Kael lay propped against pillows.
His body healing but his mind lost in endless gray.
The blankets pulled to his waist though he barely registered the weight. The Guild infirmary was quiet this morning—a filtered hush broken only by distant footsteps and the muted hum of healing sigils woven into the stone walls.
Another week went by.
The ceiling above him was smooth, pale, and lifeless. His gaze had traced the same invisible paths across it for days, searching for meaning or pattern. Nothing changed.
That, in itself, felt like a cruel joke.
His HUD flickered softly in the corner of his vision.
[Level: 27]
[EXP: 75%]
[Gear Rating: 181]
[Cress: 1,957]
[Prestige: 0 / ??]
[Prestige Bonus: +0.0× multiplier]
The last two lines shimmered faintly, like something the system hadn't meant for him to see.
"Prestige," he murmured aloud, the word sticking to his tongue.
He'd touched it once, in that flickering void between death and survival. It felt alien, raw, and... wrong.
Or maybe just unfinished.
A soft knock broke the silence. The door creaked open and Lira stepped in—the same medic who had been monitoring him since the day he was dragged, bloodied and unconscious, from Wizm's Maw Dungeon.
Her robes smelled faintly of lavender oil and old paper. Her hands glowed with passive restoration magic, the light dimming only when she was close enough to touch.
"Morning, Kael," she said gently, like she wasn't sure if he remembered how to speak.
He nodded, not looking up.
Lira set down a clipboard and moved to check his bandages. The worst of the damage had already been reversed by magic, but his body had taken a beating.
Bone fractures, shredded muscle tissue, near-organ collapse. All fixable. Flesh was easy.
What they couldn't fix was what lay beneath.
Each time her hands brushed over his ribs or collarbone, Kael only felt a distant tug—like it was happening to someone else.
A dull echo. He hadn't cried. He hadn't raged. He hadn't spoken much, even when his parents had visited.
Bezel and Seki were gone. Confirmed dead.
They'd been more than party members. More than teammates. They were the only ones who had seen him without comparing him to his parents.
The only ones who hadn't asked why he wasn't stronger, faster, better. They had fought beside him, covered his flanks, shared victory drinks, argued about the best gear loadouts at 2am.
Now, it felt like his body was floating. Anchored to nothing.
He turned his head slowly to Lira.
"Hey," he said, voice hoarse.
"This... stat. 'Prestige.' Can you check it out for me?"
She paused, her hands stilling against his forearm. "Prestige?"
"Yeah," Kael said.
"It showed up after the Maw.
After... everything. It's on my HUD. I think it's a system thing."
Lira frowned and summoned her own UI, translucent screens blooming into view. She tapped through a few layers of diagnostics, her brows pulling together in a slight furrow.
"No such tag in your official logs. No sub-system. Nothing in the meta-tree. No bug reports either. If it was a hallucination or glitch from magical trauma... well, that's not uncommon."
Kael stared at her screen, but it was true. There was no trace of that floating space. No record of the void. Nothing about Prestige.
"It wasn't a hallucination," He whispered.
"Or maybe it was..." He said, starting to doubt himself.
Lira gave him a small, understanding smile. It was the kind of look people gave to veterans and burnouts. Not condescending. Just tired. Familiar.
"Sometimes after trauma, our minds insert strange things to make sense of what we survived. Healing can confuse UI inputs—happens more than you'd think. Give it time."
He nodded mutely. She patted his arm and returned to recording his vitals. When she left, the room grew impossibly silent.
He tried closing his eyes, but the memories played anyway. Not full visions. Just pieces. The way Bezel used to lean too far back in chairs. How Seki always said 'observe first' before any dungeon, even if it was rated one-star. The dumb jokes.
The planning sessions.
The way they always waited for him, even when he lagged behind.
They were gone.
He was here.
Sometimes the pain came sharp, like a knife between ribs. Other times, it was just an absence. Like walking into a room and forgetting why.
He didn't want to talk. He didn't want food. The idea of walking back into the Adventurer's Guild made his stomach twist. Just the thought of someone recognizing him—the Xeef kid who lost his team—made his pulse throb.
Kael slept a lot, though it never rested him. The days passed. Lira continued to check his wounds, ask about his sleep, note the data, offer gentle reassurances. He appreciated her voice. It was something. Even if it bounced off the walls like echoes in an empty well.
He didn't open messages from his parents. He wasn't angry. Just tired.
Sometimes, he opened the Prestige stat and just stared at it.
\[Prestige: 0 / ??]
\[Prestige Bonus: +0.0× multiplier]
There was something alive behind those numbers. He could feel it.
Not power. Not quite. But potential. Untouched, waiting.
He wasn't ready to touch it again.
One evening, a week later, Lira came in with a final scan result.
She looked pleased. "You're cleared for release," she said, folding her clipboard shut.
Kael blinked.
"You can stay another day if you want," she added. "But you're physically recovered. All systems within baseline. Reflex checks are good. No lingering trauma signatures."
"No... I'm ready."
She smiled. A little proud, a little relieved. "Then you're free to go. Just remember: healing doesn't end when you leave the bed."
Kael gave a faint nod. She left. The door clicked shut behind her.
He sat there for a long while, unmoving.
Then he stood.
His legs felt thin, but stable. He grabbed his pack. His old sword—still cracked from the Aberrant's blow—sat sheathed beside his gear chest. He took it too.
The HUD flickered again.
\[Prestige: 0 / ??]
\[Prestige Bonus: +0.0× multiplier]
This time, he reached forward and tapped the book shaped icon on the side. It blinked.
A new window opened.
> *No prior Prestige paths selected.*
> *Qualify for Tier-0 Prestige Activation.*
> *WARNING: Activation will permanently alter future progression and previous stats.*
He stared.
Then he closed it.
Not yet.