Voice? — "120, 122, 124."
His injuries were simple to summarize… but their impact was something else entirely.
A deep gash had torn open his right side: the blood was still flowing, his muscles screamed at every movement, and each breath stabbed him with pain. The blow from the pommel he had taken straight to the stomach twisted his insides and made him spit blood. His whole body was a source of agony, his limbs barely supporting him, and his consciousness wavered dangerously.
Time… it kept ticking on, but Mike couldn't perceive it.
The moon remained still in the sky, silent, unmovable.
How long had he been there, lying on this red floor?
A few seconds? Hours? Days?
No answer came.
「My phone… Where is it?」
He remembered he hadn't had it from the start. And even if he had, his dying body wouldn't have allowed him to grab it.
Voice? — "130, 132, 134, 136."
Mike — "What are you doing?"
His voice came out hoarse and weak. Even in this state, he could still speak.
Voice? — "Killing time, I need something to do, right? 140, 142, 144."
Mike — "Like that? While I can't do anything? You should be helping me understand what's going on…"
Voice? — "Hey, that's your job. I'm just counting until you can stand again. 152, 154, 156."
Mike — "Tss. Stand again? As if that's possible… But if I make it out and one day I find you, you'll see."
He shut his mouth stubbornly, as if he had lost that little verbal duel.
Voice? — "That won't happen. 160, 162, 164."
「He's annoying… Why is he talking to me… Now that I think about it, the armor didn't seem to hear him?」
Mike — "Hey, voice, the armor—well, the Entity—said during the fight that I was talking to myself, right? Am I the only one who can hear you?"
Voice? — "Hmm. Yes, indeed, you're the only one. 180, 182, 184."
Mike — "I see… and is there a reason for that?"
Voice? — "Maybe…"
With those final words, he fell silent and accepted his fate: staying on this floor, unmoving, listening to a voice that was supposed to be helping him.
Still, what he could only hope was time eventually passed.
He closed his eyes, feeling his body sink deeper into the pain and the red liquid that was swallowing him.
「What's happening… I'm drowning… I can't breathe… Am I going to die like this?」
The voice seemed to keep counting. 300, 302, 304.
「I'm still alive…」
Sleep overtook thought.
??? — "He's back!"
His fractured bones were repairing themselves in sharp, searing pain? 3652, 3654, 3656.
??? — "No, that's not him. But…"
His breathing, once ragged, resumed its rhythm? 86520, 86522, 86524.
??? — "I sense something in him! In any case, we must get rid of it!"
All the pain he had felt until now diminished? 604800, 604802, 604804.
??? — "The building will handle it."
Each of his wounds healed one after another, as if they had never existed… 777602, 777604, 777606.
??? — "Nyl…"
As if his deadly fight, which he had miraculously survived, had never happened, had never inflicted any injury. Yet it certainly had.
Voice? — "Finally, it took exactly 1,087,602 s, which gives you 18,126 min. Want more details?"
The liquid receded gradually. Only the amount that had originally stained the floor remained.
「I feel like I heard someone… But… I didn't understand…」
He opened his eyes and regained the ability to move—and so, to stand.
Once on his feet, he tested his movements. He controlled his body with ease again, his motions fluid and precise.
Mike — "If it makes you happy."
Voice? — "302 h, which equals 12 days… you were—"
Mike's eyes widened.
Mike — "What, that long?! And I'm completely healed?"
「My clothes are good as new? Nothing… No tear… No trace of the fight?」
He remained stunned, unable to make sense of what had happened. No matter how he tried to reason it out, it made no sense. The injuries he had received should have kept him down much longer; he shouldn't even have been able to stand. Without any treatment, he should have died.
Mike — "Healing this easily? That's impossible…"
A simple human couldn't possibly have such abilities. Something had allowed him to fully recover.
Voice? — "Well, my guess is it's thanks to the liquid that covered you. During those 12 days, it seeped into you through your wounds, your clothes, you even swallowed a great deal of it. It was slow, but as you can see, you're good as new."
Mike — "I see… It's incredible that it had this kind of effect. No… on the contrary, it was probably put here intentionally… This isn't a coincidence…"
Voice? — "It's been here from the beginning. It's probably its function."
Mike — "Yeah, I think so too. But why… Actually never mind, I'll think about it later. For now I'll just take some with me."
As he started searching for his bag, his foot hit something—an object his brain had forgotten.
The "gift" his enemy had left him.
The sword that had wounded him so badly. Made of an unknown material, still perfectly white despite lying on the floor.
