The doctor returns.
Albert then asks him where they buried the bodies of Lessa and the Chief.
"Oh, young man… I know what it feels like to lose, and to lose again.
Just don't give up on what's ahead.
They were grateful to be part of your life—because you were part of theirs.
Am I right?"
The doctor sits at the table beside him, while Albert remains in bed with a blanket covering his legs. The doctor pats his shoulder.
Albert feels a small spark of hope and courage to live.
But he still can't think of anything except ending his own life.
Then he asks,
"Can I go outside and talk with the villagers?
I—I must warn them!
They are here…
T-The… Wielders…"
His voice grows fierce when he thinks of the hooded man—someone he's sure is a wielder.
In his village, and in every other village, the chief is the best fighter—nearly unbeatable. The only ones who could kill a chief are wielders.
The doctor answers, staring into Albert's eyes, deep shadows under his own.
"Your body is strong… but your mind is not well. You might go insane outside.
I will inform Madam Merry for you. I already know of the wielders' arrival. The war on the other side has forced them to leave their territories and invade others.
But no one will believe what happened to the Chief. It's been almost a week, and no wielder has claimed his position.
I hope you rest here a while, Albert. Find a reason to hold on. Find a hope worth following.
It's better to live with one shred of hope than to live like the dead, with none at all."
The doctor smiles and walks out.
Albert nods, then lies back in bed.
For several minutes, he stares at the ceiling. He remembers the mysterious floating paper he saw after stabbing his own neck.
He touches his neck—no wound, no stitches.
Rolling onto his side, he feels certain he killed himself. Yet he is alive, unscathed.
The wind stirs the long blue curtains patterned with fruit.
The air in the room is cold.
He rolls back and stares at the ceiling again.
After a moment, he closes his eyes, clearing his mind—trying to recall what he read on that paper.
His mouth moves unconsciously, following the memory in his body rather than his mind.
"S-So… Soul… Collected… S-Success-f-fully?"
He opens his eyes and relaxes.
This is the same method he uses when he forgets where he placed a book in his library. If many have similar covers, he doesn't rely on memory—only on habit.
He's confused by the meaning of the words, but sure he saw them written after Lessa's death.
For hours he thinks, recalling every word from the paper, connecting them in his mind as if writing on an invisible sheet. Finally, he reaches a conclusion with more than fifty percent certainty.
"System… Soul… Death…
A mysterious energy orb that entered my body…
It must be! An artifact!
That has to be why I'm still alive. But… where is it now?"
He rests his arm on his forehead. His black hair falls back behind his head.
Then he mutters,
"So… it's like an artifact that can only be used once.
But… what does 'soul-system' mean? Those words are unfamiliar to me."
A sheet of paper suddenly appear out of thin air, glowing with blue energy.
Albert freezes, shocked—mouth open, eyes wide.
"W-What the…
That sheet of paper… I thought it was gone!
How did… Ahhh…"
He scratches his head violently, standing on the bed.
"Why am I feeling excited?
Did I forget what I've done?!
You dumb, useless worm!
Why are you feeling excited?!"
He can't stand that he feels this way. Every human dreams of holding an artifact—it's like finding gold in a pile of garbage.
"No…
If it can pull me from the pit of death…
Then… Lessa might be…
Yes… I must find out how to use it."
Hope rises in his heart—the hope of reviving Lessa.
He steps closer and reads:
---
[Soul System (Feel to Know More)]
Description: Holders will walk and grip life for power.
---
"What kind of description is that? Useful… but also sounds like a threat."
He continues reading.
---
[Spell List:]
• Auto Regeneration (Feel to Know More)
• Effects (Feel to Know More)
Soul Collection: 0
---
"What in the vast lands does that mean?
It's just one sheet of paper, but it changes what's written on it… maybe?"
He studies it carefully, noticing the repeated phrase "Feel to Know More."
"'Feel to know more'… means… touch to see more?
I think… I just need to touch it.
T-Then I can read more about it."
He struggles to reach it with his fingertips.
"Then… I can see her again…"
A spark of hope glows in his heart, and he doesn't notice the tears slipping down his cheeks.
Finally, he touches it.
---
[Soul System (Feel to Know More: One soul for one spell)]
---
"That's it? The writer must have been lazy.
But now I understand a little more.
In general… this paper is data about the holder. I might be arrogant to assume I'm the holder—but it's no lie that it brought me back to life.
The only thing I don't know is what it means by 'soul.'
It must be connected to… life."
He stops. A horrible realization hits him.
Panic floods in. He collapses onto the bed, staring at the paper in terror. Tears stream freely.
"Le… Le… Lessa's life…
I killed her…
That's why… I'm still alive…"
He realizes the artifact uses life in exchange for power. The "Auto Regeneration" must be what kept him alive. He had underestimated it based on just a few words.
"I am the holder of this artifact.
The one who grips life for power.
Bwahahaha… hahaha…"
At first he laughs wildly—then quietly.
His world feels like shattered darkness, falling apart.
Guilt crushes him.
"This artifact… no—all artifacts—shouldn't exist.
Hahaha… why am I blaming it?"
His mind is chaos.
The doctor, hearing him from outside, rushes in. Seeing Albert's state, he quickly draws a small needle with a sleeping drug.
Albert doesn't notice—and soon falls asleep.
---
In his dreams, he stands surrounded by countless artifacts—blades, swords, knives, bows, armor—stacked high, towering over him.
Then he sees a human-shaped figure, featureless, but glowing with blinding light. Its head has hair-like white energy flowing above it.
The atmosphere feels real, yet he can't feel his own breath—only the existence of his mind.
He shouts at the unmoving figure:
"Are you a god?
Are you the owner of these artifacts?"
It has no mouth, yet he hears the answer in his mind, as if they share one thought.
"A god, I'm not.
An owner? Close enough."
Albert shouts again.
"Then what are you?
Can you… bring the dead back to life?"
The answer comes, wordless but clear.
"I am a lost soul…
My body was torn to pieces and turned into tools to take life.
If you can return my body, I can return the life you want me to save.
And that is by…"