The thaumaturge

As I stood up, a sharp pain shot through my body, as though every muscle and joint had been frozen in place for ages. My legs felt like massive stone columns, stiff and unyielding, refusing to cooperate.

Gritting my teeth, I reached into my bag once more and retrieved a gem. Its surface was engraved with two words, surrounded by an intricate design etched with care. In bold, italic lettering, it read: FULL RECOVERY.

This was one of the first gems I had ever created—a safeguard for the inevitable. I had designed it so that, should I find myself on the brink of death due to unforeseen circumstances, I could still press forward with my research.

But the gem came with a terrible cost. To activate its power, it had to be implanted directly into the body. And for the greatest chance of effectiveness, it required something even more extreme: it had to be carved into the chest.

I stared at the gem, a bitter thought crossing my mind. If I had created it today, I would have designed it differently—made it so it could be implanted in the arm and still work flawlessly. But that wasn't the case. I couldn't undo what had already been done, not with the power I currently possessed.

If I could change the past, I wouldn't even be here. My wife would still be alive, and I would have no reason to pursue this desperate path. Sometimes, in the dark solitude of my basement, I had wished for an end—wished for my life to simply cease. But now, standing on the precipice of all I had worked for, giving up would be unthinkable.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the small knife I had prepared for a moment like this. The blade glinted faintly in the light, its purpose chillingly clear. I would be the first test subject of the technology I had created.

As the cold blade pressed against my skin, a shiver ran through me. My mind screamed for me to stop, to turn back, but I couldn't. I knew there was no other way.

When the blade pierced my flesh, a sob escaped my lips, and I began to cry—deep, wrenching tears like I had never shed before.

Slowly, I worked the knife deeper, carving with trembling hands as strips of skin peeled away and fell to the ground. Blood began to seep from the wound, trickling down my chest in dark, crimson streams. The mingling of blood and tears on the earth felt like an offering, a cruel sacrifice for the life I so desperately sought to restore.

The gash widened with each stroke of the blade, the pain blurring my senses. My strength waned as the bleeding grew heavier, my head spinning with the first signs of collapse. Panic clawed at me—I was running out of time.

With what little resolve I had left, I reached for the gem lying beside me, its engraved surface glinting faintly in the light. My vision dimmed as I forced the gem into the wound, shoving it into my chest with every ounce of hope I had left.

As the gem sank into my chest, I noticed something extraordinary. The wound—larger and deeper than the gem itself—began to slowly close around it. The bleeding lessened with each passing moment, the torn flesh knitting itself together as if the gem was commanding my body to heal.

There was no turning back now. This was the precipice of my existence, the culmination of everything I had endured.

A surge of certainty flooded my mind. This gem would work—I knew it with every fiber of my being. I had succeeded. I would survive this.

I felt my blood coursing through my veins again, steady and strong. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt alive. Truly alive.

Tentatively, I pushed myself to my feet. This time, my legs obeyed without hesitation. They no longer felt like foreign, unyielding columns of stone but like my own—solid, steady, and strong.

With renewed strength, I began walking toward my destination—the distant city shimmering on the horizon. My mind buzzed with possibilities for the next gem I would create. Perhaps I could craft one to grant the ability to teleport instantly, to traverse space in the blink of an eye.

But my thoughts inevitably turned to her—my wife. She was the reason for all of this. My goal was, and always had been, to bring her back. I could still see it so vividly: the magic circle that had taken her, its intricate patterns burning themselves into my memory. I didn't understand it then, but I had learned from it.

When I saw her vanish, I had immediately sketched the circle in my notebook, desperate to preserve its details. That sketch became the foundation for my GATE gem. I had inscribed the circle's design around the word GATE, embedding the mechanics of teleportation into the crystal. It was supposed to lead me to the exact world where she had been taken. At least, I hoped that was what it did.

Before long, I reached the outskirts of the city—a place of stunning beauty, with towering walls that gleamed under the sun. At the city gate stood two guards clad in silver armor that shimmered faintly, their imposing figures framed by the massive stone archway.

One of the guards held a shield in one hand and a spear in the other, standing tall and vigilant. The second had a bow strapped to his back and a sword resting loosely in his right hand, while his left gripped the hilt casually, as if out of habit.

Both men had their faces concealed beneath their helmets, leaving their expressions a mystery. But their body language spoke volumes: they were bored. Their slouched postures and idle movements made it clear that guarding this entrance was far from an exciting assignment.

I approached them slowly, keeping my pace steady and unthreatening. The moment they noticed me, their relaxed demeanor vanished. Straightening their stances, they snapped to attention, their eyes now fixed intently on me.