The Clock Never Ticked

I drift in a vast darkness, weightless and broken. Time has no meaning here—only the dull ache of wounds too deep to heal. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, slow and heavy, as if each thud pulls me further into oblivion. My body isn't just in pain—it's unraveling, slipping away bit by bit.

Then, from the depths of the void, a voice reaches me.

Let me fix you.

The words are soft yet powerful, wrapping around me like invisible hands. Before I can react, something takes hold of me—an unseen force weaving my body back together. Bones snap into place, torn flesh mends, and pain, sharp and searing, burns through me like fire. It's agony, yet at the same time… it's life.

The darkness trembles. Then, with a final pull, I am ripped from the void and thrown back into the world of the living.

I gasp, air flooding my lungs. Cold. Crisp. My body aches, sore and stiff, but the pain is no longer unbearable. I'm lying on something soft—a bedroll. A thick blanket covers me, and the scent of burning wood and cooked meat fills the air.

Slowly, I push myself up, blinking away the dizziness.

A tent.

The fabric above me is stretched tightly, dimly lit by the flickering glow of fire outside. My fingers trace over my chest where the goblins stabbed me. There are no deep wounds anymore—just faint scars, as if the injuries have been healed in a way that isn't natural.

A chill runs through me.

That voice. That power. What was it?

The memory of the void still clings to me, but I shove it aside. Now isn't the time to think about it. I need to figure out where I am.

I push open the tent flap and step outside.

The campfire crackles steadily in the middle of a small clearing. Around it, three figures sit, their armor and cloaks catching the warm glow of the flames. The forest stretches into the darkness beyond, ancient trees towering over us like silent watchers.

One of them notices me first—a man in a knight's breastplate, his sword resting within arm's reach. His sharp, battle-hardened eyes study me as I approach.

Awake at last, he says, his voice deep and steady. We weren't sure you'd make it.

I hesitate before stepping closer and lowering myself onto a log near the fire. The warmth seeps into my skin, pushing away the last remnants of cold.

The knight gives a nod. I am Sir Jorin, Vanguard of Eldaroth. This is Amara, Pyromancer of the Ember Court— he motions to a woman flicking small embers from her fingertips, —and Lady Elysia, Priestess of the Sacred Light.

Elysia gives me a soft smile. You were in bad shape when we found you. If we had arrived any later… She shakes her head. You must be strong to have lasted that long.

A miracle.

The word sticks in my mind. Was it really strength that saved me? Or something else?

I swallow, my throat dry. Naoto, I say at last. Naoto Kurotsuki.

Jorin nods, as if committing my name to memory. Tell us, Naoto—what happened to you?

I freeze for a moment.

This is the moment where I have to decide.

I could tell them the full truth—that I was healed by an unseen force, pulled back from the edge of death by something I don't understand. But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know I won't.

Would they even believe me?

So I give them part of the truth.

I was attacked by goblins, I say, keeping my voice steady. They ambushed me. I fought back, but there were too many. One of them got a lucky hit… after that, everything went black.

A half-truth. Not a lie. Just… missing details.

Jorin exhales through his nose, nodding. Damn goblins. They've been getting bold lately.

Amara tosses a stick into the fire, her eyes sharp. Strange they didn't finish you off, she mutters. Goblins don't usually leave survivors.

I feel her gaze linger on me, searching for something. Does she suspect that something isn't right?

I hold my expression firm. Guess I got lucky, I say simply.

Another half-truth.

Jorin doesn't push further, but the silence feels heavy, like unspoken thoughts hang between us.

I stare into the fire, watching the flames dance. My mind keeps drifting back to that moment before I woke up—that voice, that unseen force stitching me back together.

Something saved me. Something powerful.

And for now, I am the only one who knows.

The conversation shifts. Jorin explains the Adventurers' Guild, a place where warriors, mages, and mercenaries take on quests for coin and rank. They are C-rank adventurers, not the strongest, but skilled enough to handle goblins, bandits, and minor beasts.

If you're looking for work, Jorin says, the Guild might be worth considering. But we can talk about that after you've recovered.

An Adventurers' Guild. The idea feels… strangely familiar. Like something out of a story I read before.

Could I fit into a world like this?

Before I can think too much, Jorin stretches his arms. Alright. We leave for Eldaroth at first light. Get some sleep while you can.

I nod, though I know sleep won't come easily.

That night, I lie inside the tent, staring at the ceiling. Outside, the fire crackles softly, and I can hear the distant sounds of the forest—leaves rustling, the occasional hoot of an owl, the quiet murmurs of my companions speaking in low voices.

Even with my eyes closed, I feel it.

My body remembers dying.

The pain of the goblin's blade piercing my chest and being eaten alive. The cold weakness as my vision faded. The sheer terror of realizing I wasn't going to make it.

And then, the voice. The force that put me back together like a puzzle.

I turn onto my side, my mind restless.

For now, I won't tell them about the void. About the whispered promise that brought me back.

But deep down, I know this is only the beginning.

Whatever saved me… it isn't done with me yet.

Status:

Name: Naoto Kurotsuki

Age: 22

Title: Unknown

Magic: Unknown

Abilities: Unknown

Species: Human

Location: Forest near Eldaroth, in a camp that the three adventurers built

Condition: Healed from critical wounds, disoriented, lingering physical and emotional trauma

Equipment: Tattered modern casual clothes, worn and bloodstained from previous battle

Mental State: Confused, wary of the strange force that healed him, unsettling sense of something lurking within

Physical State: Sore, scarred from prior injuries, a subtle sense of foreign power within him