The hospital room was a sterile cocoon, its white walls and beeping machines a stark contrast to the battlefield's chaos, where fractured pavement and shattered school walls had borne witness to the Tutorial's end. The air carried the faint sting of antiseptic, a clinical calm that did little to ease the tension rippling through the room. Zane lay on the bed, his white hair splayed across the pillow, his face pale but composed, his piercing eyes—once sharp as blades—now unfocused, staring into a void only he could perceive. Ariel stood by his side, her golden hair tied back. The Primordials crowded the room, their presence a fragile alliance, their stances wary. The world outside buzzed with preparations for the Tower of Rankers, but here, in this quiet space, a new challenge unfolded.
Valmer pushed through the hospital room door, his long black coat replaced by a sleek, dark gray jacket, its hem brushing his knees, rosary beads clinking softly against a silver chain at his waist, his sable-rose eyes wide with urgency. The others followed—Kai, his twin swords sheathed at his hips, his dragon tattoo vivid through a fitted black T-shirt, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder; Kenshi, his torn coat swapped for a patched navy trench, katana secured at his side, amber eyes narrowed with focus; Yuna, in a crisp white blouse, her chestnut hair with golden streaks tied back, sharp eyes thoughtful as they scanned the room; and Celine, her red hair tied in a loose braid, wearing a forest-green sweater, her hazel eyes flickering with concern. Ariel leaned closer to Zane, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, her golden hair neatly bound.
"Big brother, what did you say?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with disbelief.
Zane's voice was steady, a quiet river flowing through the room's tension. "Ariel, I think I'm blind." The words hung like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of shock through the group. Kai's jaw tightened, Kenshi's grip on his katana twitched, Valmer's rosary beads stilled, Yuna's hands paused mid-gesture, and Celine's breath caught. Beneath their shock, a flicker of relief stirred—Zane, the unstoppable force who'd torn through Elite Geminis, now had a chink in his armor. Yet the relief was tinged with unease; a weakened Zane was less of a threat, but also less of a shield.
Ariel's blue eyes widened, her voice sharp with defiance. "Blind? How, big brother? What happened?" Her hands gripped his, her resolve a beacon in the sterile gloom.
Zane tilted his head, his unseeing eyes fixed on nothing, his tone calm, almost serene. "It means I can't see anymore. But don't worry, Ariel. It'll work out somehow." His words were a quiet promise, unshaken by the darkness that had claimed his sight.
Yuna stepped forward, her chestnut hair framing her sharp green eyes, her voice laced with concern and pragmatism. "If you're blind, how will you protect yourself—or Ariel? What happens if we face something stronger than us?" Her question echoed the group's unspoken fear: Zane had been their edge, a force to rival any foe, but a blind warrior was a liability.
Zane's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, his head tilting toward Yuna's voice. "Judging by your accent, you're the Korean girl with the gravity spell. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I need your help, though. I need a place to stay and some cash. I'm broke, as you can see. My dad's a piece of work, so I can't ask him for anything. And I won't let Ariel go back to him." His voice was steady, each word deliberate, as if blindness were merely a pebble in his path.
Kenshi's amber eyes narrowed, the skull tattoo sharp against his pale skin. 'He's different. Most would be screaming, panicking, but he's calm, like this is just another challenge.' He leaned against the wall, his katana resting against his leg, his thoughts guarded but impressed.
Kai, twirling a sword absently, raised an eyebrow. "You're the president's kid. How are you broke?" He bit back the question, sensing it wasn't the time, his dragon tattoo flexing as he crossed his arms.
Zane's smile widened, a glint of his old sharpness breaking through. "It's not for free. I'll trade you information—things you don't know, things that'll help." His unseeing eyes seemed to pierce the room, his voice carrying the weight of secrets only he would know.
Valmer nodded, his rosary beads clinking softly, his sable-rose eyes meeting Zane's unseeing gaze. "Fair deal. We'll cover your expenses—house, money, whatever you need. You pay us with what you know." The others murmured agreement, aware that Zane's knowledge—of the Whisperkin, the Destroyer, the System itself—was a currency more valuable than gold.
