As I sat in a chair, Aleya directed her skill towards me. Mana flowed from her hands, its destination the open wound on my arm.

“I can’t grow your arm back, unfortunately,” she told me. “[Boost Target] only allows me to increase the rate at which your body heals. And even then, it really is only surface-level healing.”

I winced as energy drained from my body. The feeling was much worse compared to when I had been healed after the attack from the lynx. It created a throbbing pulse in my arm; it was almost like my wound was twisting into a knot.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to grow my arm back,” I responded through gritted teeth. “I didn’t think that was even possible.”

Aleya hummed, sounding slightly strained. “I’m not completely sure it is possible, but I’ve heard stories of a place in the east, where magic is more advanced.” She grew quiet as her skill worked.

“... you think I should head there?” I asked, assuming what she wanted to say.

“Considering the circumstances, I think it is for the best.”

I breathed out, the day’s events rushing through my head. The pain from the memories was almost worse than that of my arm. “You know Davion killed Lewis?”

Aleya sharply inhaled, her flow of mana wavering. “I am aware.” She said nothing further, and a hot feeling burned in my chest. The pyromaniac ticked his lighter behind her, a scowl twisting the skin of his face.

“And you will stay, despite that? Despite what Davion has done?” The words ‘to me’ were on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back.

I still felt anger towards the patriarch. Yet, the curiosity to know what reasons she would have to stay, despite what she knew, was stronger. It also made me wonder if she knew about any previous events like this one, and it was just another occurrence.

“Davion is Fevhdor’s servant; doubt towards him is doubt towards my God,” Aleya told me. “I believe the patriarch’s actions are guided by Him.”

I could rationalize her words. An unordinary belief to me could be intrinsic and normal in another’s culture. However, I couldn’t begin to understand the reasons for acceptance, as it was not how I was raised.

The way Aleya had lived was vastly different from my own experiences. Adding in the fact that this was an entirely different world from my own, I could finally gain some understanding.

Familial bonds were valued less than these people’s connection with their god—a better word would be devotion. Perhaps we were alike in that way; ties with others mattered little to me in the face of myself and my delusions.

Aleya’s mana receded, before completely cutting off from me. “There—all done.”

I rolled my shoulders, feeling uncomfortable in my own body. I felt unbalanced and lighter than I should be, and when I tried to stretch my arm forward, only my shoulder and remaining upper arm moved.

The feeling of reaching through emptiness was familiar to me, but I could usually find what I was searching for. Now, no matter how I tried, I couldn’t solidify myself in this world with my missing hand. I felt like I was reaching forward, but there was nothing to be found.

It was an odd feeling of disconnect, and I tried to ground myself as I gripped the hard wood of the chair with my left hand. Faint breaths left Aleya in front of me, mixing with the sound of my own, and I tried to focus on those sounds.

[Vitality +1]

The message popped up in front of me, interrupting my concentration. It felt odd that I had gained vitality from Aleya healing me instead of losing one as a result of Davion taking my arm. It made me wonder if status increases could ever be lost.

That idea made sense to me since if something can be gained, I felt that it could always be taken away. This world hadn’t seemed very forgiving in the first place.

Since I had gained a point, I decided to give my status a look. I had also mostly ignored it in my week here and felt like I hadn't examined it recently.

Name: Cain Miller

Title: Blind Man's Avarice

Class: Executioner

Strength: 36

Endurance: 33

Vitality: 21

Dexterity: 28

Intelligence: 11

Wisdom: 27

Perception: 16

Skills:

[Chop (3)] - passive

[Enhanced Sense (2)] - passive

[Summon Flame (2)] - active

[Silent Blade (1)] - active

[Map Line (1)] - active

I had only gained a couple of points in dexterity and now one in vitality, along with the skill [Map Line]. It felt like a massive decline from what I had achieved before. Did increasing attributes become harder as time went on? Or, maybe it was just because I hadn’t done much while here.

Being able to increase traits was already supernatural. So, it would make sense if improving became more difficult—that was the case for skills.

“Is all now well?” asked Aleya.

I quietly snorted. “As well as it can be, yes. What next?” She stood, her chair creaking, and moved to the other side of the room.

“I’ll gather supplies for you. I do think it is best that you leave now.” I nodded my head in agreement. “I’ll give you time to gather your things and to clean up.” She paused, her rummaging growing quiet. “You still stink of blood.”

