The voice of the nurse, sharp with incredulity, drifted from beyond my hospital room door.
I didn’t remember getting here.
I didn’t remember the surgery, or the blur of faces and hands working over me.
All I remembered was smiling.
Even now, with the sterile scent of antiseptic drowning out the last traces of burnt sugar, even as my body ached with the remnants of battle, the corners of my lips curled upward.
Because I had won.
Nathan was in my room, standing off to the side, his Gloss-Crystal hovering near his ear as he spoke in low, clipped tones.
"Yeah, he’s stable. Yes. It’s a Manifestation Arte. Triple-S grade."
I heard a pause. The sound of someone speaking on the other end.
Nathan’s posture stiffened for half a second before he responded.
"Yeah, he came back with not just an item. A cube. An unknown, unique, skillcube."
His voice shifted—just slightly.
Not fear, not exactly.
But caution.
His head turned, and his gaze locked onto me. Our eyes met.
His expression froze, lips parting slightly, his normally composed demeanor faltering for just a breath.
"He’s awake," he said hurriedly into the call. "I’ll notify you of this after I notify—"
CRASH.
The room exploded in sound as the window shattered, glass splintering in all directions.
The force sent a shockwave through the sterile air, the faint beeping of medical monitors spiking in alarm.
I barely had time to react before something—no, someone—landed inside.
A young man, his wild, untamed red hair cascading down his back like a burning banner, stood there, the remnants of the window still clinking to the floor around him.
His left arm was covered in grotesque bone permutations, jagged growths spiraling outward like a twisted exoskeleton, while his right arm gleamed under the weight of thick, reinforced armor.
But it wasn’t just his appearance that gave him away.
It was the mouths—writhing, whispering mouths embedded into his palms, curling into hungry, fanged grins, as though they themselves were excited to be here.
And if that wasn’t enough of a giveaway, then the crown on his head confirmed it.
The Crown.
The Title.
The Predator in the room.
Every citizen of Marr knew his name.
Even before Nathan moved, I already knew what was happening.
He dropped down onto one knee, his right fist pressed against the floor in the unmistakable gesture of formal deference.
"Your Highness."
Prince Marryllin.
The Crowned Prince of the Free City of Marr.
The man whose statue loomed over the Grand Plaza, whose face was immortalized in a thousand vids, whose legend wove itself into the very fabric of the city.
I had made the joke before—that, with my luck, I’d somehow catch the attention of royalty.
I never thought it would actually happen.
My body refused to move, every instinct screaming at me, warning me—
Being near him was like standing next to a sleeping lion, a predator that could eviscerate me before I could react.
Yet, when his gaze landed on me, his smile was—
Warm. Genuine.
A stark contrast to the sheer, oppressive presence radiating from him, an aura that made the air itself feel heavier.
I couldn’t speak.
I could barely nod.
Marryllin turned to Nathan first, his grin easy, his posture relaxed, but his presence still dominating the entire damn room.
"So… he’s the guy?"
Nathan only nodded in response.
Marryllin pivoted fully toward me now, his golden eyes glinting with something between amusement and interest.
"You probably know me from the statues. Or from the Gloss-vids."
His grin widened.
"Name’s Marryllin. Prince Marryllin if you wanna be formal. Or if you’re really feeling bold, you can go for Crowned Prince Marryllin of the Free City of Marr—but Domini, I beg you, don’t. It’s long. It’s stuffy. I loathe it."
His grin sharpened.
"Or do!" He let out a short, bright laugh, flexing his armored hand with a playful crack of his knuckles. "I love punching people for it."
Prince Marryllin casually grabbed the Skillcube from the counter, rolling it between his armored fingers, letting the dark, crystalline mass shimmer under the hospital’s sterile light.
Then, he turned to me and nodded.
“Don’t worry.” His tone was light, but firm. “My slots are full, and I’m not buying. It’s yours by rights. And if anyone even thinks about taking it? That’s execution. Stealing a Walker’s Otherrealm spoils.”
The words hit like a hammer.
Execution.
The punishment for stealing a Walker’s Otherrealm spoils.
Marryllin barely even paused before continuing. “Just gotta…”
A soft ping interrupted him.
A notification appeared on my Gloss-Feed—from the Prince himself.
I blinked. A direct message from royalty? That alone was enough to make most people in Marr lose their minds, but I barely had time to process it before the newly identified Skillcube’s data scrolled across my vision.
