More than a decade had unfurled its tapestry over the Lin household, reshaping its rhythm as Lin Kai blossomed into a seventeen-year-old high school student. The year was 2021, and each afternoon, he embarked on a 4-kilometer journey home, pedaling his sleek black bicycle along winding paths framed by towering bamboo groves.
At 5:00 PM, he steered his bicycle onto the gravel driveway of the sprawling Lin mansion. He dismounted, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and wheeled the bike to its stand, the quiet solitude of the home a familiar feeling.
His three older sisters, Lin Yu, Lin Ming, and Lin Ling, were all forging their futures far from home, a fact that filled him with both pride and a quiet sense of longing.
They had excelled academically, their brilliance earning them spots at Shanghai University, a prestigious institution of global renown.
Lin Yu, with her keen intellect, had delved into the research department, a path that suited her thoughtful demeanor.
Lin Ming's bubbly, strategic mind had found a home in the business department, while Lin Ling, ever the meticulous planner, was mastering the complexities of technology.
They were a trio of remarkable young women, and though they were hundreds of kilometers away, their weekly calls were a cherished ritual, a tether connecting them across the distance.
His mother, Lin Mei, was also in Shanghai, her presence now a rare occurrence in the Yunnan mansion. A few weeks prior, the unforeseen had struck, a sorrowful blow that had changed the family's landscape—Lin Mei's parents had passed away suddenly in a tragic accident.
As the head of the main Lin family and the company, her duty had called her to Shanghai to take over the headquarters. She had offered to take him along, but Lin Kai, with mid-term exams looming, had insisted on staying behind, promising to visit in the future. Now, with the head maid also in Shanghai by his mother's side, the mansion felt vast and empty.
Lin Kai entered the mansion, the coolness of the air-conditioned foyer a pleasant relief from the afternoon heat. A young maid, who had been dusting a porcelain vase, bowed respectfully. "Welcome home, young master. I have prepared your favorite meal."
"Thank you," he replied with a soft smile. After refreshing himself, he sat at the grand dining table, the single plate of stir-fried noodles and pork buns a stark contrast to the usual lively, boisterous family dinners. The silence was not uncomfortable, but it was heavy with absence. He ate his meal, his mind already drifting to the pile of textbooks waiting in his room.
He spent the evening immersed in his studies, his phone nearby, waiting for his mother's call. She was busy with the funeral and the complicated transfer of corporate power, but she always made time for him. When the call came, her voice, though tinged with weariness, was a balm to his soul. They spoke of his day, her new responsibilities, and the well-being of his sisters. He felt a familiar surge of love and gratitude. After saying his goodnights, he prepared for bed, the last conscious thought in his mind a quiet resolve to make his mother proud.
He drifted into a deep sleep, the comfortable silence of the mansion enveloping him.
But around midnight, the peace shattered.
His dreams, once a realm of quiet tranquility, erupted into a maelstrom of chaos.
He was no longer in his bedroom but in the heart of his city, a spectator to a living nightmare. The sky, a sickly green, swirled with an eerie, unnatural light. Screams—high-pitched and raw—pierced the air, a symphony of terror.
People, his neighbors and friends, were not just dying; they were transforming. Their bodies contorted with sickening crunches, bones twisting into grotesque new shapes as their skin tore and stretched. Their eyes, once filled with life, became hollow, black pits, their mouths stretching into unnatural grins as they lunged at the living.
A monstrous, multi-limbed creature, its skin shimmering with an iridescent sheen, tore through a skyscraper as if it were made of paper, the sound of collapsing concrete a deafening roar.
Amidst the chaos, a voice, ancient and resonating, boomed inside his mind, as clear as if it were a physical presence. It was not a voice, but a command, a universal proclamation.
"THE PRIMAL DECREE HAS BEEN ISSUED. AWAKEN, MORTALS. ASCEND OR PERISH."
A flood of memories, fragmented and disorienting, slammed into his consciousness. It was like a dam breaking, a lifetime of knowledge from a past existence flooding a mind that had only known seventeen years.
He was not just Lin Kai, the high school student; he was Elarion, a powerful soul from a world steeped in magic and cultivation. He had been a dual-bladed swordsman, a master of a lost art, a protector of a realm now faded to memory. He understood now: He could be been sent to this world, perhaps as a last hope, as a last line of defense. The apocalypse was not just a nightmare; it was a foretold reality he had been reborn to face.
He shot up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs. The sheets were tangled around his legs, and his breath came in heavy, ragged gasps.
The dream was gone, but the feelings—the terror, the chaos, the overwhelming sense of dread—lingered. He staggered to the basin in his bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, the shock of it clearing his mind.
He stared at his reflection, not just seeing Lin Kai, a teenager with a mop of black hair with red streaks, but seeing a man from another life, a warrior with a purpose. He had to be calm. He had to think.
