Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 63: Breaking Point [1]

Kyle steadied himself against the wall. He took a deep breath to clear the last remnants of dizziness.

His fingers fumbled at his storage ring for a moment before pulling out the replica. An exact copy of the decorative sword he’d originally taken.

The weight felt wrong in his hands now, lifeless compared to the transformed blade now resting as a ring on his finger.

With careful steps, he returned to the display stand where the original had been.

The empty space seemed to accuse him, the velvet lining slightly indented from where the sword had rested.

He placed the replica down precisely, adjusting it until it sat at the same angle as before. His hands lingered for a second, making sure the switch wouldn’t be noticed at a glance.

Satisfied, he turned away.

***

(Kyle POV - In the hallway of Warehouse - When he was fighting the Masked figure)

The mask figure’s fist plowed into my gut with the force of a freight train.

All the air left my lungs in a whoosh as I flew backward, spine cracking against the warehouse wall.

Dust rained down as I slumped to the floor, vision swimming.

Through the haze, I saw him coming again, sword raised for the kill. I barely managed to throw myself sideways with a burst of wind, but not fast enough.

"AAAAAGH!" The pain was blinding as my left forearm hit the ground several feet away, fingers still twitching.

Blood sprayed from the stump in rhythmic pulses, each heartbeat sending fresh agony through me.

’Shit shit shit!’ I needed a plan.

The artifact sword? No, I can’t risk it.

’I am still not sure if I can even defeat that thing in front of me even with the artifact.’

That left only one option, the black pill from Grimmord, still tucked between my back teeth.

This is my only option.

’This is gonna hurt like hell...’

As the masked figure loomed over me.

I felt his boot connect with my ribs, sending me airborne again. The moment his axe kick hammered me back down into the concrete.

I bit down hard. The pill dissolved instantly, flooding my mouth with a bitter, metallic taste. Then the real pain started.

My heart stuttered violently in my chest, like it was being squeezed in a vice.

Every beat became slower...heavier...until it barely moved at all. My vision tunneled as my body went limp, playing dead perfectly.

Through slitted eyes, I watched the bastard scan me with those glowing red eyes. He gave my ribs one final, crushing stomp for good measure.

Agony exploded through me, but I didn’t react. Couldn’t react.

The pill had me locked in perfect stillness, my heart barely ticking over.

’Come on...just walk away...’

For what feels like eternity, he just stood there.

Then finally, blessedly, he turned and walked off, boots making wet sounds in the blood.

After 5 minutes, my heart gave a violent kickstart.

Air rushed back into my lungs with a wet gasp as the pill’s effects faded.

Every nerve ending screamed in protest as feeling returned.

But I was alive.

***

Kyle stumbled through the back alleys of Maplewood, every step sending fresh waves of pain up his side.

The Grimmond’s advanced ranked healing potion had stopped the bleeding. But he was still injured and potions couldn’t re-attach the limbs. He needed to go to the hosptial.

But.

’I can’t go to a Maplewood hospital.’

The thought made his stomach twist.

The stitched masked would be hunting him the moment he realized the sword was fake.

A missing arm would be too memorable, too easy to track.

He ducked into a filthy public bathroom, locking the door behind him with his good hand.

The mirror showed a ghost, pale skin, dark circles under his eyes, blood still smeared across his jaw.

"Shit."

He turned on the faucet with his elbow, splashing icy water on his face. The shock helped clear his head.

’Change of clothes. Change of face. Then get the hell out of Maplewood.’

’The best option is go to Valtheras City hospital.’

The disguise ring hummed against his finger as he activated it.

His bluish-black hair lightened to pale blue, his mismatched eyes shifting to a uniform amber.

Not a perfect transformation it still too much like his real face, but enough to throw off casual searches.

The coat sleeves were long enough to hide his missing arm if he kept it tucked close.

He had stuffed the severed limb into his spatial ring. Before stepping back out.

