Lucas's gaze stayed fixed on the crimson screen for a few more heartbeats. The message pulsed quietly.
[Quest 27 is here]
It clicked in his mind then — his party must have recovered. Their stamina had replenished. That's why the system had triggered. They were ready.
Lucas exhaled through his nose and swung his legs off the bed. His feet touched the cool floor.
He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck, his body still heavy from sleep. Dragging himself toward the washroom, he splashed cold water on his face. The sudden chill snapped the last traces of sleep from his eyes.
The mirror reflected his damp face, strands of dark hair clinging to his forehead. He stared at his own reflection for a second longer than necessary, then wiped his face and turned away.
Moving over to his wardrobe, Lucas began to change. He slid into a crisp, white formal shirt, buttoning it up with practiced movements. A black tie followed, knotted tight against his throat. He pulled on black slacks, secured them with a sleek belt, and stepped into polished black shoes.
His fingers tugged his shirt cuffs straight before he finally stilled.
The outfit was sharp, clean — almost too formal for someone about to head into danger. But that was Lucas's way. Order before chaos.
With a quiet sigh, he slipped his hands into his pockets, the weight of the upcoming quest settling on his shoulders. He exited his room, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss.
Outside, the corridor was still. The faint hum of Lingquan Corporation's systems buzzed in the background.
Lucas let out a yawn, his jaw cracking slightly.
Sleep still clung to him like a thin veil, but he pushed forward, his footsteps steady as he made his way toward the towering Lingquan building in the distance.
Hands deep in his pockets, eyes half-lidded, he walked on — toward whatever Quest 27 had waiting.
The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long amber streaks across the streets. The air had shifted — cooler now, touched by a soft breeze that whispered through the alleys and swayed the upper branches of the trees lining the pavement.
Above, the sky had begun its slow transition from bright blue to a deepening gold, with hints of violet stretching at the edges like ink bleeding on parchment. A flock of small birds flitted overhead, their wings slicing through the evening air in graceful arcs. They chirped and called to each other, their voices sharp yet strangely calming against the hush settling over the city.
Leaves rustled gently as the wind passed through, carrying with it the faint scent of distant fields and the earthy tang of the day's end. The glass windows of the Lingquan buildings reflected the sun's fading light, glowing like molten gold for a fleeting moment before dimming.
The streets weren't crowded — just a few people moving about, their footsteps quiet against the stone paths. The whole world seemed to exhale slowly, as if winding down before nightfall.
It was evening — calm, golden, and quietly alive.
A cool gust swept through the street just then, soft but sharp enough to make Lucas blink. The wind caught his hair strands, lifting them gently as they swayed in the breeze. Its coolness was perfect — crisp, refreshing, but in that moment, it only made Lucas feel sleepier. His half-lidded eyes drooped a little more, and he exhaled slowly, the drowsiness tugging at him like a soft blanket.
But there was no time to waste.
Without a second thought, Lucas tapped into his Wrath. In an instant, his body shimmered and surged, transforming into a bolt of violet energy that cracked the air for just a heartbeat. One second was all it took — and he was gone from the street, reappearing inside the Lingquan Corporation's interior hall where his party waited.
The moment he appeared, his party members flinched, startled as always by his sudden arrival. But they recognized the pattern. That was Lucas's style — he always did this. Always sudden. Always fast.
Lucas gave them a lazy wave with his right hand, his fingers flicking upward in a casual motion. "Everyone here already?" he asked, voice carrying just enough authority to snap them to attention.
Before him stood his team: two archers, a swordsman, a wand user, and the battle axe wielder.
All of them nodded quickly. "Yes. Everyone's here."
Without wasting another breath, they moved as a unit, heading down to the basement using the lift. The metallic hum of the elevator echoed softly until they arrived at the chamber where an unused portal stood — its surface dull in white and grey gradients.
Lucas stepped forward, raised his right hand towards the portal, and spoke clearly, "Link available quest: Quest 27."
Instantly, the portal's colors shifted — swirling into vivid shades of violet, pink, and red. At the same time, all their crimson screens flashed the same message:
["Quest 27 is successfully linked."]
Lucas glanced back at them, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Everyone ready?"
Their voices came in unison. "Yes."
And without another word, they stepped forward and entered.
The moment Lucas and his party crossed through the portal, everything around them shifted.
Darkness welcomed them first — thick and heavy, like a curtain drawn across the sky. There was no sun above, no golden rays to light the land. Instead, high in that brooding sky hung a single moon. It wasn't silver or white like they knew; it was violet — deep and glowing, bleeding its strange light across the world below. And yet, somehow, that eerie glow was enough. It bathed everything in just enough light to see, casting a dreamlike, unnatural hue over the land. Shadows stretched long and purple along the ground, and every shape looked sharper, more surreal under that moon's watch.
As their feet touched solid ground, they found themselves in the middle of a small village. Houses stood close by — small, hunched structures made of dark wood and faded stone. The buildings were cramped, barely large enough for a family, with slanted roofs and crooked walls. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, thin and weak as if even the fires here struggled to burn.
