Ryn drifted awake on what had to be the softest pillow he'd ever felt.
Warm, perfectly shaped, somehow both firm and gentle at the same time. He let out a quiet sigh and shifted, nuzzling into it as sleep tried to pull him back under.
For a blissful moment, all his pains and worries drifted away. He rolled slightly, adjusting his cheek against the pillow.
Then, the pillow moved…
Ryn frowned. Pillows weren't supposed to move.
He opened his eye halfway.
Amelia stared at him.
Her face hovered just above his, cheeks faintly flushed, one hand frozen mid-air like she was about to brush something from his hair.
Ryn blinked. Amelia blinked back, wide-eyed.
Then she yanked her hand away as if burned and said far too loudly:
"I— I wasn't doing anything!"
Ryn stared up at her, confused and mortified in equal measure.
"…Were you about to touch my face?"
"No!" she blurted. Then immediately, "Maybe. You were dirty!" Her voice cracked.
"And you were breathing weird! And— and you wouldn't wake up!"
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as she fumbled for composure, tightening her grip on him only after she realized she was still holding him in her lap.
Ryn's heart stumbled over itself.
"…Sorry," he murmured. "Didn't mean to worry you."
Amelia looked away sharply.
"Y-You didn't! I was just—making sure you weren't dying! That's all!"
Ryn tried to sit up. His ribs protested, in the middle of throwing a revolt against him.
She immediately pulled him back down, flustered all over again.
"Don't move! You're injured!" Then under her breath, just barely audible:
"Idiot…"
Ryn suddenly wished he hadn't woken up at all.
Ryn blinked again, the fog of sleep finally peeling away. Amelia's flushed face, her trembling voice, the warmth beneath his cheek—all of it hit him at once.
And then reality followed a heartbeat later.
He had just fought a Cult Administrator and the Iron Basilisk. Why did he do that again?
Ryn's entire body tensed.
"H—hold on," he muttered, voice cracking as the adrenaline crept back into his veins. "The Basilisk—its poison gland—"
He pushed himself upright too fast, only for pain to lance through his ribs. Amelia reached for him instinctively, still flustered, still trying to hide the fact she'd been holding him like something fragile.
"Ryn, slow down—"
"No, the poison gland deteriorates right after death— we need to get it before—"
Amelia cut him off by shoving something wrapped in a cloth onto his lap.
He froze.
"…What is this?"
"My trauma," she said flatly.
Ryn stared at the bundled lump. Then at her.
"…You harvested it?"
Her expression twisted into a mixture of pride and pure disgust.
"While you were unconscious. Yes."
She shuddered. "It was slimy. And it smelled like rotten eggs dipped in swamp water."
She crossed her arms with a scowl that didn't hide the faint pink still lingering on her cheeks.
"So you can never complain again. Ever."
Ryn raised his hands in surrender. Though the gesture did surprise him.
"Thank you, Amelia."
She muttered something back—very quietly. Too bad Amelia forgot that Ryn had [Enhanced Senses].
"I just didn't want your efforts to go to waste…stupid."
Ryn exhaled slowly, still recovering from the pain of moving, but the weight of the wrapped bundle in his lap brought a different heaviness entirely.
Amelia calmed, watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"…Alright," she said finally. "Explain. Why'd you take so many risks just to get that thing?"
Ryn hesitated.
He hadn't meant for her to see this part. But Amelia had gone through the trouble of harvesting it…she deserved an answer after all the secrets he's been hiding.
Opening the bundle gingerly, Ryn lifted the poison gland out.
Ryn took his sword and carved a small line, poison spilling out. Conjuring a few vials from his ring, he harvested most of the poison. A total of 3 vials in total.
"The venom itself," Ryn continued softly, "it has a property most people don't know about."
Amelia stiffened. "What property?"
Ryn swallowed.
"The poison has a stabilizing property, and also has strong antibodies."
She stared at him, confused.
"Right…how does that help us fight Scorpio?"
"The strong antibodies…can combine with our own to create a—" he gulped.
"A poison resistance."
Ryn avoided her eyes for a moment.
Amelia froze completely.
"Ryn."
He said nothing.
"You're not planning to do what I think you're gonna do, right?"
Ryn didn't answer.
Or rather, he didn't know how to give one that wouldn't terrify her.
