Chapter 72
“... and after the mountain, I met Neimar. Last sovereign of Ithural, trapped in the Rift for millennia guarding the remains of his people while maintaining the chains that stopped the culprit of his civilization downfall, all by himself, alone. He became a guide, a teacher and lastly a friend. He trained me, gave me the knowledge and resources to create a core, He died fighting Orrhal to let me reach the portal. The only thing he asked of me was to take this cube with me. It is a spatial artifact, inside thousands of ithurians are frozen in a special kind of stasis, the last hope of saving his people.”
Raime took a deep breath, emotions and exhaustion clearly taking its toll on him during the hour long explenation.
His mother pressed a hand to her mouth. Alice’s fingers curled around his arm tighter.
Alessandro muttered, “Jesus, Raime…”
He exhaled slowly. “I’ll explain it all better another time. But first—I need to know what happened here. To Earth.”
That shifted the air in the room immediately.
His father inhaled sharply, as if bracing for impact. “It started the same day after you disappeared,” he said. “A message appeared in front of everyone. Like a hologram. It said Earth had been integrated. Levels, classes, skills… it spread everywhere.”
His mother continued, voice trembling but firm, “People panicked. From the news we managed to get before the lines went down some cities collapsed in hours. Not because of the System, but because of reactions. Looting. Fear. Government responses weren’t enough.”
“And then we started seeing monsters!” Victor said, while Albert added. “They looked like demons, and we shot them!”
Raime nodded to his brothers, giving them a smile. Their enthusiasm a balm for the soul. “All those time spent in fps games wasn’t wasted I see.” Then he addressed his parents again. “I saw some on the way here.”
“They’re everywhere,” Alessandro said. “Different species for different regions. A lot of people died the first days… too many” He gestured loosely to his own faint glow of energy. “We’re Tier I now. All of us. Things are better now that we have classes and abilities.”
Alice finally spoke, voice low. “Not everyone got lucky though, especially the ones that awakened with a poor quality core and classes, they are basically not better thatn before, and the monsters are getting worse.”
Raime didn’t ask for details yet. Not the numbers. Not the stories. He could feel the tension underneath their words—the deaths, the close calls, the constant fear.
Instead, he asked, “How did you reinforce the house like that?”
Alessandro actually looked slightly embarrassed. “My class lets me manipulate stone. Not perfectly. But enough. I figured if I kept building, kept improving, we could make this place into something safe.”
Raime gave him a small smile. “You did good. All of you did, I was so worried about the situation here… not nowing if you were dead or alive…”
Laura was feeling a knot in her throat but managed to say “We too… not nowing was torture. We were hoping, and waiting for the portal to open again to come and bring you back. Your father took a lot of stupid risks for becoming strong enough to come and rescue you.” She slapped her husband on the shoulder playfully, but Raime could imagine how it was for them in these days. The fear, the anxiousness and the pain he felt it too. But now they were together again, all safe and alive.
“Is Earth… stable now?” Raime asked.
“No,” his father answered immediately. “But it’s better than it was. People are adapting. The government is not present, so we are on our own. The cities are building defenses. But the danger’s everywhere.”
Raime absorbed that quietly.
His new core thrummed faintly inside him—light pulsing like a heartbeat, syncing with his breathing. Every word, every description, sharpened the picture of the world he had returned to.
A world that needed help.
A world he was suddenly strong enough to protect.
He placed his remaining hand on his knee.
“Alright,” he said, steady and grounded. “Now I need to rest and recuperate, a day should be enough, but we have much to discuss, the state of the city, the portals around, the System quests… I have a civilization to restore and a spatial irng full of artifacts we can use and equip people with. Then I have to learn how to use my new core properly and creating my network of channels and gain a class. But first, can someone remove the shards in my left arm? They are starting to get really annoying…”
Raime used telekinesis to roll up the sleeve of his left arm as far as he could, exposing the swollen, discolored flesh. The metal caught the light—jagged shards, like pieces of a shattered blade, jutting out beneath the skin.
“You call that annoying?” Albert choked out. “Raime, that’s not just annoying. That’s— that’s metal as hell, actually.”
He leaned in, squinting at the torn fabric of Raime’s sleeve and the dark shapes embedded beneath the skin. “Holy shit… those are really in there.”
Victor made a strangled noise that sounded somewhere between a gag and a dying kettle. “Bleagh—okay, nope, nope—why is it moving when you flex?”
“It’s not moving,” Raime said, though he wasn’t entirely sure. The leftover fragments from Orrhal’s last attack still hummed faintly with foreign energy, just enough to tingle. “It’s just stuck.”
His mother’s reaction was far from impressed awe.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier!?” she snapped, stepping closer. “You walked in here missing an arm, an eye, covered in wounds, and you didn’t think to mention that your other arm is full of metal shards?”
“I had other things to talk about,” Raime said, shrugging with his shoulders. “And it wasn’t the most urgent thing.”
“Not urgent,” she repeated slowly, breath trembling. “Not urgent.”
His father—jaw clenched, face drained a little of colour—stood up abruptly.