He picked it up with difficulty, intrigued, and examined it closely.
Mike — "Why give me his sword… Huh—It's heavy!"
The edges of the heavy sword were rounded, so that its blows wouldn't cut but instead destroy, crush, shatter whatever they struck.
As he had learned the hard way.
「How are you supposed to cut with this? It's not even made to cut.」
Looking closer—especially at the guard—he noticed a small engraving.
[N°260]
The number the Entity had used to name itself was inscribed there, carved.
「Who carves their name like that?」
When he touched the engraving, it lit up.
Letters began spilling across the blade, forming words one after another.
[ᛏᚢᚡᛂ ᚾᛂᚱᛟ ᛏᚨᚾ ᚢᚱᛂ. ᛏᚨᚾ ᚲᛂᚱᛇ ᚠ ?]
Mike — "Huh? What language is this?"
Surprised, he tried reading them, but he couldn't…
The order of the letters, the words—none of it made sense to him.
Voice? — "Well… « This relic has been given to you. Do you want to sign it? »"
The voice paused, thinking, then continued.
Voice? — "It's a very old language and very few can still speak or write it. Strange… what is it doing here? And this signing system… does it still exist?"
「He recovered memories?」
For the first time, Mike heard the voice doubting, asking real questions about something it seemed to know.
Mike — "And you, you know this language? And also, what does signing mean?"
Voice? — "Yes, I think someone taught me how to read it…"
Mike — "Someone taught you? And you remember who?"
「It might help if I find that person…」
Voice? — "No, nothing comes to mind."
Mike — "Damn… and signing it? What does that mean?"
Voice? — "Simply put, signing it means that only the person whose name is inscribed can wield the relic, unless its owner gives it away or dies. You can sign it by putting some of your blood on the current name, but—"
The voice hadn't finished explaining when Mike already bit his thumb and pressed his blood against the engraving.
It darkened before disappearing.
The letters vanished, replaced by [???].
They multiplied, countless, covering the entire sword.
The weapon shifted, expanding from all sides, becoming first misshapen, then moving in his hand, glowing.
New sentences formed:
[ᚲᛂᚱᛇ ᛏᚢᛝᛇ! ᚲᛂᚱᛇ ᛏᚢᛝᛇ!]
Voice? — "Incompatibility! Incompatibility!"
[ᚱᛁᚾ ᛏᛂᚱ ᛗᛂᚾ ??? ᛉ̇ ᚢᛇ ᛗᛂᛝᛇ ᚱᛂᛝ!?]
Voice? — "Identity of ??? not found!?"
[ᚲᛂᚱᛇ ᛏᚢᛝᛇ! ᚲᛂᚱᛇ ᛏᚢᛝᛇ!]
Voice? — "Incompatibility! Incompatibility!"
[ᚾᛁᚡᛇ ᛏᚢᚱ ᛗᛂᛝ ᛉᚨᚱ ᛗᛁᛝᛇ ᛏᚢ ᛏᚢᛝ ᛏᚨᚾ ᚾᛂᛇ!]
Voice? — "Unable to determine mastery level of the five pillars!"
[ᚲᛂᚱᛇ ᛏᚢᛝᛇ! ᚲᛂᚱᛇ ᛏᚢᛝᛇ!]
Voice? — "Incompatibility! Incompatibility!"
It finally shrank into a small white sphere dotted with black [???].
It was the size of a marble.
Voice? — "That's what was written."
Mike — "What just happened? Was that really the sword? And what do you mean incompatible?"
Voice? — "I have no idea… This has never happened before…"
Disappointed, Mike felt the sphere, inspected it closely, but with no results.
He ended up putting it in one of his pockets.
「Too bad… but I won't waste more time.」
Mike — "Well, I was looking for my stuff."
He went near the door, where he found his backpack intact.
Neither wet nor damaged.
He rummaged through it and took out a water bottle.
「After all that happened, I'm not thirsty, but well… it might be useful.」
He emptied the bottle in one go and replaced its content with the liquid covering the floor.
Mike — "Ugh. Too bad I only have one bottle."
Grimacing, he put the bottle back in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
He took one last look behind him and saw, on the floor, his intact kitchen knife.
「It repaired itself too?」
He picked it up, made a few warm-up movements to confirm one last time that he was fully recovered.
He was now ready to move on.
He could finally leave this floor where he had been forced to fight and brush with death, even though he still didn't understand how he had survived.
Mike — "This time, let's go!"
The young man walked toward the door and passed through it…
Flooded by white light, he arrived at a stairway.
Voice? — "This is only the beginning."