Genesis
Chapter Text
She woke up with a gasp, air desperately struggling to rush in to fill her lungs, only for her to incessantly cough up, vomiting what could only be blobs of clotted blood and flesh, threatening to suffocate her should she not.
The spasms wracked her body and fog clouded her mind, making her unable to formulate a single coherent thought. For minutes she laid there on that damp, wet soil.
It took almost half an hour before her mind could formulate a thought, plagued only by a pain from her side and the buzzing she could still feel at the back of her head, the thick taste of blood leaving her with a nauseating feeling.
Amanises, aware of the unnatural current predicament, had the instinct to stand up and assess her situation and whereabouts. Yet, her attempt was rewarded with her collapsing painfully back onto the ground. Her hands felt unfamiliar and foreign, and when her gaze fell onto them, she froze.
"What... the hell?" was what she wanted to say, yet her voice, if it could even be called that, came out as low and guttural, more of a growl than coherent human speech. Suddenly, her chest which had mostly been cleared out started tightening, her breathing coming out as short, rapping breaths as she hyperventilated in panic.
Her attempt to scramble away was merely jerky movement akin to those of a newborn fawn taking its first step. Her eyesight, unnaturally sharp in the absolute darkness, took note of the rest of her dark fur covered limbs, three more sets of legs than she would normally have.
It took her a few minutes of futile attempts to stand before she accepted her fate, and her wild frantic thoughts had somewhat calmed. This wasn't possible... this had to be a dream. She wanted to curse out loud- a behaviour so out of sorts compared to her usually reserved one, and yet it all stayed in her mind and growls were all her canine maws could muster.
This wasn't a prank and more like a sick cult thing, because she really was in a monster's body and covered in blood. On her side were massive gulleys of missing torn flesh, visibly squirming as they ever so slowly knit together under her keen eyesight.
Her mouth pursed into a grimace that revealed neatly packed rows of razor-sharp fangs.
The sight of the wound brought an unbidden and unfamiliar memory, one that almost broke her mind in half.
Vivid images flowed, showing a pack of wolves very similar to her, on one of their routine hunts for food and resources, happening upon a small group of humans.
They had not, however, prepared for the blood drinker, a creature that worshipped the moon goddess. It took down almost half of them before they could counter it, and when she had run... no, not her, the wolf, when the wolf ran away, it had already sustained the gruesome wounds, succumbing to its fate from blood loss.
Her breath hitched as the memory faded away. Despite her body recovering, she could still feel herself weakening on a deeper, unfathomable level.
Her next attempt to stand up was a shaky success as claws dug into the damp ground, softening under the grip of her paws, as she straightened one leg after another.
As her gaze roamed the forest, Amanises felt it wasn't just dark - it was all sorts of wrong. Shapes slithered at the edges of her vision, but every time she swivelled her head to the source, they had already vanished, dissolved into nothing but figments of her own imagination. She wasn't alone- that much she felt in her entire being. Her scenario was not natural, and whoever was responsible, was around.
Her vigilance was broken as she felt something slide through her wounded side and plop to the ground with a wet sickening sound, almost making her jump in fright. Her ears, longer now and sharper, twitched instinctively towards the noise and her dark eyes, slits of glowing silver, locked as well onto the shape that didn't seem to belong to the world.
A black, viscous blob writhed on the blood-soaked ground, darker than anything she has ever seen. It wasn't just the absence of light, but the object seemed to eat any and all light that fell on it. She could feel more than see it pulsate faintly like a dying heart, calling to her.
The sight of it jolted another memory that had her stagger at the momentary lapse of balance. She- the original owner of the body, has seen this before. When wolves as powerful as she was, and those stronger, superior, breathed their last, they released... something. Something like this. Others would directly consume it and either grow stronger or turn into more grotesque monsters that killed everything in sight, and some, few and powerful with seemingly more control of themselves would just pick them to deliver back to their main territory.
As a corporate manager married to her work and less keen on forming meaningless relationships, Amanises was less of a fan of fictional genres and was only an occasional fan of drama series. Only her little sister seemed to enjoy those things and she recalled one term that seemed to perfectly fit her situation, a person who reincarnated or transmigrated into another body, maybe even in a different world.
