After waking up from the dream with the blue-eyed figure, Lucas realizes that his memories are no longer chaotic—they are fixed. Motionless.
Unlike before, when they moved and tangled, making his sense of identity confused, though the gaps in his memories still bother him.
"This... I don't understand, who was that blue-eyed figure? Why can't I die… yet?"
Recalling those words, Lucas feels a sense of crisis—after all, he couldn't die for some reason, but when there are no more reasons for him to be alive… will the blue-eyed figure kill him?
Dismissing those disturbing thoughts from his mind, Lucas remembers the "gift" from the blue-eyed figure: a new body refinement technique.
He gets up, feeling his body better than before, but significantly empty, with a strange sense of loss, and says in a disappointed voice: "So... all my suffering was for nothing?"
Lucas tries to cheer up and shake those negative thoughts from his mind, shifting his focus to the new body refinement technique that had appeared in his mind.
"Stellar Body?"
Lucas is surprised by the simple name of the technique, but as he delves deeper into understanding it, he realizes this technique is anything but simple.
The Stellar Body technique works by absorbing radiation from stars, whether from the Sun or any kind of celestial body that emits energy.
This technique would be one of the best Lucas has, even among those mysterious high-level techniques he memorized from those strange memories in his mind.
This technique not only had a very low entry threshold, requiring no talent or resources—only the radiation emitted by some celestial body to be cultivated—but it also had an unknown upper limit, since Lucas's current understanding of the technique didn't allow him to clearly visualize a ceiling.
The beginning of the technique is quite simple: just absorb stellar radiation and energize the body's own cells, gaining supernatural physical capabilities.
Its advantage lies in the fact that the body's cells would begin to produce stellar energy. Although in small amounts, this is already an absolute advantage—after all, the body would generate its own energy, and this is just a body refinement technique.
At higher stages of this technique, the practitioner becomes a form of cosmic life, with each cell of the body transforming into a star.
At even higher stages, the practitioner's cells would become galaxies, each cell being equivalent to an entire galaxy.
Due to his limited understanding of the technique, Lucas doesn't know how the process of turning body cells into galaxies works.
But he theorizes that to achieve such a feat, one would need a level similar to a deity—meaning, he couldn't reach that level even in his dreams.
Lucas tries to dispel these self-deprecating thoughts from his mind. After all, just having such a divine technique is already enough for him, and even though he may not be a god now, maybe one day he could become one.
"Me? Become a God? Highly unlikely."
Lucas steadies his thoughts, as now is not the time to aim for godhood.
He then pulls the white sheets off his body, getting up and walking to the door—though he stumbles occasionally, as he's not yet used to the new body created after using that forbidden technique.
"Now that I think about it, why did that blue-eyed figure say this technique is disgusting?"
Lucas curiously ponders this matter, but as he gets no answer, he decides to stop thinking about it.
Upon leaving his room, he finds himself in a dark and silent hallway. The sound of Lucas's footsteps is the only thing breaking the eerie silence.
He walks to the stairs, where he notices a light switch that he uses to turn on the lights, revealing a wide hallway, with immaculate white walls and a series of doors along the corridor—at least four doors on each side.
Most of those doors were empty, as only Lucas and Lisa lived in the house.
Lucas goes down the stairs, noticing a strange sound coming from the living room.
Arriving in the living room, Lucas finds a woman watching some kind of series or soap opera on the TV.
That woman was named Helena Gracefall, 32 years old, the older sister of Lucas and Lisa's father—the only family they had left. As a heroine, she went by the codename Scarlet Aurora, a specialist in nighttime rescues and high-risk infiltrations. After the death of their parents, Helena dropped the mantle of a mere aunt to take on the role of mother, visiting them every day. Sometimes she stayed just an hour, other times the entire afternoon, depending on her missions.
She was lying on her side on the couch, wearing a tired expression, as if the last few days had drained what little energy she had left. Her hero uniform was half unzipped, revealing a casual blouse underneath that strained against her large breasts. Her red hair, tied in a messy bun, showed how little time she had taken for herself.
Helena noticed his presence before he even said a word. Her blue eyes—tired but sharp—turned to him with a faint glimmer of relief, restrained anger, and exhaustion. Maybe a little of everything.
"So you finally decided to wake up, sleepyhead," she said, her tone too light to hide how she really felt. Her hoarse voice—likely from sleepless nights—cut through the silence.
Lucas opened his mouth to say something, but she raised a hand.
"Shh. Sit down. We need to talk."
He obeyed, more because of the heavy atmosphere than the order itself. The couch sank slightly under his weight, and for a moment, everything felt suspended in the air.
"You... were unconscious for six days, Lucas," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, which rose and fell in a loaded sigh. "Six. Days."
Lucas widened his eyes, unsure of how to respond.
"Lisa stayed by your side the entire time. Slept next to you, practically glued to you... and refused to leave or eat. Said she 'couldn't leave you alone.' You know how stubborn she is."
Helena looked away for a moment, staring at the TV, which now only showed a paused screen.
"She collapsed on the third day. Hypoglycemia. I almost had to take her to the hospital. She only started eating again after I threatened to drag her there myself."
Her voice trembled a little, despite the firm facade.
"Do you have any idea what you caused here? What we went through?"
An awkward silence fell over the room. Lucas felt a tightness in his chest, like something hot and sharp was pressing from the inside out. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he just lowered his eyes.
"I... didn't know," Lucas murmured. "I just... blacked out. I didn't think it was that serious."
