Chapter 5 — The First Lie This World Tells You
The man did not struggle.
That was the most unsettling part.
He knelt in the village square with his hands bound behind his back, posture relaxed, shoulders loose. His breathing was steady. His eyes were calm. Too calm for someone surrounded by armed guards.
Smoke drifted in from the fields, carried by a low wind. It curled around his boots and slipped between the stones like a living thing. The village bell had stopped ringing, but its echo still seemed to hang in the air.
Elias stood at the edge of the square, pain pulsing through his side in slow waves.
The man's gaze stayed locked on him.
Not curious.
Not surprised.
Recognizing.
Elias felt it deep in his chest—a cold, sinking weight. The kind he used to feel back on Earth right before things went bad. Right before someone proved they knew more than they should.
Captain Rourke stepped closer, sword drawn but lowered, the blade angled toward the ground. His stance was solid. Balanced. A man who had fought before and expected to fight again.
"You helped them along?" Rourke asked, voice steady. "Explain."
The kneeling man smiled.
It wasn't wide. It wasn't cruel.
It was patient.
"The markers were already weak," the man said. His voice was smooth, almost pleasant. "I just… reminded them."
A murmur rippled through the gathered villagers.
"You broke ancient protections," Rourke said. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
The man tilted his head, as if considering the question.
"Yes," he said. "That's why I did it."
Rourke's grip tightened on his sword.
"You're either very brave," he said, "or very stupid."
The man chuckled softly.
"Neither," he replied. "I'm informed."
His eyes flicked back to Elias.
Elias stiffened.
Rourke noticed.
"You know this boy?" the captain asked sharply.
The man's smile deepened.
"Know him?" he echoed. "No. But I know what he is."
The words hit like a slap.
Liora, standing several steps behind Elias, sucked in a quiet breath.
Rourke turned fully toward Elias now.
"What does he mean?" Rourke demanded.
Elias didn't answer right away.
Because for the first time since waking in this world, he wasn't sure what the truth was.
"I don't know," Elias said finally. "But he knew I would be here."
The kneeling man laughed again, louder this time.
"Smart," he said. "Very smart. You adapt fast."
Rourke took another step forward and brought the sword up, the tip hovering inches from the man's throat.
"Start talking," he said. "Now."
The man sighed, as if disappointed.
"You're thinking too small," he said. "This village. These borders. This kingdom."
His gaze swept across the square, over the villagers, the guards, the homes.
"All of this is temporary," he continued. "It always has been."
Rourke's voice hardened.
"You're done," he said. "Take him to the cells."
Two guards stepped forward.
The man did not resist as they hauled him to his feet. Even as they dragged him away, his eyes never left Elias.
As he passed, he leaned in just enough to whisper.
"They didn't tell you, did they?"
Elias's stomach twisted.
"Tell me what?" Elias asked.
The man's lips curved.
"That peace is a delay," he said softly. "Not a victory."
Then he was pulled away.
The village council chamber smelled of old wood and worry.
Elias sat on a bench near the wall, his father beside him, arms crossed tightly. Liora stood near the door, refusing to leave despite several quiet requests.
Captain Rourke paced in front of the long table where the village elders sat. Maps were spread across it, weighted down by stones.
"The markers were sabotaged," Rourke said. "On purpose. With knowledge."
One of the elders, a thin man with white hair and tired eyes, shook his head.
"That doesn't make sense," he said. "No one tampers with marker stones. Everyone knows what happens."
"Someone did," Rourke replied. "And he knew how."
Another elder leaned forward.
"Could this be an isolated incident?" she asked.
Rourke stopped pacing.
"No," he said bluntly. "It's not."
Silence fell.
Elias watched the elders closely. Fear flickered across their faces. Not panic. Not yet.
But doubt.
"How long until reinforcements arrive?" one elder asked.
"I've sent word to the capital," Rourke said. "But even with mana relays, it will take time."
"How much time?"
Rourke hesitated.
"Days," he said. "Maybe longer."
Liora's fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic.
Days was an eternity.
"And the prisoner?" another elder asked.
Rourke's jaw tightened.
"He refuses to give a name," he said. "He claims he's just a messenger."
"A messenger for whom?" Elias asked quietly.
Every head turned toward him.
Rourke studied him for a moment, then answered honestly.
"I don't know," he said. "But I know this—he wasn't surprised by the beast. He expected it."
Elias nodded slowly.
"So did I," he said.
Rourke's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"I felt it," Elias said. "Before it appeared. Like pressure. Like the air was folding in on itself."
One of the elders frowned.
"That's not how corruption manifests," he said. "At least, not at low levels."