'No,' she thought as she staggered unsteadily, shaking. 'No I'm not, Vi still needs me...'
The orb though sat there, waiting. A sense of courage washed over her, as the thought of her own little sister, the reason why she always pushed herself, all alone searching for her. She could not let that be. She will get back to her.
Amanises couldn't taste the new flowing blood over the one already caked to her mouth as she bit her lip in concentration and resolve, as her rationale kicked in, one forged from years of self conditioning and responsibilities.
This new body of hers had been a low rank but never the lowest ever since she was born. She has never been lucky as to find any of the unnatural blobs to eat and grow stronger except for this one.
'Was this always part of me like the ones that died? Would I not turn into a monster if I eat it? Would I grow stronger instead? Will this help me find a way to my world?' she could feel her ability to see in the dark ever so slightly weakening, and from her memories, this forest was the territory of the god of their race, god of darkness, bizarreness and horror. Being unable to see in such a place and unable to find a pack for security would all but guarantee her eventual demise.
She brought her paws trying to scoop the weird object but found the task impossible with, leaving her with one last choice, growling in frustration as she shamefully scooped the thing from the ground with her tongue tasting her own blood as well as the mud.
Before she could do anything, it slid straight into her throat. She braced herself for the ensuing transformation as a monster, yet only a soothing sensation settled into her stomach, as if a missing piece had slipped back into its proper place and all her exhaustion washed away, her body was instantly rejuvenated and she could feel herself growing even stronger.
From her memory, this was how she had always been, not the weak and pathetic version she was before.
'This...' Amanises was suddenly struck with an epiphany yet she felt like it wasn't enough to sum up her knowledge. She needed to know more.
With newfound energy and memories of the previous body, she slowly made her way to a place she could stay. Her race did not have any allies, seemingly hated by any and all creatures, and given how weak she was compared to creatures in her memories, it was best to find her own kind and hide amongst them.
A figure of a man watched as a demonic wolf struggled to move away from the pool of its own blood.
This figure had pale white skin that contrasted to the black clergyman robe, and the raven black short hair though its roots seemed to be blonde in colour and 'His' eyes were pure gold, glowing in the darkness. A silver crucifix hung at 'His' chest. 'He' was like a holy man, an angel if not a god of light and dawn ready to purify every darkness that plagued the world.
And yet, 'His' shadow that seemingly blended with the surrounding darkness carried with it terror that even the darkness that forever plagued the territory to submit to its tyranny.
"It is time for humans to start reclaiming the world we lost." Grisha thought with a grimace, clutching 'His' face as another roar shook 'His' thoughts, as though a sea during a chaotic violent storm.
"My Lord." A hand reached out and touched Grisha, and as it moved away, so did the chaotic thoughts leave to accompany it.
The Ancient Sun God, then turned to address 'His' angel, dark cloaked and majestic in a dark allure.
"I still need to deal with the imprint still left in me even with the connection to the Sea of Chaos severed, I can still feel 'Him' rattling in my head." 'He' said tapping 'His' head revealing a small smile that was lost to 'His' deputy. "In my current state, it's best not to engage these deranged gods, we'll raise an army of our own, nurture humans to rise back and reclaim what is rightfully ours. As for her..." Grisha paused as 'He' considered the peculiarity around his fellow transmigrator.
"Why did you not approach her?" The dark angel asked, and Grisha knew it was less about curiosity and more because 'He' wanted to please 'Him' with a conversation. It was a gesture 'He' appreciated from 'His' left hand, and only angel.
"It's not yet time. But as a fellow 'transmigrator', I can't just leave her be, all alone and weak in this foreign world." 'He' knew what it is like to be alone, with two terrifying beings beyond even 'His' comprehension battling to win a war 'He' could not understand.
Where one had attempted to take control of 'His' mind and body, the other fought to help 'Him', and not out of good will at that. It had won, but at the cost of having its connection and source traced and severely damaged.
