Ruyi wandered through the layers of her mysterious space. Each segment seemed to serve a unique purpose—the crimson-hued space for repairs, the pitch-black realm for trials, the scarlet "Little Red" chamber for rejuvenation, and the storage dimension for her hoarded supplies. All these spaces could be accessed with a mere thought, as long as the Sovereign permitted it.
For instance, when Ruyi recently willed herself into the storage area to organize her spoils, she was instantly transported there. While her space wasn't as versatile as the heroine's fabled farming realm, it was still quite useful. The only downside was her lack of autonomy. The Sovereign retained the ultimate authority. If she ever angered him, he could lock her out, rendering her hard-earned stash utterly inaccessible.
All she wanted was a space that belonged entirely to her. Not as wondrous as the heroine's, not expansive—just hers. But even that seemed like too much to ask as a mere cannon-fodder supporting character.
Is it too much to want a break as a tragic sidekick?
Sighing, Ruyi set to work sorting her loot. In her haste to grab everything from the stores, she'd inadvertently collected plenty of junk—plush toys, building blocks, Barbie dolls. She discarded everything non-electronic and soundless. Out went landlines, headphones, phone cases—anything useless.
After hours of meticulous sifting, another day had slipped away in her storage haven.
Perhaps sensing Ruyi's fixation on such "trivial" tasks, the Sovereign refrained from berating her this time. However, his icy voice occasionally interrupted her moments of playful joy with electric toys: "You still haven't completed the second-level two-star trial."
Eventually, Ruyi reluctantly set aside her distractions and resumed the grueling trial.
Each progression in the second-level trials mirrored the first, with escalating difficulty. One zombie became three. Ruyi endured considerable suffering before emerging victorious, exhausted, and battered, with yet another day gone. Gazing out at the bright sunlight through a smudged glass pane, she felt an overwhelming wave of bitterness at her plight.
The horde of zombies surrounding the shopping complex had mostly dispersed. Ruyi planned her next move meticulously. She pulled a thick combat jacket from her storage, reinforcing the joints with kneepads and wrist guards. Over her head went a snug adventurer's cap, topped by a winter-specific fur-lined earflap hat tied securely beneath her chin. Gloves lined with fleece completed her ensemble.
The spring sunshine soon had her sweating profusely as she caught sight of herself in a cracked dressing mirror. "Thank goodness zombies lack a sense of aesthetics. Otherwise, they'd die laughing at me," she muttered.
Panting, she climbed back down to the street, retrieved her toppled motorcycle, and made quick work of the surrounding zombies before speeding toward the nearest supermarket.
As the zombie horde thickened, Ruyi swerved hard and accelerated, hurtling her motorcycle straight into a glass storefront of a cosmetic shop.
Crash!
The impact shattered the glass, and Ruyi, flung airborne, braced her face with her arms as she landed amidst a shower of shards. Though dazed and bruised, she sprang to her feet within seconds, sprinting toward the rear staircase. Stripping off her outer layers as she ran, she reached the door, locked it behind her, and barricaded it with whatever she could grab—buckets, brooms, dustpans.
Then she dashed upstairs, cleared the employee dormitory of three lunging zombies with swift, brutal efficiency, and vaulted onto the balcony. From there, she leapt to the adjacent hair salon's balcony and swung herself onto the next building's railings, crossing three more properties in a daring feat of acrobatics.
Finally, she reached the supermarket's rear entrance.
Instead of entering immediately, she teleported into her space, collapsing onto the blackened ground, drenched in sweat. Her arms trembled uncontrollably from overexertion, her body ached all over, but thanks to her layers of protection, she hadn't bled.
The Sovereign's silent mockery reverberated in her mind: "Weak. Pathetically weak."
Deflated, Ruyi scratched her nose and sheepishly entered the red recovery space. Once she'd regained her strength, she left without delay, not even daring to grab a snack.
At the supermarket's back door, Ruyi gave it a hard shove, but it didn't budge.
"Locked? In broad daylight? Who locks doors in the apocalypse?" she grumbled, glaring at the offending barrier.
Resigned, she scaled the building. Thanks to her trial training, wall-climbing had become second nature, though it frustrated her that she resembled a lizard more than a martial artist.
On the second floor, she was dismayed to find every window tightly sealed. Glancing at the lively swarm of zombies congregating in the alley below, Ruyi gritted her teeth, raised her cleaver, and smashed through a pane.
She landed in the supermarket's restroom. The stench, trapped within the sealed space, was indescribable.
Stifling her gag reflex, she carefully cracked open the door and tossed a noise-making phone into the corridor. When no zombies came, she grew suspicious.
Listening intently, Ruyi's sharpened hearing picked up faint, ragged breathing near the corner. She flung a piece of clothing from her storage toward the sound and watched as two iron rods swung at the distraction.
While the attackers were momentarily occupied, Ruyi lunged at one, sending him flying with a kick. The other hesitated briefly before fleeing.
Thrown off balance by the sudden lack of a target, Ruyi almost toppled over herself. Irritated, she redirected her anger toward the man she had kicked.
Marching over, she pummeled him thoroughly before holding him at gunpoint. "Lead me to your group," she demanded.
"Please! I'm sorry! I thought you were a zombie! I swear I didn't mean to attack you!" The man, thin and gangly with disproportionately close-set eyes, looked pitiful as he groveled.
"Do zombies climb through windows or play with phones? Do I look like a toddler to you?" Ruyi barked, adopting the menacing demeanor of a streetwise delinquent. The man and his fleeing companion were clearly no-good thugs. The brutality of their iron rod swings confirmed that they hadn't mistaken her for a zombie; they simply didn't care.
"Stop crying! Where's the bravado you had when you attacked me? How many of you are there? How long have you been squatting in this supermarket? Speak honestly, and I might let you off the hook."
Escorting the man at gunpoint, Ruyi reached his group. Four individuals armed with iron rods and knives had already assumed a defensive formation, glaring at her with palpable hostility.