Chapter 52: 52: questions and answers
Year 1900, 20th of March. Warden Sanctuary.
Harley had a bored expression on his face. He rubbed his short hair, yawning tiredly. Currently he was inside a room with metallic walls, and there was a gas lamp hanging over the table.
"The world is still trying to adapt to the harvest as fast as possible."
Harley raised his head towards the direction of the voice. There, in front of him was a young-looking woman with long blonde hair sitting in front of him.
It was the warden who sent Harley off into the trial at first. She sat across from him, having her hood and mask off.
Nime sat on the chair. Her pointy ears looked a bit red and her yellowish eyes looked beautiful as they reflected the light of the lantern.
Harley lost himself looking at her until he shook when her eyes met his.
"Why are you staring?" she asked, crossing her legs.
Harley shook his head.
"I have never seen an elf before. Also, you’re beautiful."
Nime smiled, making a chill run down Harley’s spine. He knew firsthand how beautiful things are often the most dangerous.
"I wasn’t always beautiful, and I wasn’t always an elf," she replied, making Harley blink.
’Ah, I see. She changed her race.’
In this world, there weren’t always elves, demonkin, beastkins, and others. They were all humans at one point.
In a world directly connected to earth called Eden, by completing certain requirements, a person can change their race to another and gain the benefits of such a race.
And yes, humans are the default race, also the weakest in the world. The progenitors of the other races were humans too, the bravest and most courageous of them all.
Despite hearing how Nime became like this, he still wanted to hear more from her.
"How did it happen—"
"That’s enough questions," she cut him off. "I’m supposed to be asking the questions."
Her glare made him feel like something was holding him by the throat. He complied, gritting his teeth and nodding slowly.
’I just want to sleep.’ He sighed tiredly, leaning his head back.
"Humanity is constantly trying to learn more about Eden. And trials commonly take place in locations in that world. So, you’ll be helping by telling us everything that happened." She spoke, looking at Harley straight in the face.
"I was a member of a small village and avoided getting killed. I was then captured on a pirate ship and I escaped the ship too. I then met another Challenger in a small foreign kingdom..."
"A while after I found myself leading a great army. I needed to kill a bastard dragon to complete the trial."
"I was scared."
Harley shuddered.
Amongst all the things that he faced in the trial, facing a hundred men didn’t scare him like he felt when he finally faced the dragon.
Even when he was cornered alone by more than a hundred men he still survived. But the moment he finally came face to face with a creature of that scale, it was like he knew his death was inevitable. He even went numb and blamed it on his essence.
Nime listened to the events Harley spoke of, shaking her head. Eventually she told him to stop when his voice started shaking.
"That’s enough. But can you start again, this time in detail? Don’t miss a thing." She sat up with a serious expression.
Harley was kind of annoyed by the fact that immediately after he came back from a trial they wanted to interrogate him.
’Whatever.’ Harley thought, beginning to narrate about where and when the events transpired.
Slowly the woman’s face darkened more and more as she listened to what he said.
As Harley finished, he yawned and stretched his arms. The elf in front of him finished writing everything he said and then she closed the book and looked at him.
"We’ll provide you with shelter for a while, until you figure out what you want to do." She said, getting up on her feet and circling the table.
Harley raised a brow at the woman, expecting that she’ll snort at him. But then she tapped his shoulder and smiled.
"Welcome back." She said, walking around and away to the door.
"Oh, what is your story rank?"
Nime’s question hit Harley hard. He knew that he was going to be asked this question sooner or later. At the moment, he didn’t know much about his own story rank. According to the Oracle he would need to do certain things to get it.
So...
"It’s merely of the Heroic rank," he replied, and she nodded, taking his details down before walking away.
"All of that for a heroic story rank? How unfair?" Nime said, obviously not thinking Harley would hear her. His ears were the most sensitive part of his body after all.
The main reason why he couldn’t mention anything higher than that was because he didn’t know the rank of the story he would get. And he also knew that anyone with a legendary rank story would be candidates to serve the human kingdom.
He didn’t want any form of surveillance on himself so he just told her that.
*Clack!*
The door closed with a clicking sound, making the lamp above the table dangle subtly.
Harley stared at it, remembering the words the Oracle whispered in his ears.
—"You are a living puppet, you are the ninth wonder."
Harley raised his hand, looking at the back of his palm. Sure, he had great stamina and great strength, but without receiving a story from the harvest he had no abilities.
"A wonder huh? What a life I’m living."
Currently in this world, there was no human who didn’t know about the wonders. Back when the harvest descended on the world, long later, there was the first wonder.