What 'He' knew was that something equally as powerful as the Sea of Chaos, existing everywhere and yet nowhere, had been severely damaged by the will that sought to possess him in retaliation. And a transmigrator just like 'Him' had been released, though lacking 'His' level of power and was nothing but an ordinary mutated dog blessed with the mind and soul of a human. It was almost disappointing given that 'He' had expected her to be an equal.
"Was it necessary to bless her with both of your authorities?" Sasrir spoke measuredly even in his stoic self.
"No need to worry, it is a way to increase her chances of survival if she wishes to stand with us in the future." The Ancient Sun God said with a sense of fondness and detachment. 'He' had given her something akin to charisma that would plant seeds on anyone enormered by her, turning them into her faithful and loyal supporters at the very least, and even those at higher sequence would be "swayed" to her cause if she is clever enough.
"Why bless her before she even fully submits her allegiance to us then?" Grisha mused, feeling a sense of rivalry from his Dark Angel at those words, 'He' rubbed 'His' chin.
"It's not like she can use it on us anyways. There is no harm in helping a fellow 'transmigrator' and technically human." 'He' answered with a chuckle, as 'He' turned 'His' gaze to the dark sky, as though locking gaze with the terrifying beings that plagued the cosmos, "Besides, we have more terrifying enemies to worry about."
The field was soaked in blood. Wilted crops, broken stalks of wheat, and devastated land stretched across the farmland. Bodies littered everywhere—some mangled beyond recognition, others still groaning in agony as life slowly and painfully drained from their eyes. Their rusted sickles and wooden plows, lay discarded where they had been struck down in the chaos, caught between forces beyond their imagination.
The roar of a giant suddenly cut through the air like a thunderclap, as a massive warhammer descended onto the muddy ground where an elf stood. The ensuing shockwave sent swaths of dirt and blood flying, with the elf's lithe form spun, with unnatural grace, into the air, propelled by a gust of wind that coiled unnaturally around her body.
The giant snarled as its blue skin glistened with sweat streaked with blackened blood, its bulging muscles tense as it readied another strike. However, its single vertical struggled to track its prey with their extreme aerial speed advantage.
The elf landed softly on a half-crushed wooden cart, her fingers notching an arrow on the string of her longbow, poised to strike down her opponent. She raised her hand in a sharp hand gesture, and the air above responded immediately.
Before the giant could even react, invisible Wind Blades sliced through the air, shrieking as they targeted its exposed arm. The blades struck with precision, carving into its flesh and spilling dark blood onto the ruined crops. It was too easy, almost kid's play for this elf to hit a target over 4 meters tall.
The giant bellowed in pain but didn't falter. It yanked a rusted sickle from the dirt, manmade and comically small in its enormous hands, and flung it with shocking speed.
The elf darted sideways, carried by a burst of wind, but the sickle still grazed her shoulder, tearing through flesh and cloth alike. She hissed, landing on a broken crude fence post and glaring at the giant with cold, silver eyes.
Nearby, an emaciated human figure choked on his blood. Most of his body had been riddled with holes, as the place he had been hiding did not escape the aerial assault directed by the elf.
No one had the emotions or luxury to care about the death of one measly human, as others struggled to survive, huddled in shallow trenches that had been dug for irrigation, their hands pressed to their mouths to hold their screams.
Their race was simply inferior in the face of these mythical creatures that wielded mystical powers, and their survival was simply based on the mood of their superiors. To them, they were no different from mere accessories. The giants, for example, could barely tolerate their presence, with only the daughters of their queen, nurturers of life, who both embodied human and giant physical features, displayed minimal care to them mostly as pets or out of pity
This was how they could keep their lives. By staying out of the giants' ways and doing their best to keep on receiving the pity of the Giant Queen.
From stories heard, this was a fate better than what would happen with the elves or vampires, used as mere food and delicacy.
A group of elves soared through the air above the fields, their movements too fast to track. Their arrows, sparkling with streams of lightning, fell down like spears of judgment, one piercing deep into the joints of another giant who swung a massive spear made out of dawn.
The giant snarled, twisting in pain as its weapon slashed through one of the massive stone irrigation ditches carved into the farmland. Water burst forth, flooding the ground and soaking corpses, but the elves merely adjusted, their flight seamless. To them, more water meant more weapons and better maneuverability on the ground.
