Droplets of light fell like drops of blood, while hot breaths spread outward as thick cold mist.
A tattered long white cloak flailed wildly as if possessed.
Bright yellow eyes scanned the surroundings, letting out a grating laugh as hands reached out, grasping the empty air like a madman, searching for something, proud of his senseless actions.
At the moment when all eyes were fixed on the strange behavior of the gaunt man, he took slow, deliberate steps, feeling the cold stone beneath his feet, observing everything as if walking through a field of flowers swarmed with beautiful butterflies.
Yet these butterflies were beams of yellow light, appearing in abundance, forming a marvelous display that hovered around the gaunt man, growing from points of light into wide, spreading wings.
They flew around droplets of light, merging to become part of the tattered long cloak. The final butterfly circled a large hole before becoming the last component.
A spear shot straight through the man's chest, creating a piercing cry, as tens of thousands of arrows pierced his body, full of light. Flaming swords came crashing in with a brave knight, scorching the air until both spirit and flesh burned. The gaunt body was bound by hundreds of thousands of chains of unknown origin. Tens of thousands of swords, imbued with countless attributes and supernatural rings from structured thought, converged upon the man.
Soon, the glowing body surged past every attack. One hand grabbed the gaunt man's face, pressing it to the ground. A monstrous giant serpent shot up, devouring him, its human-like skin soaked with deadly toxins of all kinds.
Breath created bubbles beneath a murky green ocean, bursting up from a vast, landless sea. Nightmarish illusions appeared. Waves of attacks and control assailed consciousness.
The body was spat from the serpent's mouth, falling into an endless assault, transforming into a glowing yellow liquid, leaving only half a face. Fading consciousness struggled to form fingers, staring at the three-digit number with English letters at the end:
900k
A faint laugh began as the number on his hand quickly dropped, unit by unit, to 800k.
It caused a massive earthquake, scattering radiant light around, transforming the dark underground into a wide sky above giant trees covering a vast kingdom.
Under the purple sky nurturing millions of lives, it shifted into an ocean, like a battle across a borderless continent. Countless rays of light fell onto the kingdom below, expanding into a colossal meteor ready to drag tens of millions of lives into the void.
…
Darkness is the true component of all things, yet it is merely veiled by light and mixed elements, leaving no space for the primary essence. Ultimately, darkness envelops everything, like space surrounding the Earth, even when there is no room left for it.
Thus, darkness is emptiness, confronting that which does not exist perceptually.
It is difficult to discern reality through twisting, strange visions, tormenting the mind into movement and confrontation.
Courage becomes a mistake when facing the unknown. Eyes scan the darkness, hands groping for something.
True movement might merely be imprisonment. This is unknowable. The main cause of this space involves a terrifying naked young woman. The strange phenomena suggest either supernatural power or magic.
Victor forced a faint smile, heart racing. Interfering with this organization was unwise. A misstep in this vast chessboard of a game was a lesson.
But now, it was impossible to turn back or undo anything.
Escape would only extend the pursuit.
Victor decided to retreat step by step, pressing his back against the shadows, sinking into them, emerging at a point where the light was visible at the end of a drainage pipe.
Soaked clothing enhanced the cold touch. Black hair swept back, increasing visibility, hands running from face to chin.
The shadow before him twisted and faded as the naked figure reappeared. Straight black hair flowed behind her as radiant skin gleamed from head to toe.
She crossed her arms shamelessly and began speaking.
"I'll give you a chance to answer a question quickly! How did you know about carriage number four?"
"I may ask back—why aren't you wearing clothes, yet can wield supernatural power?"
"You dare challenge me! I don't want to hurt you… but if possible, I don't want to injure you for not answering."
She stepped closer.
"Don't come near me!"
Victor shouted, forcing her to avert her gaze, revealing her superior power but weaker mindset.
Perhaps her confidence and ability to do anything led to carelessness and emotional involvement, along with external appearances, in the interaction between a woman and a large man in an unpleasant situation. No matter her view of Victor, he needed to fix his own stance.
He adjusted his expression and lowered his tone.
"I truly apologize. I didn't know anything; I just had no money to pay for the carriage, so I devised a scheme to pay less…"
"That doesn't seem to be the case!" An old man's voice emerged from the shadows—the carriage driver.
"Uncle Well… but he confessed."
"Why do you think that?"
"He seems pitiful… yes."
"Stop defending him. I am not old or forgetful. This man is dangerous. If you act like that, he will deceive you. He survived the grasp of that mad power. Consider carefully!"
The old man spoke firmly.
"Surrender, young man. You won't escape—just confess, and it ends!"
Victor retreated step by step with a satisfied smile. The situation's contrast birthed audacious thoughts. He was confident he would not die. Even if he answered, they would not let him go. The coincidence of encountering carriage number four might turn into a considered scenario.
But what use if they did not know his origin? It might simply be his misfortune to get involved with a secretive organization.
He rose onto his toes and slowly stepped backward, making his answer part of a lie, no matter the negotiation.
The tip of his foot touched the drainage pipe's edge. The old man's gaze remained sharp as he approached.
"You cannot escape now!"
Victor leaned back into the darkness with light from below mingling. Audacity led to reckless action, laughter spilling as if life were ending.
The woman leapt after him, her body transforming into a shadow diving down a dark waterfall. Her naked form pressed against Victor, hair flowing, leaving no room to move. Tears and screams rose above his darkened face.
Victor's arms struggled violently, resisting her grip, but the surrounding dark water held him tight. Survival from such a height was impossible otherwise; capture was inevitable.
