Beyond Realities

Morning came.

Finally. Peace. I'm free from those noisy lunatics—Spade Team. Don't get me wrong, I love them (except when I don't), but wow, silence tastes so much better when you've survived a bat cave filled with winged maniacs.

Naturally, the moment we got back, I marched straight to the training grounds. No time to waste. I had to get stronger. I needed to level up. I had to—

"Ugh... what the...?"

—feel dizzy?

I shook it off. Probably just fatigue. Or maybe I was dying. Hopefully not.

"Whatever," I muttered, grabbing my pickaxe. We work through the pain.

Except I couldn't.

Every swing felt like my head was filled with rocks instead of thoughts. My limbs were heavier than usual, and my vision? Kinda wobbly. Great. I'm either sick... or cursed.

Eventually, I gave up and dragged myself to my room like a defeated mushroom.

"Rest," I told myself. "Just sleep, Vael. Recharge, heal, whatever."

I collapsed on the bed and closed my eyes.

And that's when it started.

"You really smacked me with a pickaxe... I mean, wow. That's the most brainless thing I've seen in centuries."

My eyes snapped open.

"What the hell—who said that?" I sat up, looking around. Room? Empty. Shadows? Normal. Closet? Still full of clothes I never wore.

"Seriously, my guy. Who hits an ancient orb with a mining tool? You trying to dig up destiny or just dumb enough to pick a fight with a god?"

"WHO'S TALKING?!"

Silence.

I blinked. Maybe I'm just tired. I forced myself to sleep. Tried, at least. But that stupid voice kept poking at my soul.

"You sleep like a rock, no wonder your core's asleep too. You do realize something changed in that cave, right? Or are you still pretending you're the family disappointment?"

"Excuse me?! I am proudly the disappointment, thank you very much!"

But no one replied.

Instead, my brain decided to replay every word that orb said like an annoying lullaby. Hopeless. Weak. Pickaxe-boy. Trash-tier bloodline.

By the time I managed to actually fall asleep, I had already insulted the mysterious voice six times in my dreams.

I slept the whole morning. And the afternoon. And lunch.

By the time I opened my eyes again, it was nighttime. Oddly... I felt alive. My body felt like it drank twenty energy potions and punched the sun.

I was wide awake. At night.

Fantastic.

Dragging myself to the dining table, I was greeted by my mother's worried face.

She immediately placed a hand on my forehead. "Vael? You feel hot… Are you sick?"

My father looked up from his plate. He didn't say anything, but his eyebrows said "Is this kid dying again?"

I stared down at my soup. In the reflection, I saw… me. But a terrible version.

Black eye bags. Pale skin. Wild hair. I looked like a haunted potato.

Still, I forced myself to eat.

Even if it felt like chewing sand.

Even if I had no appetite.

I'd trained too hard for these muscles. No way was I letting a ghost-voice-orb-curse take them from me.

After dinner, I headed back to my room. My parents stared after me with concern. I could feel their eyes saying "Poor child, he's finally lost it."

And they might be right.

Back in my room, I tried to sleep again.

No luck.

Too much energy.

It felt like I could run ten laps around Archeon and still have enough left to fight a dragon.

But worst of all...

That voice came back.

"Wow. Look at you, lying there, sweating with your eyes wide open. You sure you're not possessed?"

"Can you shut up for like five minutes?!"

"Nope. I live here now. Rent-free. In your head. Congrats."

"Who are you?"

"Call me... your better half. Or the part of you that isn't a disappointment."

"Oh I see, a comedian. Great. Just what I needed."

"You're welcome. Also—those arms? You call that muscle? I've seen frogs with better biceps."

"I will swing this pickaxe at a mirror just to spite you."

"Go ahead. That'll fix your ugly face too."

I screamed into my pillow.

Since I couldn't sleep anyway, I got up and started working out in my room.

Push-ups. Sit-ups. Shadowboxing. Anything to drain the energy.

The voice kept talking. I kept ignoring it.

Sort of.

By the end of the night, I was panting, sweaty, shirtless, and still wide awake.

This orb thing?

Whatever it is?

It's gonna drive me insane.Since I didn't get a single second of sleep last night—and I already bench-pressed my soul out during my midnight workout—I figured I might as well head outside. Fresh air, morning jog, the usual delusions of a healthy lifestyle.

My body was tired, sure, but maybe jogging would shake off the lingering dizziness and that annoying, relentless, cursed, voice—

"You're jogging now? What's next, you gonna stretch and pretend your life's in order?"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP FOR ONCE?!"

I screamed into the empty street.

And of course, because the gods hate me, three random townspeople turned their heads and stared at me like I was some deranged chicken screaming at the sky.

I froze.

Then cleared my throat.

"Heh... just... motivational yelling! You know... classic noble stuff."