A giant charged into the air, its Sword of Dawn gleaming like molten silver as it struck upward at one of the elves, this one male. For a moment, the sword's purification light erased the shadow of the elf entirely, making it seem as though the figure had disintegrated. But then the wind screamed, and the elf appeared behind the giant, riding the gale with effortless grace.
He swirled as invisible winds coalesced around her slender blade, the gusts compressing tighter and tighter. His weapon plunged into the back of the giant's neck. The wind burst upon contact, and the giant staggered, its roar breaking into a choking gurgle. It swung blindly, but the elf was already gone, leaving only the wind's howl in his place.
—
In another battlefield, a sudden tremor shook the ground.
One elf, crouched among the bodies of fallen humans, paused. Her bowstring was taut, an arrow aimed at a distracted giant. Suddenly, her sharp gaze flickered downward as the mud beneath her began to shift, and thin green tendrils slithered toward her ankles.
Her hand was about to move up in a sign, however, before she could do so, the tendrils erupted from the soil, wrapping around her legs with immense strength. Tendrils came together forming thorny vines, that incessantly wrapped around her body, ripping through armour and flesh.
The elf groaned in agony but was quick to act as the sharp and thin wind blades formed all over the vines, slicing them apart, and freeing her battered figure. Her pain turned into rage—rage which powered her to overcome her bleeding with it effectively stopping. While this occurred, a blast of wind pushed away the incoming vines, as she weaved through the air, while scanning the horizon. She saw the giant she had been stalking, growling smugly at her. Her lips pulled into a thin line at the unintelligent jest, and ignored it to assess the rest of the battlefield.
Among the withered crops, three figures stood out to her, gazing intently at her with serene disappointment. They looked human, but unlike the laborers scattered and dying around the field. Their bodies glowed faintly with an emerald aura, their hands raised as they commanded the plants to rise and ensnare. Roots tore through the earth, smashing into the legs of two other elves who had been gliding low to flank a distracted giant.
One elf had reacted after her, his hands pressing together before releasing a gust of spiraling wind. The gale shredded the roots into splinters, but the delay left him vulnerable. A giant exploited this window of opportunity as its massive fist hammered him down mid-flight, sending him crashing into the flooded ditch, the impact destroying his bow as well and from the looks of it, most of his bones.
In the sky, one of the high elves turned her gaze towards the squabble as she vanished, leaving her fellow high-elf with her beautiful voice resonating in the surroundings. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the resonance of her song, causing the three plant controllers to momentarily freeze and stagger as though drunk. Their command of the plants faltered, as the roots they had summoned either retreating into the mud or fell down lifeless
However, their actions still greatly aided their giant allies.
A giant, at the center of the battlefield raised its blade high, its now dawn shrouded form towering over the others, and causing two other smaller giants to react in tandem. In perfect synchronisation, the three giants stabbed their swords of dawn into the ground, and seemingly caused the battlefield to momentarily freeze.
The air turned incandescent as the Hurricanes of Light erupted, a blinding vortex of divine fury that consumed everything within its radius. Crops burned to ash, corpses disintegrated, and the elves were thrown into disarray. Even the wind itself seemed to recoil, silenced by the storm of light.
A high elf shielded herself within a sphere of swirling water and wind, singing a hymn that repeatedly strengthened her dissipating barrier. One of the elves shot high into the sky, a gale carrying her beyond the storm's reach, but her form still faltered under the sheer force of the blast.
When the light faded, the once sprawling farmland was now a scarred wasteland. Even with all the previously ensuing carnage, the giants stood unrelenting, their armour made of dawn noticeably dimmer, but still formidable.
The elves, scattered and wounded, slowly regrouped in the air. Their once-fluid movements were now sluggish with exhaustion.
A sudden song passed over their numbers, caressing each and with it a message to gather the fallen and wounded and retreat. They already managed to attain some beyonder characteristics for themselves, engaging longer was unnecessary with the near arrival of a new guardian.
