System

"Hss-!" Aegon clenched his teeth, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

In this state, never mind exploring those eerie tunnels-he would struggle just to keep himself alive.

Enduring the pain, he quickly checked himself over.

His ribs hurt, but they weren't broken. The slightest movement of his left leg sent a sharp, fracture-like pain through it. Worst of all was the dull ache inside his chest-there was no external bleeding, but internal injuries were almost certainly a given.

"Fuck..." he cursed under his breath, unsure whether he was cursing this damned place, Corlyon for reducing him to this state, or his fucked-up fate.

With his back against a reasonably solid rock jutting out of the mud, Aegon gasped for breath.

His cold, wet clothes clung to his skin, leaching away what little body heat he had left until he began shivering uncontrollably.

He needed to know just how badly he was hurt.

"Wait, don't I have a system?"

When the thought surfaced, even Aegon froze for a moment.

Honestly, in the dozen-odd years since he had crossed into this world, especially these recent days spent struggling on the edge of death, this lousy system had been utterly useless. All it had done was announce its presence at the beginning and issue some bewilderingly vague check-in quest.

The golden arrow pointing the way had done nothing but get in his way, its flickering irritating him whenever he tried to sneak around or concentrate. Once he had memorized the direction and approximate location of the check-in site, he had hidden its visual display.

So much so that, in most life-or-death situations, he had completely forgotten he even had this supposed "cheat."

"A cheat? Heh. Let's just hope it's not a built-in virus or a trial skin..." Aegon gave a self-mocking twitch of his lips, tugging at the scrapes on his cheek and triggering another sting.

But now, with his whole body aching as though it were falling apart and the cold growing ever more pronounced, he desperately needed a "diagnosis."

At the very least, that status panel should tell him how many bones he had broken and whether he was bleeding internally, right? Better than blindly feeling around and guessing.

He concentrated, trying to "summon" that rudimentary system interface in his mind-something he had done only a handful of times in more than a decade, leaving him badly out of practice.

Name: Aegon Targaryen -

Strength: 20 (You retain some strength despite your severe injuries, but the intense pain in your left leg limits your exertion.)

Spirit: 67 (Your perception is exceptionally keen. You can clearly "feel" the suffering and malice permeating this place.)

Agility: 20 (Your reactions are swift, but your fractured leg severely impedes movement.)

Constitution: 23 (The dragonlord bloodline grants vitality beyond that of ordinary people, but the curse is resonating with the ruins.)

Current status:

Moderate fall injuries (Multiple contusions, fracture in the left lower leg)

Mild hypothermia (Your cold, wet clothes are draining your body heat)

Under a curse (The souls consumed by blood and fire still curse the dragonlord bloodline that sets foot upon this land. Warning! You are now within arm's reach of them. Do not get hurt! Do not bleed! Do not let them discover you!)

Available draws: 0

Current check-in location: Deep within the Valyrian Ruins (In progress)

Aegon lay gasping in the cold mud for a long time, until the dizziness eased a little.

He couldn't stop. Stopping meant waiting to die. Gritting his teeth, he groped around and dug several reasonably sturdy sticks out of the wet mud, then laboriously unfastened the leather belt securing his armor.

He pressed the thickest stick against the outside of his left lower leg and bound it tightly with torn strips of cloth and the belt.

Every turn he tightened sent such agony through the fracture that his vision went black.

The makeshift splint was finished. Crude as it was, at least it would keep the leg in place.

Using his long blade as a crutch, he endured the needle-sharp pain in his left leg and the dull ache in his chest, "pulling" himself out of the mud inch by inch.

When he stood upright, the world spun again. Only by gripping the hilt until his knuckles turned white did he barely manage to stay on his feet.

"Whew... this damned place," he muttered.

Outside, it had been hot as a furnace, yet underground the cold bit to the bone, the damp seeping into him.

In the faint light farther away, there seemed to be a larger expanse of dark water.

"There has to be more than one muddy pool in a place this damp... Henry, Carl, I hope they landed in one too. Preferably somewhere deeper."

He himself had landed in the shallows at the edge of the mud pool, his flesh and bones taking the full force of the impact.

If they had fallen into deep water, perhaps they would have suffered less.

Earlier, to check his injuries, he had summoned that rudimentary system panel for the first time in ages.

After confirming the fracture and internal injuries, he had also instinctively reactivated the golden arrow pointing toward the check-in site, which he had kept hidden for so long.

What he discovered stunned him.

The point of light representing him and the brilliant golden marker almost overlapped on the crude map. The marker was just ahead and to one side, close enough to touch, seemingly separated from him by only a layer of rock or a tunnel.

After all those brushes with death, had his goal come within reach in such a dramatic fashion?

His heartbeat suddenly quickened, but caution soon overpowered his excitement.

The bright red words "Under a curse" were still flashing in the status panel, and the warning had changed: "Warning! You are now within arm's reach of them..."

"Them?"

"What are they?... The dead souls in the murals, or whatever unknown things crawl out of these enormous tunnels?" The check-in site overlapping with the source of danger was no coincidence. It felt more like bait.

But did he have a choice?

If he stayed here, he would be severely injured and hypothermic, short on food and medicine, and forced to watch out for any enemies who might have survived.

Crow's Eye, for instance, had fallen too. Aegon didn't dare naively assume that Crow's Eye had died so easily in the fall.

And what about the "them" the system had warned him of?

It still meant death.

Heading for the check-in site would certainly be dangerous, but that unknown "reward" might be the only uncertainty he could seize upon, the only possible way out.

"I need to find the others first..." Aegon murmured.

Alone and badly injured, he could barely move through this place.

Leaning on his blade, he began edging along the cage's perimeter toward the general area where he remembered Henry and Carl falling, while also keeping the golden point on the system map in mind. He moved with extreme slowness and caution.

His weight rested on his right leg and the sword hilt. Every light touch of his splinted left leg against the ground brought a stab of pain.

He kept his breathing as quiet as possible, his eyes sweeping the dim mud, puddles, scattered stones, and the tunnels farther away, their depths gaping like the mouths of beasts, with the alertness of a nocturnal animal.

The damp cold was rapidly draining his body heat.

The system panel hovered in a corner of his vision, its golden arrow trembling faintly as it pointed into darkness that seemed within reach yet brimmed with danger.

Finding his companions, reaching the check-in site-every step was like treading on thin ice.