I didn't know how long I stayed in the sea of light. A second… An eternity…

Slowly, however, I was able to pin down that the time wasn't moving just as fast, but it was a sensation of drunkenness. It was strong, stronger than any drink I tasted, enough to enrapture me if it wasn't for the combined effects of the adrenaline rush and the pain of my wounds.

Interestingly, the moment I stepped into the light the sensation of rejection vanished. It disappeared completely, almost like it didn't exist in the first place and I imagined it. I should have felt fascinated by the dancing colors around me, more impressive than the best firework show I had seen, but a lifetime of practicality forced me to focus on more practical aspects.

Like how I managed to end up in the tunnel of light.

Whoever — or whatever — was responsible for the portal was clearly not omnipotent. If they had been, they could have done something more effective to keep me away than trying to play with my thoughts or emotions to make me take such a decision.

However, even as I processed that, I turned my attention to the other significant detail. Two lines of text that appeared in my sight, immediately after the first line about class awakening disappeared.

[Class: Hero

Level: 0]

I had no idea what that text meant, or required any kind of action from me. I might have tried to decipher them, but I had a more urgent issue to deal with.

My wounds, still bleeding.

I started ripping my shirt, as quickly as I could manage in my current condition, trying to fashion out some bandages to stem the blood. It would be the height of irony if the blood loss ended me as I continued to float through the magical tunnel.

Yet, even as I ripped the first bandage, I realized something was wrong. The shirt was made of a silk and cotton blend, and while it was not impossible to rip such a fabric, it required a considerable amount of strength. Yet, it put up less resistance than paper for my tug.

I raised the fabric, only to realize it was thin and frayed, like it was a twenty-year-old shirt used in heavy-duty rather than a new one. In a panic, I raised my hand, looking at my fingers, afraid that somehow the tunnel was rejecting me.

It was still the same old, wrinkly skin, with no hint of weakening — not above the effect of the constant blood loss.

I had something else to check. I turned my attention to my gun and my watch, only to see both had lost their luster, and gained a dull, dusty look, almost soft. I grabbed the gun and pressed it, only for it to shatter in my palm like foam.

It was an interesting concept, especially as I noted certain parts of my suit had already disintegrated completely. But I was too practical to miss the implications for my wounds, desperately pressing one hand to my shoulder, and the other to my thigh.

If everything else was disintegrating, the bullets would as well, and the bullets buried there were helping to plug the wounds they had created. Their disappearance would only mean faster blood flow…

And just like that, I found myself floating in some kind of trippy river of light, desperately hoping that I would arrive to the destination before the blood loss ended me.

I didn't pay attention to the burning letters in front of me as I turned my gaze to my surroundings, hoping to find something to distract me from the desire to fall asleep. As the adrenaline rush slowly disappeared, it left exhaustion behind, compounded by the exhaustion of the blood loss.

Adding in the drug-like effect of the tunnel to my already ragged state turned the simple task of staying awake into one of the hardest challenges of my life.

I ignored everything else, focusing on the singular task of staying alive. I had grown up as an orphan during the war, I had overcome betrayals, I had survived starvation, I had fought and bled until I had built an empire of shadows from nothing…

Sleep was just another enemy to be vanquished.

As I struggled, a little line popped in front of me.

[Stat Potential Awakened: Resilience

Accept / Reject]

"Accept," I muttered, with absolutely no idea what such a thing meant, but hoped that it might somehow help me.

It didn't, at least not in a way that I could actually notice. Maybe they were just a hallucination, a flicker I was seeing as the blood loss had become too much.

Either way, I focused on staying awake while pressing my wounds as I floated, death creeping ever closer. Lost in the haze, I barely managed to resist the call of sleep … as I got closer to unconsciousness, I could see some kind of shadow, peering through the light, but it was impossible to decipher whether it was not just an illusion.

Not with my gaze darkening with each second.

Then, I felt something solid under my feet. It only lasted for a fleeting moment, making me think that it was just a dream. Only after it was followed by a painful collusion, I realized it was me that toppled down, too weak to stand up.

While I wondered if that was the end, I heard a cry nearby. "What's going on, he's not supposed to be wounded!" shouted a voice.

A voice that was not speaking in any language that I knew, yet somehow understood perfectly.

"Quick, transfer some health to him before he dies," shouted a second voice.

