Jeremy sat on the edge of his hospital bed, swinging his legs. He hated being stuck, each ache in his chest a reminder of how much he’d pushed himself.
The door swung open, and the academy healer stepped inside, her clipboard in hand. She was tall and stern, with sharp eyes that made Jeremy sit up a little straighter. Her white coat swished dramatically, like she was the boss of the entire room.
“Well,” she said, flipping through her notes, “you’re alive. That’s a start.”
Jeremy frowned. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
The healer raised an eyebrow, and Jeremy immediately regretted saying anything. “Let me be clear, Mr. Hoppins,” she said, her voice clipped. “You are extremely lucky to be alive. But if you don’t follow my instructions, that luck will run out. No weapon training. No magic. No dungeon delving. Not even a hint of physical exertion for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Jeremy blurted. “That’s forever!”
The healer glared at him, and he shrank back like a scolded puppy.
“Your soul is recovering. It’s taking this long because you pushed yourself too far,” she continued, tapping her clipboard for emphasis. “Again, do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy muttered, looking at his lap. His fingers picked at the edge of the blanket. Then his frustration bubbled over, and he blurted, “Why can Mia train already, but I’m stuck doing nothing? She collapsed too.”
The healer’s gaze snapped up, sharp as a blade. “Ms. Solen collapsed because of overusing her magic and was immediately rushed here,” she said curtly. “You, Mr. Hoppins, ran for multiple days straight in a dungeon without food or rest. Do you see the difference?”
Jeremy opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and looked down. “...Yeah, okay.”
The healer ignored him, already scribbling on her clipboard. “You’ll be discharged today. Follow the rules, and you’ll be back to full strength soon. Break them, and you’ll be back in this bed before you know it.” She turned to Andrew and the others—Marcus, Perci, Mia, and Timothy crammed into the tiny room. “Keep him in line,” she said, her sharp gaze sweeping over them. “You’re his friends, aren’t you?”
They all nodded a little too quickly, and the healer rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that.”
As soon as she left, Jeremy threw his head back and groaned again. “Two weeks. I’m gonna lose my mind.”
Andrew snorted. “You’ll survive. Maybe use that time to think for once.”
“Ha ha,” Jeremy muttered, glaring at him.
----------------------------------------
Jeremy shuffled out of the room, keeping his head low. His body felt heavy, every step an effort. Andrew walked beside him, hands in his pockets.
“You look like a zombie,” Marcus said from behind, his voice low but amused. “Are we sure they discharged you too early?”
“Thanks for the concern,” Jeremy muttered, not bothering to look back.
Perci rolled her eyes. “Don’t push it, Marcus. He’s barely walking, and you’re already trying to get on his nerves.”
“Who’s pushing anyone?” Marcus shot back with a grin. “He doesn’t look like he could lift a pillow right now.”
“Shut up,” Jeremy muttered again, his voice edged with embarrassment, though he couldn’t argue.
As they approached the main lobby, the quiet hum of the hospital shifted into the buzz of the academy. Students moved in clusters in between their classes, their crisp uniforms a sharp contrast to Jeremy’s wrinkled shirt and sweatpants—the healer’s idea of “appropriate discharge attire.” He wanted to melt into the floor.
The stares started almost immediately.
“Is that him?” a girl whispered to her friend as they passed.
“I heard he was in the dungeon for days,” someone murmured, their voice barely audible.
“Yeah, and The Ascendant Duo almost killed Ms. Isolde,” another whispered, their tone sharp. “Who’d want to get caught up in that?”
Jeremy’s ears burned. He stared hard at the ground, trying to block out the whispers.
Marcus leaned in with his usual lack of tact. “Wow, Jeremy, you’re officially a legend. Did you hear that one? ‘Dungeon for days’? Not bad, huh?”
Jeremy groaned and shot him a glare. “Cut it out.”
Andrew didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes swept over the crowd. His glare alone was enough to make some of the whisperers glance away, suddenly finding something else to focus on.
A confident-looking boy in a nearby group nudged one of his friends, speaking just loud enough to be overheard. “Guess it’s true what they say. Surviving runs in the family.”
Jeremy froze, his jaw tightening, but Andrew was quicker. He took a deliberate step forward, fixing the boy with a glare so cold it could have frozen fire.
The boy immediately stiffened, offering a forced smile. “I meant that as a compliment,” he said quickly, his voice laced with nervousness.
“Sure,” Andrew said flatly, his tone making it clear he wasn’t convinced.
The boy mumbled something to his friends and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
Andrew smirked slightly, his voice low. “Thought so.”
Jeremy sighed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did.”
Perci moved closer, offering Jeremy a small, encouraging smile. “Don’t let them get to you. They’re just curious. No one’s going to bother you—especially with Andrew around.”
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“Yeah, well, that’s not exactly comforting,” Jeremy muttered, his gaze flicking to the sparring fields outside. Students were already training, their movements sharp and precise. Every swing of a sword or release of magic felt like a reminder of what he wouldn’t be doing for two weeks.
Andrew seemed to notice where he was looking. “Stop overthinking,” he said, nudging Jeremy’s shoulder gently. “You’ll catch up.”
Jeremy shot him a look. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one stuck doing nothing.”
“No, but I’m the one who has to deal with your whining,” he smirked. “So, let’s just get you back to your suite, okay?”
“Yeah, come on,” Perci said, walking ahead. “Before you collapse in front of everyone.”