The choice began with encountering the mysterious man in a white cloak. Many things brought decisions, changes in thought, and living for a singular purpose: seeking the whole truth.
The air roared through ears; wind battered their bodies. Light flashed across their eyes, fading as water droplets fell.
…
The starry vision formed an artwork drenched in blood, storming and then calming as ribs were opened, the young man's scream echoing in darkness.
Eyes widened with heavy breaths, bound to a chair, a small candle offered peace.
Breathing relaxed; eyes fixed on a single yellow flame before a hoarse laugh escaped.
Everything unfolded as expected. If he survived, capture was the last resort. Being watched and tested would frame Victor's origin.
Now they must decide whether he is an unfortunate outsider or an external threat, hence the pursuit rather than killing.
This could be advantageous, granting him a chance to secure a key position, ensuring safety and learning to wield supernatural power.
Soon, candlelight faded beneath the lamp's glow. An old man appeared with several men in black suits.
"Now are you ready to answer? Where did you learn of carriage number four? Who sold you the info, or who do you work for?"
Victor swallowed.
"No! I truly don't know. Please let me go. I only schemed to pay less!"
"Listen… normally, those who know about carriage number four are eliminated, whether via rumor or insider leaks. But your confession will reduce your penalty if it benefits everyone."
"If the info I received didn't come from inside, will you still grant me freedom?"
This could extend his life. Even amid danger, risk carries worth.
"Certainly, if you can identify the source!"
The old man picked up a damp scrap of paper—Victor's notes from the city. After falling into the drain, he had discarded it.
"Your information is detailed. The entrances to underground routes are well-partitioned. Possessing all parts requires receiving it from high-ranking individuals."
Victor realized how to survive this: he needed to blend in.
"I yield… I will confess! But only to Mr. Dencart! I cannot explain otherwise, hope you understand."
Victor spoke firmly. He didn't know Ophelia's brother's name, but the surname revealed partial relevance.
Mentioning high-ranking individuals or collaborators indicated Victor's connection, making him an external spy for Ophelia's brother. The risk was high.
Confessing everything to Ophelia's brother might bring aid, including regarding the object in his chest.
The old man paused, examined Victor's attire, removed his gloves, revealing a single-digit number on his palm.
The old man's gaze shifted, suspicion growing. Victor calmed his breath to suppress fear and deceit.
Soon, a suited man whispered something to the old man.
"You're lucky. All your info is now in the hands of the contributor. Celith will guide you."
Following the old man's words, a radiant figure emerged from the void. She staggered to sit on Victor's lap before darkness obscured everything.
They transformed into a beautifully carpeted hallway adorned with cityscape paintings. Victor's body was free of restraints.
The woman sat by the wall, arms crossed, leaning as if to sleep. Before closing her eyes, she whispered:
"Straight ahead is the contributor's room. I'm exhausted; I think I overexerted myself…"
Victor draped his dry shirt over her.
He adjusted his attire, stepped confidently to the large door, and pushed it open.
He stepped on a red rose-patterned carpet, partially blocked by a wide desk filled with writing tools.
Morning sunlight streamed in, bathing Victor. A man sat before him in a gray suit, black tie, and long black coat.
Middle-aged but age unclear, thick neck, broad chest, strong build, short hair combed left, radiating calm confidence.
"Victor Weber, one of the special list or refugee from Ravenis. Tall, strong, audacious survival skills, strong mental ability and attitude. Reports show you possess information on all symbols across the Ven Republic."
His calm words clearly described Victor.
"I need your help! Ophelia Dencart assisted me, and I learned all info via your basement notes."
The man's gaze remained calm, emotionless, with no sign of hidden weapons.
"Unfortunately, you're merely unlucky. I cannot release you. A key report mentions the carriage driver investigation. Staff with lie-detecting power were involved, yet your words cannot be assessed, predicted, or penetrated."
"What does that mean?"
Victor stared, pondering. It was strange, as if he had supernatural power or a unique anomaly affecting it.
"Your ability is a threat. If you don't confess, your position may be unstable."
"I know nothing of this ability!"
Victor confessed honestly, unable to alter his dire situation. Everything he faced was too strange to know independently.
"Since you resist, you must join and work under my supervision."
Victor said nothing, only observing suspiciously.
"Don't overthink. I don't intend to kill you. I am a contributor to the Ravenis Revolution. Secrets of the location are vital. To liberate Ravenis, strict measures against harmful effects are necessary. Now, about forty thousand refugees from Ravenis cooperate with me… I hope you trust me."
The man stood and extended his right hand—a polite, cautious greeting.
"What exactly do you want from me? I know you trust me and seek a solution benefiting both sides."
"Good that you have strong reasoning. Your honesty shows interest. Since you refuse cooperation, I must compel you to join, exchanging one personal desire—not housing or other costs—as your benefit. Propose it."
"I want to know about controlling supernatural powers and everything related to it."
"Agreed. Wise decision. I will assign someone to guide your duties in exchange for information."
"Your daily life will be monitored by Celith until you can report your abilities. This counts as assistance. I hope you don't wander the city aimlessly."
After speaking, Celith emerged from Victor's shadow, nodded to Ophelia's brother, then disappeared into darkness, astonishing Victor again with her seemingly fantastical ability.
With the negotiation benefiting both sides, Victor did not object, understanding his own weakness and inability to protect himself.
Starting anew in the shadows could mark the beginning of his future resistance against the stars, seeking the full truth to return to the familiar world.