Right then, when he passed, the world did not shift. Stillness stayed put.
No tunnel.
No voices.
No sense of relief.
A silence that hits like a door slammed mid-syllable.
Then cold.
The ground pressed hard against his face, mud seeping into the skin of his cheek - cold, thick. That was what caught his mind first, odd as it seemed, if dying were real. Vision returned slow, then the world came back.
Above, the sky seemed off. It wasn't dark with storms or ending worlds - simply broken somehow. Its color leaned toward a dull purple-gray, close to an old wound that never closed right. The clouds hung down, heavy and motionless, almost as though someone had drawn them in place then walked away.
Time stretched out beyond his plan while he stayed put.
Far off, his body ached. As if another person's hurt had slipped under his skin by mistake.
"So this is what dying feels like," he said, his voice rough.".
Nothing answered.
Breath caught mid-draw - he stopped.
Each gasp felt raw. Not deep enough. More than imagined.
"…No," he said quietly. "That's not right."
Up he got, slowly. Into the wet ground his hands pressed, chill climbing where flesh seemed strange. His gaze dropped to them - tightness rose in his gut. Not right. Slimmer than before. Fingers stretched too far. Smooth. Missing every mark that ought to show. Nothing left of what had earned wear.
He flexed them.
They moved smoothly.
Perfectly.
It unsettled him worse than the act of rising ever could.
Stillness hung heavy, like the woods were holding their breath. Trees with dark trunks stood crooked, scattered without pattern. Their leaves stayed motionless - thin, light-colored, untouched by air that simply did not move. Nothing chirped. Nothing crawled. The quiet pressed in, total and watchful.
As if everything paused, waiting on his next move.
On his feet, the world tilted suddenly. Vision shrank for a moment, speckles flashing across it like static. Balance returned after he gripped the wall, patience thinning with each second lost. The wait grated on him more than the sway.
Fog lifted in pieces. Pieces of the past crept through. Time unspooled without warning.
It wasn't a surprise to him who he'd become.
It hit him then - exactly how it went down.
His name was -
He stopped.
It stopped - just like that.
A quiet settled in. Not relief, not sadness. An empty spot remained, clear and bare, like a shelf wiped down after an object was taken away.
"Makes sense," he said under his breath.
Folks never really needed names to begin with.
Footsteps.
Far from it. Watch closely. That quiet gesture folks gave when blending in mattered, yet stood out all the same.
He turned.
Ahead of the treeline, three figures waited. Their leather armor sagged, worn down by years and weather. Grips on their spears showed tension - fingers clenched more than needed. The man on the left had a dented helmet perched sideways, shifting with each breath but staying put just the same.
Outlaws. Maybe men who claimed they were tracking game but acted like thieves.
He caught their eyes fixed on him.
Beyond the open field. Past where trees thicken into shade.
Just him.
The big one took a deep breath. That was clear for everyone to see.
"Did… did you see that?" he whispered.
"See what?" another snapped back. "He was just - there."
A tremor ran through his fingers as he dashed off a quick gesture across his chest.
"There's nothing on him," he said. "No aura. No pressure. It's like looking at air."
Back they crept, side by side.
A slight lean came to his head, shifting just enough to change the angle of his gaze.
Strange thing happened. Them spotting me came first - me noticing them did not.
He didn't speak.
That wasn't required of him.
The air sat heavy, long seconds passing without a sound.
One of them laughed, sharp and forced. "Probably some half-dead drifter. Wolves get him and he crawls off to die."
"Yes," he answered, a beat too fast. Just like that, it was out. That's exactly what happened
One by one, their heads dipped down, a quiet weight lifting through thin sheets of hope.
Out of nowhere, he moved ahead.
Slow motion rules here. Aggression takes a back seat.
Just one step.
A jolt went through each of them, sudden and sharp. Their bodies reacted before their minds caught up. One stepped back, another blinked hard, the third held breath without knowing why.
Fragments of spears rose, tips trembling. The air held a shiver around their edges.
A voice rang out, sharp. Stay still was all it said.
He stopped.
His eyes dropped to his body. Ripped garments, color faded to ash. Feet uncovered. Dirt smeared on every surface.
No weapon.
Fairly sure of it now, he thought - he didn't come across as dangerous.
Something in their faces said it wasn't true.
A weight shifted behind his ribs.
Not pain.
Pressure.
A shape took form within his chest - no key ever needed.
[Initializing…]
Floating above nothing, the words were just there - carved straight into thought.
He blinked.
"…Ah."
Living on had its awkward moments. That made sense now.
[System Link Established]
[Soul Integrity: Stable]
[World Recognition: Unregistered]
The words slipped away under his gaze.
Sparse. Functional.
He approved.
A quiet alertness stayed, once the weight lifted - something in the body knew what came next.
A second man moved farther away.
"I don't like him."
"That's because he's not reacting," the tallest muttered. "People react."
His gaze locked onto the other man's.
Considered answering.
Decided against it.
"Oi!" the crooked-helmet one barked. "You deaf? Who are you?"
A breath slipped out before he even spoke.
Nothing came out.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
"…Huh," he thought.
The tallest one let out a breath, uneven. A single word followed: "Silence."
Breath came easier now. A quiet calm settled in their chest.
A whisper cut through the air - "Cursed one." Another voice followed, slipping in like shadow.
He frowned.
Mistakes were made - yet fixing them seemed pointless.
Loose, but not too much.
A sliver of movement - the tip of the spear dipped. "Check his pockets," came the order, flat and steady
He moved.
It wasn't quick.
It wasn't slow.
Exactly right it stood.
Inside the spear's range he moved, then placed two fingers at the man's neck. Lightly. Almost nothing.
A thud hit the ground as the bandit fell without warning. His body gave way like wet sand.
A hush took in the noise.
One of them froze. The second simply stood still.
Fingers caught his eye. He watched them.
"…Oh."
Basic Anatomy Knowledge Gained
Convenient.
Up went the tall one, yelling as he ran. Behind him scrambled number three, spear left behind, voice cracking with tales of spirits, empty dark, words stolen mid-air.
Running after was never his plan.
Not something I had to do.
Bent low, he felt for a heartbeat in the still body.
Alive.
Good enough.
On his feet once more, the trees stretched ahead, quiet, waiting.
A shape altered across the distance - no sound, no motion.
Attention.
[Rumor Seed Detected]
[Local Awareness: Increased]
He sighed softly.
"That seems excessive."
Still, the sky stayed just as it was.
Folks were starting to pay attention, truth be told.
Into the woods he walked, not knowing that before dark, three shaken men would each tell a separate tale -
By sunrise, every single one had already changed.