Rarity: Unique
Aspects: Hunger, Crystal, Dark, Growth
Effect:
- Whenever you or your allies defeat an enemy within your miasma, once per day you may consume a crystallized fragment of that enemy.
- You can conjure a pit in the ground of writhing mouths. The strength of the teeth in the mouths is based on the number of crystallized enemy fragments you have consumed, as well as your Soul Realm.
Marryllin chuckled, rubbing the back of his wild red hair, his expression amused, almost sheepish.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“Sorry. Took me a subjective fifteen minutes to identify. Forgive me for my lack of skill in the area!”
I stared at him, then back at the Skillcube’s description. The words burned in my mind.
“Why…is your reading so much more detailed?”
I barely managed to get the question out before he cut me off.
“Because my Gloss is heavily connected to me.” He tapped the side of his head. “I have the Skillcube [Gloss-Pad] in my Fifth Shell, which means I have full access to the entire Gloss-Net.”**
Gloss-Pad? That was an intelligence-enhancing cube designed to optimize data processing, knowledge retrieval, and networking speed.
Most people could only dream of affording one.
I was still trying to wrap my head around it when another thought hit me.
“Also… I’m not a Walker yet. So wouldn’t it be legal for anyone to take this from me?”
Marryllin laughed.
Not a polite chuckle. Not a forced noble’s laugh.
A genuine, hearty laugh, full of amusement.
"Alexander, I passed you the moment Nathan started that conversation with his boss.” His golden eyes glinted with mischief, but there was a razor edge behind them. “While I’m certain your mother wouldn’t be thrilled that I gave one of her precious children special treatment, she’d also understand that you are now of extreme value to the state.”
My mind was spinning, but I clung to that last part.
“Value?”
Marryllin didn’t hesitate. “The only way I can prevent war is to make you a neutral asset—so this? This is perfect.”
I blinked. "War? Why would—"
He cut me off again.
This time, his entire demeanor shifted.
The warmth in his grin didn’t disappear, but something colder settled behind his gaze, something that spoke of weight, experience, and responsibility heavier than most could ever comprehend.
“Alexander Duarte.” His voice lowered—not in volume, but in presence, commanding every inch of the room.
"There are, in Marr, over 348,000 unique Artes. That means there are that many people who have manifested abilities that are the first of their kind."
I stayed silent, listening.
"We have people who can produce miasma from nothing.”
“People who can generate mana at a rapid rate per second.”
“Someone who can create hundreds of pseudo-Machina from the tattoos on their body.”
He lifted the Skillcube in his hand.
“Do you know what none of them can do?”
I didn’t answer.
His golden eyes bore into mine as he said it.
“Create Skillcubes.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with implications I hadn’t yet considered.
I swallowed.
“No Arte is known to do this. No Arte has ever been expected to do this.” Marryllin’s voice was calm, but every syllable carried weight. "Even Bibliokinesis itself—your Arte—was only theorized to create items. There was never proof that it could do that. Let alone forge Skillcubes."
He twirled Sugared Maw between his fingers, his expression shifting to something darker, something more calculating.
“You are the first.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“And that?” He let the Skillcube drop into my hands. “That makes you a diplomatic nightmare.”
I barely had time to process the gravity of his words before he continued.
"So yeah, I instantly made you a continental-wide asset.”
There was no jest in his tone.
No exaggeration.
Just the truth.
Marryllin turned back to Nathan, his golden eyes gleaming, the energy around him electric with momentum.
Without looking, he tossed the Skillcube toward me.
I barely had time to react before my fingers closed around it, the crystalline surface cool and pulsing with an unfamiliar power.
"Get his robe made immediately," Marryllin commanded, his tone sharp, decisive. "I want his insignia to be a book, a quill—"
I cut in before I could stop myself. "Add a coin with an arrow pierced through it."
Marryllin didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. If anything, his grin widened.
“Good call.” He pivoted back to Nathan, adjusting smoothly. "I want his insignia to be a book, a quill, and a waxing silver coin pierced with an arrow—on top of the book."
Then, with the same casual ease as if he were ordering a drink, he added—
"I also want him to have Loreli-level access to the library."
That made me pause.
Loreli-level?
Nathan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t object. He simply nodded, already making notes.
Marryllin then turned his attention back to me.
“Anything else you want on the personal insignia?”
I hesitated for only a moment before answering.
“An origami bird. To represent my Arte. And Fractal.”
Marryllin nodded in approval, his expression thoughtful.
