Kairos's mind drifted.
He stood in the golden haze of late afternoon, a soft breeze stirring the trees overhead. The world was vibrant, familiar—earth, the place he had once called home. A laugh rang in his ears, light and teasing, and he turned his head to see her.
A young woman with chestnut hair tied loosely behind her head, her lips curled in amusement.
"Seriously, Kairo, you always look like you're brooding over something impossible. Relax, you're not carrying the weight of the world!" she said, her laughter carrying warmth that seemed to ease every shadow.
Next to her, a tall boy with short dark hair nudged him in the shoulder. His grin was fierce, but filled with sincerity.
"Don't listen to her, Kai. You can do anything. Win anything. You just don't believe it yet. But I've seen it—you're the type who rises when it matters."
Kairo smiled faintly, the rare, awkward kind he used to wear in that world. "You two always make it sound easy."
The girl folded her arms. "Because it is easy. You just overthink."
The boy clapped him on the back, nearly making him stumble. "Exactly. When you finally stop overthinking, we'll be the ones struggling to catch up to you."
The laughter lingered. The warmth lingered. But soon the light dimmed, replaced by something else—the endless darkness of sleep pressing down.
Kairo's eyes snapped open.
The cold, still air of the wasteland filled his lungs. The memories dissipated like smoke, leaving him staring at the crude ceiling of his makeshift shelter. His mouth moved, voice hoarse with a mix of bitterness and realization.
"So… it wasn't a dream after all."
Not the dream of his past life—that was real. But this world, this place of ash, ruin, and beasts, was no dream either. He was here, and those warm echoes of laughter were trapped behind a barrier he could never cross again.
Sitting up, he scanned his surroundings. The campfire had long since died, leaving only blackened wood and cold ash. Around him stood his scavenger ghouls, vigilant and silent, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark. They had guarded him all night without moving, without needing sleep.
"…Good." He stood, brushing dust from his cloak. "Then today, we start building something."
The Blueprint Function shimmered before his eyes when he called it. A spectral interface laid out choices, glowing in pale blue script. Among them, one caught his attention-
[ Blueprint – House(Tier-1)]
[aterials: Stone & Wood]
"A place to live… a foundation," he murmured. His finger brushed the interface, selecting it. A phantom outline of a small stone-and-wood house flickered into existence before him, its dimensions clear.
"Stone from the ruins. Wood from the dead trees." He turned to his scavenger ghouls, their sunken eyes waiting. "Go. Collect what we need."
The ghouls gave guttural grunts, then scattered. Some climbed the half-collapsed ruins of old walls, tearing stone loose with clawed hands. Others shuffled into the skeletal forest nearby, ripping down brittle trunks that cracked loudly under their strength.
Kairo watched for a moment, then sat down to chew on his meager breakfast—meat from the monsters they'd slain yesterday, roasted until edible. It was tough, almost rubbery, but it filled his stomach.
Two hours later, the ghouls returned. Piles of stone and heaps of deadwood lay ready.
Kairo nodded. "Activate Blueprint."
The faint ghostly outline of the house expanded into the air, its frame hovering in place. As if linked, every ghoul tilted its head, comprehension flooding their dull eyes. They did not speak, but their movements sharpened with focus.
"Build," Kairo commanded.
Immediately, the scavenger ghouls moved. They worked like ants, each one knowing its role. Some set stone in place with surprising precision. Others carried wood, shaping crude beams with claws before slotting them into the structure. Slowly, the ghostly outline gained substance.
Kairo paced around them, overseeing, while occasionally pulling up his Map Function. He scanned the bleak terrain, searching for two things—fertile soil and water.
Hours dragged by. Sweat trickled down his brow even though the ghouls did most of the labor. His mind was consumed by planning—defenses, expansion, survival.
By the time the sun reached its peak, the house was complete. A simple structure, stone walls reinforced with wood, a roof of stacked planks. Crude, but shelter nonetheless.
Kairo stepped inside, breathing in the faint scent of fresh-hewn wood. It was small—just one room—but it was his.
"…Not bad."
But there was no time to linger. Pulling up the map again, he finally saw it—an area not far from here where fertile soil and a water source sat close together.
His lips curled slightly. "Perfect. We'll build more than just walls. We'll build life."
The expedition began at once. Kairo marched with a dozen scavenger ghouls, heading across the ash-stained earth. The journey was far from peaceful.
Tier 1 beasts lurked everywhere.
A boar with tusks like spears charged at them from the brush, only to be torn apart by clawed hands. A wolf-like creature with bone ridges across its back lunged from a ruin, only to be skewered on jagged stone. Each battle was swift, brutal, and left more carcasses for their stores.
By the time the group reached halfway, Kairo's system notified him—20% of experience required for Tier Advancement obtained.
"Not enough," he muttered, wiping blood from his cheek. "But progress."
He pushed them onward. Farming was not for his ghouls—they had no need of food—but for the future. Other troops would need sustenance. Hunting would not be sustainable forever. Cultivation was the only answer.
"Once I secure soil and water… then comes domestication," he whispered to himself. The thought of raising animals, of building a sustainable force, filled him with quiet determination.
Far away, near the burned village where the fires of Soak had finally died, only blackened ruins remained. Charcoal skeletons of buildings jutted from the ground like tombstones.
Through the smoke-stained air, a caravan approached.
The wagons were massive, pulled by hulking reptilian beasts. Around them slithered figures—half-human, half-serpent. Their scales glistened with faint iridescence, and their long muscular tails coiled and uncoiled with each movement.
Nagas.
Inside one of the wagons sat a broad-shouldered naga, his scales dark green, his muscular arms crossed over a blacksmith's uniform. A heavy hammer rested across his lap, the mark of his craft obvious even at a glance.
Across from him sat another naga, leaner, more cautious. He shifted uneasily before speaking.
"Sir… if you wish, I will apologize in your stead to the king."
The blacksmith's eyes narrowed. His voice rumbled like a forge.
"No."
The younger naga hesitated. "But… your refusal could be seen as defiance—"
"It is defiance." The hammer-wielder's grip tightened on his weapon, scales glinting. "My choices are my own. I do not need a king's pardon to know where I stand."
Silence filled the wagon. The younger naga bowed his head, uncertain whether to press further.
Moments later, a cry came from outside.
"Village ahead!"
The caravan slowed. All eyes turned to the sight before them.
The village was no more. Every structure was ash and ruin, as though a great firestorm had swept through and devoured it whole. The air still smelled of smoke. The soil itself was scorched black.
Shock rippled through the naga. Some gripped weapons, tails lashing in agitation.
"What… did this?" one muttered.
Another hissed. "A raid? A beast tide? No… no beasts burn so cleanly."
The blacksmith pushed aside the curtain of the wagon, stepping down into the ruins. His eyes scanned the devastation with calm, grim understanding.
"This wasn't chance," he growled. "Something did this on purpose."
The naga warriors formed ranks, hissing war cries under their breath, weapons gleaming. They were ready for battle, wary of ambush.
But they did not know.
The disturbance of their caravan had already sent ripples through the land. Somewhere in the ruins, bestial eyes had turned toward them. The hunt had already begun.
To be continued…