As they disappeared into the misty horizon, the giants raisedThe air was thick with the acrid smell of damp wood and an unsettling, faint sweetness, like crushed grass left too long in the sun. Zhou Mingrui's eyes snapped open, his body jolting as though he'd just been dunked into icy water. His chest heaved, dragging in sharp breaths that made his ribs ache as if they had been trampled. For a moment, everything felt disjointed, his limbs alien, his vision blurred, and his mind fractured.
'Where am I?'
The question barely formed before a searing pulse of pain flared behind his temples, dragging his consciousness down into a flood of foreign memories.
It wasn't just the dim, flickering memories of a dream but vivid, biting flashes that filled every crevice of his awareness. He wasn't Zhou Mingrui anymore—not entirely. He was someone else. He was Klein , a youth caught in the midst of chaos in the sprawling kingdom of the giants.
Splintered wood beneath his hands. Sharp cries tearing through the air, of giants and humans alike. The sky fractured with streaks of green, blades of wind slicing through flesh and bone. The crates that sheltered him offered no protection as the wind tore through them with ease, cutting into his side, his arm, his chest…
Klein— no, Zhou Mingrui gasped, his back arching off the cot. His hand flew to his chest, searching for the wounds he knew would be there, expecting to feel the sticky warmth of blood, the jagged edges of torn flesh. Instead, his fingers brushed something cool and damp.
His heart thundered as he blinked, his surroundings finally pulling into focus. The green paste that covered his torso glistened in the low light, faintly pulsing as if alive. Peeling some of the paste away, he watched, horrified and fascinated, as the wounds beneath it, long gashes that should've left him bleeding out, squirmed and knit together.
'This isn't real.'
He tried to move, tried to sit up fully, but his body betrayed him. Weakness clung to his limbs like chains, and his muscles quivered with every attempt to exert force. The harder he fought, the tighter the chains seemed to pull, dragging him back into the bed of roughspun cloth beneath him.
His breaths came shallow, but as the sharp edge of panic receded, memories began to resurface, disjointed fragments stitching themselves together like the wounds on his body, as if to answer his unspoken questions.
Giants. Towering beings with strength and powers that humans could only dream of. Some commanded fire, others wielded wind like a blade, and still others bent the very earth to their will. They were dominant, unshakable, and utterly terrifying.
Then there was the elves, bloodthirsty killers with enviable grace. Prideful and arrogant in their every move.
He then remembered seeing them, those who looked more human, saved for their pointed ears, their features finer and more delicate but no less imposing. Elves. They'd descended after the battle, their faces solemn and their furious eyes focused on their targets, and then darkness.
When he woke up again, he found a giant kneeling over him, her expression unnervingly eerie, her fingers tracing patterns in the soil. Vines had sprouted from the ground, only to be squashed into a green paste that was smeared over his wounds. Around her, others worked in silence, healing the injured—both human and giant. Those they couldn't save were laid to rest in the soil, their forms sinking into the earth as if embraced by it.
Zhou Mingrui blinked away the memory, his breath hitching as his gaze fell to his hands. They were smaller than he remembered, the skin pale and lined with faint scars. Not his hands but Klein's hands.
'No, they're mine now.'
Panic gnawned at his mind, but he willed himself to focus, to think through the haze of confusion. He was alive—that much was clear. But why? How? The last thing he—no, Klein—had seen was the flash of green wind tearing through the crates.
His chest tightened as the memory of death surfaced again. The sound of his own scream, the sharp, slicing pain, and then… nothing.
Now, he was here. Alive, in a body not his own, one riddled with wounds that were almost healed, surrounded by the faint, lingering traces of supernatural power. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to calm the spiraling questions in his mind.
'What is this world? Have I transmigrated into another world? A book I've never read about? A cliche about me bringing humanity from servitude to greater heights?' As a keyboard warrior versed in numerous works of fiction, the entire situation was very familiar, yet he did not see himself as a main character capable of bearing the weights of an entire race.
His thoughts circled back to the number of beings in this world. To their dominance over it. Their superpowers and abilities.
