A deep voice pierced through the darkness of Vel's consciousness. "I told you to delay the ritual!" The words carried anger and frustration. "I found his tracks, I would have found him."
Vel's eyes fluttered open. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows across wooden floorboards. A man sat at a table, his broad shoulders tensed as he faced an ancient woman in a hooded robe. Recognition sparked - the same figure he'd glimpsed by the bonfire before passing out.
Mari stood beside the man, her hands clasped tight. The same woman who'd held him in the rain - Vel's mother in this world. His head spun trying to reconcile these new memories with his own.
Movement caught his eye. A young girl lurked in the corner, barely out of her teens. Her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made him want to shrink back into the blankets.
"Mom, he's awake," the girl called out to Mari. The pieces clicked - this must be Vel's sister.
The man's argument cut short as he turned toward the bed. Sunlight highlighted the worry lines etched around his eyes, the rain-dampened clothes still clinging to his frame.
"It is very fortunate that he survived," the old woman's voice rasped like dry leaves.
The man's fist struck the table. "Fortunate?! It was a miracle. That kind of lightning strike... it could take down a Wulfang with a single blow."
The old woman's eyes met Vel's, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered across her weathered features - a flash of regret? But her expression remained firm, unyielding, like carved stone.
The man's shoulders slumped. "We should continue this conversation later."
With a silent nod to each person in the room, the old woman turned and walked out. The door's latch clicked behind her.
Mari moved closer to the bed, her fingers run across Vel's forehead. "Are you alright, Vel? You've been sleeping for two days."
The man strode toward him, each step heavy with purpose. "What on Aeon were you thinking, Vel? Didn't you hear the bells from the guard tower?!" His voice dropped low, sharp as a blade.
But Vel barely registered the scolding. One word echoed through his mind, drowning out everything else - Aeon. The name of his game world, the virtual realm he'd poured his heart and soul into creating. His thoughts raced. Could this really be...?
"Dear," Mari's gentle voice cut through the tension. "Let's not do this right now."
She turned to the girl in the corner. "You should rest, Landre."
Landre hadn't moved from her spot, dark circles visible under her eyes as she watched Vel with unwavering attention. Mari's expression softened as she looked back at him. "Your sister hasn't been sleeping either."
Vel attempted to push himself upright. His muscles screamed in protest, each movement sending waves of dull pain through his body. The soft bed beneath him did little to ease his discomfort.
Mari's hand pressed against his shoulder. "Take it slow."
The man and Mari exchanged worried glances. Their eyes bore into him, waiting. The silence stretched, heavy with expectation.
Fragments of memories swirled through his mind - some belonging to Vel, others to Giri. Names, faces, and places blurred together like watercolors in the rain. Who should he be right now? The truth would sound insane. He'd created this world, written its code, shaped its reality - and now he was inside it.
The lightning strike that killed Vel might explain any strange behavior. Memory loss would be a reasonable consequence, buying him time to piece together this new reality.
His throat felt dry as he spoke. "I... I don't remember anything."
Mari's hand flew to her mouth. The man stepped closer, brow furrowed.
"What do you mean you don't remember?" The man's voice softened, concern replacing his earlier anger.
"Everything's... fuzzy." Vel's eyes darted between them.
Vel's gaze shifted between the two adults, his mind racing to connect the fragments of memories swimming through his consciousness. The gentle concern in their eyes made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache.
"You don't remember who we are?" Mari's voice wavered.
He pointed at Mari, the motion feeling both natural and foreign at once. "You're mom..."
His finger moved to the man, uncertainty coloring his voice. "And you're... dad?"
"It's Mari, dear," she said gently, her hand tightening slightly on his arm. "I'm your mother, Mari."
His father's hand on his shoulder gave a reassuring squeeze. "And I'm Von, your father." He looked at Vel, his eyes filled with concern. "It's alright, Vel. These things happen sometimes... especially after... well, after what happened."
The room felt both familiar and strange, like a place visited in a dream. The wooden walls, the simple furnishings, the smell of herbs hanging from the rafters - all of it triggered echoes of memories that weren't quite his own.
"Are we... home?" Vel asked, his voice small in the quiet room.
Mari answered, though concern threaded through her words. "Yes, dear, we're home. In Oakhaven."
