Once Fisk announced the winner, the next minute or so became the longest of Isaac’s life. He stayed there, kneeling on the cracked and ruined arena floor. Everything hurt, and without the Symphony to help him, there was nothing to hold back the pain anymore. His regeneration also refused to work on any of his injuries, and he had no idea why.

  Then there was the crowd. So loud it felt like his skull might split open. Even worse, he could barely see anything. Only the blurs of crimson dripping down his arms registered in his mind. Well, that and the colorful lights flashing all around him.

  It was only by some miracle that he recognized Rakin appearing next to him. The Overlord said something he couldn’t understand before placing a hand on his shoulder. A moment later, the world went dark, the noise of the crowd faded.

  Isaac exhaled in relief. Then grunted as he was dropped onto something quite soft. He wanted to open his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, his body just refused to obey. Not even the sudden surge of warm energy flooding his veins could keep him awake. If anything, it only made him more exhausted.

  And so, unable to resist anymore, he drifted off to sleep.

  When Isaac awoke, the first thing he realized was that either he had only been out for a few minutes or his regeneration was still offline. The pain was dulled but far from gone, and the familiar ache of half-healed internal injuries greeted him the moment he tried to move.

  Shit, he groaned, blinking his eyes open. Huh… I can see.

  The view that greeted him wasn’t one he expected. For some reason, he was back in the waiting room, lying on what had to be the couch. He turned his head a bit, his gaze falling on the low table beside him. Now it was also covered with dishes of all kinds. He also spotted a vial full of pinkish liquid.

  Must be a potion…

  “Finally awake, huh?” A familiar voice spoke.

  Right away, despite his body’s protest, Isaac forced himself upright and turned toward the source.

  And there he was, Rakin, sitting in one of the few armchairs around the table, one leg crossed over the other. He wore his usual amused grin, while one of his hands gripped a strange tablet-like device. It vanished the moment their eyes met.

  Isaac rubbed his temple. “My head… How long was I out?”

  Rakin chuckled. “Only a few hours. Your body needed time to adapt to the antidote for the poison.”

  “Poison?” Isaac echoed quietly, grimacing when he spotted all the blood covering his body and torn clothes. “The hell?”

  “You heard me, kid. A poison. A high-grade one too,” Rakin said, his grin fading. “Turns your own regeneration against you. Nasty stuff. Rare too. Honestly, I’m surprised those idiots wasted it on a duel. Must have been desperate. No idea why.”

  The Overlord laughed, as if enjoying a joke only he understood. Isaac ignored him for a moment, his mind processing the new information.

  So not a skill. Explains why I’m still recovering…

  He looked up, offering the alien a tired nod. “Thanks for healing me, I guess. But… why are you still here? Hell, why am I here? Figured you would just toss me back to Earth and deal with me later.”

  Rakin scoffed, hand on his chest. “I would never do that. You’re my champion now! Had to make sure you will be fine. Besides, it’s not like all of me is here. Splitting and all that, remember?”

  Isaac frowned, then sighed. “Right, you can do that.”

  Another chuckle escaped the Overlord. “And don’t you forget it.” He gestured to the table. “Go on, kid. Drink the potion and dig in. We can talk in the meantime.”

  At that, Isaac chanced another look at the vial and all the food. The drinks were fine, but he wasn’t so sure about trying any of the dishes. It wasn’t that the smell was bad, quite the opposite in fact. Rather, some of the dishes looked… wrong.

  For example, there was the meatball lookalike. Only it didn’t seem to be made from meat, and was blue. Then, there was the soup. Nothing too bad, if one ignored its bright violet color and the way it bubbled as if it were still alive.

  An amused huff from Rakin stopped any further inspection of the food.

  “Just try them,” he said. “All this was prepared by my best chefs. Not only does everything here taste great, but it will get you back on your feet in no time. And the vial is just a high-grade potion.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to poison you.”

  Fair enough, Isaac thought, but still used Analyze on the vial. Once he confirmed Rakin’s words, he uncorked it and downed it in one go. The relief was instantaneous, as was the mending of a few cuts lingering on his skin. Arcane-grade indeed.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  That left the food. And so, before he could convince himself otherwise, he grabbed a plate and put a bit of the blue “meatballs” onto it. One bite later, all his reluctance melted away. The taste… it was hard to put into words. And then there was the faint surge of energy that washed over his body after each bite.

  Damn…

  Rakin’s laughter filled the room. “Told you it was good. You ought to trust me more.”

  Isaac gave him a flat look.

  “Fine, fine.” The Overlord waved him off. “About the duel then… You did well, kid. Very well, even. Which means it’s time for me to fulfill my end of the bargain. First, this.”