He remembered some snippets of Klein's world, half-formed recollections pieced together from stories told in hushed, trembling voices. Tales of humans captured and dragged off to become livestock for creatures that looked like nightmares given flesh. Stories of people pressed into servitude, their lives chained to labor under beings too cruel or indifferent to care about their suffering.
And then there were the lands beyond the giants' territory, practically a wasteland of horrors.
Mutated monstrosities that prowled the forests and plains. Creatures twisted by something far worse than nature. Massive, slithering things with too many eyes and limbs. Wolves with eight legs and scales, with howls said to summon death itself. Dragons that blotted out the sun, heralds of fiery destruction and madness.
Zhou shuddered. This world wasn't just merciless and scary, it was basically designed to break anything fragile enough to hope.
And worse yet, the knowledge that multiple gods and deities are known to exist overseeing all these races, beings even more powerful that existed beyond comprehension. Beings who could demand sacrifices and none of their people would hesitate to lay their lives to please them.
A shudder ran through him. Whatever this place was, it wasn't Earth. And whatever had brought him here—fate, chance, or something far more sinister—he wasn't sure he'd ever escap, but he wont stop trying if there is a chance.
For now, all he has to do is survive. Thoughts of being a messiah would do nothing but get him killed.
Light suddenly shone through as the curtain at the entrance was pulled aside, piercing through the dim hut. Zhou Mingrui squinted, the sudden brightness cutting through his shadowy haze of thoughts.
His eyes darted to the source, his body instinctively tensing despite its frailty. A figure stepped into the hut, silhouetted by the bright daylight outside. Zhou blinked, his vision adjusting, and as the door closed behind the newcomer, the light dimmed just enough for him to see clearly.
The man wasn't a giant. That much was obvious from his height and frame. He was human, though rough around the edges. His face was gaunt, shadowed by days of dirt and fatigue. He wore a crude garment stitched from various animal pelts, the seams uneven and hastily tied with strips of rawhide. It wasn't elegant or refined—it barely qualified as clothing.
The man ignored Zhou completely, shuffling across the room to a larger patch of fur spread out on the ground, a makeshift mattress that matched the one Zhou realized he was lying on. The man collapsed onto it with a heavy sigh, his back to Zhou as he sank into the layers of stitched hides.
Zhou's gaze flicked downward, finally noticing the garments draped over his own body. Like the man's, they were cobbled together from animal skins, roughly sewn into a crude tunic that hung loosely from his frame. He shifted slightly, feeling the texture of his own "mattress" beneath him—thick, furry, and surprisingly warm despite its crude appearance.
His lips twisted into a grimace that slowly softened into something resembling a grin. The absurdity of it all hit him at once, a strange, fleeting humor cutting through the despair.
'What is this? The Stone Age?' he muttered under his breath. 'Am I to be a messiah of fashion sense as well?'
The triangular walls of the hut, made of tightly woven thatch and hardened clay, gave the structure a primitive yet sturdy appearance. It was larger than it had seemed at first glance, with several other "beds" lining the walls, each spaced just far enough apart to give an illusion of privacy. The hut's air was thick and earthy, the faint smell of dried grass and smoke clinging to everything.
Zhou let out a soft huff, a hollow laugh that escaped before he could stop it. "Transmigrated to the land of no electricity, no internet, and—" he glanced down at his makeshift tunic, wrinkling his nose.
The humor at his own expense was half-hearted, a feeble attempt to lighten his own mood, but it helped. Even as the weight of Klein's memories pressed down on him, the fear, the loss, the violence, Zhou clung to that thread of humor. It was his way of coping; of grounding himself in the absurdity of the situation, that he may possibly never return to his old world; the life he was used to, as well as his family and friends.
Still, the reality was undeniable. He had transmigrated. Not into some grand palace or a world of advanced magic but into the heart of what felt like the edge of civilization. Survival here wasn't about political intrigue or high-stakes battles for power—it was about keeping yourself alive against the cruel monsters that stalked the land.
The man on the other mattress stirred slightly, pulling Zhou's attention back to him. He seemed to be settling in for a rest, his back still turned. Zhou's gaze lingered, his mind turning over the possibilities. Who was this man? A hunter? A villager? Someone who could explain where exactly he was?