Now that Vel's vision had adjusted to the morning light, he noticed Von's attire more clearly. The leather armor hugged Von's chest, identical to what the other village guards wore. Thick shoulder guards protected his broad frame, while sturdy leather bracers wrapped around his forearms. The sight triggered another fragment of Vel's memories.
"You're one of the village guards."
Von's lips curved into a proud smile. "That's right, Vel. I am."
Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway. Another guard burst through the doorway, his presence filling the small room. "Von! The Chief's about to make an important announcement. We need to be there."
Von's smile vanished, replaced by a stern expression that spoke of years of discipline. He straightened his back, duty etched across his features.
"See you later, Vel."
With a quick nod to Mari, Von strode out. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
Mari's cool hand pressed against Vel's forehead, her touch gentle as a feather. "Are you sure you're alright, dear?" Her eyes searched his face. "Can you walk?"
Giri wiggled his toes, then flexed his feet, testing his legs. A dull ache remained in his muscles, but the sharp pain was gone.
"Yes, I think I can, Mother," Vel said, testing the unfamiliar formality on his tongue.
Mari's brow furrowed. She touched his forehead again, this time with more concern than before.
"Next time, when you hear the bells, you come straight back to the village, okay?"
Her tone shifted to one of gentle scolding. "You don't wander too far from the village without a grown-up, Vel. It's not safe."
"The bells?" Vel's question slipped out before he could stop himself.
Mari's eyes widened. "You don't remember the warning bells either?"
Vel shook his head, the motion making his vision swim for a moment.
Mari sank onto the edge of his bed, her shoulders dropping. "The bells ring when monsters appear from... elsewhere. Yesterday, during the rain and thunder - that was Kazar's doing."
"Kazar?"
"The elder you saw earlier. She performed the Stormbringer ritual to protect our village." Mari's fingers twisted in her apron. "It's powerful magic, but it strikes without discrimination. Anyone or anything outside the village walls risks being hit by lightning."
Vel's hand unconsciously touched his chest where the phantom pain of lightning still lingered. The pieces started falling into place - the old woman by the bonfire, the storm, his... death.
"That's why we were so worried," Mari continued. "When the bells rang and you weren't home..." Her voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Vel's mind raced. Stormbringer - the name triggered a cascade of memories. The spell existed in his game design, but not like this. He'd coded it as a high-tier area-of-effect attack, meant to strike multiple enemies with lightning. But a ritual? That wasn't part of the original design.
"Where did the monsters come from?" Vel asked, trying to piece together this new reality.
Mari's fingers continued their nervous dance with her apron. "I don't know exactly. The Seer sensed danger first, then the Chief confirmed it. They found rifts, not far from our village. When monsters started pouring out, they called for Kazar, our shaman, to perform the ritual."
Shaman. Another piece clicked into place. Vel remembered reading that word in design documents, crafting lore for the Awakened update. It wasn't meant to be a player class or job - just background material to enrich the world-building. The shamans were supposed to be special NPCs, different from regular magic users.
His gaze drifted to the herbs hanging from the rafters, their pungent scent filling the room. The shamans' magic system required physical components - ingredients, catalysts, objects of power. Every spell came with a tangible cost, unlike the mana-based magic of regular spellcasters.
The reality of his situation hit him anew. He wasn't just experiencing his game world - he was living in it, discovering aspects of it he'd never fully explored in development. The NPCs weren't just quest-givers or background characters anymore. They were people, with lives and relationships and knowledge of their own.
Vel's bare feet touched the wooden floor, sending a shiver through his body. The ache in his muscles protested each movement as he shifted his weight onto his legs. His knees wobbled, but held firm.
"Are you sure you're alright, Vel?" Mari asked, her voice soft. "I need to get back to the farm. We need to make sure the crops are alright after the downpour."
The mention of crops triggered another memory not from Giri - rows of vegetables stretching toward the horizon, the smell of fresh earth after rain. Mari spent most of her days tending those fields.
"See... I'm fine. It's okay mother, see you later." His voice came out steadier than he expected.
Mari reached for a simple straw hat that lay on a nearby table. The edges were frayed from countless hours under the sun. Her eyes lingered on him, filled with the kind of love that made his chest tight - a mother's concern that transcended worlds.
"Be good alright?" Her voice carried all the affection in the world.
She gave him one last look before stepping out, the door closing with a gentle click behind her.
Sunlight streamed through the window, painting golden paths across the wooden floor. Dust motes danced in the beams, each one visible in perfect detail. Landre's soft breathing filled the corner of the room as she dozed on the other bed, exhaustion finally claiming her.
