I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 210 – A Debt Paid in Light

The winds had grown still in the aftermath of Rhollath's demise. The battlefield no longer screamed with chaos, but the silence was no mercy. Thousands of bodies still littered the torn valley—shattered bones, broken armor, and the remains of those who had dared to stand against the Spiral God's cult and the monster it had summoned.

Isaac stood in the center of it all, his eyes heavy with responsibility. Around him, the light of [Luminarch Genesis – Rank Ω] still lingered in the ground like glowing veins beneath the earth. He could feel the echoes of life clinging to the fallen—a final whisper, a last spark waiting to be called home.

He could do it.

He could bring them back.

He knew that now.

But the moment required more than power. It required resolve.

He stepped forward and slowly knelt beside the first of many—an elven child, no older than ten winters. Her silver hair was matted with dried blood, her tiny frame half-covered in the cloak of a fallen defender.

"I'm sorry it took this long," he whispered.

Then he reached inward—toward the core of his being—and spoke:

[Luminarch Genesis – Passive Resurrection] – ActivateTarget Range: All fallen allied soulsCondition: Elves of this battlefieldCount: 10,314 confirmedProceed?[Yes]  [Cancel]

His hand trembled. He pressed [Yes].

The air grew heavy—and then exploded with light.

All across the valley, bodies began to stir.

Torn flesh wove itself back together. Hearts resumed beating. Breath returned in gasps. Cries broke through the silence—not of pain, but of life. A thousand heartbeats rose at once as golden auras enveloped the dead, and their souls—summoned from wherever they had lingered—rushed home.

Sylvalen choked on a sob. "No… that's not possible…"

Selene staggered as mana pressure surged outward. "He's… doing it all at once?"

Even Lira's hands trembled as she saw the fallen rise one by one—men, women, children, soldiers, nobles, peasants—all of them returning to the world as though death had been nothing more than a dream.

But Isaac... was not untouched.

His body hunched over, breath ragged.

He looked down and saw the notification:

Mana Consumption Reduced by 90% ([Essence Efficiency – Rank EX])Total Mana Required: 1,246,550Mana After Reduction: 124,655

Remaining MP: 12,465 / 124,655

His hands shook.

He had nearly emptied himself.

Even with the miracle of efficiency at his side, bringing back over ten thousand lives had nearly bled him dry.

But he didn't regret it.

He stood upright, slowly, swaying slightly from the mana drain. His body still functioned—his regeneration was already ticking thanks to his absurd endurance—but it would take time to recover.

Then the sound hit him: the chorus of voices. Confused. Weeping. Grateful.

One young elven soldier fell to his knees. "Y-You… You brought us back?"

Another whispered, "I remember… I remember the Spiral devouring my soul… and then warmth… and then light."

A woman stepped forward, tears running down her cheeks. "You… You are the one they call Isaac, aren't you?"

He met her gaze. "Yes."

"You're not just a man," she said, voice breaking. "You're a miracle."

Isaac turned away, shielding the tremble in his arms. "I'm just someone who chose not to look away."

Behind him, Sylvalen reached out, her eyes glassy with reverence.

"He paid for ten thousand lives with his own strength," she whispered. "He didn't use an artifact. He didn't beg a god. He became the miracle."

Lira swallowed. "And it cost him everything."

"No," Selene corrected, voice soft. "It cost him something. But not everything. Because he still stands."

The elves began to gather around Isaac—silent at first, then kneeling, one by one, in rows and circles. No command. No ritual. Just raw, undiluted gratitude. Isaac said nothing. He simply looked to the heavens—his breathing shallow, his aura flickering.

The gods might not yet understand what had happened here.

But the world of mortals had witnessed the impossible.

Not a warlord.

Not a tyrant.

Not a god.

A man who returned the dead to life without demanding anything in return.