The ripples from the girl's healing did not fade.
They grew.
By dawn, the rumor had traveled past the borders of **Aelthrys**, carried by whispers, letters, frightened merchants, even birds whose handlers were bribed by trembling nobles.
By noon, it reached the human kingdom.
By evening, the demons.
By nightfall, the dragons.
And with each retelling, the story changed.
Elvish healers whispered:
"He saved a dying girl."
Humans reshaped it:
"He brought a girl *back* from death."
Demons twisted it:
"He reversed fate."
Dragons reshaped it too:
"He touched the thread of mortality and commanded it to obey."
By the next morning the story was no longer an event.
It was **a miracle**.
And the world had never reacted well to miracles it didn't understand.
---
## **THE HUMAN KINGDOM — FEAR WEARS A CROWN**
King Aldros slammed his fist into the council table so hard the inkpots rattled.
"He *healed* a girl? You told me he only stops things—explosions, curses, motion—NOT death!"
His adviser swallowed.
"Your Majesty… she wasn't fully dead, but rumors—"
"I don't care about rumors!" Aldros snapped. "I care that the elves now have a prince who can erase injury, reverse mortality, and possibly restore life."
He leaned forward, trembling.
"If he can bring back the dead… then death itself bows to the elves!"
A minister whispered:
"We must learn the limits. If he can revive soldiers… if he can resurrect—"
Aldros cut him off.
"No. No tests. Not after the curse orb incident."
Silence.
The spymaster cleared his throat.
"…But others will not be so cautious."
"What do you mean?" Aldros hissed.
"Word is spreading in the slums. In the warrior guilds. Even in the temples. People have begun talking about sending their dying children… or worse—bringing bodies—to the elvish capital."
Aldros blanched.
"That will cause riots."
The spymaster nodded.
"It already has."
---
## **THE DRAGON PEAKS — MORTALITY CHALLENGED**
Molthrax stared at the molten lake.
"Healing is one thing," he muttered. "But life returning? The world cannot balance itself if one race holds power over death."
A young dragon hissed.
"Shouldn't we test—"
Molthrax roared, silencing the chamber.
"No. We will NOT test a child who already bends the laws we kneel before!"
He looked toward the horizon.
"…but others will."
---
## **THE DEMON ABYSS — DESPERATE HOPE**
Old Night trembled.
"If the prince can reverse death," he rasped, "then the elves will become untouchable… and the demons helpless."
Another demon whispered:
"…Should we send a corpse to the elves and request revival?"
Old Night turned slowly toward him.
"You fool. Do you think the elves will welcome such a test? They will slaughter whoever tries. We are not testing a healer. We are testing a god."
The demon bowed.
"…Then what do we do?"
Old Night stared toward the distant surface, voice thin.
"We pray. Demons… pray."
That alone proved how dire it had become.
---
## **BACK IN AELTHRYS — RUMORS BECOME THREATS**
By midday, dozens of letters arrived at the palace gates.
Some begged the elves to save dying loved ones.
Some demanded audiences.
Some threatened war if the elves hid the "miracle."
And one letter…
…came not from a kingdom, but a hidden faction.
Sealed in black wax.
Marked with no nation.
Deliberately neutral.
Thalorien opened it cautiously.
Inside were only three words:
**"We are coming."**
Seraphielle paled.
"Is it a threat?"
Thalorien shook his head.
"No. It is a promise."
---
## **THE FIRST SIGNS OF A KIDNAPPING PLOT**
Elyndor materialized beside the throne.
"The humans are panicking," he said. "The demons are desperate. The dragons are unsettled."
Thalorien nodded grimly.
"And someone plans to kidnap an elf child," Elyndor continued. "Not to harm them. To… test him."
Seraphielle's stomach dropped.
"They want to force Liam to heal," she whispered, horrified. "To see if the rumors are true."
Elyndor's eyes flashed.
"And they do not care what their experiment costs."
Thalorien's aura flared with lethal cold.
"Not one step closer. Not to our people. Not to him."
