At the dead of night, veiled in mist, moonlight pierced through, revealing a three-edged structure jutting from the barren, shallow waters.
It lay within, trapped in an eternal sleep.
Above its surface, dewdrops formed and ran through its concrete seams, trickling down and splashing onto a lifeless husk.
Plop.
It was cold—so cold it made the dweller within shiver awake, like a spark igniting dormant senses. The dweller breathed, feeling his blood pool at his feet.
With each breath, a desperate need scratched at his throat.
As he exhaled with all his strength, his warm breath bounced off his face, slowly warming his cold, exhausted body.
He blinked, but nothing had changed; only darkness remained. He wondered where he was—endless darkness closed in from every side, boxed in by tight walls.
He alone could not move, could not breathe, could not see.
Pitter-patter…
Suddenly, it rained. Drops thundered above him, leaking through small crevices.
A long-forgotten sound surged through him.
"It hurts!" he yelled.
Pain exploded in his ears, followed by numbness.
Numb, he found strange comfort in the cold as it crept over him. Suddenly, his lower back trembled, and water splattered.
Terrified, he squirmed and inhaled one last breath as water filled the confined space.
Submerged, he opened his eyes, squinting in agony, catching a brief beam of light across his face.
Relief washed over him at the sight, but suddenly something shifted at his lower back, scattering his breath in panic.
It felt scaly and heavy, like a limb, twisting as if part of his body.
He gasped, but all that greeted him was blue water filling him, tempting him toward eternal sleep.
Yet he refused; alone, he refused to die. Not Again.
He leaped up, banging his skull against a solid surface. Not giving up, feeling a nudge, he pushed with his entire body, desperate.
Again and again—
Sudden strength surged through him. Restless, he pummeled the enclosure, pushing it open, then reached upward, springing out like a jack-in-the-box.
Head against the ground, he coughed and gasped for air. Rain fell upon him as he blinked both eyes open.
He was mesmerized by the depth of darkness, craving the light he'd just glimpsed.
Suddenly, he screamed in excruciating pain as a massive lid slammed down, trapping his lower half.
Acting on instinct, he pulled himself free.
With every pull, the edges scraped and peeled his skin, the weight pressing mercilessly. Blood seeped from his stomach. Is this the end?
With his last ounce of strength, a miracle— the lid opened, flinging him out onto the ground. He crawled from the shallows, collapsing, cheek pressed to the damp ground.
Breathing heavily, he lay on his back and let out a relieved sigh, gazing at the sky—total darkness.
He wondered—had he been blind all along? Why did he feel as though he was going to die? Again?
The rain stopped, moonlight slicing through to reveal a crescent moon.
He watched in awe as it hovered above him.
"Where is the cloud—the dark cloud that makes it rain?" he asked aloud.
There were no dark clouds to explain the downpour, only endless, black skies.
As if the moon itself had brought the rain.
"Is this… a dream?" he whispered, his voice filled with confusion.
It all felt too vivid to be a dream, too surreal for reality.
Questions whirled: Was he dead? Was this the afterlife?
His very identity was a mystery, a puzzle with missing pieces.
With no answers, he stood, looking down at his flimsy legs, and in the corner of his eye, caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman.
A woman in white: skin as pale as canvas, smooth as porcelain, black hair flowing like rivers of ink.
A sense of doom fell over him—he was utterly alone.
"A ghost!" he yelled, spinning and running.
His arms flailed—slender as twigs. An inexplicable weight tugged at him—a heavy appendage, like a tail.
"A tail!" he shouted, eyes wide in horror.
Suddenly, waves gathered below, forming a pillar as tall as he was. Dodging left, the pillar mirrored his gaze, following wherever he looked. It rose into the sky—then crashed down.
Splat!
He shielded his head. The splash boomed, then fell eerily silent.
Shivering, he peeked through his arms. Before him stood a pillar of water, white letters inscribed upon it.
Curiosity mixed with fear.
As he studied the panel, familiar writing appeared, and instinctively, he read:
"Welcome, Ye Xin ?"
He could read the words, especially his name, yet they brought no memories.
