The young man's name was Arel Jian Tang.
Twenty-two years old, an electrical engineering student who spent more time tinkering with broken gadgets than touching his thesis. His body was as thin as a LAN cable, his hair perpetually messy, but his eyes… different. There was a strange clarity in them, like someone who constantly heard things no one else could.
Arel lived on the 72nd floor of Ravel Tower, one of the most luxurious buildings in Nova Meridian City. But don't get it twisted he wasn't rich.
The apartment was an inheritance from his father, Tang Khaiel, the last known leader of the Tang sect… before he vanished thirteen years ago.
Since then, Arel lived like a normal human.
At least… he tried.
Because ever since he was a child, he had seen things he was never meant to see.
Tiny lights dancing between trees.
Dark silhouettes lingering too long in the corners of rooms.
And in the last few months soft murmurs, like the breath of a colossal tree trying to wake up.
Arel had learned to ignore them.
But the night that tremor rippled through the city skies
the night Eden stirred again
every boundary he built began to crumble.
The next morning, the city felt wrong.
Traffic was still awful, coffee still bitter, but the air had a new texture. As if something that should've slept for thousands of years was beginning to stretch awake.
Arel sat at the campus bus stop, staring at the news on his phone:
"Vertical Light Phenomenon Recorded in Three Major Cities. Scientists Perplexed."
"Witnesses Report Smelling Plant Scents During the Event."
"Geophysics Expert: 'This Was Not an Earthquake.'"
Arel exhaled sharply.
"So it wasn't just my imagination," he muttered.
Someone sat beside him.
A girl in a black leather jacket, cropped hair, and eyes sharp enough to pass as a lie detector. Her name was Mira Shao his classmate, infamous for sarcasm and for getting straight A's without ever being seen studying.
"Arel," she said casually, "you felt that tremor last night, didn't you?"
Arel nearly choked on his own breath.
No one ever felt the things he felt.
"How do you know?"
Mira lifted an eyebrow.
"Arel, did you seriously think you're the only weirdo? A bunch of us sensed that energy. Including me."
Arel stared at her.
Only one phrase echoed in his mind
a phrase he hated, something his father once said would ruin his life:
Spiritual Sense.
A sensitivity to the primordial energy that once filled Eden.
Before he could ask anything else, an old man approached from behind the bus stop. His steps slow, his suit worn-out, but his eyes… they saw right through skin.
Arel froze.
Impossible.
He recognized the pendant hanging from the man's neck: a circle with a single vertical line through it.
The ancient symbol of Wudang.
The man stopped in front of him.
"Arel Jian Tang," he said quietly, "last descendant of Tang's main bloodline."
Arel stepped back.
"You've got the wrong guy, sir."
The man smiled faintly
the smile of someone who had witnessed too many human lies.
"The Fruit is nearing its ripening. Last night's tremor was the first sign."
Arel's blood turned to ice.
The Fruit of Immortality.
The fruit that destroyed the sects millennia ago.
"Edenveil will open again," the old man continued. "And you will stand at the center of the storm."
Mira stood beside Arel, her hand slipping into her jacket as if gripping something.
"Sir, if you're here to play riddles, pick someone else. We're busy."
The man ignored her.
"Wudang has fallen," he said. "Shaolin is a name without warriors. Mount Hua vanished without a trace. Only Tang remains… and even that is down to one."
His old eyes wavered, carrying truths too heavy to speak.
"You may not believe it, but the Entity chose you the moment you were born."
The wind paused as if listening.
Then the man vanished.
Not walked away.
Not faded.
Simply gone.
Like smoke swallowed by light.
Arel stood frozen.
Mira stared blankly, her face turning pale.
"Bro… that guy just"
"disappeared," Arel finished, voice trembling. "Like… literally disappeared."
Mira looked at him with an expression he had never seen on her face.
Not suspicion.
Not confusion.
Fear.
"Arel," she whispered, "this isn't a normal phenomenon. Eden's not a myth. The sects aren't dead history."
Arel swallowed hard.
"And Edenveil?" he whispered.
Mira glanced up at the gray sky.
"Edenveil isn't a legend," she said softly. "It's a gate. And I think… it's opening."
A gust of wind swirled around them, carrying a faint scent
earth after rain, leaves,
and a green light that no human language could describe.
Arel shivered.
Eden… was calling.