Darkness. A heavy, impenetrable void.

  Then—footsteps.

  Mark wasn’t sure when he had started running, only that he was running. His breath came fast, his heartbeat a distant echo in his chest. The world around him blurred at the edges, shifting like a half-formed thought, refusing to settle.

  Ahead, two figures stood beneath a dim, flickering light. Aria and Alexander.

  They weren’t moving, just standing there, watching him.

  "Aria! Alexander!" Mark called out.

  No response. No change.

  He pushed himself harder. His muscles burned, but the distance between them refused to shrink. Like a hallway stretching just before he reached the door.

  Something was wrong.

  The light above them flickered again. This time, the world glitched.

  For a split second, Aria and Alexander’s figures warped, their features becoming indistinct, smudged—like reflections in rippling water.

  Mark hesitated. A cold knot of unease twisted in his stomach.

  Then—the ground vanished.

  He plunged downward.

  Falling.

  His limbs refused to move. He tried to brace for impact, but his body didn’t respond. No resistance. No control.

  SPLASH.

  He was sinking. Slowly, endlessly. His limbs should have been thrashing, but they weren’t. His body refused to listen. He was weightless, a passenger in his own descent.

  Then, from all around him, the voices began to whisper.

  “You couldn’t save them.”

  “You’re too slow.”

  “They don’t need you anymore.”

  Above him, the surface was fading, growing more distant. He could see Aria and Alexander, their silhouettes disappearing as he continued to sink.

  Then—a light.

  Faint at first, then growing brighter. Expanding. Swallowing the darkness around him.

  It was pulling him in.

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  Mark wanted to resist, to stop sinking, to turn back—but he couldn’t move.

  The light filled his vision.

  And then—he woke up.

  A dull beeping.

  Slow, rhythmic. Mark wasn’t sure how long it had been there, only that it felt too steady, too artificial. His thoughts were heavy, stuck in the space between sleep and wakefulness. His limbs felt distant, like they weren’t fully his yet.

  He inhaled, and a dull ache rippled through his ribs.

  Hospital.

  Mark’s eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, everything was too bright, the overhead light stinging his retinas. He blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to adjust. The white ceiling above him was sterile, too clean, the air thick with disinfectant.

  His body refused to move at first. His arms felt like dead weight, his chest wrapped in what he guessed were bandages.

  Then, a voice.

  "Took you long enough."

  Mark turned his head slowly—too slowly—and saw her. Sitting in a hospital bed across from him was Aria.

  She looked… rough. Bandages around her midsection, an IV in her arm, but her posture was relaxed, like she had already adjusted to the discomfort. She had a book in her lap, though she wasn’t reading it—just holding it, watching him.

  "How long…?" Mark croaked.

  "Four days," Aria answered.

  Mark exhaled sharply. Four days.

  His mind immediately flickered back to the incident. The chaos, the collapse of mana in his body, the pain that had forced him into unconsciousness.

  He tried moving his fingers. They responded. Good.

  Aria noticed. "Don’t push yourself."

  Mark turned toward Aria, who looked extremely composed, almost eerily so.

  "Are you not in pain as well?"

  "I am," she admitted, her voice calm. "But I dulled all the pain signals so it doesn't hurt when I make minor movements. It’s manageable."

  "You never cease to surprise me."

  Mark let his head sink back against the pillow, processing. Broken bones, exhaustion… He had felt worse, but this wasn’t great.

  Then, the door clicked open.

  A middle-aged man stepped in, dressed in a clean medical coat, a holo pad in hand. He had the calm, controlled presence of someone used to dealing with powerful individuals who liked to overexert themselves.

  "Ah, you’re awake. That’s good," the doctor said.

  Mark didn’t answer immediately, still adjusting to being conscious. The doctor walked over, tapping something on his pad.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Like I got hit by a train."

  The doctor nodded as if that was the expected answer.

  "That’s not far off. You suffered mana exhaustion, along with a fractured ulna and three broken ribs. Your body shut down to protect itself from further damage."

  Mark frowned. Mana exhaustion wasn’t new to him, but this felt worse than usual.

  "Your condition was more severe because your reserves weren’t just drained—your body started feeding on your vitality to compensate. It’s a dangerous state. If you’d pushed any further, it could have caused permanent damage."

  That made Mark pause.

  "Permanent?"

  He hadn’t even realized he had been close to crossing that line.

  "Indeed. Do not ever do that again. If you hadn't received proper recovery immediately after, or had pushed one step more, you could have damaged the mana pathways leading to unhealable mana injuries."

  Mark gulped. He was in shock. He hadn’t realized his actions would be that severe.

  The doctor turned slightly toward Aria.

  "Your case was different. The internal damage from your injuries was severe, but your body responded well to treatment. You’ll be dealing with residual pain for a while, but thanks to the preventative treatment you received before coming here, your recovery is smoother."

  Aria said nothing, just nodding once, eyes flickering toward Mark for a moment.

  "Both of you should remain in observation for another two days before being cleared. No training, and for you, Mark, no excessive mana use in the next two weeks. Your reserves were nearly depleted to the point of no return, they will need some additional time to recover."

  Mark acknowledged it, pondering how badly the situation could have turned out if he had gone a step further.

  The doctor left the room.

  Soon after, unexpected guests would arrive.