"Didn't you say your mission would take four months?"
Alvin leaned against a tree, struggling to steady himself. His limbs still ached from the fight, his breath ragged.
Exile approached the chimera's corpse, barely sparing Alvin a glance. "It was. But things changed."
Something flew toward him. Reflex took over—Alvin caught it midair.
His storage bracelet.
"Drink a healing potion from it."
Exile knelt beside the chimera, inspecting its grotesque form with a detached gaze.
Alvin scoffed, slipping the bracelet back onto his wrist. "So let me get this straight. You told me to survive in this hellhole, took my storage bracelet—left me weaponless—and now you just hand it back like it's nothing?"
Ignoring him, Exile continued his examination.
Alvin exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling. He fished out a potion, downing it in one gulp. Warmth spread through his chest as the torn flesh knit itself back together.
Still, Exile said nothing.
"Hey," Alvin called again, more forceful this time. "Are you even listening to me?"
Exile stood, brushing dirt off his cloak. "Follow me."
Alvin frowned. "Where to?"
Exile started walking. With a simple flick of his fingers,
The sky responded.
Clouds ruptured. The endless rain that had soaked the Black Forest for days blasted apart, scattering like mist before an unseen force.
Alvin's breath hitched. His eyes widened.
That was the second time he had seen Exile display his power.
And just like before
It was terrifying.
'It was... amazing'.
Exile didn't look back as he spoke.
"It's time you learn what the Twilight Crown truly does."
Alvin followed Exile without a word.
To his surprise, Exile led him straight into the cave— the one where he'd been resting.
His eyes instinctively scanned the familiar space.
Then his gaze locked onto something.
His knife.
Alvin stepped toward it, bending down to pick it up. The worn grip felt familiar in his palm, yet something was off.
"What are you doing?"
Exile had stopped, watching him.
"Nothing," Alvin muttered. "Just picking up something I lost."
Exile didn't respond, simply turning and continuing forward with a flick of his hand.
Alvin frowned, flipping the knife over in his palm.
'Strange. It felt heavier than before'.
The once-sharp blade was rusted—something that shouldn't have happened so soon.
Shaking off the thought, he followed.
The journey led them to a familiar sight.
A chasm.
The same one where the wolf had fallen.
Alvin barely had time to process before,
Exile grabbed his wrist and jumped.
"Holy—!"
The rest of his curse was swallowed by the void.
Then—darkness.
No sense of falling. No rush of wind. Just—nothing.
And then,
He opened his eyes.
He was on solid ground.
But he hadn't felt the impact.
Alvin pushed himself up, eyes darting around. His breath caught.
A cave—but not a natural one. The jagged walls were interrupted by something unnatural.
Metal.
Twisted, rusted, and broken. Mechanical doors, long since destroyed.
This wasn't a cave.
It was a facility.
A ruined one.
Alvin turned to Exile, wariness creeping in. "Where exactly are you taking me?"
Then he froze.
Because a corpse lay nearby.
Alvin's breath hitched.
A wolf's body.
The same wolf that had fallen into the chasm.
But something was wrong.
The body was already rotting, as if it had been here for months.
An uneasy thought slithered into Alvin's mind. 'Could it be...?'
His stomach twisted. He turned to Exile, voice low.
"How long has it been since you left the island?"
Exile answered without much thought.
"Five months."
Alvin's blood ran cold.
'Five months?'
His fingers twitched. His breathing slowed. The back of his neck itched—a creeping, unnatural sensation.
For him, it had only been three days.
But five months had passed.
His grip tightened around the rusted knife. That explains it.
His eyes flickered back to the corpse. His brain raced for answers. But how?
And then, he recalled,
...a dice.
A shiver crawled up his spine. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, uneven—too fast. His stomach twisted, a sickening weight settling in his gut.
'Should I just tell him?'
Alvin clenched his fists. He couldn't do anything about this—he was powerless. But Exile was different. Not only was he absurdly strong, but he also knew things. A lot of things.
'My plot knowledge is useless here.'
Sure, he knew what would happen in the future, but there were too many variables—like Exile.
'Fuck it.'
"Sir Exile, there's something I need to tell you."
Exile halted. Curious—'this disrespectful brat actually called him Sir?' He turned his head slightly. "What is it?"
"My memories… they seem to be returning."
Exile raised an eyebrow. "Fully?"
"No, just a small amount."
Exile studied him for a moment before nodding. "I see. Don't overthink it. They'll return over time."
Then, as if the conversation was nothing, he moved forward, stepping into the ruined facility.
Alvin exhaled slowly.
"Hah…"
'Telling Exile about the dice seemed like a good idea, but I can't trust him.'
'The dice… and that shadow with golden eyes… I shouldn't mention them to anyone if possible.'
'They might have something to do with my transmigration.'
His fingers twitched.
'I can't let anyone find out I'm a transmigrator.'