Chapter 53: 53: The Ninth wonder
~Entry on 1st of May, 1900.
It has been over a month since I came back from that horrific trial. I’ve long settled in the warden sanctuary cause I have no where to go.
I did not actually think of coming back, so I screwed over the bastards that worked me to death for shelter.
Across the entire human continent there are sanctuaries like this everywhere, but they aren’t affiliated to the people called Avatars.
And I’ve confirm another thing, coming back from the trial, I didn’t come with any ability or artifact. And I don’t even hear the voice of the Oracle anymore.
To think that a world where I struggled to survive is the world of a goddamn fictional work is crazy. In that case I might know the future, but it’s been over 19 years since I arrived in this world so I can’t even remember anything about it, how sad.
I’ve spent these past weeks buried in the sanctuary’s archives, poring over every scrap of information I could find about the Wonders, the Harvest, and the so-called Avatars who control them. The more I read, the clearer it became—I’m not safe here forever.
The ones who wield the other Wonders are might already know of my existence as they can sense the presence of another wonder.
I’ve been hiding like a rat in these metal walls, but no more. After countless nights of research and quiet preparation, I finally have a goal, a real one. I won’t spend the rest of my life cowering in this sanctuary. I’m going to head out, carve my own path, and succeed—no matter what stands in my way. Time to be reborn.
~
The brass key still felt familiar in Harley’s palm as he closed the worn journal and tucked it beneath the thin mattress. The small room had become almost comfortable over the past month—too comfortable. He stood, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders, when a sharp knock echoed against the heavy wooden door.
"Gardener Harley," came the familiar, calm voice from the other side.
Harley recognized it immediately. The same attendant from his first day—the tall, lean man in the crisp black uniform with the bronze badge pinned to his chest. The symbol of the crossed key and quill glinted faintly under the gas lamp as the door creaked open.
The attendant’s expression remained neutral, almost mechanical, as he stood in the doorway.
"Warden Nime has requested that you join the others downstairs for sparring practice. Several challengers who returned recently are already gathered. She believes it would be... beneficial for you to participate."
Harley frowned, waving the man off.
"Tell that old woman to leave me alone, just tell her I’m busy." He smiled towards the man this time.
"Actually, she said that your work on the ceilings have been covered, so you should make your way down." The attendant said, looking at Harley with curious eyes.
Harley could only smile bitterly at the situation. If it was that mad woman, then he she would be real trouble if he didn’t answer her now.
Also he had constantly trained his swordsmanship since he came back, but he hadn’t faced another person ever since, and the constant ache in his muscles had finally begun to fade. Still, the idea of sparring with others who had survived the trial’s horrors didn’t sound like a bad way to shake off the rust.
"Fine," Harley replied, rolling his shoulders once more. "Lead the way."
The attendant gave a shallow nod and turned sharply on his heel, beginning the familiar descent down the spiraling staircase toward the lower levels. Harley followed without another word, sitting on the rail and sliding down slowly to match the attendant’s pace.
"Do you have to do that Everytime tpi go downstairs?" The attendant asked, swiping his face with a palm.
"Huhuhu, I’m not the one who told you to be hardworking."
The attendant gritted his teeth.
As they descended deeper into the sanctuary, the distant clangs of metal and muffled shouts grew louder, signaling the training area ahead.
On the way they had passed the hall where the ’doors’ were being chained and contained. And Harley felt a child as he remembered his past in that place.
The training hall was a wide, cavernous chamber carved directly into the bedrock beneath the sanctuary. Gas lamps hung from thick chains overhead, casting harsh light over the packed dirt floor. Wooden dummies stood in neat rows along one wall, many of them already splintered and scarred from repeated strikes. In the center, a dozen challengers—men and women of varying ages—moved through drills or faced off against each other with padded weapons.
Harley scanned the room quickly. Most of the trainees wore simple training tunics, their bodies still bearing the lean, hardened look of those who had prepared and survived the trials. A few glanced his way as he entered, curiosity flickering in their eyes, but no one spoke.
He walked over to the weapon rack near the entrance and picked up a one-sided wooden sword—its edge rounded and smoothed for safety, yet heavy enough to mimic the real thing. The grip felt rough against his palm, familiar in a way that sent a small surge of adrenaline through him. It had been too long since he’d faced a living opponent.
The attendant lingered only a moment longer before disappearing back up the stairs without another word.
