Chapter 49

It was around noon on the day after returning from Jeju Island that Eui-rim visited the hospital. Considering the grueling training looming ahead, today was practically his only window of free time.

Word had reached him that the patient had finally regained consciousness, so Eui-rim intended to hear the full story of what had transpired inside the dungeon. It was virtually impossible to pinpoint anything anomalous based solely on the testimony of Moonhyuk, whose memories remained hazy. Above all, the dungeon Moonhyuk had raided was not one Eui-rim knew inside and out, making it impossible to draw comparisons and form a reliable judgment.

“Visits aren’t permitted?”

Yet contrary to his expectations, the situation took a completely unexpected turn at the ward entrance. He had even bought an armful of drinks and snacks, only to be met with a flat refusal at the door.

Eui-rim stared blankly at the Association staff member before hurriedly adding, “I wasn’t told anything about that. When I checked through our Guild Master yesterday, I was told I could visit at any time.”

“I apologize. His condition worsened again this morning. For the time being, access is restricted to authorized personnel only.”

Unbelievable.

A dizzying frustration mounted at the rehearsed rejection. Even a machine repeating programmed lines would feel less stifling than this.

Suppressing a quiet sigh, Eui-rim glanced around, sensing the atmosphere had grown considerably colder than when he had first arrived. Because he showed no sign of leaving despite the refusal, the guards’ vigilance had visibly ratcheted up.

Honestly, aren’t you guys looking far more suspicious than I am?

He cast a dubious glance at the armed hunters stationed in the corridor.

He had suspected it from the moment he arrived, but the security was excessively tight for simply protecting an injured hunter. Even the staff member checking identification was a combat-class hunter. No matter how high the government and Association had their guard up over this incident, this felt far too extreme.

“…I understand. I suppose I’ll have to come back another time.”

As Eui-rim backed down without further argument, the woman’s expression visibly brightened. Having received word that an affiliated guest might drop by, the staff had clearly been on edge.

Eui-rim held out the bundle of drinks and snacks toward her. “Please share these with the other staff. I’ll just look through the window from outside and head out.”

“Oh, no, you really don’t have to…”

Her hands moved eagerly despite her verbal demurral. Not only was her gaze glued to the bag, but the tentative gesture of her hands blatantly telegraphed that she was waiting for a second offer.

“I won’t be able to finish all of this myself even if I take it back. Please, help yourselves.”

“Then… I’ll accept with gratitude.”

Just as expected, she took the snacks and drink carrier with feigned reluctance. Up until a moment ago, she had maintained a stern demeanor while offering nothing but refusals. It seemed no one was entirely immune to a polite offering, as her rigid guard softened considerably.

“Ah. By any chance, is Hunter Yoo Tae-geun at the hospital as well?”

Eui-rim seized the opening to slip in the question, but the employee, already unboxing a beverage, only shook her head. “He isn’t here. Right about now, he’s probably in the middle of clearing out the dungeon.”

I see. No wonder he hasn’t answered any calls since yesterday. Having experienced similar aftermaths in his past life, Eui-rim could easily guess the grueling ordeal Tae-geun was enduring.

Thanking her once more, Eui-rim turned around slowly, every inch the compliant visitor. With visitation denied and Yoo Tae-geun occupied in the dungeon, the apparent plan was to withdraw for now.

To be slightly more precise, it was only speaking with the patient that had been postponed.

Outside the patient’s room, every single staff member stood frozen in place.

Since even the ward nurses were barred from entering without strict authorization, fifty seconds would be more than enough time to accomplish his objective.

Slipping quickly into the room, Eui-rim saw the healer—whom he had only seen in photographs—lying as motionless as a corpse. He had briefly worried the skill might not take hold properly, but fortunately, Rewinding Hand had cast cleanly. The man did not twitch a single muscle.

Still, why is he so gaunt? His condition was far worse than in the photograph, looking so frail it made one wonder how he was holding on. With hollow cheeks and dark, purplish shadows under his eyes, his baseline health appeared precarious even without taking the recent incident into account.

No matter how severe a debuff was, could someone deteriorate this badly in such a short span? Surely it wasn’t because of the Fragment…?

“…My apologies.”

The thought that it might actually be his fault made Eui-rim’s head bow on its own.

If I ever get the chance to meet him again, I should bring nutritional supplements instead of snacks.