Zane leaned back against the pillow, his voice firm. "Then it's settled. Ariel, ask them to prepare my discharge. I want to go home and sleep." He turned his head toward the others, his unseeing eyes somehow commanding. "Get the house ready. And one more thing—doesn't matter who you were before, what jobs you had. You're the strongest people on this planet now. Don't let those government fossils push you around. You're Primordials, act like it."
Ariel nodded, her blue eyes bright with purpose, and left to arrange his discharge, her steps quick on the tiled floor. The Primordials exchanged glances, their alliance solidified by necessity, and filed out to prepare a safehouse, their minds buzzing with Zane's words. Kai's swords clinked as he moved, Yuna's hands twitched, Valmer's rosary swayed, Kenshi's katana gleamed, and Celine's hazel eyes lingered on Zane, a mix of awe and unease.
Alone in the room, Zane lay back, his eyes closed—not that it mattered. The darkness was absolute, a void that had followed him from the temple in his mind.
'Am I truly blind? How do I survive the Tower like this? The Master's training was brutal enough with my sight.' He turned onto his side, the hospital bed creaking, his thoughts a turbulent stream. 'Those seven shadows—who were they? The Dark Throne? The System said I was the twentieth candidate, but only I saw it. The others would've asked if they had.' He exhaled, his breath steady despite the weight of his thoughts. 'I need to keep this quiet. No one can know about the Dark Throne, not even Ariel, it's too dangerous and there are so many unknowns. I've got three paths to get my sight back: find the Dark Disciple and force answers, ask the Master on Zoic, or face those shadows to return. But to do that, I need strength—enough to speak, to stand, to fight in their presence. But how am I to get stronger without my sight.'
His mind drifted to the temple, its towering pillars and pulsing runes, the seven figures whose voices had shaken his core. The central figure's words echoed, its demon tongue a curse he couldn't shake. The memory of their crushing presence lingered, a reminder of the stakes. The Tower of Rankers loomed, a trial he couldn't face blind—not if he wanted to protect Ariel, to repay his debts, to survive the shadows that now haunted him.
Zane's mind churned, a turbulent river navigating the darkness that now defined him. 'How am I supposed to know my abilities if I can't see?' The question gnawed at him. As if in answer, a faint glow flickered in his mind—not in his eyes, but in his consciousness, a blue holographic screen shimmering with text he could somehow perceive, even with his eyes closed.
[System Notice]
Analysis of player complete. Assigning username.
You would kill your own kind without hesitation. You feel no sympathy for a wounded mother and a child. Your purpose is singular: to protect what matters most. You are the blinded Dark Heir.
Username: Void.
Zane's lips twitched, a wry smirk breaking through his calm. "Void? Seriously? What about something like 'Most Handsome Man' or 'Ladies' Champion'?" He chuckled, the sound dry but steady, a spark of his old defiance.
'Nothing I can do about it now.' Onilia's lessons echoed in his mind: a username was a shield, protected by the System, safeguarding a user's secrets from prying entities. The Dark Disciple, the shadowy thrones—none could pierce the System's veil to uncover his true nature as Void, the Dark Heir. 'At least that's something,' he thought, his mind settling.
He sat up, the hospital bed creaking, his eyes still closed, his voice low but clear. "Come to think of it, I haven't checked my abilities since Awakening. Let's see what I'm working with." He tilted his head with excitement, as if addressing the System itself. "Open status."
The blue holographic screen flared brighter in his mind, words forming with crisp clarity, a lifeline in the darkness.
[System Status]
Player Name: Zane Walker
Username: Void
Rank: Alpha
Class: Necrotist
Abilities:
- Necrotic Touch: (Locked: Kill at least 20 Awakened entities to unlock. Entities killed: 11)
- Crimson Curse: (Locked: Kill at least 20 Awakened entities to unlock. Entities killed: 11)
Zane's jaw tightened, his breath hissing out in frustration. "Necrotist? What the hell is that? Locked abilities? Kill twenty Awakened entities? And I thought my life couldn't get worse." He leaned back, the pillow crinkling, his hands clenching the bedsheets.