He paced the room, the hard reality of his situation settling in like a stone in his stomach. The dream was a premonition. The primal decree was real.
His modern world, with its technology and fragile peace, was about to be obliterated. He saw flashes of a scene from his dream—a monster shrugging off bullets as if they were pebbles. Pistols, machine guns, grenades—they would be useless. The internet would surely go down, severing all communication.
He felt a surge of frustration, a helpless, burning anger that his mother and sisters were so far away. He couldn't protect them from here. He couldn't reach them when the internet was gone.
He could only warn them. He resolved to call them first thing in the morning, to tell them, to beg them, to prepare. But for now, with the night stretching on, he had to focus on himself.
He knew that the calamity would not be confined to Yunnan; it would be a global event. He could feel it in his soul, a deep, resonating hum. He had to prepare for the worst.
His past life's memories, though fragmented, gave him one key insight: the weapons of this world were a joke. He needed real weapons. Swords, spears, bows—things that could cut through flesh and bone, that could be a true extension of his body.
He went to his desk and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. Inside, he had kept a running log of his finances, a habit instilled by his mother. He had over two million dollars in a bank account, an emergency fund his mother had set up for him years ago, a generous allowance to cover any unforeseen needs.
A wave of immense gratitude washed over him. Mom, you are the best. I owe you so much, he thought, his heart swelling with emotion. The money was plenty. It was a lifeline. He praised his mother's foresight, her love a silent shield even in her absence.
He waited for the night to pass, the hours stretching into an agonizing eternity.
He didn't sleep again. Instead, he planned. He thought of a well-known antique weapons shop in the city, a place where collectors bought decorative blades. They would have what he needed, forged with traditional skill, not mass-produced in a factory.
The moment the first rays of dawn touched the horizon, Lin Kai made his move. He dressed quickly, not bothering with breakfast, his mind already a whirlwind of purpose. He called the weapon shop owner, a man named Mr. Lian, using a tone of authority he didn't know he possessed.
He used the name of his mother's company, a name that commanded instant respect, and promised an amount of money that would make Mr. Lian's eyes water.
Within an hour, he had reached the shop, a small, unassuming building with a red-tiled roof. The owner, a thin, elderly man, waited outside, his face a mask of fawning eagerness.
"Young Master Lin! It is an honor! I have brought out my finest collection for you," Mr. Lian said, bowing low.
"I need curved swords," Lin Kai said, his voice direct. The words had come out unconsciously, a whisper from his past self that chose the weapon before he consciously did.
The owner's eyes widened. "Curved swords? A man of refined taste! Please, this way!" He led Lin Kai into a back room, a small, meticulously organized space filled with gleaming blades.
In the center, in a glass showcase, were two katana-like blades, their polished hilts resting on a stand. They were simple yet elegant, a black wrap on the handle and a silver dragon guard.
The blades themselves were slightly curved, their edges so sharp they seemed to hum with a quiet energy.
Lin Kai felt an immediate, overwhelming sense of familiarity. It was as if he were looking at old friends. His hands, without a conscious thought from him, twitched as if reaching for them.
"How much?" he asked, his voice low.
The owner, a shrewd man, showed five fingers. "Five hundred thousand dollars, Master Lin. This is a one-of-a-kind set, forged by a master craftsman. It has no peer in this country."
Lin Kai didn't hesitate. He transferred the money instantly, the transaction a simple confirmation on his phone. He then proceeded to buy several short throwing knives and other, more common swords, his bank account quickly dwindling to near zero. He mused inwardly, a grim smile on his face. Money would be useless in the coming days anyway.
With the weapons secured in his car, he drove to a secluded forest outside the city perimeter. He carried the two katanas—his katanas, he thought with a jolt of recognition—and practiced. His body, once an amateur, moved with an instinctual grace.
The swords felt weightless, a natural extension of his arms. He moved from form to form, a dance of steel and precision, each movement fluid and deadly. He realized with absolute certainty that he had been a dual-bladed weapon user in his past life, a truth that now felt as real as his own name. He practiced for a while, a new sense of purpose filling him.
Returning to the city, he called his mother and sisters, the phone lines feeling fragile and temporary. "Mom, sisters, please, you must be careful. Always carry a knife with you. Don't trust anyone. Be aware of your surroundings," he said, his voice firm and serious.
They were confused. "Lin Kai, what are you talking about?" Lin Ming asked with a slight laugh.
"Just listen to me," he insisted. "It's important. Trust me."
They fell silent. They knew he was not a person to joke about such things. They trusted him implicitly, and a quiet promise was made to listen to his words.
Lin Kai drove home, a new weight on his shoulders. The apocalypse was coming. And for the first time in his life, he felt truly ready. He returned to the quiet mansion and began the wait, his body a coiled spring of readiness, his mind prepared for the horrors to come.
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