A stocky man with a scarred jaw and short-cropped red hair noticed Harley standing alone and waved him over with a broad grin.
"New blood, eh? Or just hiding up there like the rest of us cowards?" the man called out, twirling his own wooden blade lazily. The man seemed to be over 40, with giant muscles like someone who had moved bricks all his life.
"Name’s Garrick. Let’s go at it."
Harley hefted the wooden sword once, testing its balance, then gave a small nod.
"Harley," he replied simply. "One round. No hard feelings if I embarrass you."
Garrick laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that drew a few more eyes. "That’s the spirit! Let’s see what you’ve got, ceiling-scrubber."
The two moved into an open space on the dirt floor. The other trainees slowed their own sessions, forming a loose circle to watch. Harley dropped into a relaxed stance, the one-sided wooden sword held low and ready. His heart beat steadily, the old instincts from the trial slowly waking up.
Garrick lunged first— a straightforward, powerful overhead swing meant to test Harley’s reaction.
Harley sidestepped smoothly, letting the blade whistle past his shoulder, then countered with a quick horizontal slash aimed at the man’s ribs.
The clash of wood on wood echoed through the hall as Garrick barely blocked in time, eyes widening in surprise at the speed.
Harley smiled, although he didn’t have the chance to train at all due to his silent preparion and mental health, he still retained the basics of fighting with a sword in all its glory.
Harley was using one hand to control the weapon, blocking and shifting when necessary. Meanwhile the crowd, that was once agitated, began to quiet down.
"Who the hell is that guy?"
"Garrick has a winning record against all of us?"
"Who’s that trash?"
"Don’t talk like that, he might be a noble."
Om the other side of the hall, a woman with beautiful yellowish hair walked out from the stairway leading up. Her footsteps were light, almost silent. The trainees didn’t even know that she was there.
"Hm?" Her eyes met Harley who doarred with Garrick, who was a few inches taller then him. The white haired young man seemed to have the upper hand, blocking all of the heavy attacks.
Harley had reached the peak of what a person in the first echelon is able to accomplish, but he was also able to use a sword. He learned about defence and counterattack back in the trial.
How to block from any angle and direction; he knocked a sword that came for his legs by stabbing his into the ground. Then he jumped, with a sweep of his leg Garrick found his back against the cold floor and the ceiling behind him.
"I win." Harley smiled, offering a hand to Garrick.
"Woah, the new guy beat Garrick?"
The crowd soon began their myraid of talks and comparison.
"You’re food, what noble family are you from?" Garrick asked, but Harley only shook his head.
"Oh I wish I was from a noble family. I’m just a lucky poor man."
Garrick laughed at Harley’s words, not knowing that what Harley said was really the reality right now.
As the laughter and cheers came from around him, he spotted Nime smiling at him from the stairway and went towards her.
Harley excused himself from the small crowd still buzzing about the spar and followed Nime up the spiraling staircase. Her footsteps were nearly silent on the stone steps, while his own boots echoed heavily behind her. They climbed past the lower lodging levels until they reached a quieter corridor on one of the upper floors, lit by the same steady gas lamps.
Nime stopped near a small alcove with a narrow window overlooking the sanctuary’s inner courtyard. She turned to face him, crossing her arms lightly beneath her cloak, her yellowish eyes calm but attentive.
"You’re not here just to say thank you for the sparring session," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "What is it, Harley?"
Harley met her gaze directly, his expression serious. The wooden training sword was still in his hand, but he held it loosely at his side.
"I’m quitting working for the sanctuary," he told her plainly. "I’m leaving. Today, if possible."
Nime didn’t look surprised. She tilted her head slightly, studying him the way she had during his interrogation weeks ago.
"I see. And what do you plan to do once you leave?" she asked, her voice even. "Most challengers who walk out of here either join a kingdom’s military, become mercenaries, or try to climb the ranks in one of the big families. Which path are you taking?"
Harley paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. He shifted his weight and looked out toward the courtyard before answering.
"I need to discover myself," he said quietly. "After everything that happened in the trial... I realized I might still have a family out there somewhere. Or at least answers that I need."
Harley flinched as he realized that he spoke too much.
Nime this time, had a smile on her beautiful face. It’s no surprise that elves were one with the most beautiful females across across all races.
"Okay then, prepare to leave."
Then, she sent him off. And once the gates ro the huge compound of the sanctuary opened. Harley knew that his life was going to be sweet moving forward.