“Have a few origami birds in flight coming from the book. That’ll be good. Invocative.”
Then, as if suddenly remembering himself, he turned back to Nathan—who was still kneeling, motionless, in unwavering deference.
Marryllin waved a dismissive hand, almost sheepishly. "Oh. And at ease. Sorry. Got excited."
Nathan exhaled, finally standing up, adjusting his posture with disciplined precision.
"Right away, sire."
Even as he spoke the words, I could see it.
The wheels were already in motion.
***
The next morning, Fractal and Cordelia visited me in the hospital.
I was still sore from the previous day’s ordeal, the pain a distant reminder of the battle, but it was manageable now. I barely registered the physical ache, distracted by everything else—everything that had happened.
Fractal, as if sensing my lingering discomfort, landed delicately on the bed beside me. Her shimmering feathers brushed against my arm as she peered at me, her usual concerns filling our bond.
Hurt. Meanie. Where? Hurt.
I couldn’t help but smile, my voice softening despite the exhaustion.
“I’m fine, Fractal. Thank you for caring. Everything’s been taken care of.”
She seemed content with that, though her gaze never fully left me, still watching as though unsure.
Cordelia stood silently near the door, her posture as calm and watchful as ever. She didn’t speak immediately, just letting the quiet comfort of the moment settle around us.
Fractal, sensing the moment was over, hopped off the bed and perched on the Skillcube resting on the table beside me. She examined it with her usual curiosity, tilting her head and flapping her wings lightly.
Cordelia finally broke the silence, her voice steady and measured.
“She could, in theory, absorb that Skillcube,” she said, glancing at Fractal. “If her mana types match.”
I froze.
“No.” My voice was firm. “You don’t want this one, Fractal. Trust me.”
Before I could think further, I grabbed the Skillcube, my fingers curling around it, and I injected its contents into myself without hesitation.
The familiar twinge of power coursed through my veins as the notification materialized. It wasn’t in my Gloss Feed this time. The world itself recognized the change. The words manifested in my mind like a gentle but inevitable truth.
[You have absorbed 2/2 Crystal abilities for this Soul Realm. You cannot absorb any more Crystal abilities until you advance your Soul Realm.]
The weight of the notification hit me all at once. I wasn’t surprised by the result—just cautiously acknowledging it.
I had absorbed the Sugared Maw—but what did that mean?
My thoughts quickly shifted to my uncle’s earlier words.
5 Dimension, 2 Crystal, 2 Nature.
I had reached my limit for Crystal abilities within this Soul Realm, and it made sense. I was beginning to experience it firsthand now.
I turned to Cordelia, the question in my mind already forming.
“This won’t be like the first time, right?”
She met my gaze and nodded, her expression reassuring.
“No. Not this time. You won’t experience that again until you cross into Soul Realm 4.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Thank the stars.
The first time had been nothing short of a nightmare, and I wasn’t eager to go through that again.
Still, a piece of this new reality had settled inside me, and with it, came the undeniable truth: the path forward was complicated, but I was already walking it.
I smiled, the weight of my new title settling over me. A Walker. The reality felt surreal, but it was mine now. I was already walking the path forward, even if I hadn’t fully understood what that path would hold.
But for the moment, it didn’t matter.
“Your thoughts are bleeding again.”
Cordelia’s voice broke through my quiet reflection, her words as sharp as ever.
I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to shield them from her telepathy.
“Shut up, Cordelia.”
I winced as another wave of pain hit my chest, and I slumped back against the pillows, feeling the sharp sting of my injuries.
“Everything still hurts.”
And then, as if to answer me, she did something that completely baffled me.
She laughed.
The sound was unexpected, a harmonic note that seemed to fill the room with unexpected warmth. It was as though the laughter itself spilled out from her, melodic and beautiful, like a song woven from soft winds and gentle rain. It wasn’t mocking or cruel, just… pure.
I blinked, trying to process it, unsure what had caused it.
She had never laughed like this before—at least not in a way that made me feel like this.
Her laugh was a gift—gentle and reassuring, like the sound of rain falling on quiet earth, reminding me that not everything had to be serious all the time.
She saw my confusion and gave me a knowing look, her smile soft, though still calm.
“You’ll understand, eventually.”
I shook my head, feeling the stubborn streak inside me flare again.
“What?”
She didn’t say another word. Instead, she simply let the silence linger, her soft laughter still echoing in my mind.
And for the first time in a while, I felt a little lighter.