Sage lay on the bed for what felt like an eternity. Time blurred, and the minutes slipped away into obscurity. Initially, chaos reigned, panic clawed at his chest, thoughts collided in a frenzy, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else.

Yet fear, no matter how intense, could not sustain itself indefinitely. Like a fire deprived of oxygen, it gradually faded, leaving behind only warmth, ash… and clarity.

When he finally became aware of his surroundings again, the gentle rustle of curtains, the muffled sounds from the Guild below, and the steady rhythm of his own breathing, his mind had already surged ahead of his body.

He was no longer in a state of panic; he was strategizing. Every potential consequence had been examined. Every immediate threat had been mapped out.

The disappearance of the Invincible Buff no longer felt like a scream in the dark; it had transformed into a problem with defined edges, something tangible that he could analyze and navigate around. Fear still coiled within him but was no longer allowed to dictate his actions.

It was only then that he truly felt his body again. The pain that once overwhelmed him had dulled into something heavier and deeper, a sensation akin to an ocean after a storm.

It no longer stabbed; it pressed down upon him like soaked fabric wrapped around bones and organs, making each breath feel slow and laborious. Yet even that weight began to lift.

He tested his fingers; they twitched slightly, a faint movement, but enough to stir an unexpected relief within him.

Exhaling slowly, he tried again, shifting his wrist this time. A dull ache shot up his arm, a hot thread of discomfort, but there was no violent backlash.

Encouraged by these small victories, he began to move more intentionally inch by inch, coaxing his battered body back into cooperation. His face tightened as groans escaped despite his efforts to remain silent.

After several minutes of careful struggle, Sage finally lifted himself off the bed.

The motion drew a strained hiss through clenched teeth as cold sweat beaded on his brow. For a moment, vision blurred before stabilizing.

He sat up fully now, hunched slightly forward, breathing cautiously as he let dizziness pass. His entire body felt as if it had been taken apart and reassembled incorrectly: muscles trembled not just from weakness but from the lingering trauma caused by forced mana circulation and damaged internal channels.

As the shaking subsided, he spoke inwardly.

"System," he commanded softly. "Bring out the mana liquid."

Instantly, the air in his bedroom warped subtly before massive glass containers materialized one after another, each taller than him and filled to the brim with shimmering liquid mana.

Their soft blue glow transformed the room's atmosphere entirely; fluid reflections danced across walls and ceiling alike.

Stacked densely yet carefully throughout every available space in the room were twenty containers humming faintly as if resonating with some deeper frequency.

Twenty containers. Seeing them all together like this, so tangible, so undeniably real, made something twist faintly in Sage's chest. This alone could elevate families. This alone could save lives. This alone could transform a nameless warrior into a regional power.

And right now, they were all his. He pushed himself to his feet, legs stiff and unsteady. Pain rippled through him immediately, forcing a low grunt from his throat. He steadied himself against the bedframe for several seconds before limping forward.

Each step felt wrong. His balance was off, and his nerves seemed delayed, as if the signals between mind and body were traveling through water. Still, he pressed on, slowly making his way to the nearest container.

He twisted the heavy lid open. A wave of dense mana surged upward instantly, cool, clean, and sharp, carrying a scent unlike anything found in nature; something like rain mixed with metal and ozone.

Sage didn't hesitate; he reached inside, scooped up a small amount with cupped fingers, and brought it to his lips.

The moment it touched his tongue, his entire body reacted. The liquid slid down his throat like cool fire, not burning but blooming within him.

A vast sensation rushed outward from his stomach, flooding his veins and pressing against the damaged pathways of his Mana Veins.

Sage staggered back and dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged almost instinctively as his hands moved into a familiar resting posture.

He closed his eyes and began to circulate the mana within him. It responded immediately; drawn by will and trained instinct, it surged through his internal channels, pushing outward, filling every space it could find.

At first came pain, a bright flash, as the energy brushed against injured areas where his veins remained fragile and inflamed from the backlash of a spell he had never been meant to touch.

His brow furrowed; breathing deepened.

He slowed the circulation process, guiding the mana more carefully, letting it seep rather than crash, allowing it to wrap around damaged paths instead of forcing its way through them.

Gradually, something shifted.

The pain softened; internal resistance diminished. Where there had been tearing pressure was now warmth. Where there had been numbness emerged sensation. The mana began to flow more freely through him like a current returning to a parched riverbed.

Sage's face regained color slowly; faint rosiness crept back into his cheeks while dark shadows beneath his eyes eased away. His breathing grew steadier and more controlled.

The emptiness in his gaze faded too, replaced by subtle yet unmistakable clarity.

Time passed, half an hour or perhaps more.

When Sage finally opened his eyes again, the world appeared sharper, not brighter but clearer than before. He flexed fingers then forearms to test sensations; soreness lingered deep in his bones but no longer threatened to overwhelm him.

His limbs responded, and he felt his balance improve. The fog in his thoughts began to lift. Slowly, he rose and stretched, feeling a series of deep, resonant cracks ripple through his spine as his shoulders rolled and his neck followed suit.

