Blake woke to an unfamiliar ceiling.
White. Sterile. Lind with faint cracks that told him it was old.
"...Hospital," he murmured.
A public one, judging by the equipment and the lack the comfort of private rooms. He turned his head slightly. No one was there. No visitors. No family waiting at his bedside.
He wasn't surprised.
From a nearby television, left on at low volume, a news anchor's voice drifted through the room.
"–reports confirm the sudden collapse of an unregistered dungeon late three nights ago. Authorities are still investigating–"
Three days.
He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling. He was alive. Somehow.
Before doubt or pain could catch up to him, Blake raised a trembling hand.
"Status," he said.
The window appeared.
But this time, far unfamiliar for the one he was used to.
Name: Blake Wilson
Title: Voice of the Fallen
Rank: S
Level: 12
Class: Hero Summoner
Attributes:
STR 6 | AGI 7 | END 6 | INT 0 | WIL 12
Free Points: 11
Skills (Active):
Heroic Summon Pantheon Descent
Skills (Passive):
Vow
Blake stared.
His breath caught somewhere between disbelief and fear.
"S… Rank?" he whispered.
His eyes flicked down instinctively.
INT: 0
A hollow laugh escaped him, weak and incredulous. "So even now…"
But then his gaze drifted back up.
Hero Summoner.
Voice of the Fallen.
The words felt heavy in a way numbers never had. Not like a blessing. Not like a reward.
More like a responsibility he hadn't agreed to, but had accepted anyway.
A nurse noticed his eyes open and quickly turned toward the hallway.
"He's awake," she called out before moving to the side. She checked the monitors, adjusted the IV, then gently pressed a hand against his shoulder when he tried to move.
"Don't she said firmly. "You're not allowed to move yet."
Blake frowned. "How… bad is it?"
She let out a small sigh. "You're going to be here for a while. Months, most likely. Internal bleeding, multiple fractures, deep cuts everywhere. Honestly, it's a miracle you woke up this early."
Months.
The word settled heavily in his chest. While noting something down, the nurse glanced at him again and smiled faintly. "You're lucky, you know."
Blake turned his head slightly. "Lucky?"
"Someone kind found you," she said. "A woman called emergency services and stayed long enough to make sure help arrived. If she hadn't…" The nurse shook her head. "Hardly anyone passes through that area at night. You probably wouldn't have made it."
Blake's fingers curled weakly against the sheets.
A woman.
He already knew who it was. The nurse finished her checks and adjusted the blanket. "So for now, rest. No status windows, no skills, no trying to be a hero." As she stepped away, Blake stared up at the ceiling once more.
Lucky.
Blake swallowed.
"...What about the others?" he asked quietly.
The nurse paused mid-note. "Others?"
"The people," Blake said. "It wasn't just me in that gate. There was the cashier, a couple, an old man… There were others with me."
She looked at him for a moment, then resumed writing, slower this time. "Mr. Wilson," she said carefully, "what convenience store?"
Blake frowned. "The one near the station. It's new, I was just there before everything happened."
Her pen stopped.
As Blake continued, describing the store, the sudden blackout, the dungeon forming in the middle of the aisles, and the people who got pulled in with him. She wrote everything down, her expression didn't change, but her grip on the clipboard tightened.
When he finished, the nurse finally looked up.
"You were found alone," she said.
Blake felt his chest tighten.
"There was no one else with you. And…" She hesitated, then added, "There is no convenience store in that area. Not now. Not before."
The room felt colder.
Blake stared at her, a shocked expression in his face.
"...That's not possible," he whispered.
The nurse softened her tone. "Confusion like this isn't rare after dungeon-related incidents. Illusions, false memories, there are many causes. Extreme stress, shock, or even lingering status effects from monsters."
She closed her clipboard. "Try not to think too deeply about it for now."
Blake opened his mouth to ask more–
The door slid open.
Two people in dark suits stepped inside, their presence immediately filling the room. No visible weapons, no guild insignia, only small metal badges clipped nearly to their lapels.
"Mr. Blake Wilson," the man in front said calmly.
The nurse straightened. "These are–"
"Inspectors from the Hunter's Association," the woman beside him said, offering a brief nod. "Thank you. We'll take it from here."
The nurse hesitated, then stepped out, casting Blake one last look before closing the door behind her.
The man pulled out a tablet. "You were involved in an unregistered dungeon incident three nights ago."
The woman's gaze was sharp, calculating. "We're here to ask you a few questions about what happened."
Blake answered their questions carefully.
He told them about the gate. About how it appeared suddenly, how it pulled him in. He described it as an F-rank dungeon, a far cry from the actual difficulty. He told them that it was one with a puzzle rather than a combat-focused layout.
Blake told them that there were traps, strange mechanisms, and that the exit had already been open.
He didn't mention the others.
Didn't mention the knight.
Didn't mention the voice that had answered his call.
"And you cleared it alone?" the male inspector asked, glancing up from his tablet.
Blake nodded weakly. "I didn't really clear it. I just… survived. I'm F-rank. I don't even have mana."
The two inspectors exchanged a glance.
"...Then you're extraordinarily lucky," the woman said after a moment. "Survival alone in a dungeon, even a low-rank one, is rare."
The man powered down his tablet. "Your story checks out. No irregular mana signatures were detected at the site. And more surprisingly, he actually doesn't have any mana."
Blake felt his shoulders loosen slightly.
As they stood to leave, the woman reached down and placed an eco-bag on the bedside table.
"These are your belongings," she said. "Clothes, phone, wallet."
She paused, then added. "Also, one of the people who found you returned something that she almost forgot belonged to you." From the bag, she pulled out a small case and set it beside him.
