Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended
CHAPTER 198: Echoes of the Forgotten & The Unveiling

The chamber atop the Luminal Obelisk was bathed in the soft glow of firelight, flickering across its pearly white walls. Time had not been kind to the once grand observation tower. Cracks ran through the stone and the faded paint peeled in places, revealing the rough texture beneath. A long, circular platform jutted from the surrounding walls, serving as both seating and a reminder of the tower’s past purpose.

Wrapped in a warm blanket, Fay and Silvestia sat huddled together with the egg nestled securely between them. The fire crackled in the old fireplace, a welcome source of heat against winter’s chill. The scent of roasted meat lingered in the air as they finished off the last of the skewers they had received from the kindhearted vendors earlier.

Silvestia stretched her legs out with a sigh, rolling her shoulders. “My body almost forgot how nice it is to actually move again. I swear, after being bedridden for so long, I need to make up for all that wasted time.”

Fay smiled, adjusting the blanket. “I don’t blame you. It must’ve been awful. But… are you sure it’s okay to have a fire going? Won’t someone notice?”

Silvestia waved a hand dismissively. “No one pays attention to this place anymore. It’s been abandoned for years.” Her gaze softened as she looked at Fay. “This is my special space. It’s safe. Bringing you here is the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life.”

Fay looked down, shaking her head. “I think it’s the other way around. Your parents took me in when I had nowhere else to go… when I was about to be consumed by despair. And you gave me friendship. Even the simplest things—sharing a warm fire, eating good food—mean the world to me now.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the occasional pop of the firewood. Fay picked up one of the last kebabs and took a bite before smiling. “These are so good. I wish we had more.”

Silvestia hummed in agreement. “I know, right? We should find that vendor again. Next time, I want to try the honeyed pastries they were selling.”

Just as Fay was about to respond, a faint, rhythmic sound caught her attention. It was steady, pulsing—like a heartbeat. She turned sharply to the egg with a gasp.

Leaning in, she pressed her ear against its textured and slightly hoarse surface, eyes widening in astonishment.

“It’s alive,” she whispered in awe. “I can hear it… it’s still alive!”

Silvestia immediately followed suit, pressing her ear to the egg. A slow smile spread across her lips as she listened. “We really did it,” she murmured. “All our hard work wasn’t for nothing.”

Fay pulled back, eyes sparkling, her cowlick forming a heart. “What do you think is inside?”

Silvestia smirked. “A dragon, obviously.”

Fay laughed. “Oh? And what if it’s a griffon?”

“Then we’ll have the fastest mode of transport in the city!”

They both laughed, excitement bubbling between them as they speculated about the mysterious life waiting to hatch. Eventually, Silvestia stretched and yawned. “We should head back before my parents start worrying.”

Fay nodded. “We should add more firewood first. We don’t want the egg getting cold.”

While Fay carefully wrapped the blanket more securely around the egg, Silvestia crouched near the fire and started feeding it fresh logs. But just as she reached forward, a sharp pain stabbed through her skull. She gasped, clutching her head as the world around her began to blur.

Images flashed through her mind like the frenzied pages of a flipbook. Then, suddenly, she was somewhere else. A familiar world drained of color—monochrome, incomplete. Mountains, an entire district, even a lake hung frozen in mid-air, as if the very fabric of reality had been torn apart and left unfinished.

Silvestia’s breath hitched when she found herself inside of the apothecary.

“I’m so very sorry,” Lefahne said, her gaze full of sympathy. “But your condition is a rare mutation that modern medicine hasn’t yet figured out.”

The man’s eyes darted around in panic, frantically scanning the shelves lined with various elixirs. “Lefahne, Zurrel—please,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation. “You two are my only hope. There has to be some kind of potion, some cure. Please, you must have something.”

Zurrel shook his head, his expression grim. “Carl…” he sighed. “A potion’s purpose is to stimulate cell regrowth and aid the body’s natural healing process. But your illness is beyond basic healing. We haven’t made any significant progress in that field yet.”

“A matter of fact,” Lefahne added urgently, “from what we’ve discovered, taking any form of healing potion may actually worsen your condition by accelerating the disease. We strongly advise you to avoid ingesting anything with healing properties.”