Jeremy sighed and followed, his friends forming a loose circle around him as they headed outside. The fresh air hit him hard, like the world was reminding him how much he’d been missing. The academy grounds stretched out in front of them, bustling with life.
The sight made his chest tighten again. Two weeks of being stuck, watching everyone else move forward. It felt impossible.
“Don’t worry,” Marcus said suddenly, as if reading his mind. “We’ll keep you company, make sure you don’t go completely nuts. Well... more nuts than usual.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jeremy muttered, but his lips twitched into a faint smile despite himself.
For now, he thought, glancing at the group around him, this would have to be enough.
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When Jeremy entered his suite, the opulence felt suffocating. He sank onto the couch, his body aching and his mind looping through the chaos of the dungeon: claws, blood, and the searing pain of tearing his soul.
It was ridiculous how much space he had. Back home, he and Andrew shared a room half the size of this suite. Now, he had a living area, a massive bed, and his own bathroom—the space only emphasizing his loneliness today.
Jeremy’s frustration simmered. His mind itched to do something—anything—to make him feel less helpless, but the memories of the dungeon clung to him.
“I almost didn’t make it,” he whispered, his voice trembling. The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. For the first time, he felt the true cost of his overconfidence. He wasn’t invincible—he was just a kid who’d barely survived.
Jeremy clenched his fists. “Get it together,” he muttered, but the words felt hollow. He wanted to punch something, but even that felt like too much effort. After what felt like forever, his gaze flicked to his Status. He hadn’t checked it since the dungeon, convinced it wouldn’t show anything good. Still, the itch to act refused to leave him.
With a swipe, the interface blinked into view. Jeremy’s breath caught.
Allocate 53,000 Essence.
He blinked. Then again. “Wait. What?” His voice cracked as he sat up so fast his head spun. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the glowing digits, half expecting them to vanish. They didn’t. The number remained, taunting him.
“Fifty-three... thousand?” he whispered, his throat dry. Memories flickered in disjointed flashes: the labyrinth, the endless running, the suffocating haze of fear, and the lizards. Each desperate encounter and creature he’d fought had apparently piled up into this impossible amount of Essence.
Excitement momentarily pushed aside his exhaustion. This was more than enough to level multiple Skills. His gaze swept over his Status:
Jeremy Hoppins
Tier -
Body 30
Mind 32
Soul 2010
Skills:
Cooking - Basic 10/10
Introspection - Basic 10/10
Memorization - Simple 12/100
Multitasking - Basic 10/10
Spearmanship - Basic 7/10
Reflexes - Simple 13/100
Running - Basic 10/10
Universal Equipment Slots - Personal
His eyes locked onto Memorization. The memory hit him like a slap—the desperate moment in the labyrinth when he unlocked it, his mind burning every twist and turn into sharp detail. Proof that he’d managed something amidst the chaos.
Leaning back, Jeremy drummed his fingers against his leg. Memorization was solid, but what next? He couldn’t waste this Essence. His gaze shifted to the other Skills, and his frown deepened. The memory of stumbling blindly into danger twisted in his mind—the oppressive feeling of being watched, the lizards’ attacks that he couldn’t predict.
“Alright,” he muttered, sitting up straighter. “Observation. That’s what I’ll do.” Unlocking it wouldn’t take much—just some focus and simple exercises. He thought back to the dungeon: the missed turns, the chaotic fights where every strike felt like a gamble. Observation would change that. No more surprises. Never again, he promised himself.
His hand hovered over the Essence total, his pulse quickening. Fifty-three thousand. The number felt enormous, almost untouchable. But it was his—earned through pain and desperation. A thought struck him, and he leaned back, considering. If he saved the Essence, he could pour it into Observation as soon as he unlocked it. It would strengthen his Mind stat—something he desperately needed.
There was no rush. He couldn’t physically train or enter a dungeon for the next two weeks after all. He needed to plan how to use this Essence effectively once his body and soul had recovered.
“If Memorization helped me remember the path, Observation will help me see it,” Jeremy murmured, his voice steadier now. The exhaustion still tugged at him, but the fire in his chest burned a little brighter. For the first time since waking up, he felt like he could do something.
He glanced at the clock on his desk, then at the blank notebook nearby. Tomorrow would be his first full day back on a schedule, and he needed a plan. The healer’s strict orders—no physical training, no magic, no dungeons—meant he couldn’t go to the morning weaponry class. His mind drifted to the library. He’d been there before, researching Pretenders, and found it invaluable. This time, he’d narrow his focus to Observation.
Pulling the notebook closer, he jotted down a rough schedule:
Morning: Library—find books on Observation and exercises.
Afternoon: Observation elective.
Evening: Plan and practice.
He stared at the list, tapping the pen against the notebook. It felt... light. But that was the point, wasn’t it? The healer had made it clear—no magic, no physical training, no dungeons. He couldn’t afford to push himself too hard again. Still, the thought of sitting around while everyone else moved forward gnawed at him.
He set the notebook aside and leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. The twisting corridors of the labyrinth replayed in his mind, the oppressive feeling of being hunted, the missed signs he should’ve noticed. Observation wouldn’t just help him in the future; it would make sure he was never caught off guard again. He clenched his fist at the thought.
“This isn’t about catching up,” he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s about making sure I survive next time.”
For a moment, he let himself breathe, the weight on his chest easing ever so slightly. Tomorrow, he’d start small—Observation, the library, simple steps to better himself. It wasn’t flashy or immediate, but it was what he needed.
He yawned, stretching as he shuffled toward his bed. With the fire of determination, he let his bed carry him to sleep. Never again.