《I am the Drifter of Dimensions, master of the Cursed Lineage.》


 Chapter 1: Sollivan

    A breeze of cold air laden with a hint of dust passed through a small hole in a wooden wall belonging to an old, dilapidated house entirely made of wood that had started to decay due to its age.


    The house wasn¡¯t large inside, consisting of a very spacious room on the left side, which housed a hearth filled with cold ashes and burnt wood that had stopped burning hours before. On the opposite side of the wide room, there was a slightly large table filled with various books and paper scrolls, some worn and torn while others were new and preserved, holding the scent of fresh paper that lent an air of knowledge.


    Cough!


    Cough!


    A dry coughing sound spread from a small, short door across the wide room, filling the otherwise silent space with an eerie coldness and gloom.


    In a slightly smaller room adjacent to the wide room, which occupied most of the space in the old house, there was a wooden bed upon which a young man in his late twenties lay. His face was ordinary¡ªnot beautiful nor unattractive¡ªbut seemed pallid due to his very pale skin and the large dark circles under his closed eyes, which twitched slightly in a strange manner as if he were suffering from a disturbing nightmare. Suddenly, the young man opened his eyes to reveal pupils of a faint, brownish color devoid of the life that typically glows in the eyes of the young, making him appear like an old man who had endured the harshness of life.


    Exhale!


    The young man let out a long sigh as his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling of the room, which emitted a faint, almost imperceptible cracking sound. After a short moment of stillness, the young man moved slowly, pulling himself into a sitting position. He then scanned the room with a look filled with melancholy, finally stopping at a wooden wheelchair near his bed. With great effort and slowness, he extended his hand and grasped the armrest of the wheelchair, pulling his frail body with difficulty.


    The old, tattered mattress sagged and a part of it fell to the cold floor, but the young man didn¡¯t mind. He continued his struggle until he managed to pull himself fully onto the wheelchair. His breaths were harsh, and his face was taut, showing the difficulty of moving from the bed to the wheelchair.


    Huff!


    The young man let out a long, strained sigh, and his tense expression relaxed slightly. He adjusted his sitting position and placed his hands on the wheelchair¡¯s wheels, ready to push himself, but the fallen mattress blocked the path of the small front wheels.


    *Hmm...*


    The young man emitted a soft, mocking grunt, bending slightly despite his immobile legs. He was used to it, but he didn¡¯t care. He leaned down, picked up the fallen mattress, and arranged it a little before gripping the wheels of the wheelchair again and pushing himself towards the wide room. The wheelchair wheels emitted a harsh, creaking sound as they rolled over the worn wooden floor, and the chair itself wobbled slightly, making a squeaking noise due to its age. Despite everything, the young man¡¯s gaze remained calm and clear as if he felt nothing.


    ¡°The place is so messy¡­¡±


    The young man sighed wearily as he looked at the scattered books and items throughout the room. He didn¡¯t bother trying to do anything about it. He guided his wheelchair towards the cold, unlit hearth and picked up a small wooden board that he placed across his immobile lap. He grabbed some wood shavings and flint stones beside the hearth and began striking them together, producing tiny sparks that fell onto the shavings and ignited slightly.


    After gently blowing on the tiny flame, it grew to life. Quickly, he tossed it into the hearth and added more shavings to sustain the flame. He then placed small wooden pieces beside the hearth, and as soon as they touched the fire, they ignited, causing a puff of gray, acrid smoke due to the poor quality and cheapness of the wood. Nonetheless, warmth began to spread throughout the room, reducing the chill and loneliness of the grim old house.


    The young man¡¯s gaze froze for a moment on the fire consuming the wooden logs, growing bigger and spreading more heat, smoke, and a foul odor. Yet, his eyes remained fixed on the flame, the flickering tongues of fire reflecting in his dim, cloudy eyes. In that moment, fragmented memories surfaced in his calm mind.


    His name was once Sollivan Duskwraite, from a family of some noble standing. His family had served under the wing of the Golden Lion Empire for generations, achieving great honor that earned them respect and admiration from the citizens of their previous city. Sollivan himself was a talented fighter, surpassing both his father and grandfather in martial skills, making him the pride of the family with high hopes pinned on him. His grandfather had hoped Sollivan would outshine all his ancestors and become an imperial knight, achieving the highest degrees of glory and honor, directly serving the imperial family.


    ¡°The Golden Eye...¡±


    Sollivan muttered softly, words barely audible, as the reflection of the fire in his eyes dimmed strangely, unlike the rising flames in the hearth. He then let out a long sigh and pushed his wheelchair towards a nearby wooden chest by the hearth, containing sacks filled with grains and a few potatoes with mold-covered skins. He reached for a handful of potatoes, placing them beside his thigh on the chair, then attempted to grab a handful of thick wheat flour, but his hand halted suddenly. His distant memories stirred, awakening old sorrows within him, but he shook his head resolutely, pushing those troubling thoughts aside. He murmured with a sad tone, filled with bitterness:


    "It''s all over... everyone is dead... and I¡¯m paralyzed... no point in thinking about the past. I can''t do anything."


    A look of sadness crossed his pale face, but he ignored it and picked up a handful of flour, placing it in a rusty metal pot filled with soot stuck to the bottom. He added a bit of water, mixing it into a loose dough, then set the pot on the hearth. Then he moved to the other side of the hearth, took a small knife and a wooden board, and returned to the large table. He began peeling the potatoes and cutting them into small pieces. After finishing, he added the potato pieces to the flour and water mixture, then sprinkled a little salt to cut through the bitterness of the mixture.


    After a few minutes, the strange soup Sollivan prepared started to simmer. He took a ladle and a bowl, pouring half of it into the bowl for himself, then covered the rest with a round wooden disc to keep out insects and dust. After setting the ladle aside, he took a small wooden spoon and slowly pushed his wheelchair with one hand while holding the bowl with the other. Despite the difficulty of maneuvering the wheelchair in this way, he showed no anger or frustration. He focused entirely on guiding the wheelchair and protecting the soup from spilling and staining his tattered clothes.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    When he reached the table, he placed the soup and spoon on it and smiled a faint smile, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. He secured his chair in place and began to eat slowly, finding a quiet satisfaction in the meal despite its poor taste. For Sollivan, this simple meal was a luxury compared to his daily existence. He often spent his days subsisting on hard, black bread and water, rarely tasting fresh vegetables. Meat was known to him only on the rarest occasions.


    After finishing his meal, Sollivan cleaned the table and returned the dish to its place after washing it with water.


    Ring! Ring!


    A loud bell rang out, jolting Sollivan¡¯s dull gaze, which was immersed in cleaning the cooking utensils. He raised his head with a sigh of frustration, resigned:


    "I¡¯m late again."


    He quickly pushed his wheelchair toward his small room, where he grabbed an old, slightly torn shoe. He struggled to put it on over his cold, helpless feet, then picked up a worn leather bag placed beside the bed. He pushed himself back toward the cluttered table filled with books and manuscripts and began sorting through the pile in front of him. He chose one new, clean book and an old, tattered one with its cover beginning to fall apart, then placed them carefully inside the bag to avoid wrinkling their pages. He secured the bag with a worn leather strap around his waist and attached it to the side of his wheelchair.


    He then moved toward the wooden door of the house, which was locked with a large wooden plank. He glanced around his home one last time to make sure everything was in order. After confirming that the fire in the hearth had died down and only a little smoke was rising from the small metal chimney, he took hold of the door handle. But he hesitated for a moment, pausing.


    He took a deep breath and opened the door. A light breeze from autumn hit him, carrying dust that irritated his eyes and a foul odor that filled the air. His face scrunched up momentarily at the smell, but he quickly pushed his wheelchair outside the house. Before him stretched a narrow alleyway, crowded with ramshackle wooden houses. Some were large, others small, while some jutted above single-story homes in disjointed arrangements. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the sound of barking stray dogs filled the air. A few domesticated chickens wandered here and there, pecking at the dirt-streaked ground, mixed with muddy puddles and remnants of human waste.


    Bark!


    Sollivan closed the door tightly behind him, then began to push his wheelchair through the narrow alley. The place teemed with passersby who had rough appearances and gloomy expressions. Most people wore faded gray clothes made of coarse linen, while a few were dressed in tattered or incomplete clothing. Some looked extremely dirty, with foul odors clearly emanating from them, indicating they were likely homeless, while others seemed more orderly despite the age of their clothing, maintaining a relatively acceptable level of cleanliness.


    Sollivan pushed his wheelchair with difficulty through the uneven and muddy ground. Dirty water and sticky mud clung to the wheels of his chair, and some droplets splashed onto his worn shoe and the bottoms of his pants. However, he showed no interest in it, continuing to push his wheelchair. His eyes scanned the people around him cautiously. Some shot him disgusted looks, while others blatantly spat to the side when his wheelchair blocked their path.


    ''As usual.''


    He continued his way without lowering his guard. He had been robbed several times, and his bag had been stolen by unknown people before, so he held onto it tightly. Whenever he spotted a suspicious person, he would slow down and place his hand on the bag, cautious and wary.


    As he pushed his cart and scanned his surroundings, his gaze lingered for a moment on some dirty little children playing innocently, oblivious to the world around them. He smiled for a moment, but his mood quickly soured when he noticed one of those children who used to bother him, sometimes even provoking the other kids to steal from him or roughly push his wheelchair, causing him to fall once and injure himself.


    "Hmph, damn child!" Sollivan pushed his cart faster before the annoying kids could notice him. After putting a good distance between them, he took a deep breath, relieved to have left the place. After several minutes, the dirty, narrow alley improved as the number of houses decreased and side streets increased. The ground became cleaner, making pushing the wheelchair smoother, and Sollivan¡¯s pace quickened, as did the reduced, irritating vibrations.


