The first thing Ember noticed upon waking was how exhausted his body was. Everything was sore—from his muscles to his nerves to even his bones. His chest hurt the most. The next thing he registered was how warm it was. Comfortably warm. And the third was how absolutely thirsty he was.

  His brain woke up before his eyes, and all those sensations flooded in at once. It took everything to get his eyelids open. They were so heavy, like something was forcing them down. He let out a deep, pained groan.

  “Finally awake,” a voice said somewhere to his left.

  Ember could only groan again.

  “Yeah, that’s what I expected. Not only did you use your weapon’s abilities, but you also overflowed. I’m surprised you’re even conscious.”

  The voice was mellow, almost musical with a regal inflection to it, clearly male. It took Ember several long seconds to force his eyes fully open and take in his surroundings. He was in some kind of wooden room. Basic paneling, nothing refined. He was lying on what looked like a primitive hospital bed. Not like anything back home, just a simple, sturdy thing.

  His head lolled to the left. A man sat nearby. He didn’t look much older than Ember, maybe early twenties. He had blue hair and striking violet eyes, so unusual that Ember blinked a few times to be sure. His face was pleasant, almost pampered, but there was hardness there too, something shaped by experience or failure.

  The man gave him a charming smile. “It’s only been a day and a half since you overexerted yourself. Typically it takes people several days to wake up after what you did.”

  Ember tried to answer, but all that came out was a jumble of sounds. He felt like someone who wakes up too fast from a deep sleep, fighting just to keep his eyes open.

  Another voice spoke from his right. “Well, this traverser did overexert himself. He probably shaved off a year or two off his lifespan overflowing and using his weapon’s abilities like that. He’s lucky he’s still alive.”

  The charming man nodded. Ember didn’t even try to look right. Turning his head wasn’t an option; he was too tired to move.

  “A couple days’ rest and he should be right as rain,” the second voice said. “He is, of course, severely dehydrated, but we can only do so much.”

  A hand grabbed Ember’s chin and gently turned his head to the right. Standing there was a man who definitely looked like a doctor. He wore a doctor’s coat, though it wasn’t refined, more medieval looking, made of a simple fabric.

  The doctor opened Ember’s eyes one by one and peered into them. He nodded. “Eyes are fine. Brain seems to be functioning normally. Of course, he’s a traverser, and it looks like he was in a strenuous environment for an extended period of time, so it may take him a while to physically recover. As for mentally, that’s a beast of its own. We’ll have to see how he handles the situation. Are you sure you want to keep an eye on him? He’s not your responsibility.”

  “Yeah, I don’t mind,” the blue-haired man said. “It’s not like I have anything better to do. And since I saved him and the Sword Crater religious people know I did it, I can’t exactly leave if I wanted to.”

  The doctor hummed and nodded. “Yes, they’ve always been an unruly lot. But after the incident, well. Chances are the Guild can only protect you two for so long. At most, you should have a few days, maybe a week, before they get impatient and start making moves.”

  He removed his hand from Ember’s chin. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. If you need anything,” he said, looking at Ember, “let me know.”

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  Ember managed to croak, “Water.”

  The doctor nodded and pointed to a small table beside the bed. A gallon jug and a glass sat there. Ember couldn’t move, not even a twitch, so the blue-haired man poured water and helped him drink. Ember gulped it greedily, the cool liquid reviving his tongue and throat. With a contented sigh, he sank back into the bed.

  The doctor left.

  “You’re really something,” the man said, still smiling. “If I hadn’t been there, God knows what would’ve happened to you. If you were lucky, they would’ve killed you quickly.”

  Ember finally found his voice. “Who are you?” he rasped.

  “The name’s Chris,” he said. “I was checking out the religious cathedral. I heard they were housing some weapon of renown, and I was hoping to get my hands on it. Turns out I got beat to it.”

  Ember’s eyes flicked to the corner of the room. His sword was propped against the wall.

  “It’s an impressive weapon. Honestly, you’re lucky you didn’t blow up when you decided to use its abilities.”

  “Abilities?” Ember asked, his voice a little stronger.

  Chris scratched his head. “Might be hard to explain to a traverser like you. Maybe when you’re in better condition. Honestly, it's a miracle you’re able to talk.”

  “I can’t feel anything from my neck down,” Ember muttered.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much par for the course. Not only did you use artificial ichor without an established cup, but you also overflowed. Your body used everything it had to keep you from tearing apart.”

  Ember groaned as his eyelids drooped. He yawned heavily.

  Chris gave his leg a pat. Ember barely felt it. “Get some more rest. I’ll explain more of your situation when you’re in a position to actually understand what I’m saying.” He stood. “I’ll see you later, Big Shot.”

  He walked out.

  Ember tried to fight sleep but lost. He dreamed of nothing. Just darkness.

  When he woke again, his body no longer felt numb, only sore. With a herculean effort that involved a lot of grunting and wincing, he sat up. The room was empty, so he reached for the jug and drank straight from it. Cup be damned. After chugging the entire pitcher he flopped back onto the pillow, his strength gone. He fell asleep instantly.

  When he woke again, Chris sat nearby, reading. He looked up and gave Ember a dazzling smile, eyes crinkling.

  “Well now,” he said, “the man of the hour awakes.”

  Ember groaned and sat up, his head pounding. He reached for the pitcher and drank from it again. Chris raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  “Where am I?” Ember asked, his voice still raw.

  “You’re in Basintown,” Chris said. “It’s not too far from the cathedral, or what’s left of it.”

  “Basintown?”

  “Ah, right. You’re a traverser. I forgot. Basintown is one of the six major cities in the frontier. It’s the one farthest from the main port city that takes you to the civilized world, as frontier people call it.”

  Questions filled Ember’s mind, but he focused on the biggest one. “Did you rescue me?”

  Chris shrugged. “I mean, I stumbled across you. Like I said before, not that you probably remember, I was scouting the cathedral hoping to claim their relic. But you grabbed it first, and I was there to witness the destruction and your escape.”

  Ember’s stomach dropped as memory's flashed. "What did I do? How? I killed so many people."

  Chris waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the frontier. People die all the time.”

  Ember opened his mouth, but Chris lifted a hand.

  “I said don’t worry about it. You used your weapon’s special ability, apparently summoning meteorites, and basically blew up the cathedral. I don’t have an exact number, but it’s probably around forty to fifty minimum.”

  Ember fell back against the pillow, nauseous. “I killed fifty people,” he whispered. “Just like that. They’re dead.”

  Chris scoffed. “No need to feel bad for them. They were psychos. Capturing monsters and tossing them in a dungeon under their cathedral? Even in the civilized world, that’s considered insane. So I wouldn’t worry too much. The people themselves, though, that’s a different story.”

  Ember fought the urge to throw up as Chris kept talking.

  “We’re in Basintown, like I said. There are a few people here who are part of that religion, but most of the city doesn’t care. That doesn’t mean we’re safe, though. Right now, we’re under Guild protection.”

  “We?” Ember asked.

  Chris scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah. Saving you kind of made me an accomplice. As far as the religious folks are concerned, I’m as bad as you. So they want me dead too.”

  Ember tried to sit up again but couldn’t. His body was sinking toward sleep again. “God damn it,” he muttered. “I’m so tired.”

  Chris nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up again. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m kinda trapped here same as you.”

  Ember’s eyes grew heavy. Before he could answer, he passed out again.