The ground began to shake.
I dropped onto the pulsing floor, grabbing the sharp, floating fragment just in time. When I looked up, something stood in front of me.
[Manifestation: Ideology of the Soul]
A dragon.
It flickered, unstable, like it didn't fully belong in this world. Flames curled from its mouth, heat distorting the air around it.
[Attention: Unsucessful Judgement will result in death]
"Die...?" The word barely left my throat. Sweat dripped off my chin.
The dragon's eyes burned with something sharper than anger.
It was about to charge. I blinked.
For a split second. There was nothing.
The fragment slipped from my hand.
I looked down. My left arm—
My breath caught in my throat.
My hand was gone. Just… gone.
As if it had never existed.
[Penalty Triggered: Critical Limb Loss]
Then the pain hit. The dragon had taken it the moment I looked away—less than a second.
I clenched my jaw, grabbing the fragment again as I tore part of my jacket and wrapped it tightly around the wound. Blood soaked through almost instantly.
"It's too fast…" I only had one chance before it cuts my right hand too.
I forced my vision to lock onto it—nothing else mattered.
Something inside me jolted... I raised my remaining hand, gripping the fragment, and aimed for its head.
The dragon lunged, its movement stuttering, as if reality itself disagreed with it.
I ducked—barely.
Flames tore overhead, heat grazing my back like a living thing. My foot slipped against the uneven ground, and for a moment, my balance gave out.
"Shit!"
I lost my footing—the claw came down, close enough that I felt the wind of it scrape past my face.
The fragment struck its scales—and slid. The impact jolted up my arm. The dragon's head snapped toward me.
"Not deep enough." My voice came out ragged, like the air itself was thinning.
I pushed again, ignoring the pain, forcing everything I had into that single motion.
This time, the blade sank in.
The dragon froze. Then collapsed into dust.
[Manifestation Eliminated]
"This… is more than just a fragment."
The world shifted. The bandit lay in front of me again—the man who had tried to kill me.
[Judgment Phase Initiated]
[Touch the forehead of the soul to proceed with judgment.]
The moment my hand touched his head, something inside me fractured.
[Memory Synchronization Initiated]
It wasn't just memories.
They flooded in all at once—past and present, emotions tangled together without order or control.
Pain that wasn't mine. Fear that didn't belong to me. Moments I had never lived, yet somehow understood.
It was too much.
I staggered, my breath uneven. But I couldn't pull away.
His life unfolded inside my mind—his suffering, his desperation, his choices… and the consequences that followed.
I didn't just see it—I understood it.
For a moment, I wasn't myself.
I was him...
My vision blurred.
Tears filled my eyes, though I couldn't tell if they were mine or his.
Not because of my missing hand. Not because of the pain.
I grieved for him...
Two options appeared before me.
Heaven.
Or Hell.
[Decision is Absolute]
[There will be no consequences for whichever option you choose.]
"No consequences... yeah—right." I scoffed.
He killed—that much was undeniable.
"I know what he did was wrong." The words felt heavy.
"…but he didn't have a choice." Even as I said it, doubt lingered but I couldn't ignore what I had seen.
Why am I defending him?
If I'm wrong… then I'm no different from him.
But I had seen everything that led him there...
Every moment that pushed him closer to that path.
In the end. I made my decision.
"Heaven."
[Judgment Confirmed: Heaven]
His body dissolved into a soft white light, rising upward into a place I couldn't fully comprehend.
I blinked.
The ceiling above me felt… wrong. White. Too white.
Like I hadn't fully returned.
The air burned my nose. Sharp and heavy with herbs and something bitter underneath. The sheets clung to my skin, damp and cold, while the mattress creaked faintly beneath me.
A faint pulse ran through the floorboards.
A fracture would have killed me in my old world.
Here, healers worked cheaply.
I didn't have to pay.
My mother owned the place.
"Son!"
Her voice cracked as she rushed toward me, footsteps hitting the wooden floor in quick, uneven beats.
"Are you alright? I heard you were stabbed—with a knife!"
"I'm fine…" My voice came out rough, unfamiliar.
"You'll get well soon. I'll be right back!"
She turned, already leaving, the door creaking as it swung shut.
"Also," she called from outside, "someone wants to meet you. The girl who was being mugged—she healed you. You should thank her."
Right… the girl I almost died for.
My stomach still hurts, as if the wound was still there, open, bleeding.
I tried to sit up.
My left hand—
I paused.
It was absent... Like my brain had erased it entirely.
[Punishment for losing a left hand during Judgment: Hand Paralysis.]
[Duration: Until second Judgment.]
"…Great."
My voice cracked slightly as I leaned back against the cold mattress. My shoulders trembled despite myself.
I forced myself upright using my right hand. The air felt heavy, pressing down on my chest as my heart began to race.
For a moment, something lingered—not a thought, but a feeling that wasn't mine.
This isn't a penalty… it's a leash.
Forcing me to judge someone as soon as possible.
But... Why...?
The hallway pressed in on me the moment I stepped out.
She stood there, hands clasped together, eyes wide with worry.
"Excuse me," I called.
She turned immediately, rushing toward me, relief flooding her face.
"Thank goodness you're alright!"
"H—hey… it's fine," I said, forcing a weak smile. "I'm alive because of you."
"Oh, no need to thank me." She wiped her eyes slowly, like she wanted me to notice...
"I work here part-time as a healer."
"That's… great."
My voice faltered.
"…I've never had mana," I admitted after a moment. "Not even a fragment. I've never used magic."
Her expression softened.
"That's more common than you think. My father didn't awaken his until his thirties."
I nodded, though my thoughts were elsewhere. The hallway felt too loud. Everything pressed against my mind.
"Anyway, I should go," she said gently. "There are other patients."
"…Right."
I leaned back slightly, my chest tightening.
I need to judge someone.
I can't keep my hand like this.
…I'm left-handed.
And the memories. Would I have to go through that again?
What does the system even want from me… and why does it feel like I'm already playing along?
My hand tightened around the edge of the bed as my body trembled slightly.
I need answers. And next time—
I wouldn't just see memories...
I'll decide if they deserve them.