Still, aside from the thick bandage wrapped around his right thumb, there appeared to be no obvious external injuries, which brought some relief. Eui-rim had worried inwardly after hearing that other hunters had suffered grievous wounds, but nothing of that severity was visible here.

“So visits were restricted because of aftereffects after all.”

When even Moonhyuk, with his high resistance to mental interference, had suffered for nearly two weeks, hoping for a swift recovery here was overly optimistic. It would likely take far more time before the healer reached a state fit for conversation. Since Eui-rim only needed to speak with him before the Tower raid anyway, there was no need to rush.

Glancing aside, he saw roughly thirty seconds remaining on the timer. Having confirmed the lack of severe physical trauma, he began gathering his mana to release the skill.

Letting out a breath of relief, Eui-rim took one final look at the healer’s face. Healers typically possessed self-recovery skills and maintained their physical condition with relative ease, so he wanted to verify whether the man was suffering from mana exhaustion. When mana reserves dipped into the critical red zone, New Humanity developed fine, purplish-red striations across the sclera—subtle enough to look like bloodshot veins at a casual glance, requiring close inspection.

…Wait. Did his pupil just move?

Eui-rim checked the timer in a flash, but nothing had changed. No warning window had appeared, and the seconds were ticking down normally.

“Must be my imagination.”

Yes. It had to be a trick of the light. Tense from doing something so out of character, his eyes were playing tricks on him. If it wasn’t an illusion, how could the comatose healer move in frozen time?

Eui-rim felt he had lingered too long. He should have slipped out immediately instead of second-guessing himself. Tossing and turning last night with tangled thoughts had likely played a part as well; exhaustion always bred paranoia. This was only an illusion.

Creak

“…”

It should have been.

Crreak

“Ah… ah.”

“…”

“From… some… where.”

Suddenly, the healer’s mouth split wide open as if yanked by invisible threads. Blood-red pupils swirled in unfocused circles, and with a sickening crunch of grinding bone, his torso wrenched itself upright.

“From… somewhere… I smell… the faint scent… of our kin.”

As if completely blind, the patient’s unfocused eyes spun in erratic circles. His hands clawed violently at the bedsheets, searching for something in the dark, tearing the wrapped bandages into shreds.

“Bro… ther?”

“…”

“Are… you… our… bro… ther?”

And the moment that familiar word struck Eui-rim’s ears—

“Has… the… ninety-ninth… fi… nally… re… turned?”

Eui-rim froze solid, forgetting even to breathe.

Because the instant he heard that question, he recognized what the entity truly was—what inhabited the healer’s body.

That thing was a Fragment of the Origin.

One of the ninety-eight fragments that, in his previous life, could not be defined by any human tongue and were simply called ‘Shadows.’ By the time Eui-rim’s instincts caught up, he had already retreated to the door. The timer had ticked past the ten-second mark, pulsing with a crimson warning, while the ‘Fragment’ before him flailed both arms, searching blindly for the returned ninety-ninth brother.

Dammit. What should I do?

If he was going to flee, now was the moment. To avoid being seen by the guards outside and to put distance between himself and the horror before him, escaping immediately was the only rational choice.

The creature did not seem fully mobile yet. If he slipped out and released the time stasis, it likely wouldn’t be able to do anything further and would conceal its presence once more.

However…

Crreak

Creak

Yet was running truly the right answer?

Even if time resumed normally, what if that thing refused to leave the healer’s body? If another catastrophe erupted as a result, would anyone outside even be equipped to handle it?

As a golden light bloomed, the crushing pressure bearing down on his entire body intensified. A miniature clock materialized beneath his feet, its second hand coiling in reverse, and the violent drain of mana made his vision spin with vertigo.

Forcing his ragged breathing steady, Eui-rim glared at the entity before him.

He could not simply flee. Even if the Balance had not completely collapsed, he had to uncover how this creature had manifested outside the dungeon walls.

“Are… you… try… ing… to run…?”

The possessed healer clawed blindly at the air before sneering out the words. His vision remained dark, but scent seemed to guide him; the tip of his nose twitched as he sniffed the stagnant air.

“Bro… ther… no matter… how you… strug… gle… des… tiny… can… not be… de… fied.”

“…”

“In the end… you… will sub… mit… and reach… the same… conclu… sion… as us… year… ning to re… turn… to the pri… mordial… uni… verse.”