    Sollivan continued to push his wheelchair, and after several more minutes, he completely left the filthy area filled with dilapidated buildings and poor people. Finally, he reached a main street, where part of the ground was paved with stones. The sides of the street were lined with bustling shops displaying a variety of inexpensive and luxurious goods. There were also fragrant restaurants releasing tempting smells into the crowded street, filled with people from various social classes. Some were dressed in fine clothes made of the finest silk and cotton, while others wore simple linen garments.


    From time to time, a line of guards could be seen, wearing thick leather armor reinforced with a layer of solid metal, and iron helmets protecting their heads and faces. Their armor was plain without any embellishments, indicating their low rank. Nevertheless, whenever people saw them, they made way for them with respect. Sometimes, some would move aside out of fear.


    The guards'' gazes were sharp, looking around with hawk-like eyes, capable of seeing everything. They didn¡¯t take any additional actions other than patrolling, but that was enough to keep people calm, making no one dare to cause trouble in the main street of the city.


    After half an hour of leaving his home, Sollivan finally reached his destination, a large shop with a huge sign hanging above its door reading "The Minor Library." He pushed his wheelchair and entered through the wide door of the shop, which was filled with the scent of books and old manuscripts. The large shop was filled with several big shelves full of different types of books and manuscripts, and there were some clean, well-arranged tables and chairs in the other part of the room. Near the entrance, there was a large reception desk where an elderly man in his late sixties was sitting, with a thick white beard and a small, pointed mustache, full of wrinkles beneath his eyes. He held an old book in his hands, reading it intently.


    When the elderly man heard the sound of the wheelchair, he raised his head slightly and looked at Sollivan with a calm and relaxed voice, "You¡¯re late as usual." He then folded the book and set it aside, looking at him with an expectant gaze.


    Sullivan smiled faintly and replied with a chuckle, "And as usual, I''m sorry." He then opened his bag and pulled out the two books he had brought, handing them to the elderly man who took them and set them aside. The elderly man asked in a very friendly tone, with some excitement, "Did you read the book I gave you?"


    Sullivan raised his eyebrows, holding back a faint chuckle, "It''s very good. I have to admit, you''ve outdone yourself this time. All of your previous books seemed ordinary compared to this one."


    The elderly man sighed with relief and looked at Sullivan with eyes that flickered with a bit of excitement, then spoke with a happy tone, "You know how to flatter this old man, but hearing your opinion really comforts me." This elderly man was Ellis Goodwin, the owner of the small bookstore where Sullivan worked. Despite being his boss and older by several years, Ellis treated him like a close friend. They would discuss many matters related to the store and their personal lives. Ellis''s passion was writing, and he had authored several books and manuscripts, often seeking Sullivan''s opinion before making them available in the bookstore.


    Sullivan smiled and pointed to the two books on the desk, "By the way, I finished copying this book. I hope you''ll review it."


    Ellis looked at the two books with a complex expression, then sighed deeply before speaking with a gloomy tone, "Sullivan, you really overwork yourself. I understand winter is approaching and you need money for supplies." Ellis opened his mouth to say more, but then paused and sighed again, adding, "You know what? There''s no need for me to say more. You''re too stubborn, and my words won''t change your mind."


    Sullivan''s primary work involved copying old books and creating new copies. He earned a few silver coins for each book he copied, sometimes a bit more if the book was lengthy or included detailed charts and illustrations. Although he earned a slightly higher commission, the job was demanding and time-consuming, often allowing him to complete only one or two books a week.


    A faint smile appeared on Sullivan''s face, full of gratitude, "Thank you for worrying about me, my friend, but don''t worry, everything is under control." Despite saying that, a look of helplessness appeared on his face, and he felt a tense sadness. ''I really hope so, I''m exhausted, physically drained, and mentally shattered. I only have a few years left to live, yet I''m still holding on and trying to enjoy what remains of my life, even though it''s just a messy piece of the puzzle.'' His emotions mixed for a moment, causing him to lower his head and gaze at his motionless feet with a blurry look. ''Winter is coming, and business is about to slow down. I still haven''t saved enough money. Also, peaceful winter is my most loved and hated season at the same time.'' Due to his inability to walk and the snow piling up, making it difficult to navigate his wheelchair, Sullivan spent most of the winter indoors, reading books and historical records that he loved so much. They were the only things that made him feel and see things he could no longer experience, even though they were relayed from others'' experiences.


    ...


    "Anyway, Sullivan, you can take a break. It''s still early, and the store won¡¯t be busy for a while. I¡¯ll handle the few customers who come in during this period." Ellis¡¯s concerned voice snapped Sullivan out of his scattered thoughts. He then raised his head and looked at the worried elderly man, feeling a warmth in his heart and sincerely thanking him, "Thank you, my friend. I think I¡¯ll be bothering you a bit. Haha!"


    "No need to thank me!" Ellis laughed and waved his hand, motioning for him to go.


    Sullivan pushed his wheelchair a few steps, and then he heard the sound of footsteps from a customer approaching. He turned his head slowly and glanced at the short person standing in front of the reception desk. His brows furrowed in annoyance. He felt his calm chest tightening and turning into a surge of anger, but these feelings only lasted for a moment before he returned to his usual calm, examining the face of the elderly woman with her wrinkled skin and the look of disgust in her eyes. The elderly woman didn¡¯t give Sullivan a single glance and walked towards the reception desk, where Ellis greeted her with all due respect.


    "How can I assist you, madam?"

 Chapter 2: Strange Book

    Despite the immense difficulty Sollivan faced in maintaining his composure every time his eyes fell upon the old woman¡¯s face, he stood beside the reception desk, watching her intently, driven by sheer curiosity. In the five years he had worked here, this woman had never once set foot in the shop.


    ¡®That wretched old hag... What could she possibly want? I doubt someone like her has any interest in reading...¡¯ He swallowed his words, grumbling sarcastically to himself, trying his best to keep his calm.


    Over the past five years, Sollivan had never felt such conflicting emotions as he did today. Just seeing the old woman stirred painful memories he had long buried in the depths of his heart.


    Quietly, he muttered as he stared with foggy eyes, filled with suppressed memories and emotions, "I hate winter."


    Six years ago, as winter approached, his family had been completely wiped out.


    He himself had been gravely injured, his life hanging by a thread. In the moment he was on the brink of death, drowning in despair, his sworn uncle, Leonard Winglet, had made the decision to sell all of the deceased family¡¯s belongings. He used every bit of the money to purchase expensive medicines to save Sollivan¡¯s life.


    Yet all he could do was barely keep him alive, leaving Sollivan paralyzed and significantly weakened. His uncle had told him he wouldn¡¯t live past the age of thirty.


    During that period, Leonard had fallen into a deep depression and indescribable sorrow, accompanied by an ever-present fear that the killers of his sworn brother would return to finish what they started by taking the life of his nephew.


    After much deliberation, Leonard decided to sever ties with Sollivan to ensure his safety. Yet his conscience wouldn¡¯t allow him to abandon him entirely. Instead, he entrusted him to the care of the family¡¯s oldest servant and her grandson.


    He handed them 200 gold coins and gave Sollivan 50 coins from what remained of the family¡¯s wealth, instructing them to leave the city, purchase a house, and start a new life.


    Whenever Sollivan recalled the long journey he had endured in the biting cold of winter, burdened by his injuries and the weight of his shattered heart, he felt an indescribable bitterness and humiliation that refused to fade.


    Sigh...


    He slowly raised his head, his gaze landing on the face of the old woman¡ªa face that bore the marks of a life of prosperity and comfort.


    ¡®That cursed old hag¡­ She took all the money my uncle gave her to help me and used it to build a residential complex in the slums and a hotel in the city. She earns hundreds of silver coins annually and only gives me two silver coins at the start of each month.


    I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s out of pity or fear that my uncle might find out she abandoned me. But whatever her motives are, it doesn¡¯t change the truth. She broke her promise and left me to rot and freeze in a decrepit room in the slums.


    And worse, she made me endure her endless complaints about how she had to spend a single gold coin to buy that crumbling house.¡¯


    The deeper Sollivan sank into his bitter memories, the tighter his chest felt, leaving him unable to calm himself. Finally, he exhaled deeply, trying to banish the unsettling thoughts from his mind, and a faintly vacant expression spread across his face.


    He glanced at Ellis and the old woman, neither of whom noticed the rapid shifts in his expression during those brief moments.


    At that moment, the old woman''s voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts.


    "Do you buy books?"


    Her tone lacked any warmth or respect, as if her mere presence in the shop was a favor.


    "Hmph." ''Miserable old hag¡­'' he muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with anger. He turned his gaze to Ellis, whose brows furrowed slightly but who refrained from showing any extreme reaction. Ellis decided to handle the situation professionally, responding in a tone laced with mild sarcasm.


    "Yes, ma¡¯am. We buy books. But not everything with pages and a cover deserves to be called a book."


    "Fine."


    The old woman placed a rectangular object wrapped in cloth on the counter. She then removed the wrapping, revealing a thick book with hundreds of pages. Its cover was pitch black and incredibly thick, almost resembling a thin metal plate.


    Sollivan''s curiosity was piqued, but he couldn''t make out the book''s details clearly due to his lower position and relative distance. Even Ellis appeared intrigued as he picked up the book to examine it. At that moment, the old woman began to speak, trying to emphasize the book''s value.


    "This book belonged to an Arcane Master who stayed at my inn. That scoundrel paid for a whole year but disappeared for six months. He must have died in the war. In the end, we had to open his room, and all we found was this book. It¡¯s clearly something valuable."


    "Its value will be determined after inspection."