Vel's bare feet padded across the floorboards. His fingers traced the rough grain of a wooden table, feeling every ridge and valley. A woven basket sat nearby, each individual fiber distinct and real. His hand brushed against a clay vase, the surface cool and slightly uneven where the potter's fingers had shaped it.
This level of detail shouldn't be possible. No computer could store this much information, down to the smallest speck of dust. The ambient light, the humid air clinging to his skin, the musty scent of old wood - it overwhelmed his senses.
The phantom warmth of Mari's kiss lingered on his forehead. That unconditional trust he felt toward her... he hadn't experienced that since-
His chest tightened. Mom. His real mother, still trapped behind prison walls. The image of her receiving the news crashed through his mind - her hands trembling as she held the phone, hearing that her son was dead. Would she collapse? Would anyone be there to catch her?
And Dad, alone in the elderly home. How long would he wait by the phone? How many times would he watch the door, hoping his son would walk through?
Vel's fingers dug into his tunic, bunching the fabric as pain lanced through his chest. His lungs refused to fill properly, each breath coming in short gasps.
This couldn't be real. But his rational mind's protests crumbled against the visceral memory of death - the shock, the stillness, the moment everything simply stopped.
His heart knew the truth his mind fought to deny.
Vel's knees gave out. His palms slapped against the wooden floor as tears splashed onto the boards beneath him. Each drop carried the weight of a life left behind - of parents who would never see their son again.
"Why?" The word tore from his throat, raw and broken.
His fingers curled against the floor, nails scraping wood as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. The testing pod, the manual, the basement lab - it all seemed like a distant nightmare now. But the pain felt real. The death felt real.
Rage bubbled up through his grief. At himself, at SolarTech, at whatever cosmic joke had landed him here. His fist struck the floor, sending jolts of pain up his arm.
"This can't be happening."
But it was. He'd died. Actually died. Left everyone behind without even saying goodbye. His mother would face her case alone. His father would age without his support. All his promises, all his plans to help them - gone in an instant of stupidity.
The world spun around him as his mind rejected reality. Denial crashed into anger, merged with bargaining, spiraled into depression - all the stages of grief hitting at once like a tidal wave. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe through the overwhelming emotions.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to people who would never hear him. "I'm so sorry."
His tears fell faster now, each one carrying memories of a life cut short. Birthday celebrations at the detention center. Late-night coding sessions. Phone calls with Shizuka. All reduced to memories that only he would carry.
His forehead pressed against the cool wooden floor as sobs wracked his small frame. The reality of his situation crashed over him in waves - he was dead, truly dead, and somehow alive in a world of his own creation.
Vel's cheek pressed against the rough wooden floor, his body limp and heavy. The grain patterns beneath him blurred into meaningless swirls as his unfocused gaze drifted under the bed.
A tiny spider crawled across his field of vision, its legs moving in perfect coordination. He watched it without really seeing it, his mind as empty as his dried eyes. No more tears came. His breathing slowed to shallow whispers, like a system powering down after a catastrophic crash.
The spider disappeared into shadow. Time stretched like molasses, measured only by the dust motes floating in the sunbeams.
His finger twitched.
Like a computer rebooting after a hard shutdown, awareness crept back into his mind. Thoughts began to form, slow and deliberate.
I'm gone.
The truth settled into his final stage of grief. Acceptance.
I'll never see them again.
But another voice stirred in the depths of his consciousness, quiet yet insistent.
Is it?
His eyes focused, truly focused, for the first time since collapsing. If this world was real - and every sensation screamed that it was - then it operated on rules. Logic. Code.
Nothing happened without cause. Nothing existed without reason.
If there was a way in...
His fingers curled against the floorboards.
Then there might be a way out.
Vel remained motionless against the floor, his mind churning through possibilities. The wood grain beneath his cheek held more detail than any graphics engine could render. Each splinter, each variation in texture felt impossibly real.
His mind clicked into analysis mode. Maybe this was some advanced simulation - neural interfaces pushing far beyond what consumer VR could achieve. Or perhaps quantum computing had finally cracked full sensory immersion.
But what if it wasn't technology at all? The transfer of consciousness between realities wasn't just science fiction anymore - theoretical physics had been exploring such possibilities for years. His consciousness could have split, creating two separate versions of himself.