The mana train station was nearly empty at this hour. Kyle kept his head down as he boarded, slumping into the farthest corner seat.

Every jolt of the train sent fresh pain through his body, but he gritted his teeth and bore it.

****

(Valtheris City Hospital - Tuesday - 1:28 am)

The white halls smelled of antiseptic and magic—clean, sterile, impersonal. The healer, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, didn’t ask questions when Kyle gave the name "Ethan."

"Severed limb reattachment is straightforward with modern healing arts" the doctor said, unwrapping the bandages.

"But you are lucky, the cut was clean."

Kyle didn’t mention what had cut it.

The process took hours. First, the healers sterilized the wound with glowing runes.

Then came the delicate reconnection of muscle, bone, and nerve—each layer stitched back together with precise spells.

The worst part was the itching as the magic forced his flesh to knit back together.

"So how does your arm feel now, Mr. Ethan?" the doctor asked, testing Kyle’s grip strength. "Any discomfort?"

Kyle flexed his fingers, pale but whole again. The skin still tingled, like a limb waking from sleep.

"No problems" he said, rolling his shoulder. "Thank you, doctor."

***

(Back in the Academy - Tuesday - 2:16 am)

Kyle stood outside the door of their quarters, his hand trembling as he fumbled with the spare key.

The weight of the day pressed down on him.

The blood, the bodies, the way that masked figure had looked at him like he was already dead.

His left arm, freshly reattached, still ached with phantom pain. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

He had been holding it all together.

Through the pain. Through the fear. Through the sickening realization that he had killed people today.

He was just an 18-year-old boy from Earth two and a half months ago.

A normal human being. A nobody.

Now he was standing here with blood under his nails and death clinging to his skin.

’Just get inside. Just hold on a little longer.’

The door creaked open.

He stepped in silently, hoping Aurelia would be asleep, hoping he could just collapse into bed and pretend none of this had happened.

But the soft glow of mana-lamps told him otherwise.

Aurelia was sitting at the kitchen table, in her casual clothes, her dark hair tied back in its usual pony-tail.

The moment the door opened, her sharp blue eyes locked onto him.

"Kyle."

His name was quiet on her lips. Not angry. Not accusing. Just... there.

He froze.

She stood slowly, taking in his appearance—the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he held himself like he was barely keeping it together.

"You left a note" she said, voice low.

"Did you really go to the dungeon?."

Kyle swallowed.

He had rehearsed lies in his head the whole way back.

Excuses.

Deflections.

But then Aurelia took a step closer, and something in her expression, the slight furrow of her brow, the way her lips pressed together.

His vision flickered.

For a split second, she wasn’t Aurelia.

She was his mother.

His real mother, from Earth. The way she used to look at him when he came home late, worried but trying not to show it.

The key slipped from his fingers. It hit the floor with a sound like a gunshot.

The dam broke.

His breath hitched.

His vision blurred.

And before he could stop himself, he crossed the distance between them and collapsed into her arms.

A slow sob tore from his throat.

All the fear, the horror, the guilt, it poured out of him in ragged, shuddering gasps.

He buried his face in her shoulder, fingers clutching the fabric of her clothes like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Aurelia stiffened for half a second.

Surprised.

But then her arms wrapped around him, tight and unyielding.

She didn’t ask what happened.

She didn’t demand answers.

She just held him as he fell apart, one hand cradling the back of his head like he was something fragile.

Something precious.

Kyle didn’t know how long they stood there. The tears didn’t stop.

The memories didn’t fade. But Aurelia’s grip never wavered.

Eventually, exhaustion took over. His knees buckled.

Aurelia caught him easily, shifting her hold to support his weight.

"Sleep" she murmured, guiding him toward his room. "We’ll talk later."

Kyle didn’t resist.

He let her lead him to bed, let her pull the covers over him. His eyes were already closing as his head hit the pillow.

The last thing he felt was her fingers brushing through his hair, gentle, and steady.

***