The valley ahead was quiet.
Too quiet.
No bugs. No birds. Not even wind through the weird, scraggly trees. The kind of quiet that made your own breathing sound too loud.
Dylan stood at the ridge for a long minute, eyes tracking the horizon. That distant lump — the structure or whatever it was — hadn't moved. But it was the only thing in sight that didn't look natural. So, that's where he'd go.
He started walking.
Not fast. Not slow. Just controlled.
Every few steps, he glanced behind. Every few more, he stopped to listen.
The terrain wasn't friendly — cracked, uneven, and sharp in places, like the earth had dried out mid-scream. But it wasn't impossible.
"Level 1, huh," he muttered. "Cool title. No stamina bar."
He didn't feel weak. Not exactly. But there was a strange resistance in his body. Like everything worked, but it wasn't at full output yet. As if his muscles were waiting for permission.
That had to be the system.
It wasn't forcing anything… but it definitely set limits.
And it was letting him walk.
Okay.
His footsteps echoed faintly off distant rocks.
The more he walked, the more real it became. The dryness of the wind. The gritty soil in his shoes. The way the sun — if that was a sun — hung low and red in the sky, casting long shadows that felt heavier than they should be.
He didn't say much. There was no one to talk to. But his brain ran nonstop.
Where are the cities? The satellites? The noise?
Is this some random Chinese cultivation novel? Or something else?
Why "Shadow Monarch"?
And most of all:
Am I really alone?
He crested a slope and crouched low.
In the distance, beyond a broken rock formation, something moved.
Small. Fast. Four-legged.
Alive.
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
Let's test something.
He stayed low.
The creature ahead looked like a lizard, but longer. Slinkier. Its skin had a weird, dull sheen, like polished stone, and its tail twitched every few seconds—on edge.
It didn't seem to notice him. Yet.
Dylan narrowed his eyes, kept his breathing shallow.
Scan.
No glow. No special effect.
Just a quiet pulse of recognition in his mind—like turning a page in a book.
And then:
[SCAN RESULT]
Species: ???
Vitality: Low
Mana Signature: Minor
Threat Level: Negligible
Status: Alert
He frowned.
That was it?
"Not even a name?" he whispered. "No health bar? No level?"
The lizard snapped its head sideways—then bolted.
Too fast for him to follow. It disappeared between two rocks like smoke.
Status: Alert.
So it could hear him.
Good to know.
Scan hadn't cost anything. No MP tick. No cooldown.
But it also didn't tell him much—
And more importantly?
I'm not alone out here.
He stood, brushed the dust off his knees, and kept moving.
But now, every sound felt closer. Every shadow, heavier.
The system didn't make him feel strong.
It made him feel targeted.
The shape on the horizon came into focus slowly.
It wasn't a building.
It was a wreck.
The closer Dylan got, the clearer it became: a long, wide vehicle—like a mix between a military truck and a school transport. Its entire left side was scorched, the front cabin partially buried in a mound of dirt.
The glass was gone. The tires were cracked and half-rotted. And something sharp had torn gouges through the outer plating like a claw through cardboard.
What happened here?
He circled wide, slow and quiet. No movement inside.as far as he could tell.
Once close enough, he crouched and placed a hand on the hull.
Cool. Metal. Real.
Scan.
[SCAN RESULT]
Object: Ground Transport Unit [Damaged]
Power: Offline
Mana Residue: Faint
Blood Traces: Detected
Status: Inoperable
Blood.
That word sat different.
He pulled his hand back and looked through the shattered doorframe.
Seats — torn. Black stains baked into the walls. Straps dangling loose, some still buckled. A few metal cases lay open, stripped of anything useful. One corner had a cracked helmet. Another had a crushed ID badge, too faded to read.
No bodies. No bones. Just aftermath.
This wasn't an accident.
Something had gotten in.
And from the damage?
Or gotten out.
Dylan didn't speak. Just breathed slow. Focused.
Whatever tore this apart wasn't here anymore… but the scent of ruin lingered like static.
He scanned the whole wreck again—careful not to touch anything.
Still nothing helpful.
He backed out of the transport and stood under the dull red sky.
So I use it like one.
The horizon was empty again. But now, he knew something.
He wasn't the first person to wake up here.
He just might be the last.
Inside the wreck, the silence felt louder.
Dust clung to everything. Panels were loose. Seats torn. But the damage wasn't random—there were signs of panic. Scuff marks on the floor. A cracked door that someone tried to hold shut from the inside. Dried blood near the front.
Dylan picked through it slowly, methodically.
A dented thermos — empty.
Boot laces — snapped.
Half a data chip — fried.
He found a glove still on someone's seat.
No hand inside. Just the glove.
Scan.
[SCAN RESULT]
Item: Synthetic Combat Glove
Status: Damaged
Effect: None
Salvage Value: None
"No effect. No stat boost. No interest," Dylan muttered.
No system popup. No equipment window blinking to life. It didn't register. Like the system knew this wasn't worth using.
What about survival? Supplies?
Nothing.
The system didn't recognize food. Tools. Water.
Dylan stepped back into the open, brushing dust from his hands. The red sun hadn't moved much. Maybe time didn't flow the same way here. Or maybe it was just slow, like everything else.
He turned his head once more toward the open land ahead.
No voices. No markers. No path.
But that meant no rules, too.
"Alright," he muttered. "Rule number one…"
He looked at the sky.
"No one's coming to help."