The rain fell on the broken asphalt, making a monotonous sound.
Squinting, Lu Mingfei peered at the city skyline shrouded in mist ahead, a profound sense of dissonance rising in his heart. It was too quiet here—quiet enough to not seem like a 21st-century metropolis, but more like a meticulously constructed movie set.
"We've deviated thirty kilometers from the designated coordinates," Chu Zihang's voice came through the communicator, steady and unfluctuating. "Abnormal magnetic field in the surrounding area. It's presumed to be the natural barrier of a Nibelung."
"So, we've barged into someone's 'backyard' again?" Nono's voice held her usual playful sarcasm. "Pretty lucky, Chairman Lu. Hit the jackpot on a routine mission."
Lu Mingfei tugged at the corner of his mouth but didn't reply. He tightened his grip on the tactical flashlight in his hand. Its beam cut through the thick fog, illuminating the dilapidated buildings lining the street. Shop windows were shattered, signs hung crookedly. Everything maintained the appearance of a modern city, yet it was utterly empty. More eerily, several abandoned cars sat in the middle of the road, their bodies severely rusted as if weathered for decades.
Yet Lu Mingfei clearly remembered the mission briefing mentioning that forest rangers had been patrolling this area normally just last week.
"Different time flow," he murmured, as if explaining to himself.
Cassell College textbooks were clear: Nibelungs, independent spaces created by dragons, where physical laws were merely suggestions. Some Nibelungs had faster time than the outside world, some slower, like congealed amber. And this one before them—
"It's like someone hit pause and then forgot about it," Nono said, walking up beside him, her red hair strikingly vivid in the gloomy environment. "But there's something very strange."
"What?"
"It's too 'new'," she said, glancing around. "Most Nibelungs carry the aesthetic preferences of their creators—the grandeur of the Bronze City, the solemn severity of the Arctic Vault. But this one… it's just an ordinary 21st-century city. So ordinary it's like a slice cut straight from the real world."
Chu Zihang approached from the other side, Murakamo already three inches drawn from its sheath. "There's breathing."
The three immediately shifted into combat stance, advancing in a triangular formation. Their footsteps echoed in the empty street, each tap striking their taut nerves. Rounding the street corner, Lu Mingfei's flashlight beam froze on a figure.
It was a boy.
He sat with his back to them on the broken steps in front of a convenience store, wearing ordinary hoodie and jeans, both torn and stained in several places. The boy's head was bowed, his shoulders rising and falling slightly with each breath—this was what Chu Zihang had heard.
"Human?" Nono raised an eyebrow.
"Impossible," Chu Zihang immediately denied. "Ordinary humans cannot survive inside a Nibelung."
"What if he's not 'ordinary'?" Lu Mingfei said, taking a step forward. "Hey, can you hear me?"
The boy didn't react.
Lu Mingfei moved closer, this time seeing the boy's profile. Around sixteen or seventeen, Asian features, short black hair messy against his forehead. His face was pale, lips chapped, but what struck Lu Mingfei most were his eyes—hollow, unfocused, as if someone had extracted his soul, leaving only an empty shell.
"He's not right," Lu Mingfei said, simultaneously raising a hand to signal his teammates to keep their distance.
At that moment, Nono suddenly pressed her temples, her expression changing. "Bloodline Semblance is reacting… He's 'strong'... No, it's not about strength, it's—"
She didn't finish.
Because the boy suddenly looked up.
His gaze didn't focus on anyone, but passed through them, looking somewhere far away. Then, his lips moved, emitting a stream of broken syllables. It wasn't any known language, but Lu Mingfei understood a few of the words—Dragontongue. Pure, high-level Dragontongue.
"Fall back!" Chu Zihang shouted sharply.
But it was too late.
In the boy's pupils, a point of golden light suddenly ignited. The light rapidly expanded, dyeing the entire iris a dazzling gold. Almost simultaneously, Nono grunted as if struck hard in the head, staggering back.
"He's… copying my Semblance?" she said incredulously. "How is that possible—"
Inside the convenience store, all the metal shelves began to tremble. Canned drinks rolled across the floor, glass display counters developed spider-web cracks. An invisible force spread out from the boy as the center—it was the fluctuation of Bloodline Semblance, but more chaotic, more violent, like a radio receiving too many signals, playing hundreds of channels at once.
Lu Mingfei felt his own blood responding to that fluctuation—not being summoned, but being forced into resonance. It was an extremely uncomfortable feeling, as if someone had reached into his veins and stirred.
"Stop!" He lunged toward the boy.
The golden eyes turned toward him.
In that instant, Lu Mingfei saw many things: fear, confusion, and… countless overlapping fragments of imagery. He saw the blurred back of a woman, heard the hum of some machine, smelled the scent of disinfectant, felt the touch of cold metal against his wrist—
Then all of it vanished, leaving only the pure, beastly wariness in the boy's eyes.
The shelves finally gave way under the pressure, collapsing with a crash. Chu Zihang flashed forward, Murakamo drawing an arc through the air—not aimed at the boy, but severing some invisible connection in the air. The Semblance fluctuation ceased abruptly.
