Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

”I see what you are doing, little one,” the voice said, the pressure in the room shifting into something almost like a nod of approval. ”You are making sure that helping the boy also paves the way for your own path. It is a nice move. I don’t dislike that. Because I would rather trust a man who acts out of calculated interest than one who acts out of blind sentiment.”

Soren felt a momentary chill. The entity had peeled back his intentions with terrifying ease, recognizing the transaction for what it was: an investment in a future powerhouse.

He held his breath, wondering for a heartbeat if he had overplayed his hand, but the following words settled the air.

”I accept your deal. If you are to be the one standing in the boy’s shadow, then you deserve to know the truth of what you are protecting.”

The golden air shimmered, and for a brief moment, the silhouette of a man in ornate, flowing robes seemed to flicker within the light.

”Your guesses were accurate,” the voice continued, echoing with a weight that felt older than the stones themselves. ”I am indeed a remnant, a mere fragment of a will left behind by my true self. In the world that once was, I was known as the Sunless Emperor, the last to sit upon the throne of a realm that may no longer exist.”

The voice grew distant, carrying a faint, ancient grief.

”My world was on the brink of total annihilation. As the end approached, I tore this secret realm from the fabric of our reality and cast it into the void. It was a final gamble to ensure our legacy would not be extinguished. I have waited across time and space for a successor who could carry my flame and, eventually, fulfill the wish I left behind.”

”There have been many candidates over the eons,” the Sunless Emperor continued, his voice echoing with a hollow resonance. ”But most of them didn’t match the requirements. And of those who did possess the potential, none could pass the trials—specifically, the final one. And in fact...”

Whoosh!

Soren felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere.

The mana in the air seemed to pull toward the center of the hall, spiraling toward the unconscious youth at lightning speed.

”The boy... he has just advanced to that final trial.”

”!” Soren quickly spun around to see that Ryan had gone completely still. The twitching and the shallow gasps had ceased, leaving him in an eerie, corpse-like state.

Soren dropped to his knees, pressing two fingers against the boy’s neck.

The pulse was there, thudding with a slow rhythm, but the skin felt like ice. It was an unnatural, soul-chilling cold that seemed to radiate from within, as if the boy’s spirit had been plucked from his body, leaving only a frigid vessel behind.

’It must be Senior’s doing...’

”Senior...” Soren looked back toward the shimmering air where the silhouette had appeared. ”What happens if he fails this trial?”

”He...”

”He will likely perish,” the voice replied simply.

Soren’s eyes widened. A sharp, cold shock spiked through him. Although he should have expected such a high-stakes gambit for an ’Incalculable’ grade legacy, hearing it stated so plainly felt different.

His mind raced. Then the others who didn’t pass... did they all die? He looked around the vast, empty hall, suddenly seeing the golden splendor as a gilded tomb. This man... he killed them all?

’No!’ He shook his head quickly, forcing the thought away. ’No. What am I thinking?’

He knew better than anyone that the path of power was paved with corpses. Even in their world, hunters entered Gates every day, gambling their lives for a chance at growth. They killed monsters and occasionally each other for far less than what was being offered here. Garin was the perfect example of that ruthless reality. The fault wasn’t entirely on the Emperor; it lay in the nature of the world they lived in and the nature of people themselves.

But still...

Soren looked up, his expression guarded.

”Senior... forgive me if this sounds offensive, but... you didn’t force Ryan, or anyone else, to receive this legacy... right?”

”...What do you think?”

The tone was no longer weary or grieving; it had shifted into something unsettlingly mischievous, bordering on the villainous.

Soren’s jaw tightened. ”I... I don’t dare to guess.”

The Sunless Emperor let out a short, hollow laugh that sounded like dry leaves skittering across stone.

”A wise answer. Guessing the intent of a dead man is a fool’s errand.”

The atmosphere in the hall grew heavy again, the golden light flickering like a dying candle.

”However, the truth is simpler than your dark imaginings. I did not drag them here. Their desire did. Every soul that has ever set foot in this realm came seeking something—power, revenge, answers, or salvation. I simply provided the door. If they lacked the strength to turn the handle, that was their own weight to carry.”

Soren remained silent, his hand still resting near Ryan’s frozen shoulder. He understood the logic. It was the same logic that governed the Gates of his own world: the promise of reward was not a guarantee of survival.

”Remember this well, little one,” the Sunless Emperor added, the silhouette of his robes billowing as if caught in an ethereal wind. ”To receive a miracle, one must offer a dream. And to walk the path of the peak, one must first survive the fall.”

”!”

Soren’s eyes widened, and the world around him seemed to stutter.

The words didn’t just reach his ears; they vibrated through his very soul, echoing in the hollow spaces of his mind like a strike against a massive bell.

To receive a miracle, one must offer a dream...

To walk the path of the peak, one must first survive the fall...

He repeated the quote internally, and with each repetition, the golden hall grew distant.

’I...’

It was as if a heavy curtain had been pulled back from his consciousness.

He felt a sudden, sharp clarity — a realization that strength wasn’t just about mana or levels, but the sheer weight of the conviction one was willing to burn to reach the top.

The fear of his own weakness, the looming shadow of Ethea’s curse and death, and the desperate scramble for survival suddenly felt less like obstacles and more like the necessary friction required to ignite a flame.

’I understand it now...’