    Ellis said as he opened the book. However, the moment he did, his brows knitted together, and a strange expression spread across his face. This change didn¡¯t escape Sollivan, who grew even more curious and puzzled. After a moment of tense silence, Sollivan heard Ellis addressing the old woman in a dissatisfied tone.


    "This book is written in a strange language."


    Sollivan quickly pushed his chair toward the counter, approaching the old woman, who shot him a displeased look and stepped aside. She quickly responded, attempting to justify herself.


    "The language doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s still incredibly valuable! It belonged to an Arcane Master.


    Surely, it¡¯s an Arcane Masters manual. Do you know that even the cheapest one of these books, is worth over ten silver coins?"


    The look of displeasure on Ellis¡¯s face deepened, and he replied with an audible complaint.


    "Even if it is an Arcane Masters book, which I highly doubt, it¡¯s useless to anyone if it¡¯s written in an unknown language like this."


    "Let me see."


    Sollivan¡¯s voice, filled with curiosity, cut through the discussion. Ellis glanced at him briefly before handing him the book.


    The moment Sollivan took hold of the book, he was surprised by its weight, his hands dipping slightly under the unexpected heaviness. His eyes widened slightly as his curiosity deepened, especially when a faint, peculiar scent emanated from the book. He began examining it intently.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The cover was pitch black, just as Sollivan had seen earlier, but upon closer inspection, he noticed raised decorations framing the edges.


    At the center of the cover was a strange symbol protruding from the surface, its texture rough like stone.


    Sollivan extended a finger to feel the unfamiliar texture, studying its details with intrigue.


    He opened the book slowly, his eyes falling on the first page, which was filled with strange writings in a deep blood-red color. The sight made him mutter in astonishment.


    "What is this?"


    His voice rose slightly in surprise, unaware of himself, as his gaze remained fixed on the book.


    Ellis looked over at him.


    "You¡¯re surprised too? It¡¯s just a bunch of random scribbles I¡¯ve never seen before."


    Sollivan didn¡¯t reply, remaining focused on the collection of ancient characters.


    Unlike Ellis, his shock wasn¡¯t merely due to the strangeness of the symbols; he felt a vague familiarity with them. A nervous expression crossed his face. ¡®I¡¯ve seen symbols like these before.¡¯ His eyes locked onto one character, and after a brief moment of thought, he recalled its meaning. ¡®This represents the letter B.¡¯ However, he couldn¡¯t decipher the rest of the symbols.


    Though Sollivan knew the vastness of the world, he was also aware of how few languages truly existed. Most people spoke the Common Tongue, while the remaining languages were either ancient or exceedingly rare. Despite the age and experience gap between him and Ellis, Sollivan¡¯s knowledge in this particular field was broader.


    While Ellis focused on literature, poetry, and history, Sollivan¡¯s interests revolved around the strange and extraordinary¡ªparticularly in the fields of medicine, languages, myths, and lost relics.


    His fascination stemmed from two primary reasons: the hope of finding a recipe or ingredient that could heal him, and his quest to reconstruct his damaged vein.


    After browsing through the book for nearly three minutes, Sollivan shook his head in disappointment and said to the old woman, "This book is worthless. The only notable thing about it is its cover. It¡¯s impossible for it to be an Arcane Master manual; it¡¯s far too thick and filled with writing without any illustrations."


    Hearing Sollivan¡¯s assessment, Ellis turned to the old woman and said politely,


    "I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am, but it seems your book isn¡¯t of much value. However, we can offer you one silver coin for it, solely because of its unique leather cover."


    A deep scowl formed on the old woman¡¯s face, and she complained in an irritatingly loud voice, "One silver coin? This is a valuable book owned by an Arcane Master , and you¡¯re offering me pocket change? It seems your shop¡¯s reputation is hardly deserved!"


    Despite her words, the old woman knew perfectly well that the book was worthless.


    Before bringing it to Ellis¡¯s shop, she had shown it to her grandson, a skilled Arcane Master who served in the city¡¯s joint guard force. After examining it, he told her it was just junk that no one would buy. Still, she was determined to sell it for a slightly higher price.


    The old woman¡¯s words sparked quiet anger in Ellis. A cold glint appeared in his eyes as he took the book from Sollivan¡¯s hands and handed it back to her, saying icily.


    "Here, take your book and find somewhere else to sell it. Our shop has high standards and doesn¡¯t deal in trash."


    The old woman¡¯s lips twisted in arrogance, and a grim look appeared in her eyes. She snatched the book and cursed loudly, "Miserable wretch!" Then she turned and stormed out in angry strides. But after taking a few steps past the door, she heard a calm voice call out to her.


    "Wait a moment, I¡¯ll buy the book for two silver coins."


    The old woman slowly turned back, her eyes filled with suspicion and scorn as she stared at the young man in the wheelchair.


    Ellis, too, cast a look of irritation and confusion at Sollivan.


    He was well aware of Sollivan¡¯s peculiar hobby of collecting rare and strange books and manuscripts, but he was deeply annoyed by the old woman¡¯s behavior.


    He said skeptically, "What are you saying, Sollivan? Why would you want to buy a worthless book like that?"


    Before Sollivan could reply, the old woman stepped closer and spoke in a brash tone, "I want three silver coins."


    Sollivan raised an eyebrow slightly, and despite everyone¡¯s varying looks directed at him, he replied coldly, "Two silver coins is all I¡¯ll offer. Take it or leave it; no one else is going to buy this trash for a higher price."


    Hmph! The old woman placed the book on the reception desk under Ellis¡¯s helpless gaze and flashed a mocking smile that made her features appear even uglier.


    She extended her hand, pointing toward Sollivan, and said, "Pay up!"


    Without looking at her, Sollivan turned his wheelchair and spoke in a cool tone, "You don¡¯t need to pay this month¡¯s dues. Consider them the payment for the book."


    At those words, Ellis¡¯s eyebrows arched in astonishment as he stared at Sollivan¡¯s back with bewildered eyes. Several questions flooded his mind. ¡®Dues? Do they know each other? But¡­¡¯ His confusion deepened as he recalled how both of them had acted like strangers upon meeting.


    Ellis quickly glanced at the old woman, who snorted in disdain before turning and leaving in a huff.


    Sigh!


    Ellis froze for a moment, then picked up the book and set it aside for Sollivan to collect later. But suddenly, something dawned on him, and he murmured softly, "Who exactly is Sollivan?"


    Though he had worked with Sollivan for many years, he had never heard anything about his family or origins. Even Sollivan¡¯s last name was a mystery, adding to his enigmatic nature.


    As Ellis pondered further, he decided to push the thoughts aside, his face returning to its usual calm and polite expression.


    He muttered quietly, "Everyone has their secrets, and there¡¯s no need to pry into them."


    These words weren¡¯t merely an attempt to reassure himself; they reflected his genuine belief.


    He understood all too well the complexities of relationships and the strangeness of people in this world. After all, he himself carried secrets he would never dare share with anyone, not even his closest acquaintances or friends.


    ...


    In a quiet corner of the library, behind a shelf crowded with books, Sollivan sat back, relaxing as he closed his eyes peacefully.


    He was unaware that his previous action, seemingly simple on the surface, had sent Ellis into a whirlwind of deep thought, making him reevaluate his stance toward him.


    "Where have I seen you before?" he murmured in a low, puzzled voice.


    He opened his eyes and looked at the library ceiling with a complex expression.


    I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve seen this writing before, but where? Was there something similar to it in his home? His confusion deepened, and the questions began to burn in his mind.


    He felt an intense urge to return home and examine the pile of books and manuscripts he had collected over the years in search of answers. But the thought of worrying Ellis or making him suspicious of his intentions stopped him.


    This is really frustrating. He sighed in exhaustion and closed his eyes again, trying to calm himself.


    His body relaxed, and he drifted into a peaceful nap.


    Time passed quietly, and the number of customers in the library gradually increased. However, despite his growing workload, Ellis didn¡¯t disturb Sollivan or ask for his help. He handled everything on his own.


    After an hour of comfortable sleep, Sollivan finally opened his eyes, gazing at the corridor between the bookshelves. He heard the footsteps of customers and realized he had been asleep for quite some time.


    I bet Ellis regrets his suggestion now, he thought with a faint smile, chuckling quietly.


    He raised his hands, adjusted his hair, and wiped his face to shake off the traces of sleep. He then calmly wheeled himself toward the corridor, where he noticed a man in his early thirties. The man had a noble appearance, dressed in elegant clothing, and stood before a bookshelf, carefully inspecting the books.


    Sollivan turned his head toward the reception desk, where Ellis was busy assisting customers, then approached the man in his wheelchair and spoke in a respectful tone.


    "Are you interested in the history of the Golden Lion Empire?"


    The man slowly turned around, his eyes slightly surprised. After a brief moment of hesitation, he replied, "Not exactly, but I¡¯m looking for historical books that discuss the era before the empire."


    Sollivan was surprised by the man''s request and asked in a skeptical tone, "Do you mean the Great Empire?"


    "Yes."


    Sollivan wheeled himself toward a nearby bookshelf and carefully examined the titles. After a moment, he picked up a thick book with a faded cover and handed it to the man.


    "The period you''re asking about was rarely documented. This book contains all the remaining recorded information about that era."


    The man''s eyes widened slightly, and a doubtful expression appeared on his face.


    "Really?"


    Sollivan chuckled lightly before smiling and adding, "You could say that, but most of what¡¯s in this book consists of mysterious legends, and the dates aren¡¯t very accurate. So, I wouldn¡¯t recommend relying on it as a scientific or historical reference."


    Hearing his response, the nobleman¡¯s concern eased.


    Sollivan had understood the reason behind his worry.


    Historical books and records were not something easily obtained or readily available.


    The few accurate books that existed were owned by ancient and powerful families whose histories spanned hundreds of years or were kept in the Imperial Library, which only a select few could access.