The gold in the boy's eyes rapidly faded. His body went limp, pitching forward.
Instinctively, Lu Mingfei caught him. The boy's body was light, too light for a boy his age. His breathing was weak and rapid, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He began muttering those broken words again:
"…Don't… take me back… the experiment…"
"Experiment?" Nono keenly caught the word. "What experiment?"
Chu Zihang knelt, checking the boy's pupils and pulse. "Deep mental exhaustion, possibly Semblance backlash. But what he used just now was indeed Nono's Bloodline Semblance, only the manifestation was abnormally chaotic."
"Semblance-copying isn't unprecedented," Lu Mingfei said. "A variant of Mirror's Eye? But the textbooks say that can only copy physical actions, not Semblances—"
"The textbooks also said there wouldn't be living people in Nibelungs," Nono interrupted him. "So, what now? Carry this ticking time bomb and continue the mission?"
Lu Mingfei looked down at the boy in his arms. The boy's brows were tightly furrowed, as if trapped in some nightmare even in unconsciousness. Lu Mingfei knew that expression too well—he had seen the same look in the mirror on many nights.
"We can't leave him here," he said.
Chu Zihang was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed. The Nibelung could collapse or shift at any moment. Staying here means certain death. But taking him out also carries risks. Strict monitoring is required."
"Then it's settled," Lu Mingfei said, hoisting the boy onto his back with unexpected熟练. "What about the mission objective?"
"Priority change," Chu Zihang said, sheathing Murakamo. "The discovery of an unknown hybrid surviving in a Nibelung is itself a major finding. Mission aborted. Immediate withdrawal."
They retraced their path, their steps much quicker than before. The fog seemed thicker, buildings distorting within it as if they might come alive at any moment. Lu Mingfei could feel the heartbeat of the boy on his back, weak but persistent, like a bird trapped in a palm.
Halfway, the boy suddenly stirred.
His fingers unconsciously gripped Lu Mingfei's shoulder with surprising force, nails almost digging into the fibers of the combat suit. Then, in a dream-like voice, he said:
"…Black… dragon…"
Lu Mingfei's spine instantly stiffened.
"What did you say?"
But the boy didn't answer again. His head drooped, his breathing becoming steady once more, as if he had exhausted the last of his strength and sunk completely into darkness.
Nono glanced at Lu Mingfei. "You heard that?"
"…Misheard," Lu Mingfei said, quickening his pace.
He wasn't telling the truth. Because just then, when the boy said "black dragon," something deep within Lu Mingfei's mind, in a corner sealed with heavy chains, trembled slightly.
Like a resonance.
They finally reached the exit of the Nibelung—an ordinary bus stop with a sign listing non-existent routes. Chu Zihang cut his palm, smearing blood on the rusted metal pole, his low, solemn chant of Dragontongue filling the air. The air began to ripple, like waves on water, gradually opening a rift leading to the normal world.
Lu Mingfei took one last look back.
Deep in the fog, the city's outline was melting, like a watercolor painting soaked wet. And in the deeper shadows, he seemed to see a pair of eyes—enormous, non-human, calmly watching them leave.
Then everything vanished.
They stood in a real pine forest. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled light on the ground. Birdsong returned, wind rustled the treetops, the world restored to its rightful noise and vibrancy.
Only the unconscious boy on Lu Mingfei's back proved that what just happened wasn't an illusion.
"Contact headquarters. Request emergency transport," Chu Zihang said. "We need to get him to the academy's medical department within twenty-four hours."
Nono began operating the comms equipment. Chu Zihang took watch. Lu Mingfei placed the boy under a tree, letting him lean against the trunk. Sunlight fell on the boy's face, making him look even paler, almost translucent.
Lu Mingfei crouched down, studying the face closely.
Very ordinary, ordinary enough to get lost in a crowd. But it was this ordinary face that had just ignited golden eyes, spoken Dragontongue, and—if Lu Mingfei's intuition was correct—disturbed things that shouldn't have been disturbed.
"Just what are you?" Lu Mingfei whispered softly.
Naturally, there was no answer. But just as he was about to stand up, the boy's eyelids fluttered.
From the corner of his right eye, a single tear silently trailed down.
It wasn't a tear of sorrow or pain, more like a bodily reflex, like waste fluid expelled from a precision instrument after overloading. The tear rolled down his cheek, dripped onto a dry leaf, and instantly evaporated, leaving a small, dark stain.
Lu Mingfei stared at that stain for a long time.
Then he took off his own jacket and laid it over the boy.
"Sleep," he said, his voice almost inaudible. "At least for now, you're safe."
He didn't know if that was true.
Just like he didn't know whether taking this boy out of the Nibelung had saved him, or opened a box that should have remained shut.
In the distant sky, Cassell College helicopters were roaring toward them. And in his unconscious state, the boy's lips moved once more, silently forming two words:
"…Mother…"
This time, no one heard.