Suddenly, the pillar rippled with new information:
Ye Xin /█/ Lvl. I
HP: 10/10 Stats: Normal
Mind: 22/30 Stamina: 09/15 RP: 10
STR: 10 AGI: 5 DEF: 3 INT: 12
◙: |Survivor|5| Inventory: [][][][][][][][][][]
↓Maximize↓
"What's this? Survivor? Like a refugee?" he muttered.
He pressed the arrows below survivor, but nothing happened.
"Maximize?" he voiced skeptically.
At his word, the panel shrank into a ball of water.
Then, it grew again, this time greater in size. Xin crossed his arms, bracing himself.
As it surged, fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. The transparent panel revealed more:
Health points: 10/10, Mana points: 06/10
Ye Xin ♂ /█/ Level. I
Status: Wet, Cold
Mind: 21/30 Stamina: 09/15 Raising Points: 10
Strength: 10, Agility: 5, Defense: 3, Intelligence: 12
Skill: Aqua Ball |Mastery. Basic|
◙|Survivor| |5| Inventory: [][][][][][][][][][]
↑Minimize↑
Xin understood what he needed, then glanced down.
"This isn't me!" he yelled.
It wasn't his body—the ghostly woman he'd feared was actually himself, reflected in the shallow water.
"Minimize," Xin said.
As expected, the panel shrank and splashed.
"Mind: 20/30. It really does reduce mind," Xin muttered, half-amused.
What happens if my mind hits zero?
Suddenly, a warm wind brushed his neck. Sultry liquid poured at his feet.
Xin turned to see a monstrous creature: the face of a wolf, neck long as a giraffe's, peacock-like feathered plumage, wings twice the size of its body…
It stared and howled.
Howl!
The cry reverberated through Xin's entire being.
Its pupil dilated, growing massive.
"Shit! Shit! What the—!" he yelled in panic, sweating. "Aqua ball!"
A watery sphere floated toward the beast. The creature eyed it warily, sniffed, then spread its wings with ferocity and malice.
Ye Xin waited for a chance, then sprinted away.
Meanwhile, the aqua ball meandered, colliding with the beast as it flapped, seeping into the thick feathers.
Suddenly—silence. The quietness was eerie, so unlike the chaos he'd just escaped.
Panting, Xin glanced over his shoulder. Instead of danger, he saw the creature floundering far in the distance, struggling awkwardly. He almost laughed.
But intense fatigue set in—he collapsed, face-first, into the shallow water.
Ye Xin blacked out once more.
…
A tall silhouette stood before him. "Onyung rdlo! AkewUp!" it echoed, voice garbled.
Shapes resolved—a man in a blue, knee-length, long-sleeved tunic: servant attire.
Each gibberish phrase grew clearer.
He awoke in a spacious room with a large bed. A servant repeated, "Young lord! Wake up," gently holding his hand.
The young lord opened his eyes, gazing blankly at the ceiling.
The servant lifted his back as if he were made of glass, then began removing blood-soaked bandages that concealed wounds from head to toe.
Blood seeped through, turning the bandages black and red. One by one, the servant peeled away the dirty wrappings and with them, layers of ruined skin.
The young man trembled and grunted in pain. Beneath, scabs, scars, and flaking skin were revealed.
With a wet cloth, the servant washed his wounds. Each touch made the young man shiver and grit his teeth.
He braved through it, then, with effort, stood up, spreading his arms.
Proudly, the servant started to rebandage him, jewel-studded hand steady as he shook out the young lord's shabby clothes—threads frayed and worn.
The servant produced a purse and opened it.
Thud!
A heavy chest dropped to the floor.
He opened it, revealing elegant clothes inside.
He dressed the young lord, finally wrapping his eyes in fresh white bandages.
A gust of wind through the window billowed the curtains. Light spilled in, casting the young lord in a noble aura.
In awe, the servant whispered, "Blind and deaf, yet still a noble."
Approaching, he took the young master's hand and wrote:
"Follow me… Your father… Calls you…"
The young man rose and walked, the servant supporting him.
Outside, a castle with a wooden facade stood—majestic and formidable.
Brick-tiled roofs, paper and wood windows, and intricate carvings blended red and brown tones into the landscape.
Guards stood with weapons in formation, statuesque, their heavy armor imposing, making the servant tense.
—Suddenly, the very air shattered before them—a void opening from which a towering, ominous figure emerged.
All present dropped to their knees, synchronously drawing their breath, except the young master, who—