    So when he heard that the book was comprehensive and contained various historical information, he became deeply skeptical of its credibility. If what he had heard was false, it meant the shop owner was lying to him.


    But if it was true, then this book was of immense value and shouldn¡¯t belong to a place like this.


    After the strange tension between the two had settled, the nobleman asked again,


    "Do you have more books like this?"


    Sollivan replied, "Yes, we have a few more books and some simple manuscripts."


    "Show them to me."


    Sollivan led the nobleman to the bookshelves and pointed out a selected collection. After much examination and searching, the man left the library carrying three books and four old manuscripts, looking quite satisfied with his purchases.


    Without taking a moment to rest, Sollivan immediately approached another customer to offer assistance, guiding them to the appropriate books and fulfilling their requests.


    The day continued at a slow yet exhausting pace. As autumn neared its end, people began preparing for winter by purchasing their essential needs, including books as a source of entertainment.


    The shop filled with the voices of customers and unfamiliar faces, increasing the pressure on Sollivan and Ellis, who focused on serving customers while also keeping an eye on the store to prevent any theft amid the chaos.


    After long hours of grueling work, Sollivan finally paused in the middle of the shop, closing his eyes for a brief moment to take a short rest, while Ellis remained occupied with reviewing the day''s accounts and organizing sales records.


    "I''m heading out now," Sollivan said as he wheeled himself toward the reception desk.


    He glanced at Ellis, who was still buried in calculations, and smirked.


    "Looks like you''ll be here for a while."


    Ellis scoffed sarcastically, then grabbed two books¡ªone incredibly old and the other completely new and pristine¡ªand pushed them toward Sollivan with a teasing smile.


    "Looks like you have a long night of copying ahead of you. As for me, I''ll be asleep the moment I get home."


    Sollivan raised an eyebrow with a resigned smile, "You win this round."


    He wheeled himself away from the desk toward the door, but Ellis''s voice suddenly stopped him.


    "Wait a moment."


    Sollivan turned around to find Ellis holding the black book that had concerned him earlier that morning. Ellis smirked lightly.


    "It was a really tiring day, wasn¡¯t it?"


    Sollivan responded calmly, "I know."


    He placed the black book into his bag alongside the books that he will need to copy, then slowly left the shop. As soon as he stepped outside, a cold breeze greeted him, making him shiver.


    He lifted his head and looked at the sky, which was darkening as sunset approached, while thick clouds gathered over the horizon.


    ''The weather is getting colder ''.


    He guided his wheelchair through the familiar alleys, where shadows gradually spread, covering the narrow paths.


    After half an hour of moving through the quiet streets, he finally arrived at his humble neighborhood, which seemed less lively than usual. The passersby had disappeared, the chickens had returned to their nests, and stray dogs roamed here and there.


    His eyes wandered across the neighborhood until they finally settled on his doorstep, where a mysterious figure stood, their features obscured by the dim light.


    His brows furrowed slightly with concern, but the tension quickly faded as he moved closer to the door and recognized the person waiting for him.

 Chapter 3: Reading Between The Lines

    When Sollivan spotted the mysterious figure standing near the door, he quickened his steps, straining to see more clearly in the dim light.


    To his surprise, the figure was just a child¡ªnot yet in his teenage years. The boy was thin and slightly short, though his height seemed appropriate for his age.


    His small face lacked the softness and innocent gaze typical of children. Instead, he looked pale, his expression unwavering, and his eyes held a harshness that suggested an adult trapped in a child¡¯s body.


    This was not unusual in the slums, where most children were either orphans or had lost one parent, forcing them to seek work to support themselves or their families.


    Their young age limited their options to simple tasks: tending horses in stables, serving food in taverns, cleaning alleyways, or working as porters and errand boys in the markets.


    The child before Sollivan was Devlin, an orphan who had lost his parents long ago. Without hesitation, Devlin rushed to Sollivan¡¯s chair, gripped its handles, and pushed it toward the house.


    Sollivan said nothing, simply relaxing in his seat and catching his breath. Within moments, they reached the house¡¯s entrance. In Devlin¡¯s eyes, there was a faint glimmer of respect, despite the silence between them.


    Sollivan pulled out his key and unlocked the door before asking calmly, ¡°Will you manage this winter?¡±


    Pushing the chair inside, Devlin replied with gratitude, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve saved enough to rent a room and buy what I need.¡±


    ¡°Good. You know where the empty water jars are, but light the fireplace first.¡±


    Gripping the wheels of his chair, Sollivan pushed himself toward the table cluttered with books and manuscripts.


    Without glancing at Devlin, he set his bag aside and began scanning the manuscripts, his eyes wary as he tried to recall where he had seen that strange language before.


    Meanwhile, Devlin walked to the fireplace, ignited a few flames, and watched as warmth slowly spread through the room.


    He picked up a half-melted candle nearby and lit it. Stepping toward Sollivan, whose features were gradually swallowed by the encroaching darkness, he placed the candle beside him, brightening the room¡¯s lighting.


    Without a word, he moved to a corner where several earthenware jars and small wooden bottles were stacked before quietly leaving the house.


    Sollivan lifted his head and glanced at the slightly ajar door. A cold draft slipped through, causing the candlelight to flicker and cast fragmented shadows across his face¡ªrevealing a complex expression.


    Devlin was no stranger to Sollivan.


    One could even say he was an unofficial servant, helping with tasks Sollivan struggled to complete on his own: fetching water from the communal well, buying necessities on stormy or rainy days, and other errands.


    In return, Sollivan gave him a small sum of money at the end of each week.


    Five years ago, when Sollivan had regained some strength, he began venturing outside his home, exploring the neighborhood and getting to know his neighbors.


    During that time, he met Devlin, an orphan who had lost his parents in a tragic accident, leaving him utterly alone.


    Soon after, vagrants took advantage of his weakness¡ªlooting his home, driving him out, and claiming it for themselves.


    At first, Sollivan paid no attention to the boy, dismissing him as just another troublesome street urchin.


    But as winter arrived, Devlin¡¯s frail body began to resemble a tattered corpse, gnawed by hunger and bitten by the relentless cold. Though Sollivan had trained himself to be indifferent, watching the boy¡¯s suffering stirred an unfamiliar hesitation within him.


    He saw himself in that small child¡ªboth had lost their loved ones, been robbed of their former lives, and left to rot in the world. Yet, Sollivan¡¯s circumstances had been slightly better.


    In the end, he decided to take Devlin in for the winter, despite not fully trusting him. At first, both were wary, treating each other with suspicion and caution. But as time passed, Devlin¡¯s fears eased, and Sollivan¡¯s guard lowered, allowing their relationship to improve.


    A deep sense of gratitude grew within Devlin¡ªSollivan had saved him from certain doom. In return, Sollivan found his loneliness slightly lessened and his daily struggles made easier during the harsh winter.


    However, he never intended to shelter the boy for long. When spring arrived, he taught Devlin how to survive and fend for himself, then cast him out to find his own work and shelter.


    ...


    Sollivan pulled a thick book from his collection and slowly opened it, revealing a small square compartment carved into its pages.


    At the heart of the hollow space rested four gold coins, glimmering faintly under the flickering candlelight. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers hovered over one of the coins.


    ¡°One coin¡­ that¡¯s all he needs to begin, but the risk of failure is still high.¡±


    At the age of thirteen, a child¡¯s Auraxis main vein fully develops, allowing them to train in martial arts and cultivate the energy of Auraxis within their bodies.


    However, before they can begin, they must first purchase a Vein Opening Pill, a special pill that helps them surpass their human limitations once they have trained their bodies sufficiently and advanced through the stages of the Body Strengthening Realm.


    Yet, the risk of failure remained significant, making Sollivan hesitate.


    Due to his own financial struggles, he decided to wait before making a decision.


    Each pill cost a single gold coin¡ªa hefty sum most people could not afford. As a result, many either never started training or began years later, only after saving enough money. This delay often stunted their progress, as they missed the optimal period for cultivation and lacked the necessary resources to advance.


    In the past, his uncle had given him sixty gold coins to cover his expenses, but within the first year, most of it was spent on medicines, herbs, and doctors in a futile search for a cure. For all the exorbitant treatments he endured, all he gained was a slight improvement in strength and a limited recovery of his lost vitality.


    Still, he refused to give up. Whenever he found something that might help, he bought it¡ªleaving him with a modest stock of rare herbs he had obtained by chance while working in the library.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Ironically, sixty gold coins were enough to let a poor man live comfortably, yet for Sollivan, they had done nothing more than slightly ease his suffering.


    ¡°No need to dwell on that now.¡±


    Pushing the book aside, he picked up a stack of manuscripts and began examining them carefully.


    Every document and book he flipped through contained valuable and diverse knowledge¡ªranging from rare herbal studies to legends of lost treasures and even the ancient history of his continent.


    However, books in this field were extremely rare, and some were written in unfamiliar languages or consisted merely of drawings without explanations.


    Through his personal efforts, he had meticulously annotated his own notes, allowing him to gain a broad understanding of many fundamental fields and learn bits and pieces of every language he had encountered.


    Because of this, he had recognized one of the symbols in the mysterious book earlier.


    Time passed slowly and quietly as Devlin went back and forth, carrying empty jars out and returning with them filled with water. Night fell, and the alleys darkened, but the scattered torchlights, though scarce, were enough to guide his way.


    Meanwhile, Sollivan remained seated, reading at a steady pace, reviewing the records and notes he had carefully compiled.


    It was his habit to organize his books and information, ensuring everything remained in order. After identifying the manuscripts worth scrutinizing, he began sorting through them with unwavering focus.