"Of course you didn't know," she replied, harshly, then softened her tone. "You were in a coma, Lucas."
Silence.
Helena leaned forward a little, her eyes now fixed on him. The messy bun swayed slightly with the movement, letting a few more red strands fall loose.
"I thought I was going to lose you," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper.
Lucas looked up. There was something there, between the lines... an old pain, memories he didn't know or couldn't understand. He knew Helena had always been strong, a woman who faced dangers most heroes and villains feared, but in that moment, she seemed just human.
Fragile.
Real.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Not because he thought it would fix anything, but because he had nothing else to say.
Helena closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.
"I don't want you to say sorry, Lucas. I just want you to live. Don't make me bury you."
She reached out and gripped his hand—stronger than one would expect from such an exhausted woman.
"That's all."
For a moment, all Lucas could do was squeeze back. Because, even with all the power, with all the memories, with all the absurd techniques, he felt far too small compared to that simple and honest gesture.
"Where... where's Lisa now?" he asked, his voice shaky.
Helena gave a tired smile.
"In your room. She refused to sleep in her own bed. Woke up a little while ago, but she's exhausted. Give her some time."
Lucas nodded.
"Does she hate me?"
Helena laughed—a short, almost cynical sound.
"She hates you so much she stayed by your side for six days, without eating, sleeping on her feet, and still called you an idiot while crying. Does that answer your question?"
Lucas couldn't help a faint smile. A strange warmth spread through his chest, easing the sense of emptiness.
But at the same time, something pulsed in his mind... that promise, whispered in the depths of his consciousness... "When there's nothing left for you to live for…"
The figure with blue eyes awaited him at the end of the road.
But for now, he had too many reasons to stay and live.
Helena loosened her grip on his hand but didn't let go. Her fingers remained entwined with his for a while, as if she were clinging to reality... or to him. Her blue eyes, normally unshakable even during the most dangerous missions, were now clouded with emotion.
"If it were just Lisa going crazy, I'd have been prepared… but…" She paused, as if deciding whether to continue. "...I was scared too, Lucas. Scared I wouldn't be able to protect you both. That I wouldn't be able to protect you."
Lucas adjusted himself on the couch, his body still feeling strange, like he was wearing a brand-new and overly expensive suit. He tried to lighten the mood—his natural instinct had always been to laugh on the edge of the abyss.
"You? Afraid?" He forced a smile. "Hell must've frozen over."
Helena rolled her eyes, but the smile she gave had more pain than humor. She looked him straight in the eyes and said:
"When you stopped breathing for a few seconds on the second day, I didn't think about calling a doctor. I thought about smashing down the hospital wall and dragging some illegal healer or alchemist over here. What does that sound like to you? Courage?"
Lucas swallowed hard. The image of Helena—the unbeatable Scarlet Aurora—invading a hospital like a villain just to save him... was absurd. But at the same time, it made total sense. Because it was her.
"You're scarier than any star god, you know that?" he said, offhandedly, trying to lighten the mood.
"Good. Maybe you'll finally start taking me seriously."
They stared at each other for a moment. A lighter silence settled, and Lucas took the chance to gently rest against her shoulder, eyes lost on the ceiling. He spoke in a softer tone:
"I... gained something while I was out."
"A magical concussion? Because you still seem kind of slow."
He laughed, and it broke some of the tension. But then the tone shifted.
"A technique. Body refinement. Something... impossible. I can't explain it all yet, but... it's like I've been remade. From scratch."
Helena looked at him with a mix of concern and curiosity. Her heroic instincts were still alert, even in exhaustion.
"Does it have anything to do with that... thing you tried to practice before passing out?"
Lucas hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"No... this was a gift. From someone... A figure with blue eyes. I don't know what he wants from me. I just know... he wants me to stay alive. For now."
Helena narrowed her eyes.
"And afterward?"
Lucas smiled, but his eyes didn't follow.
"After that... I die."
Helena clicked her tongue and gave him a light but firm slap on the forehead.
"Ow!"
"That was for talking nonsense."
Lucas frowned, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated expression of pain.
"And what if it's true?"
"Then live long enough to prove me wrong." Her response was sharp, precise. "You're mine, Lucas. Not some ghost with blue eyes showing up in your dreams promising paradise... or hell."
She leaned in, their faces dangerously close. Her eyes burned, as if they refused to lose anyone else.
"Got it?"
Lucas felt the warmth of her body so close to his that, for a second, his mind drifted to the strange sensation that warmth brought.
"Got it."
Helena pulled back, satisfied in provoking Lucas—or maybe just pretending to be.
"Good. Because if you die before I'm ready, I'll resurrect you just to kill you again. Slowly."
Lucas gulped.
"Yeah... I think I'd rather deal with the blue-eyed guy."
Helena smiled.
"Now we're talking."
A genuine smile. A smile from someone still afraid, but with enough courage to keep fighting.
She leaned back against the couch, exhausted again. Silence fell once more, this time comfortable. Until she said:
"And please, next time you try some unknown technique... let me know. I at least want to have decent makeup on for the funeral."
Lucas turned to her with a mischievous look.
"So you're planning to look pretty for my funeral?"
"I want to look pretty for your whole life. And you better make it worth it, got it?"
Lucas held her gaze for a second. A second longer than he should have. But said nothing.
Because there were still things he couldn't—or didn't know how to—say. But what mattered... was that he was there.
And he was going to stay.
---
End of chapter.