At least someone was trying to help me. I did nothing, just lay on the ground, my eyes closed. Not because I wanted to keep them closed, but because opening them was more than I could manage in my exhausted state. The most I was able to focus on, other than the pointless cries, was the texture of the surface under me.

Some kind of metal, cold and flawless, yet hot at the same time.

"Are we sure we want to save him?" said the first one. "Look at him, so old and frail. Maybe we should just get rid of him —"

"And what, beg the lords to give us another set of keys for free so we can conduct another summoning! Is your family willing to pay the cost? Can you take the responsibility to identify another gap to summon one before the breach happens!" the second one argued. Those two fought, but I could hear others at a distance, moving but staying silent.

"I don't have to—" started the first voice, nasal and annoying, before being interrupted by another, a third voice.

"Enough bickering, Falael! He's dying. We can decide whether he's eligible after healing him," the third voice said, though I realized that it was a distant voice, with some echo, almost like coming from a phone. Still, I feel that, unlike the first and second, it was sharper, and more confident.

Clearly used to throw out commands.

"But how?" the first one, identified as Falael. "He doesn't have any Health to be replenished. They don't have any levels on the other side of the gate."

"Then, wake him up, and let him kill something and make him level up! Do I have to explain everything to you, you pathetic worm," said the commanding one.

I might have tried to speak, but I made no sound, too busy listening to their incompetent bickering. It wouldn't be the first time faking unconsciousness would have granted me a critical piece of information.

"We don't have anything here, but I can ask the stables —" Falael started, only to be interrupted by the second voice.

"Use that frost beast you had acquired. It should give him enough to level up," said the second voice, with a vindictiveness that I recognized even at the edge of death.

"I can't use it. I had just acquired it. We don't know if it'll even give enough experience for a level-up. And, it's a waste to destroy it before it grew enough to grant an ability—" Falael tried to explain in shock.

"Enough, do it, or your family will be responsible for paying for the next set of keys," the illusory voice ordered.

"As you order, high priest," Falael admitted defeat, and I felt footsteps getting closer. I felt a dagger being pushed into my hand, yet I lacked the strength to even grab it. They treated me as unconscious, didn't bother asking me anything, and lifted my arm.

It was a weird treatment, but considering I was brought there in some kind of magical tunnel, I was willing to trust them about their unusual method of treatment.

Not like I had any other options.

I lacked the strength to hold the dagger, but somehow, it somehow stayed stuck in my hand as my hand lifted. Then, he brought my arm down, and it sank into some kind of flesh — a beast, if the type of roar was any indicator.

Another line of text appeared in my field of vision.

[+1836 Experience]

At the same time, I felt some kind of bath salts under my nose, stronger and more disgusting than anything else I had smelt, enough to wake me up even if I had been sleeping.

"Level up," he had ordered to me, his tone carrying a dismissive order, still annoyingly nasal. I had worked with many people during my life, sometimes leading, sometimes following. Yet very rarely I had heard such a casual, horrible tone when giving up an order.

Yet, maybe he didn't need to use a commanding tone, because, suddenly, my mind was filled with a desire to follow his order. A flash of desire, one that was similar to the sensation I had received at the portal, though much stronger.

Or I was too weak, struggling at the edge of death.

I focused on leveling up. That was all I was able to do, the desire filling my head like an instinctual feeling, difficult to resist. Maybe even impossible.

[-100 Experience]

[Level up!]

[Stat Points +10]

Another set of text that I could not understand, but before I could think about them, another order arrived, snotty and nasal, yet impossible to resist. "Assign your stat points!"

I thought about that, and three other lines appeared.

[-Stat Points - 10]

[+5 Vitality]

[+5 Resilience]

And, along with it, a sense of warmth spread into my body, one that I had never felt for a long time. A sense of stirring, and some kind of absence of pain. Not from my wounds — though they lessened significantly — but all the small aches that filled my body, accumulated through a long life filled with struggle.

A miracle, but that was nothing compared to what followed when he poured a small bottle of liquid down my throat.

Another line appeared.

[+1 Health]

"Heal yourself," came another order, once again with a mental weight. Yet, there was something different at this time. Earlier, whenever he gave an order, it echoed deep in my soul, filling me with a forceful kind of desire to follow it.

This time, the same weight still came, but not as directly, like there was some kind of barrier between me and the weight that accompanied the order.

Still, I followed it

[-1 Health]

And just like that, I felt a stirring in my wounds, all the intensity of one bandaged for two weeks, concentrated into one second.

The most annoying yet amazing sensation I had ever experienced…