    By the time Devlin finished his work and left for his own lodging, minutes had turned into hours. The candle that had illuminated the corner of the room gradually melted away, leaving only a small stub. Around its base, hardened wax had accumulated, forming frozen droplets that resembled dried glue.


    Suddenly, Sollivan lifted his head. The candle flame flickered violently, casting shifting shadows across his face, illuminating his eyes with a rare gleam of excitement.


    In his hands was a large manuscript, its strange symbols filled with dozens of explanatory notes and annotations¡ªone that he had spent a long time deciphering.


    He set the manuscript aside, a satisfied expression settling on his face¡ªhis curiosity about the mysterious language had finally been sated.


    However, a slight pain throbbed at his temple, a dull ache from the mental strain he had exerted. Normally, he would begin transcribing any book he brought home as soon as he arrived, but this time, he had become entirely absorbed in deciphering the language of the black book, neglecting his usual work and losing precious hours of his time.


    Even so, he didn¡¯t mind much¡ªhe had found something truly worth his attention.


    ¡°I got so caught up in my research that I forgot myself...¡±


    Sollivan exhaled heavily, only for a faint growl from his stomach to remind him of his intense hunger.


    Without sparing the manuscript another glance, he pushed his chair back and wheeled himself toward the fireplace, where the dying flames flickered weakly, leaving behind only a few glowing embers.


    Quickly, he tossed in some dry twigs to rekindle the fire, then reached for the metal pot, lifting its lid.


    A strange aroma wafted up¡ªa mixture of the leftover soup he had made that morning, now thicker and more concentrated. He added some water to thin it out, waiting for the flames to strengthen before placing the pot over the fire.


    As the food slowly warmed, his gaze drifted to the satchel lying beside the table, and he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°What secrets do you hold¡­?¡±


    ...


    [Two Weeks Later]


    As the days passed, the once-clear sky grew heavy with dense gray clouds, obscuring the sun¡¯s warmth and bringing with them a biting cold.


    Snow fell relentlessly, blanketing the entire city in white. Layers of snow piled upon the streets and rooftops, transforming the once-thriving city into a desolate, lifeless expanse.


    Most shops had closed, and passersby became a rare sight.


    Even the stray dogs, known for their incessant barking and mischief, had disappeared¡ªeither retreating from the merciless cold or seeking shelter somewhere warmer.


    In one of the city¡¯s poorer districts, where silence hung thick over the alleys, a fireplace crackled inside a run-down house, spreading a faint warmth through its walls.


    Sollivan sat in his chair, staring at the book. Its cover was cool to the touch, its surface smooth yet oddly rough at the edges, as if resisting his grasp.


    Then he opened to its first page. Across the table, dozens of papers lay scattered¡ªsome crumpled or torn and tossed aside carelessly, while others were neatly arranged in a careful stack beside the book.


    In his hand, he held a sleek, sophisticated pen that stood in stark contrast to his surroundings.


    Crafted from a single smooth piece of black material, it fit perfectly between his fingers, its needle-thin tip housing an intricate mechanism that ensured effortless writing and preserved the ink.


    He wrote at an excruciatingly slow pace, pausing frequently to scrutinize the first page of the black book, as if attempting to unravel an impossibly complex cipher.


    After what felt like an eternity, he finally leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long breath before rubbing his wrist, which ached from the relentless hours of writing.


    Despite his clear need for rest, he straightened once more, picked up the organized papers, and placed them beside the sheet he had just finished.


    His expression hardened, shedding all traces of exhaustion or relaxation, as he began linking the fragmented words in his notes to those on the first page of the black book.


    With calculated precision, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper and resumed translating, drawing upon every word he had deciphered so far.


    Unlike before, when his translation had been hesitant and fragmented, the page now filled quickly with words, as though something had finally clicked into place.


    Sollivan lifted his head, a faint smile of satisfaction crossing his lips. A quiet sense of accomplishment seeped into his chest, warming him slightly despite the cold.


    His gaze dropped to the lines he had just transcribed, but his brow soon furrowed, his expression shifting to one of confusion. Then, in a cautious, expectant voice, he began to read aloud.


    ¡°Only blood seals the pact, only blood opens the gate.¡±


    His voice echoed in the silent room, carrying with it a strange, unshakable weight.


    His eyes flickered to the book¡¯s center, where symbols intertwined in an elaborate design, carved deep into the page, pulsating with an eerie, forbidden power.


    Even in the dim light, the ink shimmered in the darkness, whispering promises of strength.


    He continued reading, as though the words slipping from his lips belonged to a world not his own.


    ¡°With the essence of life, the veil shall be lifted¡­ Life for life, world for world, and the soul shall witness what no eye can see, tread where no foot has stepped.


    Each world has its door, beyond which lies the unknown¡­ If opened, horrors shall awaken. No light, no mercy, no return for the unready.¡±


    For the briefest of moments, the page beneath his fingertips pulsed faintly, its rhythm syncing with the uneasy beats of his heart. Yet the sensation faded too quickly for him to take notice.


    At last, his voice carried him to the final line, his words slipping into the air in an almost unnatural whisper, tinged with something sinister.


    ¡°Let but a single drop fall, and the threshold shall open¡­ Let your blood flow, and seal your fate.¡±


    Sollivan stared at the last sentence in silence, a tangle of disappointment and confusion swirling within him.


    The book¡¯s introduction was cryptic, elusive, as though it concealed a truth yet to be revealed. His eyebrows arched for a moment before he turned to the second page, which was filled with writing.


    Drawing upon what he had learned from translating the first page, he began analyzing the text. But within just five minutes, his expression shifted, and his brows visibly trembled.


    He flipped to the next page, and after two more minutes, his features contorted. He started flipping through the pages rapidly, eyes darting over the words, struggling to comprehend them. But something was wrong.


    After minutes of tense staring, Sollivan slammed the book shut with a muffled thud.


    ¡°This is nonsense!¡± he muttered angrily, his gaze flickering in every direction as he tried to steady himself.


    After reviewing the second page and the following ones repeatedly, he realized he could no longer translate a single letter.


    It was as if the words had transformed into cryptic symbols, completely different from those on the first page. This wasn¡¯t merely a change in language¡ªthe letters themselves were devoid of meaning, as though they were utter gibberish.


    ¡°All that effort... wasted.¡±


    A surge of frustration welled up within him as he recalled spending two silver coins on a book he couldn¡¯t even read.


    But the money wasn¡¯t what angered him the most¡ªit was the time he had wasted. Two whole weeks spent translating just a single page¡ªtime that could have been used for something far more productive.


    He took a deep breath, attempting to clear his mind of the nagging thoughts.


    Reaching for the paper on which he had written the translation, he stared at the last line with vacant eyes, his voice barely a whisper as he murmured.


    ¡°Let but a single drop fall, and the threshold shall open¡­ Let your blood flow, and seal your fate.¡±


    His gaze shifted to the black book resting on the table, lingering on its intricately designed cover.


    ¡°A drop of blood¡­ There are books and ancient manuscripts that only open with a blood imprint.¡±


    His eyes fell upon the engraved symbol at the center of the cover, recalling what he had read on the first page.


    His expression changed, and the curiosity that had faded beneath the weight of disappointment began to stir once more.


    Picking up the book, he ran his fingers over its cold surface, an odd look of anticipation crossing his face.


    He reached out with his left hand toward a small knife lying beside the table, studying its sharp, icy blade for a moment. Then, with quiet resolve and without hesitation, he pricked his index finger against the tip.


    A crimson drop welled up, slowly trickling down the metal before he set the knife aside and pressed his bleeding finger against the symbol at the center of the cover.


    He waited, his heart pounding with expectation and apprehension.


    The blood seeped into the engraving, staining its strange design. But¡­ nothing happened. Seconds passed. The center of the cover darkened with the deep red liquid, its shade pale in contrast to the book¡¯s abyssal black.


    Sollivan exhaled slowly.


    ¡®I shouldn¡¯t have gotten my hopes up¡­¡¯ he sighed again, this time in final resignation, and moved to withdraw his finger¡ªonly for his expression to twist in shock, his eyes widening.


    His finger wouldn¡¯t budge.


    It was as though it had fused with the book, refusing to move no matter how hard he tried.


    ¡°What now?¡± A tremor coursed through his chest, a blend of fear and unease sending a shiver down his spine. Yet, beneath the apprehension, other emotions began to creep in¡ªan inexplicable longing, a suppressed thrill, and an eager curiosity for what would come next.


    The sensation of being stuck didn¡¯t last long. It faded swiftly, allowing him to finally pull his finger away. But that no longer mattered. His focus remained locked on the book.


    The blood that had stained the cover was now being drawn into the engraved symbol, as if the book itself was drinking it.


    Then, the book trembled violently, its weight seeming to increase tenfold. Even Sollivan¡ªwho had long lost sensation in his legs¡ªfelt a faint illusion of crushing heaviness pressing down upon his paralyzed limbs.


    A pulse!


    The book quivered again, like the heartbeat of a beast roused from slumber.


    At that moment, an inexplicable dread flooded through Sollivan, his heartbeat racing in a desperate, frantic rhythm¡ªas though his body sought to flee, despite remaining utterly still.


    Yet, even amidst his overwhelming fear, he couldn¡¯t tear his gaze away from the glowing symbol at the book¡¯s center. It protruded further, its hue deepening into a mesmerizing crimson¡ªlike a deceitful flame, luring moths to their doom.


    A deafening throb!


    The ground beneath him shook violently, shadows rippling across the room like entities stirring from an ancient slumber. The fire in the hearth crackled, sending embers dancing into the air.


    Yet, the disturbance did not extend far¡ªthroughout the impoverished district, only a faint tremor was felt. The heart of the city, meanwhile, remained undisturbed, lost in its oblivious tranquility.


    But Sollivan cared for none of it. Not the tremors. Not the flickering shadows.