According to what he knew it was an artifact of pure destruction and chaos. The thing about the wonders is that after them comes calamities from the otherworld.
These creatures can only be faced by the person wielding the wonder. But now he himself was that said artifact, a puppet.
How did he feel about it?
Well, Harley only had many questions.
If he is indeed a puppet why does he have free will? If he’s a powerful artifact where are all of his amazing abilities? Who is he the puppet of?
Knowing now that he’s just a consciousness trapped in a magical shell, how did he even come about into this world?
Will he even reincarnate if he just ends himself?
Harley let out a deep breath as he stood up from the chair. The wooden legs scraped loudly against the cold metallic floor. His body felt heavy, every muscle aching from the trial he had endured, but he forced himself to move. The gas lamp swayed gently above the table, casting flickering shadows across the sterile walls as if mocking his exhaustion.
He walked toward the door, his boots echoing in the small room. His hand reached for the handle, but before he could turn it, the door swung open from the outside with a soft creak.
A man stepped in. He was a tall, lean man in a crisp black uniform adorned with a gleaming bronze badge on his left chest. The badge depicted a stylized key crossed with a quill—symbol of the Warden Sanctuary. His face was neutral, almost mechanical, with short-cropped dark hair and eyes that betrayed no emotion.
"Gardener Harley," the attendant said in a calm, practiced tone. "Warden Nime has authorized temporary lodging for you in the lower levels. Please follow me."
He extended his gloved hand, palm up, revealing a small brass key attached to a simple iron ring. The key was etched with the same symbol on his badge.
Harley stared at the key for a moment, then took it without a word.
The attendant turned sharply on his heel and began walking down the narrow corridor outside. Harley followed, his steps sluggish but steady. The hallway was dimly lit by more gas lamps spaced evenly along the metallic walls, their flames hissing softly.
Harley couldn’t help but look at the attendant again.
’Bronze badge, he’s still in the first echelon.’ He raised his brow.
They descended a spiraling staircase that seemed to go on forever, each step taking them deeper into the bowels of the Warden Sanctuary. The walls gradually changed from polished metal to rough-hewn stone, damp with condensation. Distant echoes of voices and clanging metal drifted up from below.
Hearing this, Harley couldn’t help but ask.
"What’s happening down there?"
The attendant only looked at him with a calm gaze, looking back down at the staircase.
"Other challengers that returned are training." The man said in a gruff and unfriendly tone.
At the bottom of the stairs, a long "lodging way" stretched out before them: a wide underground corridor lined with heavy wooden doors on both sides, each marked with a number and a small viewing slit. Dim lanterns hung from chains overhead, casting long shadows.
The attendant stopped in front of door number 47. He gestured with one hand.
"Your assigned lodging. It is modest but secure. Meals are provided at the common hall three times daily. You may stay as long as a month, but the warden expects a decision within two weeks on your future affiliation—whether to join the sanctuary staff, seek independent work, or return to the surface kingdoms to pursue a higher rank."
Harley looked at him with one question on his mind. "You’re in the first echelon. Why work here in the sanctuary?"
The question seemed to catch the attendant off guard, and the man only smiled, replying in a calm tone.
"Sorry, but it’s safe here. The sanctuary is protected 24/7 inside and out. I don’t want to have to hunt monsters for the rest of my life. I’m not built for it." The man answered, and Harley smirked, pushing the door open.
The door opened, revealing a small, windowless room containing a narrow bed, a simple wooden table with a single chair, a washbasin, and a trunk for belongings. A single gas lamp on the wall provided warm, steady light. It smelled faintly of fresh linen and lavender—someone had tried to make it welcoming.
The attendant remained in the doorway, posture rigid.
"If you require anything—additional blankets, writing materials, or information on available contracts—pull the cord beside the bed. An attendant will respond promptly."
Harley stepped inside, turning back to face the man.
"Thanks," he muttered, voice rough from fatigue.
The attendant gave a shallow bow. The bronze badge caught the light.
"Rest well, Challenger. The world above still turns, and Eden waits for no one."
With that, he pulled the door shut. The lock clicked once more from the outside.
Harley stood in the center of the small room for a long moment. The brass key was still warm in his hand. He dropped it onto the table with a clink, then collapsed onto the edge of the bed. The mattress was firmer than he expected, but it felt like heaven after weeks of sleeping on cold ground or ship decks.
He rubbed his face with both hands. The Oracle’s words echoed again in his mind.
—"You are a living puppet, you are the ninth wonder."
Harley let out a low, bitter chuckle.
"Some wonder," he whispered to the empty room. "Can’t even get a decent story rank without lying about it."
