Chapter 674 A Miracle Their Eyes

Liam closed his eyes.

For a moment, there was nothing.

No sound.

No movement.

No sensation.

Then, in the next instant, everything returned.

His body.

His breath.

His heartbeat.

The weight of his own existence.

Liam’s eyes opened slowly.

He stared at the hand in front of him.

His fingers moved.

Once.

Twice.

He turned his wrist, flexed his palm, then slowly curled his fingers into a fist.

He could feel everything again.

The slight stiffness in his joints.

The warmth of his blood moving beneath his skin.

The beating of his heart.

The faint ache running through every muscle in his body.

He was back.

He was completely back in control.

For several seconds, Liam simply stared at his hand.

There was something deeply unsettling about watching your own body move while knowing that you weren’t the one controlling it.

He had spent what felt like an eternity trapped inside himself, forced to watch while the consciousness occupying his body performed the ritual.

Now that he had control again, the simple act of moving his fingers felt strangely satisfying.

"So I’m back," he thought.

He looked toward Leo.

The little boy was sitting upright now, still wrapped tightly in his mother’s arms.

Liam’s lips curved upward.

A small smile appeared on his exhausted face.

At least it had worked.

That was what mattered.

Leo was alive.

His soul had returned.

Whatever had been feeding upon him was gone.

Liam took a slow breath.

Then he tried to reach the consciousness again.

"Are you there?"

Nothing.

Liam waited.

Silence.

He tried again.

"Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Not even the usual irritating response.

His brows furrowed.

For the first time since the ritual ended, a faint concern appeared in his eyes.

The consciousness had always answered him.

Sometimes sarcastically.

Sometimes cryptically.

Sometimes in a way that made Liam want to punch himself in the face simply because it was technically the consciousness’s face too.

But it had always answered.

Now there was nothing.

Liam stared ahead for another few seconds.

"Maybe it used too much energy."

He wasn’t convinced.

Just to be certain, Liam mentally reached toward the place where he had always kept the consciousness locked away.

The familiar mental barrier appeared.

He checked it.

Then he locked it again.

Secure.

Whatever the consciousness had done, it was no longer actively controlling his body.

Liam released a quiet breath.

At least it was still there.

Or at least, he hoped it was.

He would ask questions later.

There were far too many of them.

Why could the consciousness take over his body?

What exactly had it done?

Why had the ritual required a soul exchange?

What would have happened if the process had failed?

And perhaps most importantly, why had the consciousness never bothered to tell him about the consequences?

Liam had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like the answers.

Unfortunately, his body suddenly reminded him that there was another problem.

He was exhausted.

No.

Exhausted wasn’t the right word.

He felt destroyed.

His legs were weak.

His arms felt heavy.

His head was strangely light.

Even breathing seemed to require effort.

Liam swallowed.

His throat felt dry.

He looked toward the door.

He needed to get outside.

The villagers had been waiting.

He couldn’t remain inside forever.

Slowly, Liam stood.

His knees nearly buckled.

He caught himself against the edge of the table.

His eyes narrowed.

"Damn."

He hadn’t expected the exhaustion to be this bad.

He had experienced pain before.

He had been injured.

But this was different.

The exhaustion wasn’t simply physical.

It felt as though something had reached deep inside his body and drained him from the very foundation of his existence.

His skin felt cold.

His lips were dry.

His muscles felt hollow.

For a moment, he genuinely wondered whether he could make it to the door without collapsing.

Still, he straightened himself.

There were people outside.

And they were waiting for him.

Liam slowly began walking.

One step.

Then another.

His movements were unsteady.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

But he continued.

When he reached the door, he placed his hand against it.

He paused.

Then pushed.

The door opened.

Cool morning air immediately rushed inside.

It touched his face.

Liam almost closed his eyes from the sensation.

Outside, every conversation stopped.

The villagers had been waiting.

Some had been whispering.

Others had been praying.

Several had simply stood there staring at the house, afraid to even imagine what might happen next.

The moment the door opened, every head turned.

Hopeful eyes looked toward the doorway.

Then those hopeful expressions changed.

Confusion.

Shock.

Fear.

The young man who had entered the house earlier had possessed a strong presence.

He had carried himself with confidence.

His body had radiated vitality.

Even standing still, Liam had looked like someone who could walk into danger without hesitation.

But the person standing in the doorway now looked like a ghost.

His skin was pale.

Not merely slightly pale.

Almost unnaturally pale.

The healthy color that had previously existed across his face was gone.

His lips looked cracked.

His eyes appeared tired.

His entire body seemed drained.

It was almost as though someone had taken everything that made him look alive and left only the shell behind.

And what the villagers could see from outside was nothing compared to what Liam actually felt inside.

He felt worse.

Far worse.

The exhaustion was so deep that even maintaining his posture had become an act of stubbornness.

Yet he stood there.

He refused to collapse.

He refused to show weakness in front of them.

Not because he wanted their praise.

But because these people had already suffered enough.

He couldn’t walk out of that house looking defeated.

The villagers immediately began whispering.