    All of his attention was consumed by that glowing crimson symbol¡ªone that no longer resembled a mere carving. It was an eye.


    A sinister, all-seeing eye, peering into the depths of his soul, unearthing secrets he didn¡¯t even know existed, whispering knowledge beyond his comprehension.


    And before he could fully grasp what was happening, an unseen force surged through him, yanking him into oblivion.


    His body collapsed, his head striking the table with a resounding thud.


    Darkness swallowed him whole.

 Chapter 4: awakening

    Pulse!


    Sollivan''s closed eyelids fluttered before he slowly opened his foggy eyes. With difficulty, he raised his hand, clutching his head, which throbbed with a sharp pain, causing him to furrow his brows in agony.


    After a few moments of suffering, the foggy vision gradually faded, and the ringing and whistling in his ears subsided, allowing him to think more clearly.


    He shook his head slightly, rubbed his face, and then looked ahead. But his eyes widened in shock, his features froze, and he was left speechless before muttering in a hoarse voice:


    "Where am I?"


    Everything he had known before was gone. His home, his city, the cold winter snow... everything had vanished, leaving only a vast plain covered in strange, dark blue plants stretching endlessly.


    A few scattered trees here and there barely broke the monotony of the scene, making him feel as though he were trapped in a strange dream.


    With great effort, Sollivan raised his head and stared at the sky. His widened eyes grew even more bewildered, and words caught in his throat. He wanted to take a deep breath, but he couldn''t.


    Above him, the warm yellow sun he knew had disappeared, replaced by a massive, faint orange orb, despite its enormous size and close proximity. It looked like a full moon, so close that he could see solar waves dancing on its surface like joyful fire dragons.


    Shock, confusion, fear, awe, and sorrow... Sollivan couldn''t pinpoint the emotions he felt in that single minute of clarity. But he was sure of one thing: he wasn''t dreaming.


    The refreshing breeze that caressed his cheeks, the faint rustling of the grass that delighted his ears, and the warmth of the giant sun that heated his skin... all these sensations were undeniably real.


    He held his breath, shook his head filled with chaotic thoughts, and calmed himself with difficulty.


    Then he stood on his feet and took a step forward, turning his head left and right, searching for anything other than the blue grass and distant trees.


    In his daze, he realized something that made him freeze in place once more. Slowly, with wide eyes, he lowered his head and looked at his feet, standing straight.


    Thud!


    He moved his right foot and took a step forward, crushing the blue grass beneath him. Despite seeing it clearly, he couldn''t comprehend what was happening.


    He took another step, then another, then another... Before he knew it, he had taken ten steps, but his eyes remained fixed on his feet. His shocked heart raced wildly, sending a tingling sensation that made his limbs tremble involuntarily.


    An indescribable excitement, inexplicable joy, and deep fear... He reached out with his trembling hand and pinched his leg hard, feeling a sharp pain that unleashed the flood of emotions trapped in his heart.


    "I can walk... I can walk!" Sollivan smiled with pure happiness, repeating his words like a madman as he ran wildly, like someone who had lost his mind.


    "I can run!" He reveled in the wonderful feeling he had lost for years, filled with happiness and joy, and felt a deep calm in his heart, as if a heavy mountain had been lifted from his body.


    The gentle breeze played with his black hair, and the soil and grass flew with each step he took.


    His pulse quickened, and he began to feel some fatigue, but he didn''t want to stop and lose this intoxicating feeling of bliss. Moreover, he felt a deep fear that he would wake from his dream the moment he stopped.


    After running a long distance, he felt exhausted and fell to the ground on his back, gazing at the strange blue and golden sky. His eyes seemed to smile from sheer joy.


    Despite his calm demeanor, polished by years of suffering, at this moment, he couldn''t control himself, and his emotions fluttered with overwhelming happiness, like butterflies experiencing flight for the first time.


    Roar!


    His body suddenly shook, and his smile froze. The overwhelming joy turned into deep fear.


    Quickly, he stood on his feet, his muscles tense and ready to unleash all their strength to run or fight at any moment. But his mind, which had regained its calm, prevented him from taking any rash actions.


    At that moment, for the first time in a long time, memories of hunting with his father and grandfather returned to him, and he remembered all the experience and guidance he had learned.


    Calmly and very slowly, he bent slightly, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings like a hawk, searching for any strange movement.


    But he found nothing, even though the air around him felt thick and suffocating. He tried to calm his rapid, shallow breaths, but his racing heart refused to give him any peace.


    ''The beast that roared didn''t take any action or attack? Is there a reason for that, or is it just far enough not to sense my presence yet? If I try to run now and escape, it might sense my movement and find me.


    And even if I don''t move, the wind might carry my scent to it. In either case, I''m doomed.''


    Sollivan took one last look at his surroundings, glanced at his feet for a moment, and pushed aside all the joy he had felt earlier. Then he muttered in a low voice:


    "I''ve regained my ability to walk, but my training is nonexistent, and even the basic skills I know won''t help me much. My body seems too tense."


    He crouched completely to the ground, pressing his ear to the soil, trying to sense any vibrations or signs of approaching danger. But there was nothing, which gave him a slight sense of relief, which he used to calm his heart and steady his breathing.


    After ensuring that his mental and physical state had improved, he got up from the ground and began to move very slowly. Every step he took was calculated carefully, trying to avoid making any sound that might attract attention.


    His sharp eyes, like those of a hawk, scanned his surroundings incessantly, and his ears were alert for any sound, no matter how faint.


    Despite all his caution and the quiet surroundings, the oppressive feeling of danger didn''t fade; on the contrary, it grew stronger.


    From his past experience, he was sure that this fear wasn''t just a fleeting feeling but something deeper and more mysterious, as if the air around him pulsed with hidden warnings.


    But despite that, he pushed himself to continue, heading toward some dense trees that seemed like a safe haven that could provide cover from prying eyes.


    Step by step, his goal grew closer, and the suffocating feeling he felt began to lessen. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    But despite that, he didn''t lower his guard; on the contrary, his senses became sharper, and his expression grew more stern. After a few more steps, he reached his destination and suddenly increased his speed, running into the small forest.


    Huff!


    After moving away from the edge of the forest, he fell to the ground, leaning his back against a thick tree trunk, and exhaled heavily as sweat dripped from his forehead.


    ''This place is very dangerous. Everything around me is strange and unfamiliar.


    I visited the Black Death Forest with my father, and it wasn''t this quiet. There are no sounds... no birds, no insects.


    If I hadn''t heard that roar earlier, I would have thought I was in a barren, dead land.''


    He raised his head and looked at the sky through the dense leaves, muttering with confusion and fear:


    "The sun above me isn''t the sun I know, and even the sky is a different color, and the ground seems to lean toward blackness... as if I''m in a world different from the one I know."


    Sigh!


    He stood up quickly and raised the caution he had lowered during his short rest.


    He looked left and right with sharp, wary eyes, then sniffed the air around him for any strange smells. But he found nothing.


    ''I need to leave this place.''


    The more time he spent in this place, the more his anxiety grew, and he began to feel uneasy.


    Only thirty minutes had passed since he woke up, and during that time, he had experienced things and emotions more complex than anything he had felt in the past five years.


    After gathering his courage and steadying his breathing, he began walking through the forest, which wasn''t too dense.


    Occasionally, there were wide gaps between the trees, but they still provided good cover amidst the vast plain around them.


    Whistle!


    Suddenly, Sollivan stopped walking abruptly.


    He turned his head suspiciously and began listening closely to the faint sounds that reached his ears. The sounds weren''t close, but they gave his heart, filled with fear and despair, a bit of calm and hope.


    Then he began walking again, faster this time, following the source of the sounds. His silent surroundings began to regain their vitality. The birds that sang lively returned, and the annoying insects filled the place.


    Gurgle!


    Among the various sounds, he heard a familiar one that made his heart tremble with joy.


    He changed his direction, and without walking far, he reached the source of the sound, which was a small stream with clear, beautiful water that shimmered in the sunlight. After looking in both directions of the stream and ensuring it was empty, he knelt and looked at the reflection of his face in the clear water.


    But at that moment, he frowned strangely. He brought his face closer to the water, and then his reflection became clearer. His pale face, with dark circles, had become clear and healthy.


    Also, his brown eyes had become pitch black. But the strange thing that made him feel some anxiety was the appearance of strange shapes on his forehead that resembled black scales.


    ''What happened to me?''


    He touched his forehead gently and felt the slightly rough texture of the non-protruding scales, muttering, "I don''t understand... everything is strange, even myself."


    Growl!


    A faint gurgling sound came from nearby, making the confused Sollivan stand quickly with a tense body. He looked around cautiously, and then he noticed a vague shape hiding behind some tall grass.


    Only a convex back with a dark yellow color was visible, but it was enough for him to realize that it was a beast lying in wait for him. His eyes remained fixed on the hidden shape, and he slowly stepped back.


    Step by step, the distance between them increased, but the hidden beast didn''t make any movement, which increased his confidence and quickened his steps.


    Slash!


    His foot suddenly slipped due to a misstep in the stream, making him stop in place for a moment with a stern face.


    He watched the convex back of the beast and found that it was still in place. Very quietly, he lifted his foot from the water and took a step back.


    But at that moment, suddenly, the beast jumped from behind the grass and ran toward him at high speed. The hyena-like beast opened its mouth full of sharp teeth and growled with a screeching, metallic sound.


    "Damn it!"


    Without any hesitation or moment of stillness, Sollivan turned and began running at full speed.


    His steps were strange and carried a steady rhythm, making his movements very smooth. With great agility, he avoided the trees in his path, using them as a natural barrier behind him.