“Hold him still. I’m getting the alcohol and the pliers.”
Alice blanched like she might faint. “Pliers? Pliers?”
“That’s what we have,” his father said, already heading for the kitchen. “Unless you want me to yank them out with my fingers.”
Raime snorted softly. His father was… handling this surprisingly well.
Within minutes a small table was dragged to the center of the room, covered with a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a pair of industrial pliers, and towels that were definitely not meant to be stained red.
His father uncorked the bottle, soaked the pliers, then looked at Raime’s arm with a grim, resigned determination.
“Alright. How deep?”
“Most of them aren’t too bad,” Raime said. “They’re just… embedded. My range of motion is limited enough that I can’t reach them with this hand.”
“And your magic?” his mother asked.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“It doesn’t respond to my telekinesis,” Raime said. “At all.”
Albert let out a low whistle. “Man fought a metal-warping Rift boss so intense even his mind-powers tapped out.”
“No, the metal came from Thunk and another weapon I was using to defend mysel.” Replied Raime.
“Are you saying that mighty Thunk, the monster slayer weapon passed down generation by generation in our family was sacrificed for saving your life and now it’s last shards are stuck in your arm?”
Victor made the bleagh sound after watching the arm again. But then added “Cool…”
Raime laughed a little, then turned on the side and extended his arm to give his father a better position to work with.
Alessandro took a steadying breath.
“This is going to hurt.”
“Yes,” Raime said plainly. “Do it anyway.”
His mother grabbed his wrist—gently, but firmly—steadying his arm. Albert held the lantern closer. Victor turned around and braced himself against the wall like he was preparing for emotional impact.
The first shard came out with a wet, unpleasant sound.
Raime didn’t move.
His jaw didn’t clench.
He didn’t hiss.
He didn’t even blink.
The room went very, very quiet.
His father swallowed and reached for the next shard.
“Son… this should feel like someone is stabbing you.”
“Yea, more or less,” Raime answered evenly. “I can tune down the pain. Just keep going.”
Another shard slid out.
Another.
Another.
Blood welled, but Raime’s expression remained unchanged—a calm detachment that made the others glance at each other, uneasy.
His mother’s eyes were downturned with something like grief.
His father’s hands shook, just barely.
Alice pressed her hand over her mouth, thinking, What did they do to you in there…?
Raime just breathed, steady and slow, while the last pieces of metal were pulled from his flesh.
When the final fragment came free—a long sliver buried deep near the elbow—his father set the pliers down with a shaky exhale.
“That’s all of them,” he said.
Raime felt the difference immediately.
The pressure in his arm eased.
The dull burning faded.
His core finally stopped diverting most of the energy it was producing to suppress Orrhal’s lingering magic in the shards.
A faint wave of relief passed through him.
“Better,” he said. “Much better.”
“There’s still something wrong in your… right arm,” his mother said quietly, looking at the bandaged end of his stump.
“There’s a little foreign energy still trapped there,” Raime admitted. “My core is fighting it, but it’ll take a bit more time.”
His father cleaned the pliers one more time, then stood with the heavy weight of a man who desperately needed to sit but refused to.
“That’s enough surgery for tonight,” he muttered. “We.., if nothing else is stuck in you.”
“Boys help me set the table, it’s nearly evening and I have a feeling we could all use a warm meal to take our mind off… whatever that was. And I’m going to make something tasty as a dessert, to celebrate your brother return.”
The whole family moved on to dinner because the alternative was staring at each other in horror, so everybody was kept busy by the preparations. Except Raime who talked to Varuk and to the family while they worked, his brothers in particular were already starting to make jokes about how he needed help to do anything now that his dominant arm was non existant. Their mother gave them a look that could kill for the insensitive jokes but Raime proceeded to use his telekinetic mastery to set the table in five seconds, plates, cutleries and tablecloth all flying around and setting themselves perfectly. A party trick for him, but it left hos brother speechless. For less time than it took Raime to set the table.
“Damn, can you make swords fly too?”
“Can you fly?”
“Can you teach me?”
“This is illegal, the most broken thing ever, how is it that he can do this stuff without even a class?”
“Yea right! We shoud report you to the System, they will ban you irl!”
“Enough… boys really,” Said Laura while putting a hand on her forehead as if to prevent a migraine. “I don’t know how you can find it in you to overlook all that your brother went through and be so… direct.”
“It’s fine mom, I don’t mind. Honestly, losing an arm and an eye was a little price to pay for escaping, and they are not really giving me a real handicap, I can do anything that I did before with my powers now, even more actually.”
“Except taking away the pieces of Thunk from your arm!” Said Victor while smirking.
“While that is true, it can be considered an exception, one that I will fix soon. What are your powers and classes anyway you little shits?”
“Oh well, you are looking at a future paladin of light!” Started Albert.
“That’s cool actually, what about you VIc?”
With the deepest voice Victore managed he said “I’m Batman.”
“Please Raime don’t encourage them too much, they are already a handful as it is. Anyway your mother is done cooking, let’s dig in.”