The questions buzzed in his mind, but Zhou didn't dare speak. Not yet. His body was still weak, his thoughts too muddled to form a coherent plan. For now, all he could do was observe, piece together what little he knew. Not risking a chance the man wasn't the type to take offense to stray questions, or even suspect the original Klein had been replaced by a stranger.
One wrong move, one wrong thing to say, and it might be the end for him. Best to observe and listen, and wait for whatever memories his past life had to filter through till he knew what he was dealing with.
Zhou Mingrui lay motionless, the soft fur beneath him providing little comfort as his thoughts swirled in relentless loops. The faint hum of activity outside the hut drifted in—voices rising and falling in a language that seemed to twist his head in knots. Yet, beyond the ache and confusion, he forced himself to think clearly, to assess his situation.
This world wasn't kind to humans. The memories lingering in his mind, remnants of Klein's short and uneventful life, painted a bleak picture. Humans here were at the mercy of their oppressors—giants, elves, and other beings who wielded bizarre powers that dwarfed anything humans could muster. Even in this fragile peace under the giants' protection, the balance of power was painfully one-sided.
Zhou sifted through the fragments of Klein's life, searching for any hint of how this world worked—how one could gain the power needed to survive or fight back. But there was nothing. Klein had lived a small, cautious existence, his world shrinking even further after his parents died in a mining accident when he was just an adolescent. Orphaned and burdened with responsibilities, Klein had chosen the safer path of farm-keeping, tending livestock and plants instead of risking the mines or pursuing anything greater.
"How ironic," Zhou muttered to himself, lips curling in wry disdain. "This place is a dog eat dog world, where the strong prey on the weak. Lowering your head isn't really going to cut it."
The thought of transmigration pulled him back to his own past. His real past. Zhou Mingrui. Who he was.
He remembered the dull uneventful moments of his life, strings of bad luck and missed opportunities. Always scraping by, always hoping for something better, but never quite catching a break. He'd been unlucky, sure, but not unlucky enough to die. His life had been mediocre at best, yet it was still his. Until…
The memory hit him like a cold slap. The ritual.
The luck enhancement ritual.
He vividly remembered it now. The four staples of food, the strange incantations, the required steps in the middle of the room. It had seemed harmless at the time—a silly experiment to break the streak of misfortune that had plagued him for weeks. But then…
His memories ended there.
Could that ritual have been the cause of this? Of all this?
His heart raced at the thought. If the ritual had brought him here, could it also take him back? Zhou felt hope slowly rising as he tried dredging up every detail of the ritual from the depths of his memory. Four staples of food, placed in the corners of a room, 4 different incantations, each taken with a counterclockwise step until he stood in his original position, then wait for a few minutes.
Privacy. That was the key. He couldn't attempt anything here, not in a hut filled with strangers. Not without drawing attention to himself or, worse, offending someone who might decide his life wasn't worth the trouble.
'Guess I'll just have to bid my time,' Zhou thought with a grim smile. '"Play" the part of the sickly recovering guy and wait for everyone to sleep.'
And so he lay there, still and silent, as the hours crawled past. The voices outside continued, muffled but persistent, listening as others came inside, sometimes alone or talking amongst each other. The ache in his skull flared again as the words twisted into meaning, Klein's memories weaving themselves seamlessly with his own understanding until the once-alien tongue became clear.
The day passed in a haze of disjointed observations. People came and went, the triangular hut filling with weary figures as evening approached. Each mattress became occupied, though a few remained conspicuously empty. Zhou's gaze lingered on those spaces, a sinking realization dawning on him. 'Those are the ones that didn't make it?'
Nightfall soon arrived. The once bustling hut was now blanketed in a hush, save for the soft breathing of its occupants. Zhou stirred, his limbs stiff but his determination stronger than his wariness. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself up and slipped out from under the rough furs. The air was cool against his skin as he made his way to the door, the faint rustling of the soft leathery flaps marking his exit.
The sight that greeted him as the took a step outside, froze him in his tracks.
