Chapter 102: Survivor’s Syndrome

I had died once before, and I thought death would be the same again. Dark, grim, cold. But instead, I was met with light.

​I opened my eyes and squinted, trying to focus my vision. The first thing my brain registered was the absence of pain.

​I reflexively jerked my left hand, feeling my chest under my torn shirt. The skin was smooth. No scar, no dried blood. As if it had all been just a bad dream.

​I slowly sat up. My body felt incredibly light, as if someone had dialed gravity down to a minimum.

​In the sky above me, there was neither sun nor clouds—it shimmered with an even, pearlescent sheen, like the inside of a giant shell. Underfoot, instead of forest mud, lay strange, springy moss that emitted a faint greenish glow. The trees around looked as if they had been carved from murky, translucent glass. Through their trunks, I could see the outlines of other, equally unreal trees.

​Is this what so-called "Paradise" looks like? the thought flickered through my mind.

​I tried to lean on my right arm to stand up. "Centurion" responded with a low hum. The metal of the prosthesis felt warm.

​The moment I pushed off the ground, I was thrown almost a meter into the air. I instinctively tucked into a roll, expecting a hard landing, but I landed on the glowing moss as softly as a falling feather.

​Most likely, this is the Spirit Realm, I thought. The flip side of reality, hidden within the forest. I had read about such anomalies in the archives, but I never thought I would end up in one.

​Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a quick movement. My right hand instinctively twitched toward my belt, where my sword should have been.

​Empty.

​"Hey! Why are you twitching like you've been struck by lightning?" came a thin, ringing voice.

​Right in front of my face, nearly grazing my nose, hovered a creature. It was no taller than my palm. A tiny girl with a mop of messy green hair, dressed in something resembling a tunic made of living leaves. Behind her back, translucent wings fluttered at a frantic speed.

​She did a somersault in the air, flew up to my head, and gave a strand of my hair a strong yank.

​"Hey!" I tried to pull away, but she immediately dove onto my right shoulder and began to curiously tap her tiny fists against the armor of the "Centurion." The metal clinked softly.

​"What a strange contraption!" she chirped cheerfully, peering into the joints of the prosthetic. "It doesn't smell of life, but it's alive. How do you do that?"

​"Who are you?" my voice sounded dry and raspy. I tried to shake her off my shoulder, but she simply flew to the other one. "And where... where are we? Where is that demon?"

​She rolled her eyes.

​"My name is Elyria. And that little black bug... well... I just felt dirty magic in my home. And I had to come down and crush that bug. It squeaked so loudly when I ground it to dust! And then I saw you. Lying there all broken, your metal piece sparking... I thought you'd be ruined if I left you there. So I dragged you to my Cradle and fixed you. You don't have to thank me."

​Flashes of memory hit my consciousness. Roaring flame. Shockwave. Screams.

​"The caravan," I exhaled, feeling my throat tighten. I took a step toward the spirit, ignoring the strange gravity. "There were people with me. Mortis the alchemist. Ruth the guard. And... Klop. What happened to them? Did you pull them out too? Where are their bodies? I need to bury them."

​The spirit stopped fluttering. She hovered at my eye level, and for a second, her face lost its childish carefree nature.

​She shook her head slowly.

​"The forest mourned them, Iron Man. But that bug's flame was too hungry. It leaves no bodies for the worms. There's nothing left of your people, their wagons, or the beasts."

​Ash.

​They were all... a handful of dust.

​I sank onto the glowing moss. Zeno, Ephraim, Mortis, Klop, Ruth. My brain, accustomed to looking for cause-and-effect in everything, quickly built a logical chain.

​Why did they die? Because they were near me?

​I am cursed, this thought formed clearly and distinctly.

​I stood up. My face must have turned into a stone mask, because the spirit flew back a little, studying me with curiosity.

​"Thanks for the repairs," my voice sounded level. "But I have to go."

​"To Dornheim? Why?" She pouted, her wings fluttering indignantly. "It's boring there! Stay here! We'll play. It's been so long since I've had such sturdy toys."

​"Let me out," I cut her off, looking right through her. "I'm leaving."

​"Oh no, that won't do!" The spirit put her hands on her hips. "Since you're leaving, I'm going with you! I've been bored here for centuries. And I want to see what you'll do."

​"No! You're not coming with me!" I raised my voice, stepping toward her and instinctively waving my hand. My fingers passed through her translucent body, leaving only a slight tingling sensation on my skin. "Don't you understand? I attract death! If you tag along with me, you'll die too. I won't let you do that. Go back to what you were doing!"

​I said cruel, sharp things, trying to scare her.

​Her answer was a ringing, genuine laugh. The spirit laughed so hard she somersaulted in the air.

​"Death? You're threatening me with death?" She flew right up to my face, her eyes sparkling mockingly. "Stupid, stupid Iron Man. How do you think you could kill me? Your 'curse,' if it even exists, would have to try very hard to tear off even one of my leaves!"

​She tugged at my ear again, this time painfully.

​"I'm going with you. Period."

​My shoulders slumped heavily.

​"Fine," I ground out through clenched teeth. "If you want to come, come. Trail along behind me, do whatever you want. But remember: I'm not going to babysit you. I won't protect you. To me, you don't exist."

​She clapped her hands happily.

​"Deal! Then I'll call you Iron Man!"

​"Take me back to the forest," I ordered dully.

​The spirit smiled slyly and snapped her fingers.

​The pearlescent sky above us instantly cracked, the moss dissolved, and the illusion of the Realm collapsed. Familiar, heavy gravity crashed down on my shoulders. My boots sank into the damp, ash-soaked earth with a squelch.

​A sharp, nauseating smell of burning hit my nose. I was standing in the middle of a black, scorched patch in the forest. All that remained of the wagons were charred iron wheel rims. I walked silently to the edge of the crater where my miraculously surviving sword lay, thrown by the shockwave, picked it up, wiped off the soot, and strapped it to my belt.

​Suddenly, I felt a light pressure on the crown of my head. Elyria had sat right on my head, threading her small fingers through my hair and dangling her tiny legs over my forehead.

​I let out a long, heavy sigh. It was impossible to brush her off—she would just materialize there again.

I took a few steps across the crunching ash.

"Iron Man?"

I didn't answer anything.

"If you truly believe you attract death... then why are you heading to Dornheim at all?"

My steps involuntarily slowed.

Why?

I was already about to answer that I didn't know, but Zeno's face suddenly surfaced before my eyes.

I tightened my grip around the hilt of my sword.

"To become a shield for them," I said quietly.

For a few seconds, Elyria remained silent.Then she thoughtfully tilted her head to the side.

"You're strange..."

She smiled her usual smile.

"Very strange, Iron Man."

Without answering anything, I continued walking forward.