The fog thickened as Zhang Lu slipped deeper into the Eastern Ruins.
Behind him, the city's distant hum faded to a dull murmur, swallowed by stone and silence. Ahead, the lantern's glow carved a narrow corridor through the mist, its golden light slicing forward like a blade.
Ruins emerged from the haze—jagged remnants of temples that had once brushed the heavens. Marble columns lay snapped and strangled by vines. Statues of forgotten gods watched from broken plinths, faces eroded smooth by centuries of wind and rain, eyes hollow and accusing.
Cold seeped into Zhang Lu's bones.
The air carried the faint, acrid tang of decayed magic—the lingering wound of a cataclysm that had shattered this district long before the empire learned to fear its gods.
Anthony's instincts urged caution.
Zhang Lu's modern mind layered commentary over it.
*Okay. Post-apocalyptic temple crawl. Beginner dungeon. Check for traps, don't touch glowing stuff, avoid scripted jump scares.*
His heart pounded anyway.
In the novel, the Eastern Ruins were considered *safe*—low risk for side characters. A place thick with foreshadowing, thin on immediate death.
He intended to keep it that way.
The lantern's projected map had burned itself into his memory: a winding path through the outer ruins, ending at a modest shrine dedicated to the **Goddess of Veils**.
Fitting.
He moved quietly, boots crunching over gravel choked with thorny weeds. At a thought, the lantern dimmed. At another, it flared—revealing faint runes etched into the ground that would have swallowed an unwary step in illusion and stone.
After nearly an hour of careful navigation—skirting unstable walls and avoiding collapse-prone corridors—he saw it.
A sunken courtyard.
Fractured walls enclosed a modest shrine, far humbler than the grand temples beyond. At its center stood a stone pedestal, weathered but intact.
Upon it rested a tablet.
Carvings depicted a lone figure holding a lantern, facing a wall of living shadow.
Zhang Lu approached slowly.
The lantern's flame leapt, bathing the shrine in warm light. The carvings shimmered, ancient magic stirring as if recognizing its bearer.
He brushed dust away, fingers tracing half-eroded symbols.
"*Light the way… or all perish in shadow*," he murmured, translating from Anthony's academy training.
Below the inscription sat a shallow indentation.
A dormant crystal rested within—fist-sized, etched with familiar runes.
Zhang Lu's pulse quickened.
*Jackpot.*
He lifted it carefully.
The crystal was cool—but alive. A faint vibration hummed against his palm, syncing perfectly with the lantern's pulse.
He scanned the tablet again.
Something… off.
The symbols weren't static. They wanted alignment.
Zhang Lu's brain shifted gears, puzzle instincts from another life clicking into place.
*A cipher. Names displaced.*
Veil. Shadow. Lantern. Fate.
He mentally rotated them—three positions clockwise.
A soft *click* echoed.
The tablet split.
Inside lay a scrap of parchment.
He unfolded it.
**The bearer awakens.
Beware the watchers in dreams.
They rewrite—but always at a price.**
The ground shuddered.
Shadows pooled along the courtyard's edges, thickening, stretching—coalescing into writhing tendrils of living smoke.
A low growl rolled through the ruins.
From the darkness emerged a wraith.
A wolf-shaped thing, spectral and vast. Its body was translucent, rimmed with void-sharp edges. Red eyes burned with hunger.
Zhang Lu's breath hitched.
*…Tutorial boss. Of course.*
He staggered back as the creature lunged.
It passed through stone like mist—but when its tendril grazed his arm, icy pain tore through him, draining warmth straight from his veins.
No mana.
No weapon.
No second chances.
Anthony's body was lean from poverty. One clean hit would end this.
Panic surged—
—and was crushed flat.
*Think.*
The lantern's light struck the wraith.
It recoiled.
Parts of its form dissolved under the glow.
*Light vulnerability.*
Classic.
But not enough.
The creature circled, growling. Zhang Lu dodged, rolling behind a fallen column, lungs burning.
*Can't outrun it. Maze terrain. So… trap it.*
His eyes locked onto the courtyard walls—cracked masonry, vines tugging at loosened stone.
*Physics still works. Thank you, reality.*
He hurled a loose rock—not at the wraith, but past it.
The creature snarled and lunged toward the sound.
Zhang Lu sprinted in the opposite direction, lantern tucked close.
"Come on," he muttered. "Follow the shiny."
He led it straight toward a weakened archway.
At the last second, he veered aside—throwing the lantern's light full-force at the base.
Hidden fractures blazed into visibility.
The wraith slammed into the stone.
The arch collapsed.
Zhang Lu dove as rubble thundered down, burying the creature beneath shattered masonry.
The growl faded to a hiss.
Then—silence.
Shadows dispersed.
Zhang Lu lay there, gasping, scratches burning, a deep bruise blooming along his ribs.
Alive.
*Canon fodder fate denied.*
But victory came at a cost. Dizziness crept in, limbs heavy.
"Five minutes," he whispered.
He crawled into a sheltered alcove behind the shrine, half-hidden by vines, and slumped against the wall.
The lantern dimmed to a soft ember.
Sleep took him.
---
The dream unfolded like silk unraveling.
No ruins.
No city.
Only a star-strewn void.
Fragments of shattered temples drifted like petals. Black roses bloomed and dissolved in an unfelt breeze. The air hummed with ancient power—watchful, alive.
Zhang Lu floated, weightless.
"Where…?"
A silhouette emerged.
Tall. Veiled.
One wing unfurled—shadow given form.
She approached with impossible grace.
Her beauty stole thought.
Pale skin glowed beneath delicate lace. Black hair flowed like midnight rivers. Ice-blue eyes pierced the void—one traced by a single crystalline tear.
Her gown was woven of lace and shadow, a necklace of red beads forming an intricate web across her chest.
Divinity radiated without announcement.
She stopped before him.
Close.
Too close.
"I know what you hide," she whispered, veil brushing his cheek.
Her breath smelled of frost and roses.
"A soul from beyond the veil… something no one else comprehends."
Zhang Lu's mind reeled.
*She knows.*
"Well," he managed, "if you're reading my browser history, that's just rude."
Her lips curved.
A soft laugh chimed through the void.
"Wit sharp as a blade," she said. "It will serve you."
She extended her hand.
"Fate scripted you to burn out in shadow. But I can guide the flame. Rewrite the end."
Her fingers hovered near his ear.
"In dreams, I will whisper paths unseen. Pull you back when death closes in."
Her voice lowered.
"But guidance comes with gaze."
Very close.
She pulled back, fading into starlight.
"Awaken. Feed the crystal light—it will shield. And remember…"
Her voice echoed.
"The watchers multiply."
---
Zhang Lu jolted awake.
Dawn filtered through vines.
His wounds ached less—partially healed.
The crystal warmed in his pocket, glowing in sync with the lantern.
*Not a hallucination.*
Divine interest acquired.
He moved quickly, slipping back through the ruins as the city stirred awake.
Orion slept when he returned.
Zhang Lu hid the crystal beneath the floorboard, then collapsed onto his bed.
As real sleep claimed him, a subtle presence lingered.
Watching.
Outside the window, a fleeting shadow—winged—vanished into the morning light.