---
## **IN THE NURSERY — THE SYSTEM CHANGES**
While the world spiraled, Liam sat quietly in his nursery, stacking his toys again.
But today, something felt different.
The air trembled softly around him.
The System pulsed.
Then—
**[System Reboot — 20%]**
His breath caught.
Light flickered across his vision.
A new interface unfolded within his consciousness, shaped like silver circles over deep blue.
**[Primary Functions Unlocked:]**
• System Quests
• Internal Map Expansion
• Origin Thread Diagnostics
• Vessel Growth Projection
But the most important one blinked softly:
**[NEW QUEST AVAILABLE]**
Liam stared.
He had expected this one day… but not this soon.
The System spoke again, voice smoother than before:
**[Quest 01: "Secure the Threads"]**
**Objective:** Identify and neutralize all incoming hostile intent directed toward Host or Host-Connected Threads.
**Reward:** Partial Origin Stabilization.
**Penalty for failure:** Thread damage. Potential loss.
Liam's expression shifted.
He understood at least part of it:
Someone was coming.
Not for him.
But because of him.
He didn't know their names.
He didn't know their nations.
He didn't know their exact plan.
But he felt the intention:
Take something precious.
Force his powers.
Exploit his abilities.
His small fists tightened.
"…No."
The System hummed approvingly.
**[Quest Accepted]**
---
## **THE SYSTEM SPACE EXPANDS**
Everything around him dissolved.
He wasn't in the nursery anymore.
He was in the System Space — but not the small one he first knew.
The ocean was wider.
The sky brighter.
The sun warmer.
And something new stood in the center:
A tall silver gateway made of interlocked geometric shapes.
It hummed like a heartbeat.
**[New Zone Unlocked: Threshold Hall]**
**Purpose: Higher-tier training and Origin stabilization.]**
A second doorway appeared beside it, this one darker, shimmering with threads of black and gold.
**[Quest Zone: Thread-Sight Arena]**
Then a sphere formed above him, much clearer than before.
The System spoke:
**[Host must prepare. External forces converge within three days.]**
Liam blinked.
Three days.
Someone would make a move in three days.
Maybe humans.
Maybe demons.
Maybe renegade elves.
Maybe all of them.
His heartbeat steadied.
This wasn't fear.
This was **focus.**
He reached toward the silver gateway.
It warmed under his fingers.
**[Access Granted]**
A soft pulse ran through him.
His sealed core stirred again — not cracking, not leaking, but *stretching,* preparing for something.
The System whispered:
**[Warning: Emotional instability among surrounding nations increasing. Threads tangling. Intervention advised.]**
Liam nodded slowly.
He still couldn't fly.
He still couldn't walk well.
He still couldn't speak full sentences.
But he could choose.
And he could prepare.
---
## **THE OUTSIDE WORLD MOVES CLOSER**
That night, the black-wax faction's agents crossed into elvish lands.
Not through armies.
Not through portals.
Through shadows.
Through caravans.
Through hidden paths.
Through invisibility spells.
They weren't assassins.
They weren't soldiers.
They weren't priests.
They were **collectors.**
Collectors of miracles.
Collectors of power.
Collectors of gods.
Their leader whispered:
"The elves will never kill the prince. But they will kill us if they catch us."
"So we simply don't get caught," another answered.
"And if we must sacrifice someone to force the prince's hand?"
The leader smiled faintly.
"That is why we brought an elvish child substitute."
A boy.
Drugged.
Bound.
Heart slowed by poison.
Barely alive.
Just enough suffering to provoke a miracle.
—
Three nights from now, they would make their move.
Three nights from now, the world would test its luck.
Three nights from now, Liam would face his first true trial.
—
Back in his cradle, Liam whispered a word he didn't fully know the meaning of yet, but he understood the intent:
"…Stop."
And the System answered:
**[Host's intent recorded. Preparing defensive protocol.]**
The prince who shouldn't exist
was no longer waiting for fate.
He was hunting it.