CHAPTER 34: CHAPTER NO.34 REWARDS & BATH

[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

Thud! Thud! Thud!

My body rolled off the ground three times before finally coming to a dead halt against the polished marble of my room’s floor. The impact rattled through my ribs, but compared to the hellfire desert I’d just crawled out of, it was almost merciful.

The transfer always felt like being spat out of reality itself, but this time? This time it was like the System had chewed me up, fried me in molten breath, scrubbed me raw with sand, then tossed me back home like some half-burnt offering.

The cold marble beneath my cheek... oh, it felt like heaven.

I wheezed, each breath scraping through my scorched throat like sandpaper, and forced my eyes open. The familiar gothic ceiling of Morningstar Manor loomed above, its arches black and solemn, lit by the faint blue glow of mana lamps. Home. Somehow, against all odds, I’d made it through another penalty zone.

[Penalty Zone – Desert of Attrition]

[Duration: 4 Hours]

[Objective: Survive.]

[Reward: +30 Stat Points, Random Loot Box (Blessed)]

[Penalty Zone Cleared. Reward Granted.]

[Bonus reward granted for surviving "The Scorchfang Wyrm".]

[Rewards: +30 Stat Points, Random Loot Box (Blessed), Status Recovery, Random Loot Box (Cursed)]

[Claim it?]

[Y/N]

I croaked, my lips splitting as I rasped out,

"...Claim."

The moment the word left my mouth, the familiar crystalline chime echoed inside my skull.

Tti-ring!

[Due to the host’s condition, Status Recovery is being used.]

Warmth bloomed in my chest. Not the searing, blistering heat of that damned desert, but a cool, cleansing tide that surged outward through every vein and nerve. It was like being submerged in a spring untouched since creation, water so pure it rewrote the definition of life itself. My cracked lips sealed shut, my tongue regained moisture, and the burn laced across my throat soothed as though it had never existed.

Bones that had been rattling apart knit with soft clicks; my muscles unknotted as though invisible hands were kneading life back into them. Even the blackened welts on my arms—gifts from the Scorchfang Wyrm’s hell-breath—peeled away in thin flakes, leaving unmarred flesh beneath. My lungs, moments ago a furnace of grit and ash, expanded with air so clean it almost made me choke.

I gasped. The sound was sharp, alive.

[Status Recovery Complete.]

I lay there for a long moment, staring up at the gothic ceiling. The relief was so overwhelming that it left me empty, like my very soul was catching up to my body’s sudden restoration. The System had done it again—stripped me bare, tried to grind me down, and then rebuilt me with gifts that would have been miracles in any other world.

My gaze drifted toward the translucent panel still hovering before me, faintly glowing against the dim chamber.

[Rewards Claimed.]

[+30 Stat Points Acquired.]

[Random Loot Box (Blessed) Acquired.]

[Random Loot Box (Cursed) Acquired.]

Two boxes. One radiating light, the other dripping with shadow. Both sat in the corner of my inventory like twin predators waiting to be let out of their cages.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself upright. My fingers brushed the polished floor, cold and grounding, before I pushed myself onto the nearby chaise. Morningstar Manor’s main chamber had always felt too big, too silent—but after the endless roars of that desert wyrm, the silence was a balm.

After sitting to let my brain catch up, I pushed my body off and beelined to the kitchen. Again.

And then I saw it... cleared. no wrappers or chaos in sight.

Ah! Grayfia did say that the manor is self-sufficient, or something like that.

So cleaning is also included in that, does that mean all the food I had consumed is also...

Thinking that, I walked to the fridge and tugged the handle.

A soft hiss of mana pressure slipped from the seal as the door swung open, revealing rows upon rows of perfectly arranged food. Fresh fruit glistened as if plucked that very morning; loaves of bread sat warm in woven baskets, their golden crusts exhaling faint steam; even cuts of meat rested neatly on trays, wrapped in enchanted paper that kept the blood rich and red. No sign of the feasts I had raided earlier remained—not the empty bottles, not the crumbs, not the bones. Everything was restored, pristine, as though the manor itself refused to acknowledge my gluttony.

I narrowed my eyes. "So it is alive," I muttered under my breath.

Grayfia once mentioned that the Morningstar Manor was bound to me—not just by name, but by blood and magic, like a loyal beast slumbering in marble and steel. It wasn’t merely a house. It was an artifact, one of the oldest demonic constructs left behind from my bloodline’s zenith. That meant it had rules, routines, instincts of its own. And right now, it was feeding me, coddling me, cleaning up after my mess as though I were some spoiled heir being fattened for sacrifice.