Each movement felt like pushing open a door that had been stuck for days. He wasn't fully healed yet, but he was functional.

Without wasting any time, he turned toward the bathroom. He stripped off the tattered remnants of his blood-stiffened clothes, letting them fall to the floor before stepping into the steaming water that awaited him.

The heat enveloped him instantly, sinking into his skin and muscles, reaching places that mana could not touch. Sage exhaled deeply and leaned back against the smooth surface of the tub.

As dried blood and grime washed away, the water darkened faintly. For the first time since waking up, he felt… human again.

He remained there for a while, unmoving with his eyes closed, allowing the warmth to ease the last tightness from his limbs.

At some point, a bitter smile tugged at his lips as he muttered softly to himself and to the empty room, "Why didn't you take this instead… Why the Invincible Buff…"

He shook his head dismissively; bargaining with the past was pointless.

When he finally emerged from the bath, steam trailing from his skin, he dried himself off before crossing to his wardrobe. After a brief pause, he selected a loose blue robe made of soft fabric that flowed elegantly around him.

Subtle silver patterns were embroidered along its sleeves and hem, a purchase made on impulse weeks ago because he thought a Guildmaster should at least look like one.

Slipping it on felt comforting; the silk warmed against his skin from the lingering heat in the room. He studied his reflection in the mirror.

The man staring back was thinner than he should be. New faint scars marked his face; however, there was a sharper presence in his eyes now, a newfound structure about him. He nodded once in satisfaction.

Then he turned to face the bed: dried blood stained sheets lingered with a metallic scent. Methodically cleaning everything up became an act of restoration as he replaced linens and erased all evidence of what had transpired.

By the time he finished, the room resembled private quarters befitting a Guildmaster rather than remnants of an execution scene.

Only then did he retrieve his satchel.

Opening it revealed a notebook inside.

Sage sat on the edge of the bed while flipping through its pages slowly, diagrams sketched out alongside observations; terms written down only to be crossed out and rewritten; notes on floor counts; monster behavior; core interactions; environmental adaptations, all part of an early system no one in this world had ever formalized.

He reread everything once or twice more, making small mental notes where clarification or expansion would later be needed.

Satisfied that nothing had been lost, he finally asked, "System. Aside from the Invincible Buff, are all functions operational?"

[Affirmative.]

The response was immediate and unwavering. Sage closed the notebook and allowed himself a faint smile.

"Good."

With one last glance at the containers of mana liquid, he turned and made his way to the door.

---------

The Guild Hall buzzed with life as always. Sounds layered upon one another, boots striking stone, metal clashing, voices raised in laughter or frustration, and the constant hum of trade and ambition filled the air.

Adventurers flowed through the main entrance in steady waves. Some were fresh-faced, their eyes sparkling with excitement; others bore scars from countless battles, moving with practiced efficiency.

Familiar scents wafted around: iron, leather, a hint of blood, fresh ink, and brewing drinks. Behind the reception desk, the lounge area pulsed with its own quieter energy.

Gregor lounged back in his chair, arms crossed and wearing an expression that straddled irritation and boredom. Opposite him sat Mina, her legs swinging restlessly as she spoke animatedly, her voice rising and falling with dramatic flair.

Nearby sat Pax, hands loosely clasped as he listened more than spoke; his gaze occasionally wandered to the room beyond. An old man beside him nursed a steaming cup of something warm while maintaining a relaxed posture.

Then there was Valeria. She sat apart from the group at the far side of the lounge as if an invisible barrier surrounded her.

Her back was straight; her expression inscrutable. One gloved hand rested idly on the arm of her chair while she slowly turned a small object, perhaps a dagger handle or maybe nothing at all, between her fingers.

She was present but not truly part of them.

Gregor snorted in disbelief. "Three days," he said while shaking his head. "Three days without a single word from him! What is he up to anyway? Meditating into another dimension?"

Mina crossed her arms defiantly. "I went to ask Boren again this morning. He swore he still doesn't know anything! He hasn't seen our Guildmaster for three days now. What kind of Guildmaster just disappears like that without even yelling at someone?"

"An irresponsible one," Gregor muttered under his breath.

Pax's gaze flickered thoughtfully. "Or maybe one who's dealing with something we're not supposed to see."

Mina shot him a curious look. "By the way, who are you? You look and sound kind of creepy."

"It usually is," Pax replied mildly.

The old man chuckled softly into his cup at that remark.

"And big sis?" Mina turned toward Valeria again, raising her voice slightly for emphasis. "You've been here every day?"

Valeria didn't meet her gaze but replied simply, "No."

Gregor sighed. "Great. Even the scary one doesn't know."

The group fell into a brief, uneasy silence.

Then, a voice sliced through the ambient noise behind them.

"Looking for me?"

Every conversation in the area seemed to come to an abrupt halt.

Heads turned, and eyes widened. At the base of the stairs stood Sage, leaning casually against the railing. One hand rested at his side while his loose blue robe draped around him. His expression was calm, with a hint of amusement.

"Sorry," he added lightly. "Got a little… held up."

The lounge was frozen in place.

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