“Huh?” Carl snapped, his eyes flashing with a blend of desperation and growing madness. “How does that make any sense? I’m trying to cure myself with healing, so why the hell would you tell me to avoid anything that heals?”

Lefahne raised her hands in a calming gesture. “Carl, that’s not what we meant—”

“Forget it!” the man interrupted, jerking his arm violently. “Are you telling me I’m going to die just because I smoke? This is absurd! If you’re not going to help me, I’ll find someone who will.”

The disjointed scenes that followed left Silvestia feeling queasy. Their family friend, Carl, eventually sought treatment at the Kaelmont Apothecary, yet rather than recovering, his condition deteriorated at an alarming pace. His body withered away until, alas, he succumbed to death.

“Si-Silvie!” Fay cried out, shaking her by the shoulders.

“Augh,” Silvestia groaned as the stupor loosened its grip, the throbbing in her forehead gradually fading.

“A-Are you alright?!” Fay pressed, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. “I’ve been calling your name for a whole minute! You weren’t responding at all. What happened? Should I get your parents?”

Silvestia massaged her temples, offering a sheepish smile. “No, I’m fine—it’s just a mild headache. A little rest, and I’ll be good as new.”

***

Ignoring the infuriating “closed” sign, Daisuke strode up to the blacksmith’s door and knocked with firm, deliberate force.

“We’re closed,” a woman’s voice called from within. “Come back another time.”

The knocking persisted.

“My name is Reezen Thalrindor,” Daisuke announced, his tone gravelly with authority. “Knight Commander of the Royal Guard—I demand an audience with the owner of this establishment. Open the door. Now.”

CLICK-CLICK.

The woman inside wasn’t willing to take any chances, nor did she hesitate. The blacksmith had already fulfilled the kingdom’s weapon order, so she couldn’t fathom what more they could possibly want. But because she rather liked keeping her head attached to her shoulders—

“Huh?” The clerk blinked in surprise as she opened the door. Instead of a group of burly warriors astride noble steeds and clad in gleaming plate armor, she found herself staring at a lone boy with an irritated expression.

Was this some kind of joke?

“Wait—”

Before she could react, Daisuke strode past her without hesitation, his silver hair catching the light—a detail that triggered a distant memory.

“You,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re that kid from a few days ago. What do you think you’re doing impersonating a knight of the royal guard?”

“Where is she?” Daisuke asked coolly, making his way toward the counter.

The girl’s expression darkened. “You need to leave. Now.” Her voice carried a sharp edge. “Disorderly conduct, impersonating a public officer, breaking and entering—if you don’t turn around this instant, I’ll report you to both the guild and the Warden of the Gates.”

“Josephine, that’s enough,” a familiar voice called from the back.

An elf emerged from the dimly lit room, her sharp eyes landing on Daisuke. Then her perfectly trimmed brows knitted in irritation. “You. I thought I made it abundantly clear that all commission applications are on hold until next month. What part of that was so difficult to—”

Her words caught in her throat as Daisuke retrieved a small pouch and tossed it onto the counter.

CLINGGG.

A metallic key spilled out, rattling against the wooden surface.

“I noticed the runes on this key bear a striking resemblance to the ones on that dagger,” Daisuke gestured to the weapon still mounted on the wall. “Looks like I was right.”

The elf swallowed, her gaze flickering between the key and the silver-haired boy. Though her posture remained firm, a shadow of wariness crept into her expression that made Josephine confused.

“So,” she murmured, eyes narrowing. “What’s your game? Are you planning to hand me over to the bastards who hired you?”

Without a word, the clerk slowly began unsheathing a poisoned dagger from the holster at the base of her back, but the blacksmith lifted a hand in a silent command to halt, a single bead of sweat trickling down her brow.

The pistachio-haired elf scrutinized the nonchalant invader nervously, her breaths turning shallow and erratic. If he’s the same masked man from last night… there’s absolutely no way we can defeat him on our own. She swallowed hard. The moment he senses any hostility, he’ll cut us both down in a heartbeat.