A bitter chuckle escaped me, but hunger overrode paranoia. I grabbed a chilled bottle of water first, downing it in greedy gulps until my stomach protested. Then came bread, rich and soft, butter melting the moment I tore into it. Meat followed—slices of roast beef that carried the tang of herbs I hadn’t tasted in centuries. The food didn’t just fill me; it repaired me, knitting vitality into the seams the System’s Status Recovery hadn’t touched.

By the time I finished, the world stopped spinning. My mind, once fogged by exhaustion, felt sharp again. Too sharp.

Because the inventory window was still open.

[Random Loot Box (Blessed)]

[Random Loot Box (Cursed)]

Twin orbs of light and shadow flickered at the edges of my vision, their presence gnawing at my thoughts. The Blessed Box glowed faintly golden, gentle, inviting—like the promise of salvation. The Cursed Box, however, was a writhing knot of obsidian and violet mist, leaking whispers that clawed at the edges of my sanity.

I dragged a chair out from the table and sat, my fingers drumming against the lacquered wood. "Alright, which one of you bastards comes first?"

Logic said the Blessed Box. Start safe, claim strength, and leave the dangerous gamble for later. But something in my gut told me the System wouldn’t be so kind. The Cursed Box wasn’t just bait—it was a test. Maybe even a doorway to something more dangerous than anything I’d faced in that desert.

I shut my eyes, exhaled, and shoved the thought aside. Not yet. I needed my head clear for that choice, not clouded by hunger and paranoia.

Instead, I stood, heading toward the manor’s main hall. Massive double doors swung open at my touch, spilling me into a corridor bathed in ghostlight. The stained glass windows that lined the walls shifted subtly with my presence, their depictions of Morningstar battles and coronations flickering like memories replaying themselves.

"Going out might not be the worst idea," I whispered.

The manor was safe—too safe. If I lingered, I’d drown in its silence, in the System’s relentless whispers. I needed the world outside. Noise. Movement. Humanity. A reminder that existence wasn’t just battles in hellscapes and power-ups hidden behind glowing text boxes.

I strode toward the bathhouse, marble steps whispering beneath my boots. Status Recovery had mended the broken vessel that was my body, but clothing wasn’t part of the System’s mercy. My shirt still hung in tatters, burned and blackened from the Wyrm’s breath. The trousers fared little better, stiff with blood and ash. To walk beyond these walls like this would be nothing short of disgraceful—and dangerous. Power commanded presence, and presence demanded appearance.

The corridor stretched ahead, vast and echoing, lit by chandeliers of frozen witchlight that hummed faintly as though aware of my passing. Stained glass windows depicted ancient victories of the Morningstar line—armored knights kneeling before a crowned sovereign, angels and demons locked in the eternal struggle, blood rivers feeding into black suns. Each panel seemed to shift subtly as I moved, like watching eyes that had long since forgotten how to blink.

The bathhouse lay at the corridor’s end, its doors massive slabs of obsidian etched with runes that pulsed faintly at my approach. When I laid a hand upon them, the stone warmed, recognizing my touch. The hinges groaned open to reveal a chamber vast enough to dwarf mortal temples. Steam curled lazily upward from pools arranged in cascading tiers, each glowing faintly with a different hue—azure for restoration, crimson for vigor, violet for clarity. This was not a bathhouse. It was a sanctum, crafted for the scions of Morningstar bloodline to purge, recover, and reignite their essence.

I stepped inside, the air thick with incense and mineral warmth. My ruined clothes I peeled away one layer at a time, each strip of charred cloth falling soundlessly onto the mosaic floor. Beneath my fingers, my skin bore no mark of the battles just endured—smooth, unmarred, as though I had never faced the Wyrm at all. And yet... when I stared into the rippling surface of the nearest pool, my reflection told a different story. Eyes sharper than before. Shoulders straighter, heavier with weight. Will, hardened like steel pulled from flame.

Sliding into the azure pool was like sinking into liquid light. It embraced every nerve, drawing fatigue out of my marrow. My head tipped back against the carved stone edge, a sigh escaping unbidden. The System healed, yes. But the manor knew how to nurture. Two halves of a coin, both necessary, both relentless in their own ways.

"...Haaah."

The sigh left me without permission. Every inch of my skin sang with relief, the enchanted water seeping deeper than flesh, soothing even the phantom ache the Status Recovery couldn’t erase. It was like sinking into silence made liquid.

I tilted my head back against the stone edge, eyes drifting shut.

The manor hummed faintly around me, the same way it always did when I was truly alone—like it was listening. Watching. Keeping me alive in its own quiet way.

But outside this sanctuary... New York still waited. A world teeming with noise, mana, and the strange blend of mortal and demonic life.

And after everything, maybe I needed that noise.

"...Yeah," I muttered into the steam. "I’ll go out after this."

The decision settled in my chest like a stone dropped into still water.

For the first time since crawling out of that desert, I felt almost human again.

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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