Blake waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before reaching for the eco-bag. His hands were steadier than he expected as he opened the small case.
Inside was the ring.
The same dull metal band. The same faint warmth against his skin.
Relief washed over him, but it was quickly followed by unease.
If the ring had been returned…
Then what exactly had happened that night?
Why had the people he saved vanished without a trace?
What was Valheim?
Blake pulled out his stone, ignoring the ache in his arm as the screen lit up.
Missed calls flooded the screen.
Dozens.
No– Hundreds.
All from the same contact.
Kristina Wilson
"...What?" he muttered.
Without thinking, he called back.
The call connected instantly.
"Blake Wilson, do you have any idea what kind of heart attack you just gave me?!" He winced, pulling the phone slightly away from his ear as her voice poured through the speaker.
"You disappear for days, your phone goes dead, and then I hear there was a dungeon incident near your route home with the blurred picture of the victim obviously being you. Do you think I wouldn't connect the dots?!"
"I–" Blake tried to speak.
"Do you know how many hospitals I called?" she continued, voice shaking between anger and fear. "How many times I thought–"
She stopped.
There was a sharp inhale on the other end.
"...You're alive," she said quietly.
Blake swallowed. "Yeah. I am."
"Forget it. Give me the hospital right now."
Kristina arrived less than an hour after Blake gave her his hospital.
Blake heard her before he saw her. Hurried footsteps, a sharp inhale, then the door swinging wide open with far more force than necessary.
She was older than him by a few years, tall and sharp-eyed, her hair tied back hastily as if she hadn't bothered to fix it on the way.
Her clothes were plain and practical, the kind worn by someone who didn't have time to waste. Her shoulders sagged in relief as soon as her gaze landed on him.
"Blake."
Before he could even smile, she marched over and pinched his ear.
"Ow–!" he hissed. "Kristina, what are you?!"
"Do you have any idea," she said, tightening her grip, "how stupid it is to go on a late-night walk through an area where barely anyone passes by?"
"I just needed some time to think!" Blake protested, trying to pry her fingers away. "And shouldn't you be happy? Your little brother survived a dungeon incident."
Kristina leaned in, eyes narrowing.
"I'm not most people," she said flatly, pinching even harder.
Blake yelped, the sound echoing down the hospital room as she finally let go with a sharp huff. "Next time you want to think," she added, crossing her arms, "do it somewhere I can find your body if something goes wrong."
Despite the sting in his ear, Blake laughed weakly.
Yeah.
She was definitely his sister.
After she had finally calmed down, she repeated his words.
"...Time to think?"
Her eyes sharpened, the way they always did when she noticed something he hadn't meant to say. "Did you see what I left in your kitchen?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I saw it."
Her expression shifted instantly, hope creeping in despite herself. "Then?" she asked. "Could you finally use mana?"
Blake didn't answer right away.
Instead, he reached into the eco-bag and brought it out, already prepared to return it. "I was going to give it back. I can't just–"
He stopped.
Something was wrong.
The ring felt heavier than before now that he actually held it. When he focused on it, a new panel surfaced.
Valkyrie's Blessed RingRank: S
Effect: Choose one attribute. That attribute is doubled while the ring is worn.
Blake stared.
"...What?" he whispered.
Kristina noticed his reaction immediately. "Blake?" she said, leaning closer. "What is it?"
He swallowed hard, eyes still locked onto the description. The name was different. The rank was different.
Everything was different.
Seeing the ring in his hand, an item that would be worth billions on the market, Blake swallowed.
"...It did," he said instead.
Kristina's shoulders relaxed instantly. "Really?"
He nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. I can use mana now."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Not anymore.
"And I'll pay you back," Blake added quickly. "When I can. Every last bit of what you spent."
Kristina snorted, crossing her arms. "Don't be stupid. I didn't give it to you expecting anything back."
Then she stepped closer, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So? Try it."
"...Try it?" Blake echoed.
"Use mana," she said, gesturing impatiently. "I want to see it."
Blake froze. He could still feel nothing. No flow. No warmth. No response from his surroundings.
INT: 0
He glanced at his status window out of reflex.
And then he saw it.
Free Points: 11
Blake's breath caught.
Free points. Stat points that could be allocated anywhere. He had forgotten about them entirely. For most people, they were almost nonexistent. The only ways to obtain them were leveling up or consuming elixirs so rare they were practically mythical.
And he had eleven from leveling up.
Slowly, carefully, Blake wore the ring.
He looked back at Kristina, heart pounding, not with fear but with something dangerously close to hope.
"...Give me a second," he said.
Blake focused.
With a thought, he moved a single free point.
INT +1
The moment it registered, something snapped into place.
The world changed.
It wasn't dramatic, no blinding light or explosion of ower. It was subtler than that. Like a sense he never knew existed suddenly being switched on. For the first time in his life, Blake could feel it.
Mana.
It wasn't just inside him, it was everywhere. Thin, invisible currents threading through the air, the walls, the space between every breath. Where before there had been nothing, now there was depth to everything.
Blake sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers trembling.
"So this is…" he whispered.
He clung to the sensation, afraid it would vanish if he relaxed even for a second. Living his entire life without mana, the difference was immediate and overwhelming, like suddenly hearing sound after a lifetime of silence.
Slowly, Blake raised his hand.
He extended his palm outward and concentrated, focusing on the unfamiliar flow he could now sense. The mana responded hesitantly at first, like something unused to being called.
"Come on…" he murmured.
A faint warmed gathered above his palm.
Bit by bit, the mana condensed, drawn together by sheer focus and will. It wavered, unstable, but it was there. Real and undeniable.
Blake stared at the forming glow, breath shallow.
He was doing it.
For the first time, Blake Wilson was using mana.