I jogged off casually like nothing happened. Just a normal day. Just a prince losing his mind. Nothing to see here.

"Smooth recovery. Really noble of you. Truly. You're practically royalty—oh wait, you are. My bad."

"I swear I will eat a rock just to silence you."

"I'd pay to see that."

As I kept jogging through the cobblestone path near the city market, I suddenly felt a stare.

I turned my head.

And there she was.

Angela.

Nerdy, quiet, painfully shy Angela. Hiding behind a wooden post like her soul depended on it—glasses slightly crooked, cheeks turning pink like she just saw a shirtless god jog past her.

Okay fine. That might've been me.

Yeah, I know her.

She's that girl who keeps writing me those secret love letters like it's some forbidden romance novel. Always slips them into my mail slot or hides them under rocks near my training area. She thinks I don't notice?

I notice.

She's not bad-looking, to be honest.

Under those big glasses and awkward stares, she has these soft, angelic eyes. Kinda lives up to her name.

But yeah... she's a commoner.

And I'm a noble. A walking disappointment, but a noble nonetheless.

"Oh look, your commoner fangirl is stalking you again. Maybe she'll propose this time. Or throw her glasses like a bouquet."

"Stop. Talking."

"She's cute though. Better than your cold crush who won't even look at you without summoning a divine flame."

"Don't you dare insult Seraphina. That woman is a goddess."

"A goddess who's never looked at you twice."

"...you wanna die again, orb?"

Angela peeked again from behind the post. I gave her a small smile. The nervous way she hid her face behind her hands was kind of... endearing.

I appreciated her. Really, I did.

But love between a noble and a commoner? Especially in this stuck-up kingdom?

Yeah, that's asking for royal drama, flaming judgment, and probably exile.

Besides… my heart?

Forever trapped in Seraphina's flame-thrower grip.

I continued jogging, ignoring the teasing voice and ignoring the butterflies in Angela's shy little smile. My head was noisy, my heart annoyed, and my legs exhausted.

But hey—at least I didn't scream again.

Yet.

After my jog—which turned into a chaotic parade of whispers, awkward stares, and almost proposing to a lamppost out of frustration—I finally dragged myself back home.

My legs were jelly. My shirt stuck to my back. And my mind?

Still not quiet.

"Look at you. Sweaty, tired, half-dead. Honestly, I'm starting to think your body's rejecting your brain."

"Maybe because I'm being haunted by a sarcastic cosmic fart."

"You flatter me."

I slammed the front door and walked straight to the dining hall, where my entire family sat… peacefully… without chaos… until they saw me.

"Vaelenor?" my mother asked, standing up, eyes immediately scanning me. "You look pale. Are you feeling well?"

I forced a smile, walked to the table like I wasn't dying inside, and sat across from her.

"Just a little dizzy. Maybe a... minor case of haunted by a mysterious voice and mild insanity."

"Excuse me?" she blinked.

"I said... I'm fine."

Father looked up from his meal, spoon frozen mid-air. "Son, are you pushing yourself too hard again?"

I looked down into the soup bowl.

And there it was—my reflection.

Black under-eye circles. Hollow cheeks. A face that looked like it lost a one-sided argument with insomnia.

And I slept all day. How is this fair?

I picked up my spoon and tried to eat.

The taste? Bland.

My stomach? Didn't care.

My muscles? Screamed for nutrients.

But my appetite? Gone.

I forced myself to eat anyway. I didn't spend weeks building this body just to let it shrink from... whatever this is.

The whole table felt silent. They were worried. I could feel it in their glances. But no one said a word.

After dinner, I stood up.

"Thanks. I'm going to my room now."

Mother tried to stop me. "Vaelenor—"

"I'm fine," I said again. "Just tired."

"Oh yeah, totally believable. Nothing says 'fine' like dead eyes and soup apathy."

Back in my room, I closed the door and fell into bed.

But of course—no rest.

No peace.

Just that stupid voice humming a lullaby of mockery in the back of my brain.

"You know… you were kind of impressive today."

"...what?"

"Screaming at the sky, charming the nerdy girl, pretending to be noble—quite a performance."

"Shut. Up."

"You've got potential, Vael. Somewhere... buried under all that self-pity and poor decision-making."

I grabbed a dumbbell and started doing curls on the floor.

"Ah yes. Classic response to inner torment—push-ups and grunting. So primal. So elegant."

"Can you at least tell me who—or what—you are?"

Silence.

Then—

"One day, you'll understand. For now, keep training. You'll need it."

"Need it for what?"

No reply.

Just silence... again.

I stared at the ceiling.

Sleep still didn't come. But eventually, I just... lay there. Breathing. Thinking.

About the cave.

The orb.

The voice.

And that terrifying feeling in my chest.

Whatever was happening to me... it wasn't normal.

But I wasn't going to let it beat me.