  Before Isaac could even react, Rakin leaned forward and tapped his forehead with a slightly elongated fingernail. For a short second, it stung, then came the flood of crushing power, followed by two notifications.

  Warning! A surge of Ascension Power detected. Processing… Advancing attributes…

  Changes detected:

  Power (Unbound III->IV)

  Agility (Unbound I->II)

  Toughness (Refined I->II)

  Regeneration (Awakened I->II)

  Insight (Refined IV->V)

  Isaac blinked. “You can just… do that?”

  “With you and some limitations, yes. And, of course, at the cost of my own power,” Rakin explained, leaving it at that.

  Not that he needed to say more. Isaac instantly understood some limitations of such a technique. Though it was still scary how easily the Overlord could push someone to a higher tier with just a touch. Thankfully, before this thought could consume him, Rakin spoke again.

  "That was just a bonus for your performance. Your real reward…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “No, before that, there’s something you should know. A warning. You have earned at least that much from me.”

  Isaac swallowed, body tensing. He could count the times Rakin had sounded this serious on one hand and still have fingers to spare.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  The Overlord nodded. “Good. The object I’m about to give you will draw even more attention to you. Not the good kind, either. The public won’t care; they can’t comprehend its power. The higher-ups, my fellow Overlords included… they will understand. And they won’t rest until you’re either dead or brought under their heel.”

  Only a single question mattered to Isaac at that moment. “Why?”

  “Why, indeed,” Rakin murmured, mostly to himself. “The reasons are plenty. I could list them all day. But the most important one is simple. Certain powers… terrify even us. Their potential endangers the balance we built. Most would rather see those powers remain sealed or destroyed. I disagree. A power like this is meant to be free.”

  Silence fell upon the room. There were many questions Isaac wanted to ask. Yet, the one that slipped past his lips went beyond them all.

  “Will it be worth it?”

  Rakin’s grin returned, sending a chill down his spine. “Oh, kid, you have no idea… May I present to you, The Mystical Scar of Blood.”

  Above the Overlord’s raised palm, a floating object appeared. Isaac could barely focus on it as the connection to his Origin lit up like a star and roared. He sensed fury, and quite a bit of longing.

  What the hell? he wondered, forcing his gaze back to the object

  It looked like a literal scar in reality itself, jagged and twisted. It wasn’t much bigger than his fist, and its torn edges bled black liquid that vanished as soon as it touched the half-transparent orb that blocked the scar from the rest of the world.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” Rakin asked quietly. “Your Origin, wanting to break free. To snatch this scar from my hands and hide it where no one can find it.”

  Isaac could only nod, eyes locked on the thing. “Just what is it?”

  “See for yourself. Analyze it.”

  Isaac did just that.

  [Mystical Scar: Blood | Grade: Forbidden]

  A critical piece of Origin of Blood itself. Ripped from the Mystical World and sealed to block a power that was never meant to be lost. The world screams. The Blood cries. The Genesis slumbers.

  “Forbidden…” he muttered, his eyes wide. It was hard to misunderstand what the description meant.

  A quiet chuckle escaped Rakin. He wasn’t even looking at Isaac anymore, just at the Scar, his expression distant.

  “The Interface reserves that grade for things that violate the laws of the world itself. And this?” He gestured at the floating wound. “This is a crime against nature. I once helped create it, believing it was right. Now I know I was wrong.”

  “So this is your way of fixing that?” Isaac asked, not really believing his own words.

  Rakin smiled. “Yes and no. I won’t lie, kid. I have plans, many, many plans. Some involve you awakening what’s sealed inside, others do not. If you refuse, I will be more than fine. But for once, trust me when I say that we can both gain much from this.”

  Right… Isaac hummed, gaze dropping to his hands. Accept a potential power-up and become more entangled in his plans. Or refuse, and live knowing that my Origin isn’t whole. That I could have been stronger, better.

  For a moment, he stayed silent, listing more pros and cons in his head. In the end, though, it was something else that nudged him toward his final decision.

  A voice.

  “Please, my child. Help me, and the Genesis shall be yours.”

  He had heard those whispers before. During his Reawakening, and again during the assault on the Unregulated Quarantine Site. Back then, he wasn’t sure just what they were. Now, there was no doubt.

  His Origin.

  Sure, its voice had changed. Going from an older, wiser version of himself to something that sounded like a mother talking to her child. Despite that, the way the connection to his Origin flared when he heard this whisper couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Please,” it begged again.

  Isaac swallowed hard and looked at Rakin again. In the end, if he couldn’t trust himself or his own power, then he had already lost.

  “I will take it.”

  His Origin pulsed.

  “Thank you.”