A full moon hung low in the sky, its surface a deep, bloody red that bathed the world in a dim, otherworldly glow. The light wasn't soft or comforting—it was stark, almost oppressive, casting long, jagged shadows over the uneven ground.
Zhou stared up at it, his breath catching in his throat. The sight of that moon, so alien yet so hauntingly beautiful, left no room for doubt.
This truly wasn't his world.
The strange feeling that settled over him, a mix of awe and dread that seemed to seep into his very bones. This moon had now become a symbol, a declaration that everything familiar was gone. That this place, with its giants and monsters, its crude huts and bloodied survivors, was his reality now.
Zhou's fingers tightened around the flaps of the door as he tore his gaze away from the sky. "No way I'm just gonna die here," he whispered, the words more a promise to himself than anyone else.
He had a ritual to perform. And a way home to find.
The red moon hung high, its ominous glow bathing the village in stark crimson hues. Zhou Mingrui moved cautiously, his bare feet brushing against the packed earth, each step deliberate and silent. The sharp chill of the night bit at his exposed skin, but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were focused on a single destination—the dome-shaped hut he'd glimpsed earlier, half-formed memories from Klein's life guiding him like a map etched into his mind.
The food storage hut stood at the edge of the settlement, its curved silhouette blending with the shadows cast by the towering wooden stakes that formed a protective perimeter around the village. Zhou paused at the entrance, his heart thudding as he glanced over his shoulder. The triangular huts scattered across the area were dark and still, their occupants likely deep in exhausted sleep.
No giants lived in this section, only humans. And they had no need to pose anyone as security when all of them would be required to work once daylight broke. Besides, giants were territorial beast, and they lived inside such territories. Anything can could reach them, would make no difference if a human stood guard.
As he took shallow breaths, he pushed aside the leather flap that served as the hut's door and stepped inside.
The interior was dim, the only the red moonlight filtering in from small gaps between the woven thatch walls. The faint smell of dried grass and faintly fermented produce hung in the air. His gaze swept the room, noting the sparse contents—bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, baskets of roots stacked against one wall, and a small pile of dried fruits, their skin gleaming.
It was pitifully empty, the harvests still weeks away, but it would have to do. Zhou crouched beside the fruit pile, his hands trembling slightly as he selected four pieces. Each was round and firm, their rough texture catching the light as he placed them carefully on the ground.
Zhou recited the information as though guiding his hands as he worked. He split the fruits into four portions, with almost reverent movements. Each portion was placed in a different corner of the room, forming a perfect square within the hut.
Zhou straightened, his chest rising and falling as he steadied his breathing. This was it. The same ritual, the same steps, the same chants. If it worked once, it might work again.
Standing in the center of the square, he let his eyes fall closed. The red light filtering through the walls painted the darkness behind his eyelids, turning his thoughts vivid and surreal. He exhaled slowly, grounding himself, and then he began.
One step back, counterclockwise.
"The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
The words left his lips in a low murmur, trembling slightly as if the air itself resisted his voice.
A second step, forming the second corner.
"The Sky Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
The room felt heavier now, the atmosphere thickening with an almost imperceptible hum.
A third step, his foot dragging slightly as he positioned himself.
"The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
Something stirred in the air around him, faint whispers at the edges of his hearing.
The final step, completing the square. Putting him in the exact spot before he started his first step
"The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
Zhou stopped, standing motionless in the center of the ritual space. His heart pounded in his chest, loud and insistent, but the room itself was deathly silent. Even the faint rustle of the wind outside seemed to have stilled, as though the world held its breath.
After roughly five minutes, he suddenly felt the surrounding air halt, turning thick and mysterious.
Immediately after, he heard a low whisper beside his ears that sounded at times real, at times sharp, at times imaginary, at times alluring, at times maniacal, and at times crazy.
He clearly did not understand the murmuring that went on, but Zhou Mingrui still couldn't help himself from wanting to listen to it and distinguish what it was saying.
His head was in pain once again, so painful that it felt like someone had stuck a steel drill rod into it.
Zhou Mingrui felt like his head was going to explode. His thoughts were filled with sussuration that plagued him with psychedelic colors.
He