The thought made his head spin. Was his original body still in that testing pod? Was another version of him being rushed to a hospital while this version experienced a completely different reality?
The floor's coolness against his skin anchored him to the present moment. Theories wouldn't help if he lost himself in them. He needed data, observations, a systematic approach to understanding this world's rules.
He'd faced impossible problems before - debugging nightmares that seemed unsolvable, legal battles that appeared hopeless. Every solution started with the same process: observe, analyze, adapt.
One step at a time. That's how he'd built his game. That's how he'd supported his family through their darkest times. That's how-
"Vel?"
A voice cut through his thoughts. Not his internal monologue, but something from above.
"What are you doing down there?" Landre's confused voice drifted down from her bed, heavy with sleep.
Vel pushed himself up from the floor, his joints protesting the movement. His eyes met Landre's concerned gaze from across the room. Her long hair fell in messy tangles around her face, evidence of deep sleep.
"What are you doing down there?" She repeated, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
The question echoed in his mind. What was he doing? Breaking down on the floor like a child? Though technically, he was one now.
"I... found it surprisingly comfy to sleep on the floor," Vel managed, his voice scratchy.
Landre's eyebrows shot up. "Really? If you could see your face right now..."
Vel's hand instinctively touched his cheek, feeling the gritty mix of dried tears and dust that clung to his skin. Evidence of his earlier breakdown remained plain as day.
"Are you unwell, Vel?" Her voice softened with concern.
"No, I'm fine. I was... trying to get away from the window sun." The excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears.
A small laugh bubbled from Landre's throat. "You could just have closed the window, silly." She shook her head, clearly amused by what she perceived as her brother's peculiar logic.
"Go wash your face, Vel." Landre waved her hand dismissively as she burrowed back under her blankets.
Vel pushed himself up from the floor, his joints creaking in protest. His feet carried him through the house, muscle memory guiding him to the back door. A small open field greeted him, dotted with wooden barrels filled with collected rainwater.
The morning air nipped at his skin as he approached the nearest barrel. His reflection rippled across the water's surface, framed by the brilliant blue sky above. Dark brown hair stuck up at odd angles, framing a young face that belonged to a child no older than- twelve, his borrowed memories supplied with certainty.
Vel cupped the cool water in his palms and splashed it across his face. The shock cleared away the last cobwebs of grief from his mind. Droplets trickled down his neck as he tilted his head back, squinting at the vast expanse above.
When was the last time he'd really looked at the sky? Not through a window or between buildings, but truly observed it? The sun blazed overhead, too bright to look at directly. But something else caught his attention - two pale circles hanging in the distance, barely visible against the blue.
His breath caught. Luna and Yoreh - the twin moons he'd designed to orbit his game world. But these weren't the flat textures of a skybox. They hung in space with weight and presence, as real as the water dripping from his chin.
Vel walked back into the house, droplets of water still clinging to his hair. He sank into a wooden chair, its familiar creaks matching perfectly with fragments of borrowed memory. His fingers drummed against the table as his mind raced through possibilities.
The village name - Oakhaven. It didn't match any location he'd known in his previous life. Either it was new, or the names had changed over time. But that was just one piece of a much larger puzzle.
The how and why of his situation remained frustratingly unclear. The timing too - when exactly was he in relation to his own world? His eyes drifted to a spider web in the corner, its intricate pattern catching the morning light. Even that tiny detail existed with perfect clarity.
The realization hit him. Isekai. How many hours had he spent watching those shows? Person dies, wakes up in another world. The trope was so common it became a running joke in the anime community. Yet here he sat, living that exact scenario.
But this wasn't some power fantasy. No cheat abilities or system interfaces greeted him. Just a child's body in a world that felt frighteningly real.
The sound of birds chirping outside drew his attention. He needed to explore, to see this world with his own eyes. Perhaps somewhere in the village lay clues to understanding his situation.
Vel pushed back from the table and headed for the door. His fingers had barely touched the handle when-
"Where are you going, Vel?" Landre's voice called from behind him.
"I... just wanted to see our village."
"Going out already?" Confusion colored her tone.
"Hold on," she continued. "Mom told me to keep an eye on you, yes, but..." Her expression shifted, becoming unexpectedly serious. "There's something we need to talk about. About... before."
Before? Vel's mind raced through possibilities. Which 'before' did she mean? The lightning strike? Something else from Vel's past that he hadn't yet remembered?