Rourke looked back at Elias.
"How do you know what corruption feels like?" he asked.
Elias paused.
He chose his words carefully.
"I've been paying attention," he said.
That was true.
Just not the whole truth.
That night, Elias didn't sleep.
He sat at the small desk in his room, candle burning low, watching shadows stretch across the walls. The village was quiet again, but it felt forced. Like everyone was holding their breath.
The System hovered at the edge of his vision.
It hadn't spoken since the anomaly alert.
Elias focused on it.
Nothing.
"Fine," he muttered. "Be quiet."
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Memories surfaced uninvited.
Earth.
The tunnel.
The man with the gun.
The way the System had authorized his death without hesitation.
"This world lies to you," the prisoner had said.
Peace is a delay.
Elias exhaled slowly.
If that was true, then this world was on borrowed time.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Elias opened his eyes.
"Come in," he said.
The door creaked open, and Liora stepped inside. She closed it carefully behind her.
She didn't smile this time.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He nodded. "As okay as I can be."
She walked closer, stopping a few steps away. In the candlelight, her face looked more serious than usual. Older.
"I heard what he said," she said. "The prisoner."
Elias studied her.
"What did you think?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"I think…" She took a breath. "I think I don't like how sure he sounded."
Elias nodded.
"Neither do I."
She looked at him for a long moment, then asked softly, "Why was he looking at you like that?"
Elias didn't answer right away.
Because he didn't want to lie.
And he didn't want to tell the truth.
"I don't know yet," he said finally. "But I will."
She stepped closer.
"If this gets worse," she said quietly, "what will you do?"
Elias met her eyes.
"I'll adapt," he said.
The words came easily.
Too easily.
Liora searched his face, then nodded once.
"I believe you," she said.
She turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"Elias?"
"Yes?"
"Don't face this alone," she said.
Then she left.
Elias stared at the door long after it closed.
The cells beneath the watch post were cold and dark.
Stone walls pressed close, damp and rough. A single mana lantern hung from the ceiling, its glow weak and steady.
The prisoner sat on the floor of his cell, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His hands were free now, though iron bands encircled his wrists, etched with suppression runes.
He looked up as footsteps approached.
Elias stopped outside the bars.
The prisoner smiled.
"I was hoping it would be you," he said.
Elias crossed his arms.
"Start talking," he said. "Now."
The man chuckled.
"Straight to business," he said. "Good. I like that."
"Who are you?" Elias asked.
"A nobody," the man replied. "A believer."
"Believer in what?"
The man's eyes gleamed.
"In inevitability."
Elias felt a chill.
"You broke the markers," Elias said. "Why?"
The man leaned forward slightly.
"Because they were lying," he said. "Just like this world."
Elias's jaw tightened.
"This village could have been destroyed," he said.
"Yes," the man agreed calmly. "And one day, it will be. Whether by beasts, or war, or something much worse."
Elias stepped closer to the bars.
"You sound certain."
"I am," the man said. "I've seen the signs."
"What signs?" Elias demanded.
The man smiled wider.
"People like you," he said.
The System pulsed.
Once.
Hard.
Elias's breath caught.
"What am I?" Elias asked quietly.
The man studied him with open interest now.
"An interruption," he said. "A variable."
Elias felt the weight of the word settle on him.
"And variables," the man continued, "are noticed."
"By who?" Elias asked.
The man leaned back, expression almost reverent.
"By those who remember the world before peace," he said. "By those who know how this ends."
Elias's chest felt tight.
"You're part of a group," he said. "A faction."
The man nodded.
"We go by many names," he said. "But the truth is simple."
He looked Elias dead in the eyes.
"We are preparing for the return."
Elias swallowed.
"Return of what?"
The man's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The end."
Silence filled the cell.
The lantern hummed softly.
Elias stepped back.
"You're insane," he said.
The man laughed.
"That's what they said last time too," he replied.
Elias turned to leave.
As he did, the man spoke one last time.
"When it starts," he said, "you'll have to choose."
Elias paused.
"Choose what?"
The man's smile faded.
"Whether you want to save this world," he said, "or understand why it deserves to end."
Elias emerged into the night air, breath sharp in his lungs.
Stars stretched across the sky above Verdan, countless and cold.
The village slept.
For now.
The System flickered again.
Not a warning.
Not a mission.
Just a single line.
[EVENT FLAGGED: WORLD-LEVEL THREAT — CONFIRMED]
Elias clenched his fists.
"So it begins," he whispered.
Somewhere far beyond the borders, something ancient shifted.
And the lie of peace cracked a little wider.