Kane City,

The Capital,

Kingdom of Eriya,

785 AC

Pain.

That was all Jed could feel. A dull throb pounding behind his eyes. His tongue heavy and his throat parched, like he'd been gargling sand. The acrid tang of antiseptic stung his nostrils.

Where am I? What happened?

Memories flickered at the edges of his mind - a dark alleyway, a glint of steel, a sharp, icy pain in his gut. Had he been mugged? Stabbed? It wouldn't be the first time, but his trusty [Return] skill should've brought him back by now...

Jed tried to lift a hand to rub his aching head, but his arm wouldn't budge. Biting back a groan, he forced his eyelids open, blinking against the harsh glare.

He was in a stone room, strapped to what looked like a dental chair or operating table. Leather cuffs, inscribed with golden runes, bound his wrists and ankles, pinning him like a butterfly specimen. A tray of surgical tools stood nearby, their sharp edges winking in the mage light.

Panic surged through Jed's chest. Is this some kind of hospital? A torture chamber? Or a sick combination of both? He strained against his bonds, muscles bunching, but they held fast. His heart hammered as he craned his neck, trying to get his bearings.

That's when he saw the shelves lining the walls. Stained jars crowded the niches, their murky contents drifting in viscous fluid. A chill shot down Jed's spine.

Were those...body parts? I'm definitely not in a normal healer's house. This is something much worse.

Jed had seen his share of sketchy black market operations during his decade in this world. But this? This was next level creepy. He needed to get out of here, fast.

He craned his head toward the door, hoping to gauge an escape route. Before he could formulate a plan, the rusted hinges creaked.

Jed froze as a figure glided into the room. They were clad head to toe in a black robe, their face obscured behind a bone-white mask. A shudder wracked Jed's frame.

The Grim Reaper meets plague doctor chic. Lovely.

"Ah, you're awake," the figure rasped, their voice like gravel underfoot. "Good. It's best you're conscious for this."

"W-who are you?" Jed croaked. "What is this place?"

The figure tilted their head. "You haven't guessed? And here I thought your particular...talents would make you cleverer than most."

They drifted closer, looming over Jed. The eyeholes of the mask were inky black pits, reflecting no light. “You've been quite the talk of the kingdom, you know. The upstart [Mage] with the unique skill. The boy who cheats death."

Jed's blood ran cold. They knew. Somehow, they knew about his [Return] skill, the one he'd kept secret from all but his closest companions. The skill that let him come back from the dead, that made him all but unkillable. How had they found out? Who had betrayed him?

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," he bluffed, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm just an ordinary [Mage]. I don't have any special..."

The figure laughed, a grating sound like nails on slate. "Don't bother with the lies, boy. I know all about your little trick. [Return], wasn't it? A handy skill indeed. I wonder how you acquired such a thing."

They leaned in closer, the blank eyes of the mask boring into Jed's. "You really should have been more careful. Kept it to yourself. But you just had to brag, didn't you? Flash it around like a shiny new toy. And now look where it's got you."

Fear soured into anger on Jed's tongue. He bared his teeth in a snarl, meeting the figure's gaze with a defiant glare. "If you know what I can do, then you know it's pointless to try and kill me. I'll just come back, again and again. You can't beat me."

It was a desperate bluff and they both knew it. Without his magic, without a weapon, Jed was helpless. He would not be able to escape, he would [Return] to life the same place he died. But he refused to cower, to show weakness. If he was going to die, he'd do it with his head held high. He had faced death many times, what did he have to be afraid of?

The figure cocked their head, considering. "Hmm. You really believe that, don't you? That your little parlor trick makes you invincible." They made a tutting sound, like a teacher scolding a slow student. "Arrogance is unbecoming in prey."

Jed bristled at that, straining against the straps again. "I'm not your prey! When I get out of here, I'll-"

"You'll what?" the figure cut him off, their voice gone dangerously soft. "Burn me with a fireball? Blast me with lightning?”

Jed's breath came sharp and fast. This nutjob meant business. He had to get out, now. He reached for his mana, readying an [Arcane Bolt]...but nothing happened. His reserves were drier than Tatooine. The bastard must've drugged him.

"Ah you’ve finally noticed. Yes, I’ve neutralized your abilities for the time being. Can't have you interrupting our little chat, now can we?"

Jed gritted his teeth, his fists clenching. "What do you want from me?"

"Want?" The figure reached into their robes and withdrew a leather case. The snap of clasps being undone was loud in the heavy silence. "My dear boy, I already have what I want. You."

The case opened to reveal an array of surgical tools - scalpels, forceps, wicked-looking needles and probes. The figure selected a syringe filled with a viscous green liquid. They held it up to the light, tapping the glass to dispel any bubbles.

