The Central Laboratory of Nova Meridian was usually buzzing with activity.
But tonight… it was silent
the kind of silence you'd hear in an operating room after a failed surgery.
Half the lights flickered weakly, monitors displayed unstable data streams with no explanation, and in the center of the room stood a young scientist with dark-blond hair tied loosely back. Her face was pale, but her eyes were sharp equal parts awe and terror.
Her name was Dr. Lynette Varro.
Science-obsessed, ruthlessly skeptical, and infamous for dismantling her professors' theories in front of the entire class.
And right now, she was staring at an impossible graph.
"This isn't an earthquake," she muttered. "This is… spiritual resonance? But that concept no. That shouldn't exist…"
The energy wave recorded twelve hours earlier looked like a heartbeat
but not from any living creature.
The pattern was too large, too steady, too… ancient.
As if something that had slept for thousands of years was beginning to wake.
"Edenveil…" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Her assistant gulped beside her.
"Doctor… you don't actually believe that legend, do you?"
Lynette let out a long breath.
"Scientifically? No."
She pointed at the graph.
"But this believes."
Meanwhile, Arel sat in his apartment, staring at a small crack running across the wall.
It appeared this morning, right after the "second tremor" rattled the city only two seconds long, yet enough to send the internet into chaos.
A seventy-two–story building shouldn't crack from a mild vibration.
Unless the vibration didn't come from the earth
but from something far older.
Mira sat cross-legged on the floor, opening a small pouch filled with objects that didn't belong in the modern world: an obsidian charm, a small dragon-engraved blade, and an old yellow scroll that looked ready to crumble.
"We need to talk seriously," she said.
Arel stared at the items.
"Mira… who are you, really?"
She exhaled slowly, as if she had been waiting years for this question.
"I am," she said, "a direct descendant of the 37th Shaolin line."
Arel froze.
"Shaolin… the one everyone says is basically gone? Just leftover monks?"
Mira nodded.
"Correct. There are only a few of us left. And I… was raised for one purpose."
Arel swallowed.
"To protect Eden?"
Mira shook her head.
"Worse."
Her eyes turned cold.
"To protect the world from Eden."
Before Arel could respond, a sharp electronic ping sounded from his phone.
News alert.
Arel opened it and his blood instantly ran cold.
"People Vanish Near Blackwood Forest: Ritual Signs Found."
"Demonic Cult Symbols Appear in 17 City Locations."
"Witnesses: Green Light Seen Above the Forest."
Mira stood immediately.
"That's them," she hissed. "The Demon Cult. They always move first before the Fruit ripens."
Arel looked at her, heart pounding out of rhythm.
"I don't even know what any of this has to do with me."
Mira stepped toward him, meeting his eyes.
"Let me tell you something, Arel. The Tang bloodline is special not because of power, not because of the sect… but for one reason."
She tapped his chest.
"The key to Edenveil is carried in your blood. And they know it."
Arel stepped back.
"'Key'? What does that even "
But Mira didn't answer.
She was staring at the window.
Because outside beyond the glow of neon signs
something moved in the sky.
A thin line of green light, just like the previous night, but now brighter, thicker, more… alive.
It pulsed slowly, like ancient Morse code whispered by nature itself.
Arel murmured:
"The Tree…"
Mira replied softly:
"The Fruit is nearing its ripening. And each tremor will only grow stronger."
Suddenly
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
A knock at the apartment door.
Soft. Steady.
Too steady for any ordinary human.
Arel froze.
Mira immediately grabbed the small blade.
"Arel," she whispered, "whoever that is… don't open it."
But the voice outside spoke
and the sound made Arel's blood freeze all the way to his bones.
"Arel Jian Tang…"
The voice was calm, deep, and… familiar.
"Open the door. It is time you learned the truth about your father."
Arel looked at Mira.
Mira looked back.
"I'm certain your father is dead," she said quietly. "If that's his voice… that thing isn't human."
The knocking came again.
Harder this time.
And the voice shifted deeper, older, almost primal.
"Arel… open the door.
Before Edenveil opens you."
Far from Arel's apartment…
Dr. Lynette Varro stared at the new wave of data flooding her screen.
Her eyes widened.
"No… no, this is impossible…"
Her voice trembled.
"This pattern… it repeats every two thousand years…"
On the monitor, the energy waveform shaped itself into an image.
Not a signal.
Not a code.
A tree.
A colossal tree with glowing roots.
Lynette whispered:
"The Tree… of Life…"
And below the image, the system projected the next energy peak.
A single date appeared on the screen:
18 June 2045
The day the Fruit would ripen.
The day Edenveil would open.