"What happened?"

"Look at him..."

"His face..."

"Did something go wrong?"

"He failed."

The last words spread quickly.

Maybe the ritual had failed.

Maybe whatever Liam had attempted had consumed too much of his strength.

Maybe the thing that had taken Leo’s soul had been too powerful.

Maybe the boy was already dead.

Those thoughts filled the crowd.

Nobody wanted to believe them.

But Liam’s appearance made it difficult not to.

Irina appeared behind him.

The moment she stepped outside, her eyes immediately went to Liam.

Concern flashed across her face.

She could see what the others couldn’t.

She knew exactly how terrible his condition was.

The way he was standing.

The slight instability in his legs.

The paleness of his skin.

The dryness of his lips.

The subtle way his shoulders rose and fell with every breath.

He was barely holding himself together.

Irina wanted to reach out.

She wanted to grab his arm and support him.

But she didn’t.

She knew Liam.

If she helped him in front of everyone, he would probably complain about his pride later.

More importantly, she understood what he was trying to do.

He wanted to stand on his own.

So she stayed behind him.

Close enough to intervene if he fell.

Far enough to let him maintain his dignity.

The villagers watched the two of them.

Their fear grew.

Then Liam moved.

One slow step forward.

The crowd fell completely silent.

His foot touched the wooden stairs.

Then he began descending.

Slowly.

One step at a time.

His movements were so deliberate that everyone could see the toll the ritual had taken on him.

"He really suffered..."

Someone whispered.

Another villager lowered his head.

"He must never do that again."

Nobody disagreed.

Yet before anyone could say more, something moved behind Liam.

Small footsteps.

The mother emerged from the doorway.

And behind her...

A little boy walked out.

The world seemed to stop.

Nobody breathed.

Nobody spoke.

The boy stood beside his mother, looking slightly confused by the enormous crowd gathered outside.

His eyes moved across the faces surrounding him.

Then he looked toward Liam.

It was Leo.

Alive.

Standing.

Breathing.

The reaction was immediate.

Complete silence.

Every single face froze.

A man near the front opened his mouth but couldn’t produce a sound.

An elderly woman covered her lips with both hands.

Someone behind them whispered,

"This is..."

Another voice answered in disbelief.

"Impossible."

Leo’s mother looked around at everyone.

Tears were still running down her face.

But this time, they weren’t tears of despair.

They were tears of happiness.

Her son was alive.

The boy who had been lying unconscious, his soul being consumed by something no one in the village understood, was now standing beside her.

Alive.

The villagers stared.

They couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

For weeks, this had been the rule of their nightmare.

Once someone reached the state Leo had been in, there was no returning.

Sleep.

Soul taken.

Body left behind.

That was how it worked.

Everyone in Elaris knew it.

They had watched it happen again and again.

People had tried everything.

Healers.

Witches.

Shamans.

Priests.

Old rituals.

New rituals.

Potions.

Charms.

Prayers.

Nothing worked.

Once the soul was taken deeply enough, the person was considered lost.

A living body without the person who once inhabited it.

But now Leo was standing in front of them.

Liam had changed that.

He had done what no one else had been able to do.

He had reached into the darkness and brought the boy back.

And he hadn’t asked for anything in return.

No money.

No treasure.

No favor.

No promise.

Nothing.

He had simply done it.

Because a child needed help.

The silence broke.

Someone shouted.

"He did it!"

Another voice followed.

"Leo is alive!"

Then another.

"He brought him back!"

The crowd erupted.

Cheers exploded through the street.

People raised their hands.

Some laughed.

Others cried.

Several villagers hugged each other.

The sound spread through Elaris like a wave.

For the first time in weeks, the village wasn’t filled with mourning.

It was filled with hope.

Liam stood halfway down the stairs, staring at them.

His expression remained tired.

Very tired.

But a small smile appeared on his face.

He had never expected this reaction.

The cheering became louder.

People were calling his name.

Some were thanking him.

Others were simply shouting in disbelief.

"He saved him!"

"Our children can be saved!"

"Maybe we’re not doomed!"

"Maybe that monster can be defeated!"

The last statement caused something to change.

Hope.

That was what Liam saw in their eyes.

Not blind faith.

Not worship.

Hope.

They had been trapped inside fear for too long.

And Liam had just given them their first reason to believe that the nightmare could end.

He slowly continued down the stairs.

One step.

Then another.

The cheering did not stop.

Everyone could see that the ritual had taken a terrible toll on him.

They knew he shouldn’t perform something like that again without recovering.

They knew his body was practically begging him to rest.

But nobody cared about that right now.

Because if Liam could bring someone back from the brink of death, then perhaps he could do something else.

Perhaps he could find the creature responsible.

Perhaps he could defeat it.

Perhaps Elaris could finally be free.

Liam reached the bottom of the stairs.

He stood among them.

Pale.

Exhausted.

Barely holding himself upright.

Yet his eyes remained steady.

And for the first time since this nightmare had begun, the people of Elaris no longer looked at their future with despair.

They looked at Liam.

And they believed.