    Although the distance between him and the beast was very short, the beast couldn''t shorten it; on the contrary, every time it got closer to Sollivan, he suddenly changed direction, causing the beast to stumble and sometimes crash into the trees, making them shake violently.


    Sollivan''s hair danced in the wind, and his clothes fluttered.


    His muscles were tense and full of energy, and his breathing was steady and harmonious. Every step he took was smooth, as if he were sliding on soap over a smooth floor.


    This movement technique was called Light Steps, a very common technique among Arcane masters and those who had strengthened their bodies. It increased their speed while reducing the physical effort they exerted, allowing them to run longer distances with less effort.


    Sollivan continued running desperately. Although he had maintained his physical strength for as long as possible, his body and tense muscles began to tire. His steady, harmonious breathing became chaotic, and even his smooth running began to show signs of strain.


    He turned his head slowly and looked at the beast running behind him, seeing it open its mouth strangely, as if smiling maliciously.


    " Mother F****!"


    All he could say at that moment was a few hateful curses before looking ahead. Then he tried to increase his speed, but his body had already reached its limit.


    ''I don''t have much stamina left. I need to lose this beast, or I''m dead.''


    Sollivan quickly changed his direction toward some distant trees intertwined with each other.


    But he didn''t realize that the beast had reached him at that moment and swung its sharp claws at his back.


    Sollivan felt a cold chill on his back and jumped to the side quickly.


    Slash!


    The beast''s claws grazed his back superficially, causing small wounds and tearing his clothes.


    This made Sollivan, who had intended to land on his feet, lose his balance and fall to the ground. But the techniques of his family, which he had trained in the past, didn''t leave his mind.


    Quickly, he rolled strangely like a cat, making his fall smooth, then stood up quickly and continued running toward the intertwined trees without losing momentum. The beast stopped for a moment and growled in frustration, then chased him at an even greater speed.


    Sweat poured profusely and soaked his clothes. At this stage, his breathing became completely chaotic, and his steps were no longer fast.


    He could no longer maintain the Light Steps technique and began running normally, relying only on his willpower, as his physical strength had long since run out.


    His eyes remained fixed on the group of trees that were only a few dozen meters away. Using the last of his strength, he increased his speed. But despite that, the beast reached him and pounced, wanting to kill him.


    Using the same method as before, Sollivan jumped, avoiding the beast''s saliva-filled, ferocious jaws, and rolled on the ground, filling his body with scratches and bruises caused by the stones on the ground. Then he stood up, exhausted, without hesitation, and ran.


    Every step he took was filled with despair and a deep desire to survive.


    He looked left and right, but he found nothing he could use to lose the beast chasing him except the intertwined trees ahead. Although his steps became stumbling and slow, and his breathing became irregular, while his eyes began to blur from exhaustion, he succeeded in reaching his goal.


    He was only a few steps away from his destination, but at that moment, he felt the ground beneath him shake and the air around him ripple. Faintly, he could sense a suffocating feeling of death. But he didn''t lose his composure.


    With the last of his strength, he used the Light Steps technique again, jumped forward, and turned around before landing. Then he saw the ferocious and terrifying face of the beast in front of him, with only a few centimeters separating them.


    With a mocking smile, Sollivan raised his foot and kicked the beast''s ugly face hard, causing its saliva to fly and several wrinkles to distort its already hideous face. Then he pushed himself back and entered through a small hole in the intertwined trees.


    The beast crashed into the trees and destroyed some of them due to its strength. It shoved its front leg through the hole in the trees and tried to grab Sollivan, who crawled away quickly like a worm.


    The branches and roots of the trees intertwined in a strange shape, forming a large network of small, narrow tunnels, where the light was slightly dim compared to the outside.


    From the outside, this network looked like a very wide tree composed of hundreds of branches, extending for several tens of meters.


    Huff!


    Huff!


    After moving a considerable distance away from the beast, Sollivan finally stopped crawling. His breathing was very erratic, and his face was drenched in sweat.


    But at that moment, he exhaled deeply, and his tense muscles relaxed. The nervous expression on his face faded, and he swallowed a mouthful of saliva to moisten his dry throat.


    His mind became foggy, and his eyelids grew very heavy, causing him to close his eyes and fall asleep without realizing it.


    Time passed slowly, but the beast continued to scratch the tree trunks with its sharp claws to no avail. After a very long time, it finally gave up and left to search for another prey.


    Huff!


    Sollivan opened his eyes nervously and tried to get up, but he hit his head hard against a thick tree trunk with a very sharp edge, causing a wound on his forehead.


    Hot blood flowed from the wound, which swelled quickly and stained his hair, giving him a strange warmth.


    The fog in his eyes cleared, and he regained his composure, then stretched out on his back and stared at the faint light seeping through the holes among the intertwined branches and trunks.


    He raised his hand slowly, and then he felt a sharp pain in his joints and muscles.


    He touched his bleeding forehead, then raised his hand and looked at it to find it covered in a dark liquid that wasn''t visible well due to the darkness.


    "How much time has passed, I wonder?"


    He lowered his hand and wiped the blood from his forehead, then moved very slowly and assessed his physical condition.


    "Huff, I''m exhausted. My body couldn''t handle the techniques I used. My joints hurt terribly, and my muscles are filled with tears. In my current state, I can''t do anything if I encounter more beasts."


    Gulp!


    He tried to swallow his saliva, but his mouth and lips were too dry, prompting him to stick out his tongue in an attempt to moisten them. But there was no result.


    ''I''m so thirsty.''


    Sollivan smiled wryly, then moved his exhausted body. After avoiding the trunk he had hit earlier, he turned around and changed his direction toward the exit.


    He crawled slowly and without making any sound, like a slippery worm. After a few seconds, he reached the hole he had entered earlier, where faint white light seeped through, slightly illuminating his path.


    He cautiously stuck his head out, looking left and right with a stern face, and upon confirming that his surroundings were clear, he felt some relief.


    But he didn''t come out immediately and remained lying in the tunnel for a few more minutes. During that time, he noticed that the entrance to the tunnel had widened slightly and was filled with broken branches and claw marks.


    ''Was the beast trying to widen the entrance while I was unconscious? This beast is very smart. I need to be careful.''


    Sigh!


    Sollivan emerged from his burrow and stood unsteadily on his feet, then raised his head to look at the dark sky, where a large, beautiful white moon cast its faint light on the dark forest, making it less ominous.


    Behind the large moon, thousands of shining stars and dozens of small moons of various colors were visible. Some moons were as small as a pea, and some were slightly larger, the size of a grape.


    After gazing at the sky for a brief moment, he lowered his head and muttered with a grim expression.


    "This is not my world."


    Although he had doubted it when he saw the large, strange sun in the morning, he was now certain of it.


    ''How... did this happen? And why..?''


    Even after thinking about it for a short while, Sollivan couldn''t find the right words to describe what he felt.


    But he calmed himself quickly and began to think.


    ''I''m in a different world, and even my body seems different. Although my facial features remain the same, those scales on my forehead and my black eyes aren''t part of me. Even my body has become stronger compared to my real body.''


    ''Is this because of the black book? All of this happened after I placed my blood on it.


    Is the book some kind of portal, and my blood was the trigger that activated it? But that doesn''t make sense.


    The treasures I''ve heard about and read about don''t work so simply. They require many factors to activate, and most importantly, they need Auraxis energy. But my body is ordinary; it shouldn''t be able to support the book''s activation, no matter what it does.''


    "Wait a minute?!"


    Sollivan''s body trembled, and his features twisted.


    "Am I dead? Did the book kill me and bring me to this strange world? Am I trapped here, then?¡±

 Chapter 5: Still Running

    Sollivan''s face froze for several minutes. His heart tightened, and his mind went blank, unable to think of anything.


    He wasn¡¯t angry or sad, but he couldn¡¯t simply accept the situation. Although everything he thought of remained mere theories that couldn¡¯t be confirmed, it turned his usually calm demeanor into chaos.


    Despite being disabled and ostracized, living a bleak life in his world, that life had been earned through the sacrifices of many people, and he had come to accept it long ago. He had even clung to hope, believing that one day he might heal himself¡ªor even find his family¡¯s killer and take revenge.


    Deep down, he knew his hopes and dreams were just fantasies that would never come true, but at this moment, he felt a profound sense of guilt.


    He had regained his legs and physical health, but in exchange, he had been transported to a place far from his homeland, surrounded by wilderness and beasts that could kill him at any moment.


    The feeling of emptiness lingered in his mind and heart for a long time, making him oblivious to his surroundings and the blood trickling from the wound on his forehead, flowing into his right eye.


    The dark blood entered his eye, causing his blank face to twitch. He tilted his head in discomfort and raised his hand to rub his eye, which now had a faint burning sensation.


    He shook his head in anger and looked up at the sky with bloodshot eyes, then let out a long sigh that carried all the negative emotions that had built up inside him.


    His heart calmed, and his mind regained clarity. He lowered his head, but then froze for a moment, his eyes widening in suspicion. He gently rubbed his blood-filled eye, cleaned it, and looked again in a specific direction.


    There, he saw a column of black smoke rising into the sky. Due to the pitch-black night and the distance, the smoke wasn¡¯t entirely clear, but Sollivan wasn¡¯t foolish enough not to recognize what it was.


    "Campfires?! The shape and size of the smoke can¡¯t be anything else. It¡¯s clear there are people nearby." His sadness and confusion disappeared, replaced by caution and wariness.


    Gulp!


    He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, trying to moisten his dry throat.


    "Should I go and meet them? But considering I¡¯m in a different world, who knows what kind of problems I¡¯ll face when I meet them? Maybe their appearance and language are different.


    And if I can¡¯t communicate with them, I¡¯ll likely be killed due to the misunderstanding that will arise from my sudden appearance in this place and time." After thinking about it, he shook his head. "This isn¡¯t possible." His hesitation wasn¡¯t unjustified.


