After placing them beside Sol, she turned and left again.
Sol put on the clothes—ordinary, not flashy like the white robe and decorated coat from last time: a dark half-sleeve shirt, over it a decorated dark blue coat not very long, reaching just below the waist, with wide sleeves, fastened with a small belt at the waist, with matching trousers. No sooner had Sol finished dressing than he heard a voice from outside asking permission:
" revered Sky Dweller, I request permission to enter."
Arisu's formal way of speaking meant he wasn't alone. Indeed, the entrance curtains moved, and Arisu entered, followed by Siraria and two other women carrying food and placing it on the table.
Despite the beauty of the two blue women beside her with their ornaments, Siraria surpassed them both in beauty, with her ornaments and adornments.She glowed like the moon amidst the stars
"Do you need anything else, Chief?"
Siraria said to Arisu with full politeness and respect, with that calm, angelic smile.
"No, thank you."
The women left the room. Arisu sat at the small round table, then invited Sol to sit.
"I imagine you're hungry after three whole days of sleep. Go ahead, have whatever you like."
[Oh my god! Three days!]
The system's voice said in amazement, as if she weren't the system voice responsible for the regeneration ability.
"Sometimes more."
Sol said to the system in his mind
[Why did it take so long?]
"Ask yourself."
Sol told the system, and the system responded with the same answer as usual.
Sol was indeed hungry, so he accepted the invitation and sat across from Arisu, who began pouring a purple drink into one of the wooden cups.
"No."
"Don't worry, this isn't Khamr. It's a special drink prepared by the Shaman clan. It's beneficial."
Khamr was the strong-smelling green drink—Sol had learned about it during the feast, seeing the men drink it greedily, even spotting some women drinking it. When he'd asked Arisu, he'd been told what it was—like alcohol.
Sol took a sip and set the cup down, thinking to himself:
"Tastes like dirt... it's good."
Sol wasn't a fan of the taste of dirt, but he'd lost his sense of taste long ago. Honestly, he hadn't lost it completely—he'd lost the part related to delicious, sweet-tasting foods. He could only taste bitter and poisonous things, assuming it was either from an old injury or a failed experiment he couldn't remember.
Arisu poured himself some of the green drink from the clay pitcher and took a sip.
[He's completely addicted.]
"If it's like alcohol, that stuff completely destroys the mind and causes addiction quickly."
The two began eating. After a few seconds of chewing sounds and silence, Sol spoke:
"When are you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
Arisu asked in a calm tone, with clear, unaffected eyes, met by Sol's gloomy gaze.
[What's there?]
Arisu's calm expression held for a few seconds, then he exhaled and turned his gaze to the food.
"So you know... How?"
[What does he mean? What do you know?]
"When you asked for my help with full confidence in my strength, even though you'd never seen it. And the change in your tone and expression when you heard that old man sent his guards south. And Azure's situation and the guards who were watching—that was the final proof, along with the title 'Disaster Prophecy.'"
Arisu was so surprised he couldn't control his astonished expression—his eyes widened, and he said:
"Amazing. You've truly amazed me. I didn't expect you to remember such details..."
[Ohhh! That's truly amazing! You remembered all those details and put them together... I really didn't think you paid any attention to your surroundings. I thought you were just a gloomy, isolated, introverted person with dark thoughts.]
Sol and his brothers had lived a long time and learned much from the school of life, which had given him strange skills and hobbies—some useful, like this focus on the smallest details, others perhaps useless.
"You did well in that, but you missed just one thing—and I don't blame you for it."
Arisu said, swirling the cup in his hand, then raising it to his blue lips to take a sip.
"What's that?"
"That I know your skill. How strong you are. I know this special power of yours too."
"And how is that?"
Arisu smiled and looked at Sol with clear eyes, then said:
"Because I've been watching you from the beginning."