"Now then," they said, almost conversationally. "Let's get started, shall we?

Jed thrashed and bucked as they approached, but it was futile. The figure seized his arm in an iron grip, their strength shocking for one so thin. Jed felt the cold kiss of alcohol swabbing the inside of his elbow, then the sting of the needle piercing his vein.

Almost immediately, a languorous warmth spread through his body, his limbs growing heavy and sluggish. The room wavered and dimmed at the edges, his thoughts gone muzzy and disjointed.

"Wha...what did you...do to me?" he slurred, tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth.

"Just a little something to help you relax," the figure replied, setting the empty syringe aside. "We can't have you squirming too much. Ruins the precision of the work."

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Jed could only moan as unconsciousness dragged at him, black spots crowding his vision. He fought it with all his fading strength, terrified of what would happen if he surrendered to the dark. But it was a losing battle, and he felt himself slip under, the world fading to a pinprick, then nothingness.

He awoke to agony, a white-hot poker of pain searing through his midsection. His eyes shot open, a strangled scream tearing from his throat before he could stop it. He lifted his head, struggling to focus, and what he saw turned his stomach to ice.

The figure was bent over him, a scalpel in one gloved hand. They had peeled back Jed's shirt, baring his abdomen, and made a deep incision just above his navel. Bright blood welled and spilled, staining the cloth. Jed could see the edges of his own skin, parted like a creepy smile.

"Ah, back with us, I see," the figure commented, not pausing in their work. "I was hoping you'd wake up for this part. It's so much more interesting when they can feel it."

Jed opened his mouth to scream again, to beg, to curse, but all that emerged was a thin, reedy whimper. The pain was all-consuming, blotting out thought, memory, self. There was only the red rift in his flesh, the relentless slice of the blade, the welling of blood.

Through the haze of agony and terror, he saw the figure set the scalpel aside. They probed the wound with clinical detachment, gloved fingers sinking into the meat of him. Jed convulsed, a thin wail seeping through his clenched teeth.

It was torture, pure and unrelenting. The world shrank to that single point of violation, the invasive burrowing into his most intimate self. He yearned for the release of unconsciousness, prayed for the mercy of death. But his treacherous body continued to feel, to process, to scream.

Dimly, through the red fog, he registered a flicker of light. Some part of him not subsumed by pain recognized it - the glow of his status screen, conjured by the touch of foreign mana to his core.

"Well, well, well," the figure murmured, something like surprise coloring their rasping voice. "What have we here?"

Jed cracked open wet, gummy eyes, fighting to focus on the glowing panel. At first the words and numbers were an incomprehensible jumble, but slowly they resolved into awful clarity.

Name: Jed Xiu

Race: Arcana Human (Otherworlder)

Class: [Mage]

Level: 30

HP:10/300

MP: 0/330

Str: 112

Dex: 289

Con: 267

Wis: 320

Int: 350

Cha: 110

Icy shock jolted through Jed's foggy brain. "What the... How did you access my status screen?"

No one should be able to do that, not without Jed's explicit permission. It was like this creep had hacked his character profile, peeling back the layers of his soul.

"'Otherworlder'? Now this is interesting." The figure's voice took on a note of avid fascination, fingers stroking the luminous text. "It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of those. Where exactly are you from, boy?"

Jed shook his head weakly, trying to banish the horrid window, to unsee his deepest secrets laid bare. But the status remained stubbornly open, a portal to his very essence.

"Earth," he croaked, the word dragged out of him. "I'm...I'm from Earth."

"Earth," the figure repeated slowly, as if tasting the unfamiliar syllables. "Never heard of that world before. And what kind of place is this Earth?"

Jed's mind rebelled, resisted. He didn't want to speak of his old life, his old world. It was too raw, too painful. But a spasm of agony in his gut shattered his defenses, and the words came spilling out.

"It's...it's not like here. No magic, no monsters. No classes or levels. Just...just science and technology."

"Fascinating," the figure breathed. "A world without magic. I can hardly imagine. And how did you come to be here, in this world?"

The remembered horror choked Jed, made bile rise in his throat. "Truck. It...it hit me. I died. Woke up here, in a new body. Like one of those isekai protagonists from the stories..."

He trailed off, dimly aware he was babbling, saying far too much. But the pain made it hard to hold onto his thoughts, to filter his words. They just tumbled out in a delirious stream.

The figure made a thoughtful noise, fingers still tracing Jed's status. "Reincarnated from another world. Gifted with a unique skill. It's like something out of a tale, isn't it? The gods must have taken a shine to you, boy."

Jed felt a flicker of irrational hope at those words. If he was favored by the gods, chosen, special, then surely they wouldn't let this happen to him? Surely they would protect their champion, their isekai hero...