Plates were brought on the table, a simple pasta, but warm and filling.
Raime devoured his serving in seconds.
It wasn’t even intentional—his body needed fuel, and after the Rift diet of meat and more meat, his instincts had shifted into something closer to a void with teeth.
“Hungry?” Alice asked, though it was painfully obvious.
Raime wiped his mouth. “A bit.”
“A bit?” Victor stared at the empty plate. “You inhaled that like a black hole.”
Their father didn’t comment—he simply stood, walked to the fridge, and returned with a slab of beef large enough to feed a small army.
“This should keep you from chewing your good arm off,” he said, throwing it onto the pan.
Raime ate that too. Not as fast, but with the unmistakable intensity of someone who had starved on survival instinct for weeks.
He felt the energy settle into his limbs after just some minutes—warmth spreading, knitting tissues together much faster than before, soothing the ache in his muscles. The body’s healing combined with food worked far better than meditation alone.
Then came dessert.
His mother managed to prepare a chocolate cake that was basically one of the last sweets they had remaining.
Raime took one bite—
And stopped.
His eyes closed.
A shiver ran down his spine.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
A month in a lavender-lit hell, eating the meat of alien beasts…
and now chocolate?
He could’ve cried. He nearly did.
“That good?” his father asked dryly.
Raime nodded wordlessly, finishing the slice like it was a holy experience.
For the first time since stepping through the portal, something in him loosened.
He wasn’t alright.
But he wasn’t drowning anymore either.
They talked.
He listened to their stories.
He summarized what he felt like sharing about his own.
But the weight of Neimar, the cube, the broken civilization he’d sworn to help… all of it sat heavy under the surface, threatening to drag him under again.
Eventually he stood.
“I need to rest,” Raime said softly.
His mother immediately rose. “Do you need help up the stairs?”
“No, I’m not that fragile, and in any case, I can fly.”
Albert blinked. “Right. Forgot you can just… hover now.”
And so Raime drifted upward toward the first floor.
He opened the door to his room, but his room wasn’t only his anymore.
It smelled like Alice—soft perfume, faint laundry detergent.
Her things filled the corners. Her clothes hung over the chair. Her spare jacket lay on his bed.
She’d taken his room for staying with his family during this time.
Despite knowing he might never return.
Raime stared for a long moment.
He didn’t know what he felt.
He didn’t want to examine it yet.
He undressed using his powers untill he remained in underwear, went into the bed, and sighed with a faint grimace.
“I should’ve taken a bed from the palace,” he muttered. “This thing is like sleeping on cardboard compared to that.”
He let his minds merge again—weaving together, restoring the larger, faster, more efficient mind he used in the Rift. His energy flowed through him in precise spirals, accelerating recovery.
A small portion split off automatically—trained behavior by now—to monitor the house, the streets, distant signatures, and the faint psychic presence of his young companion outside.
Varuk.
Raime reached out gently.
You’re safe?
Varuk was in the process of slaughtering salamander-like creatures near the backyard fence of a neighbour house.
Raime sighed.
Good job. Try not to break anything.
He projected an image of the garage. You can sleep there if you want. It’s like a… human burrow. Covered. Dry. Warm. But if you prefer you can make your own around here, just not in the garden.
Curiosity and mild excitement rippled through Varuk’s thoughts.
Raime returned to his breathing, stabilizing his core—
Then he felt footsteps on the stairs.
Slow. Hesitant. Soft.
He partitioned again, letting the smaller section handle the human-speed interaction.
Alice reached the door after what felt like an eternity to Raime’s heightened perception. She opened it gently, holding a small lamp that cast warm light into the room.
She froze when she saw him.
Lying in bed.
Bare chest rising and falling.
Scars thick across his torso.
Wounds half-healed.
Bandaged stump still inflamed.
One golden-white eye glowing faintly in the dark, the other covered by cloth.
He watched her throat tighten.
She set the lamp down, approached the bed, reached out like she wanted to say something…
Then broke.
Alice climbed under the covers and all but threw herself into his side, arms wrapping tightly around him—careful, but desperate.
“I—I missed you, so so much” she whispered, voice shaking. “You were gone… and everything was so scary… if it wasn’t for your family I don’t know what would have happened. And I thought— I thought you died.”
Her breath hitched.
“I love you. Don’t leave me again. Please don’t leave me again.”
Raime slowly lifted his remaining arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding her as she sobbed against him.
Complicated emotions welled up—gratitude, distance, affection, guilt, exhaustion.
He couldn’t untangle any of it.
But he could offer one truth.
“I’m back,” he murmured. “And everything will be fine.”
She clung to him until sleep pulled her under.
Raime kept holding her while he prepared to drift to sleep himself.
Goodnight, Varuk, he sent absently.
A confused but warm ripple of acknowledgment returned. The concept of wishing “good night” was foreign but gladly accepted by the beast.
Raime finally let his mind slow.
His breathing deepened.
His energy coiled inward.
Tomorrow would be a busy day.
But he was home.
And for now, it was enough
