The fog thickened as Anthony slipped deeper into the Eastern Ruins.
Behind him, the city's distant hum faded into a dull, swallowed murmur, as though Aetherport itself were holding its breath. Ahead, the lantern's glow cut through the mist like a blade, revealing jagged silhouettes of what had once been grand temples—now reduced to broken bones of marble and stone.
Vines strangled collapsed columns.
Statues of forgotten gods loomed in pieces, their faces worn smooth, eyes hollow and unseeing.
A chill crept into Anthony's bones, sharp and invasive. The air reeked of decayed magic—bitter, acrid, wrong. Residue from the cataclysm that had annihilated this district long before memory hardened into history.
Zhang Lu's thoughts churned beneath Anthony's instincts.
Okay. Ruined temples. Fog. Ancient god fallout.
Beginner dungeon vibes. Low-level area. Supposedly safe.
His pulse disagreed.
In the novel, these ruins were introduced as harmless—fodder for side characters, heavy with foreshadowing but light on consequence. Still, Zhang Lu wasn't stupid enough to trust canon safety on his first night in a world where gods murdered people for curiosity.
He moved carefully.
The lantern responded to his will now—dimming when he wished, flaring when danger brushed close. Hidden runes revealed themselves beneath its glow, etched into the ground like scars. Anthony followed the path burned into his memory: outer temples, fractured plazas, then inward—toward a secluded shrine dedicated to the Goddess of Veils.
Fitting.
Fog curled tighter the closer he came.
After nearly an hour of careful progress—sidestepping unstable stone and avoiding collapsed roofs—he found it.
A sunken courtyard.
Broken walls encircled a modest shrine, intact enough to resist time's teeth. At its center stood a pedestal bearing a weathered stone tablet. Carvings depicted a lone figure holding a lantern, facing an endless wall of shadows.
Anthony approached slowly.
The lantern flared.
Warm light washed over the carvings, making them shimmer. His fingers brushed the ancient script—half-eroded, stubbornly defiant.
"Light the way… or all perish in shadow," he murmured, translating automatically.
Below the inscription, an indentation cradled a dormant crystal the size of a clenched fist, its surface etched with matching sigils.
Zhang Lu's breath caught.
Bingo.
He lifted the crystal carefully. It was cool, but alive—vibrating faintly, syncing with the lantern's pulse like a shared heartbeat.
Quest item. No doubt about it.
Anthony scanned the tablet again. The symbols weren't static; they invited alignment. Zhang Lu's modern instincts kicked in—pattern recognition honed by puzzles and games.
Shift the divine names… three positions…
Veil.
Shadow.
Lantern.
Fate.
Click.
The tablet split open.
Inside lay a scrap of parchment.
The bearer awakens.
Beware the watchers in dreams.
They rewrite—but at a price.
Before meaning could settle—
The ground trembled.
Shadows pooled along the courtyard's edges, thickening, rising like smoke drawn toward a fire. A low growl rolled through the ruins, vibrating in Anthony's chest.
From the darkness emerged a wraith.
Wolf-shaped.
Spectral.
Its translucent body shimmered with jagged voids, eyes burning red with predatory hunger.
"Of course," Zhang Lu muttered internally. Tutorial boss.
The creature lunged.
Anthony barely dodged. A tendril grazed his arm, leeching warmth, leaving his skin numb and aching.
No mana.
No weapon.
No room for error.
Panic surged—then snapped into focus.
Think.
The lantern's light struck the wraith. It recoiled, parts of its form dissolving.
Light vulnerability.
But not enough to kill it.
The wraith circled.
Anthony's breath came hard. The ruins were a maze—no outrunning it. His gaze flicked around wildly.
Loose walls.
Cracked stone.
Vines tugging at unstable bricks.
Physics still works. Good.
He hurled a stone—not to hit, but to draw attention. The wraith lunged.
Anthony sprinted the opposite way, heart hammering. He led it straight toward a fractured archway.
At the last second, he veered aside and thrust the lantern forward at full brightness.
Hidden cracks flared into visibility.
The wraith slammed into the stone.
The arch collapsed.
Anthony dove as rubble thundered down, burying the creature beneath shattered masonry. The growl faltered, then died. Shadows unraveled, dispersing into nothing.
Silence.
Anthony lay there, gasping.
Scratches burned along his arms. A deep bruise bloomed at his side. But he was alive.
Brains > brawn, Zhang Lu thought weakly. Take that, fate.
Exhaustion crashed down on him.
He crawled into a vine-choked alcove behind the shrine and slumped against the wall. The lantern dimmed to a gentle ember.
Five minutes, he told himself. Just five.
Sleep took him instantly.
The dream unfolded like silk unraveling.
No ruins.
No city.
Only an endless void studded with stars.
Fragments of shattered temples drifted weightlessly. Black rose petals spiraled through unseen currents. The air hummed with ancient, living power.
Anthony floated.
Then—
She appeared.
Tall. Veiled. One ethereal wing unfurled like shadow given form.
She was devastatingly beautiful.
Pale skin glowed beneath lace veils. Black hair flowed like midnight rivers. Ice-blue eyes pierced him utterly—one traced by a single crystalline tear. Her dress was woven of shadow and elegance, a necklace of red beads forming an intricate web across her chest.
She approached without sound.
"Who are you?" Anthony asked.
She leaned close, veil brushing his cheek.
"I know what you hide, little light-bearer," she whispered. "A soul from beyond the veil."
Zhang Lu's thoughts exploded.
She knows.
"Fate scripted you to fade," she continued softly. "But I can guide the flame. Rewrite the end."
Her hand extended.
"In dreams, I will whisper paths unseen. Pull you back when death draws near. But guidance comes with gaze."
Anthony swallowed. "So… divine supervision?"
Her lips curved. A soft laugh chimed.
"Awaken," she said. "Feed the crystal light. And remember—the watchers multiply."
She dissolved into starlight.
Anthony awoke at dawn.
His wounds had partially healed. The crystal glowed faintly in his pocket, pulsing with the lantern.
Real.
He hurried home through the fog, slipped into the apartment, and hid the crystal beneath the floorboard.
As sleep claimed him again, he felt it—
A presence.
Watching.
Outside, a winged shadow vanished with the morning light.
Later, Orion squinted at him. "You look like hell."
Anthony smiled thinly. "Library accident."
The wall was silent.
For now.
But Zhang Lu felt it clearly—
The story had noticed him.
And it was no longer following the script.