So he looked away, jaw tight.
Amelia's voice sharpened with panic.
"Ryn. Don't. Seriously—don't."
He didn't give himself time to hesitate, lifting one of the vials to his mouth.
Amelia lunged forward.
"Ryn—!"
"...Cheers."
He drank the poison.
The world snapped.
Ryn inhaled sharply, breath torn from his chest as the venom hit his bloodstream. His vision tunneled. His knees buckled. Amelia's scream sounded far away, like she was calling to him through water.
His pulse stuttered.
Both hot and cold entered his body at once, with neither deciding who would stay.
His vision blurred, the cavern up top seemingly melted into a collection of sparkles until they didn't look like crystals anymore.
More like…clouds.
He exhaled, body shooting right up. It felt fine, better than fine actually. There weren't any scratches, bruises, or any signs of the previous fight.
The first thing he noticed were trees. Tall pines stretched toward the sky, swaying gently in a breeze he couldn't feel a moment ago. Sunlight dripped through the branches in warm dapples, dancing across the forest floor
Ryn pushed himself up slowly.
He knew instantly this wasn't real. Yet, it didn't feel fake either.
A narrow dirt path cut through the trees, winding deeper into the woods.
Somewhere far ahead, thin smoke drifted lazily upward, coming from a chimney of a nearby cabin.
Something tugged at him. Like an instinct, urging him to check it out. Ryn swallowed, steadying himself, and followed the smoke.
A cabin sat nestled between two ancient pines, its roof patched with moss, its window glowing with warm firelight. Wood was stacked neatly beside the door. An axe rested in a stump out front.
It looked lived-in.
And impossibly familiar.
From inside, he heard the soft scrape of a knife against bone.
A man's voice drifted out:
"You can come in, boy. No point standing out there shivering."
Ryn froze.
Then, almost against his better judgement, he pushed the door open.
Warmth washed over Ryn's face as he stepped inside.
The cabin's hearth crackled softly, throwing amber light across the wooden walls. A kettle simmered over the fire, releasing little curls of steam that smelled faintly of herbs and pine.
The man stood with his back to Ryn, sleeves rolled up, quietly cleaning his knife at a washbasin.
"Close the door," the man said without turning. "Don't let the heat out now."
Ryn obeyed, the latch clicking shut behind him.
The hunter nodded toward a small table near the window.
"Sit."
Ryn hesitated, but the man didn't seem hostile.
He pulled out a chair and sat.
The hunter grabbed two wooden cups, poured steaming tea into both, and carried them over. He set one in front of Ryn before taking the seat across from him.
"Tea?" he asked simply.
Ryn wrapped his hands around the cup. It was impossibly warm, a kind of sense that's clearly impossible in a dream or hallucination.
He lifted it slowly to his lips.
The tea was earthy, slightly bitter, with a sweetness that lingered.
It didn't taste like any herb he knew.
When he looked up, the hunter was watching him with a faint, unreadable smile.
"You probably have a lot of questions."
The hunter took a slow sip of his own tea.
Ryn swallowed.
"Where… am I?" he asked softly.
The hunter shrugged.
"In between," the man said simply.
"Not dead. Not alive. Somewhere your mind brought you while it tries to decide."
Ryn swallowed, throat tight.
"You're… a god?"
The hunter laughed softly into his cup.
"Not quite. But if that makes this easier for you to accept, I won't argue."
Ryn's voice trembled.
"Why… why show yourself to me?"
The hunter set his cup down.
"Because I want to help you," he said calmly. "And so do the others."
Ryn froze.
"…Others?"
The hunter only smiled faintly, refusing to clarify.
Then he leaned forward and placed two fingers gently against Ryn's chest.
"So I'll lend this to you. Something I wished I had…once."
A soft chime echoed.
[ Blessing Granted: Poison Resistance ]
The cabin dimmed then glowed, as if flickering due to light.
The hunter stood.
"Ah… looks like your body finally chose to live."
Light swallowed the room, everything including the man—except Ryn.
He reached out, barely managing to ask a final question.
"Wait—your name! What do I call you?"
The hunter paused at the doorway, now equipped in full hunting attire.
"You can call me Orion. See you soon, Ryn."
Then he vanished as the world shattered into white—