As if reading his thoughts, the figure gave a dark chuckle. "Oh, I wouldn't count on divine intervention, if I were you. The gods are fickle, and their favor fleeting. In the end, all mortals dance to the same tune. This…this is something I’ve come to accept."

Gloved fingers touched something deep in Jed's core, and a spike of blinding pain whited out his vision. When it cleared, the figure was staring intently at his status screen, fixated on one entry.

[Return] (Passive) Level: Max

Revives the user once per day if HP falls to 0.

Grants resistance (5% per death) to the type of damage that caused the user's demise, potentially leading to full immunity (100% resistance).

Limit: 1 revive per 24 hour period.

Jed's panic rose. His most valuable, most fiercely guarded skill, laid bare under this interloper's gaze. A skill no one else was meant to have, dearly bought with a death by truck-kun. His ticket to surviving this brutal world, laid bare before this monster.

The figure sighed almost reverently. "Imagine having such a gift. To spurn the reaper, to rise again wiser and stronger. If I didn't need it so badly, I'd resent you deeply."

"Need it?" Jed croaked.

The figure turned. In their gloved hand, a scalpel glowed.

"Oh yes," they purred. "I do appreciate you bringing it to me. How sweet of you to deliver yourself to my door like a goose. Stuffed and trussed."

Jed thrashed against the restraints, the drug making his movements sluggish. "No, wait, you can't-"

"Can't I?" The blade descended. "Funny thing about this world, my odd little duck. It cares not for foreign notions of rights. Only the Blessing, and the power it bestows. When you have power, you can do anything."

Pain exploded along Jed's abdomen as the scalpel parted his skin. He shrieked, the drug not enough to fully numb the butchery. The sick wet sounds of flesh separating filled the tiny room.

"Stop," he gasped. "Please..."

"Hush now." The figure gouged their fingers into the wound, probing. Jed's vision flashed white. "The skill is rooted deep. This may sting a bit."

Agony worse than anything Jed had experienced, in this life or the last, ripped through him as the figure yanked. His entire being felt shredded, torn out by the root. He screamed until his lungs gave out, until he tasted blood on his teeth.

Through the red haze, he heard the figure mutter. "Stubborn little thing. Clinging tight. But not tight enough."

With a final, hideous wrench, the figure pulled back. Jed felt something fundamental tear loose. His status screen flickered overhead.

[Return] skill lost.

The figure held up their hand. Tangled in their bloody fingers was a shimmering golden thread, pulsing like a dying star. As Jed watched through streaming eyes, they brought the thread to their own chest and pushed it in, their body absorbing it like water into sand. For a moment, their skin glowed with eldritch light.

"Much better," the figure sighed, flexing their fingers. "I do believe it's already integrating. What a prize you are, Mr. Xiu."

Jed could barely hear over the roaring in his ears. His body was a ruin of pain, his mind unraveling. The one advantage he'd had in this merciless world, the slim hope that'd kept him going, snipped away like a hangnail.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was the hero, dammit. The protagonist. He had plot armor, he had cheat skills. He couldn't die like this, unmourned in a stinking hole, just another used up life.

But he could feel himself fading, his thoughts guttering out like candle stubs. Perhaps the [Return] skill wasn't working because he didn't want to come back, not with that final shred of self stripped away. Perhaps it was kinder to slip into that dark, to let it claim him for good.

The figure wiped their blade on a cloth, humming. "You've been a most edifying subject, Mr. Xiu. I'll be sure to put your donation to excellent use. Perhaps I'll check in on that dreary little Earth of yours someday. See what other offerings it provides."

They gathered up their tools and turned to the door, their robe susurrating. Jed tried to call out, to rage and gibber, but his voice had fled, buried under an avalanche of shock.

At the threshold, the figure paused. Looked back. In the eyeholes of the mask, eldritch lights danced blue and poisonous.

"Rest easy, hero. Let go. Perhaps you'll wake up in one of those 'hospitals' you mentioned, yeah? Chalk this up as naught but a bad dream."

The figure cackled like nails down glass. "But I think we both know better."

The door slammed like a coffin lid.

Jed stared at the ceiling, the coarse stone blurring to static. No golden light rose to enfold him, no trumpets of a respawning fanfare. In their absence, the silence was damning.

Is this really how it ends? he wondered. After everything I survived, everything I clawed through...snuffed out on a madman's slab, all my potential bled dry? Some fucking Chosen One I turned out to be.

But there was no one left to rail against, no gods or game masters to hear his despair. Just the cold and the quiet and the dark, rushing up to swallow him.

As Jed's eyes fluttered shut, his last thought was a broken-hearted wish.

I want to go back. I want to go home.

But he knew, with sinking certainty, that no one was listening. Not anymore.