Surrounding the village was a forest, but not like any ordinary woods they had seen before. The trees were massive, towering high and wide, their leaves a shocking, vivid red that almost glowed under the violet moonlight. The branches stretched out like twisted claws, some so thick and tangled they blocked out the sky entirely. When the wind stirred, the red leaves whispered against each other, creating a sound that was both soft and unsettling — like distant voices murmuring secrets no one wanted to hear.
But what struck Lucas and his team more than anything was the people. The villagers moved about, but they did so with a strange coldness. They kept their heads down, faces hidden under hoods or cloth wraps. Their steps were quick and silent, their gazes fixed firmly on their own paths. No one spoke. No one greeted. They passed by without a glance, as if the arrival of outsiders meant nothing — or worse, as if acknowledging them was dangerous.
There were no animals in sight. No dogs barking, no birds singing, no insects buzzing. Even the air felt wrong. It was thick, charged with something unseen — an abnormal energy that made the hair on their skin rise. It pressed against their chests and made breathing feel just a little heavier. Lucas felt it immediately, that prickling sense along the back of his neck. His instincts flared, telling him this place wasn't just strange — it was watching.
His party shifted uneasily. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was oppressive. Even the wind that rustled the blood-red leaves carried a weight with it, as if the very air was alive with tension.
Lucas's eyes lifted to the sky again, locking on the violet moon. It pulsed faintly, and the world seemed to thrum in response — a slow, steady beat like a distant drum, vibrating through the ground.
Whatever Quest 27 was, it wasn't going to be simple. This world had rules, and breaking them might just wake up whatever was sleeping beneath its dark soil.
The air grew heavier with each passing second. Lucas could feel it—thick, charged, and warped by some unseen force. But while he had already adjusted, his party wasn't so fortunate. Around him, his teammates struggled, their breaths short and ragged. Their faces twisted in discomfort, and a faint, unnatural pressure pressed against their lungs like invisible hands.
Lucas narrowed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, calm even in this alien atmosphere. His voice cut through the silent tension, steady and commanding.
"Cover your bodies with a thin layer of Wrath. Keep it light, just enough to filter the air."
He lifted his right hand slightly as he spoke, though no visible aura surrounded him. His own Wrath layer was so finely controlled, so thin, that even the sharpest eyes couldn't see it. But it was there—shielding him, cleansing each breath he took.
His team wasted no time. A faint shimmer flickered around them one by one as they cloaked themselves in their personal energy. Almost instantly, their breathing eased. The oppressive weight in their chests lifted, replaced by steady air filtered through their Wrath. Relief washed over their faces.
As they regained their composure, they tightened the straps on their armor. The swordsman stepped forward, his golden armor catching faint traces of violet light from the cursed moon above. Beside him, the battle axe wielder adjusted the thick plates of his obsidian-black armor, the dark metal looking even heavier in this twisted world. The two archers, already light on their feet, wore fitted red armor designed for speed, while the mage's light green robes glowed faintly, the enchantments woven into the fabric shimmering in the strange atmosphere.
Lucas, in contrast, stood without armor—his white shirt and black tie slightly ruffled by the cool wind. He had always believed armor slowed him down, and speed, for him, was survival.
He glanced around at his now-steady team and spoke again, his tone practical.
"I don't sense any monsters nearby. And even if there are some lurking, I'm sure each of you can handle a single creature on your own—unless it's a boss class." He paused, sweeping his gaze over their faces. "So, spread out. Cover ground. I'll stay in this village and see if I can gather any information."
There was no argument. His team trusted his instinct. One by one, they nodded.
The mage turned first, making his way toward the rocky mountain that loomed just behind the portal. It was vast and jagged, casting a dark silhouette against the violet sky. The two archers exchanged a glance and then slipped into the forest to the left, their figures quickly vanishing among the towering red-leafed trees.
The battle axe wielder grunted softly and headed straight forward, crossing through the village and pushing further into the distance. On the right, the swordsman paused. His brows furrowed — he had sensed something faint, a ripple of energy coming from beyond. Another village, perhaps, not far off. Without a word, he moved toward that direction, right and away from the main path.
And then, there was Lucas. Alone now, he adjusted his tie, took a slow breath, and turned toward the village ahead. His steps were calm, measured. His instincts whispered that this place held answers — and dangers — in equal measure.
The hunt had begun.
Somewhere far from the strange world of Quest 27, in the real world — in an advanced, highly developed nation — a quiet yet weighty conversation unfolded behind closed doors.
The room was cloaked in darkness. No lights, no windows, only faint outlines barely visible against the shadows. But even without sight, the presence inside was undeniable. The air itself seemed to bend and quiver around them, thick with pressure.
A deep, manly voice broke the silence. Calm, but edged with curiosity.
"So… we're heading to China, then?"
A woman's voice answered, firm and decisive.
"Yes. This year's Academy Tournament is being hosted by Lingquan Corporation. We'll need to be there in person."
The man fell silent for a breath, but then a thought flickered through his mind, unspoken yet heavy.
Lingquan, huh?
If I'm right… I might finally run into him there. Assuming he joined the Academy this year…
He didn't say the name aloud. Not yet.
Their faces remained hidden, swallowed by the dark. Whoever they were, their identities stayed locked in shadow. But their aura… their very presence radiated something potent, dangerous. They weren't ordinary fighters — no, they carried power that made the air feel heavier, colder.