Her voice was quiet and it slightly wavered. It did not hit the level of a joke I thought she wanted to achieve. She was right, however; I could feel dried blood covering my body, sinking into my crevices, and permanently staining the black I saw in red. I could no longer smell it, and I felt grateful for that small mercy.

Doing as she directed, I went to clean my body in the building I had been sleeping in. After, I dressed and grab the little number of belongings I had. My axe was included with those things, its weight on my hip restoring some of the balance I had lost.

Returning to Aleya, she gave me a large coat, hat, and gloves. Lastly, she thrust a pack into my arms. Its size was large, but its weight was minimal compared to my increased strength.

“The bag contains some food and supplies you might need,” she informed me. I slung it over my shoulders, struggling to keep it up on my right side.

“Thank you.”

“You should go east. The only things north of here are the sea and mountains, and I don’t know of anything south. You know what is west, and I don’t think you want to return there,” Aleya rationalized, and I nodded my head in affirmation. “The books we have say our ancestors came from the east, where a long-lasting kingdom rests. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

Her hand moved through the air, displacing the falling snow as it reached towards me. I flinched back, unsure of what she wanted. Only pain had been inflicted by others' hands. I could not so readily forget what I had lost as a result of blindly following after a now-dead man that I think I had begun to trust.

Aleya drew her hand back, sighing. “I won’t forget your face, Cain. The time I knew you had been short, but you’ve created questions in my mind that I never wanted to have.” I tightened my hand on the strap of the bag, unsure of what to say.

“Perhaps I will fade quickly from your mind since you never knew my face,” she continued. “But sometimes your closed eyes seemed to see more than I thought was possible, and sometimes you were as blind as I expected you to be.”

She turned around, not waiting for a reply that I didn’t have. “May you and my God never meet again. Because I fear, at that time, one of you will be just as blind as you had been to the truth of this place.”

I stood silent in the snow as she left, her words confusing and painful. They only seemed to highlight my stupidity and shortcomings. I thought I had become used to blindness, able to be as rational as I was when I had been a soldier.

The improvements to my status had allowed me to miraculously adapt to the physical aspect of blindness, but not so much to the smaller problems.

I could no longer catch important details in my surroundings or how a person's facial expressions changed. Even with eyes, I had never been good at telling a person’s true intentions, my ability to relate with others always lacking.

Perhaps if I still had my eyes, I wouldn’t have lost an arm as well, seeing the truth of this place before it had been too late. However, I could not wallow in those thoughts. There was no changing the fact that I was blind, and that I would always miss what other people would catch.

I turned around, heading towards the exit. The large doors of Drixstead opened immediately for me, the groan of wood filling the silent winter night. The back of my neck prickled from what felt like watching eyes, and I flipped the hood of my coat up.

The doors closed behind me, and I turned away. Activating [Map Line], I directed it to guide me east. A clear red line stretched in front of me, and I did not know where it would lead. It seemed to be endless, but I knew it would eventually end. Everything did.

I passed the frozen lake on my right, its ice continuously cracking and splintering. The sounds traveled in every direction—then they seemed to reverberate off of unseen walls to echo in my ears.

After I had left the lake behind along with Drixstead, the sound of my feet sinking into the snow was the only thing I could hear.

The night quickly ended, the snow stopping and the sun hitting my face with its heat. I grew hot in my clothes as I continued on, and I removed my hood and hat. Pulling out some food from the bag Aleya had given me, I ate while I walked.

Periodically, I had to reset [Map Line], as it wasn’t able to go as far as I thought at level one. The red line would begin to fade, and I would spend a little more mana to activate it again.

I didn’t stop walking as the night came again, my endurance keeping my steps coming easily. How long I could walk without stopping, I didn’t know, but I guessed I would find out soon.

By the second day, my legs had begun to ache and my steps came slower. I still hadn’t encountered anything, living or not. That night, I finally stopped, attempting to build a small igloo with the snow.

It had been extremely hard with only one hand, snow toppling if I didn’t pack it together tight enough. I gave up midway, only a short wall giving me protection from the wind that had begun to blow from the north. Right next to it, I cleared away the snow, then laid down on the hard ground.

My head felt heavy as I rested it on my bag, my hand laying on my stomach. My right stump dragged against the ground, too short to lift onto my chest.

I fell asleep surrounded by snow, the robes of the priest fluttering in the wind as he bent over me. What he protected me from, I did not know.