    Human nature is twisted, and the people nearby might be dangerous. Even if they were ordinary people, they wouldn¡¯t trust someone who appeared suddenly in the middle of a desolate plain full of beasts.


    "Let¡¯s set aside the matter of these people. I need to find a solution for my thirst. If I don¡¯t hydrate my body, my weakness will increase."


    Despite his reluctance to leave his safe spot, he had no choice. Night was the best time for beasts to hunt, but it also provided Sollivan with cover to hide and sharpened his sense of hearing.


    He gathered his courage, then bent down slowly, picked up some soil, and smeared it over his wounds and clothes to mask the pungent smell of blood that covered his body. His method wasn¡¯t 100% effective, but it reduced the spread of his scent and made it more confusing.


    After ensuring everything was fine, he began walking quietly and cautiously toward the stream he had seen in the morning. The distance between them was short, but his slow and careful pace made the journey take a long time.


    His steps were silent, thanks to his use of the Light Steps technique, which eased the burden on his exhausted muscles and joints. His ears were working at full capacity, and whenever he heard a suspicious sound, he froze in place and held his breath.


    After walking for several minutes, he began to hear the sound of fresh water flowing, making him lick his lips involuntarily.


    Without rushing, he maintained his pace and finally reached his destination. The faint moonlight reflected on the water, making it shimmer with a mesmerizing white glow.


    The sound of the flowing water eased his fear of his footsteps being heard. He walked quickly and without hesitation, like a hungry horse, plunging his head into the water that caressed his face and washed away the blood and dirt from his forehead.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Gulp!


    Gulp!


    He didn¡¯t lift his head from the water as he began drinking quickly, swallowing some of his blood and the dirt scattered around his face. But he didn¡¯t mind the metallic taste and continued drinking until he ran out of breath.


    Then he lifted his head and looked around cautiously. Drops of water fell from his wet hair, making a faint sound in the lifeless area. But he didn¡¯t feel at ease and continued listening intently. After a minute of stillness, he finally moved.


    He scooped some water with his palm and cleaned the wound on his forehead, noticing that his blood looked dark under the moonlight.


    He didn¡¯t pay much attention to it and washed some scratches on his hands, ignoring the wounds that required him to remove his clothes, like the wound on his back caused by the beast¡¯s claws. After finishing, he looked at the stream and followed its path with his eyes.


    "If I continue walking along the stream, I might find some human settlements. Then, gathering information will be easier, and I won¡¯t attract much suspicion."


    Sollivan bent down again, took a few sips of water, and then headed back to his burrow with a refreshed body. After retracing his previous path, he reached his destination in slightly less time than before.


    When only a few dozen steps remained, he suddenly stopped and felt a faint shiver in his body. His expression twisted, and his gaze froze on the back of the large beast that had chased him earlier, now standing in front of the intertwined trees.


    Scrape!


    Quickly and quietly, Sollivan hid behind the nearest tree and stole a quick glance at the beast, which was cutting tree branches at the entrance with its large claws.


    The sound of wood scraping echoed in the area, accompanied by the beast¡¯s faint growl, sending shivers down the spine of anyone who heard it.


    He held his breath and took a step back, but he accidentally stepped on a small wooden branch, causing a faint cracking sound that made the beast stop and freeze in place.


    "Damn it!" Sollivan couldn¡¯t find enough words to describe his feelings at that moment other than silently cursing in his heart.


    As expected, he saw the beast slowly turn and look in his direction. The beast opened its mouth full of teeth, forming a hideous smile filled with malice.


    Run!


    That smile was like a bell that alerted him. With frantic speed, Sollivan fled, using the Light Steps technique and unleashing all the energy he had saved. Because of this, he quickly put distance between himself and the beast, which was slightly delayed in pursuing him.


    His initial speed was the result of his explosive burst of energy, but after covering dozens of meters, his steps slowed, and his breathing became erratic.


    His body hadn¡¯t recovered much energy, and because of this, he knew he couldn¡¯t run as far as before. He turned his head slightly and looked at the beast chasing him closely, then suddenly changed direction, using the trees to make the beast stumble and slow down.


    Seizing the moment, Sollivan changed his path and headed back toward the intertwined trees. But the beast regained its balance and ran parallel to him, unintentionally blocking his path to the trees.


    His eyes widened, and his steps faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. A dark look appeared on his face, and he stared in a specific direction with tense nerves.


    The beast was blocking his path while simultaneously closing the gap between them. It didn¡¯t take long for him to realize he was trapped. His expression grew darker, and his heart boiled with intense anger. He turned and glared at the beast with dagger-sharp eyes, growling:


    "You want to play rough? Let¡¯s play, then!" He quickly changed direction, stopped conserving his strength, and unleashed all his remaining energy, running as fast as he could.


    Although he was just an ordinary human, his running technique and the zigzag path he took made the beast, which was faster than him, fall behind by several meters.


    But the zigzag path filled with trees began to thin, and after running a few more meters, Sollivan left the tree-filled area and emerged into the endless grassy plain.


    But he didn¡¯t stop. Although his breathing became ragged and his steps began to falter, his eyes remained fixed on the point of light burning in a specific part of the plain.


    After they entered the open area, the beast became much faster than before due to the lack of obstacles. Within seconds, it closed the distance between them significantly.


    Sollivan realized this, but he didn¡¯t try to do anything. His strength had failed him, and all he had left was the power of will and hope driving him forward.


    The burning fire was far away, but he kept running until he could see some small tents and what appeared to be people, their shadowy figures dancing in the flickering firelight.


    Roar!


    The beast, which had caught up to Sollivan, leaped and attacked him with full force, aiming to slash his neck with its sharp claws.


    Sollivan realized this and, as usual, wanted to jump aside and dodge the attack. But his body hesitated for a split second, then he changed his mind, opened his mouth, and shouted at the top of his lungs:


    "Help!"


    The claws reached the back of his neck, but he didn¡¯t stand helpless.


    His body swayed like a slippery snake, and he twisted in a strange, curved motion, causing the sharp claws aimed at his neck to graze his thigh instead. But even that superficial blow was strong enough to knock him off balance and send him spinning like a ballerina before he fell and rolled on the ground.


    Despite the intense pain he felt, his eyes remained fixed on the people in the camp, who suddenly stood up, armed with weapons, and looked in his direction.


    The beast wasn¡¯t stupid. Seeing a group of armed people looking its way, it sensed danger and froze for a moment. Seizing the opportunity, Sollivan quickly stood up and began running, shouting in a hoarse, dry voice:


    "Help!"


    His second shout alerted the cautious people, who then began running toward him, carrying their weapons. But his shout also caught the beast¡¯s attention, and it began running toward him with frenzied speed, eager to kill him before the dangerous people arrived.


    Sollivan realized this and, in a hurried and stumbling manner, began running in a zigzag pattern. But he was too slow.


    The beast reached him and pounced on him with full force. A single blow from it would have been enough to cut Sollivan down and turn him into a lifeless corpse. But he wasn¡¯t a coward or helpless, and he didn¡¯t stand idly by waiting for death. He stopped running and turned around quickly.


    His mind was clear, and he could see everything around him clearly. The people running toward him were still a bit far away, while the beast had reached him, with only a few feet separating them.


    "There¡¯s no choice but to fight." Sollivan let out a long sigh at his miserable self, then changed his stance. He clenched his fists tightly in front of him, and his frown and sadness disappeared, replaced by a sharp, deadly gaze that made him radiate a powerful aura, contrary to his exhausted appearance.


    This aura wasn¡¯t just an illusion, as the beast itself faintly sensed danger. But it didn¡¯t stop or hesitate. It opened its mouth full of teeth and lunged at him, aiming to bite his head.


    Sollivan moved with insane force, unleashing all the strength he had, starting from his feet firmly planted on the ground, which fueled the momentum of his powerful and swift punch.


    Unexpectedly and suddenly, he punched the beast under its chin and near its windpipe.


    Smash!


    The sound of the powerful punch hitting the tough hide echoed in the area, accompanied by a faint scream and howl from both Sollivan and the beast. Sollivan¡¯s fingers broke, and the muscles in his arm tore, while the beast felt a strange dizziness and pain in its head, causing it to freeze and howl in pain.


    Its eyes became bloodshot, and its expression twisted, but despite the intense pain it felt, it attacked Sollivan and struck him with the back of its hand with great force, sending Sollivan, who was standing in place with a pained expression and a stiff body, flying like a feather and landing several meters away, hitting his head on a large rock protruding from the ground.


    "Did I succeed?" His exhausted eyes and stiff body pulsed in harmony.


    His consciousness began to fade little by little, but his vision remained fixed on the beast, which had regained its balance and began running toward him.


    "This is the end, then." He muttered silently and resignedly. He no longer wanted to struggle and had accepted the outcome that would come.


    But despite that, his eyes remained fixed on the beast, and then he saw it hesitate for a moment in


    place before leaping and dodging a long spear that fell and blocked its path.


    "Huh." Sollivan smiled faintly, closed his eyes, and lost consciousness.

 Chapter 6: Unique blood

    A blood-red moon rose in a starless, pitch-black sky, casting its dim crimson light over an endless, desolate land.


    In the midst of this monotonous and eerie scene stood a young man with ordinary features, black hair, and dark eyes, staring expressionlessly at a terrifying, monstrous beast that resembled a grotesque hyena.


    The beast let out a deafening roar, akin to the screams of thousands of mutilated children. Its thick, blood-like saliva splattered onto the ground, corroding it with a sizzling, unsettling sound.


    Despite the horrifying sight, Sollivan remained calm, emotionless, as if detached from the world around him. He stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before finally taking a single step forward.


    Step!


    The ground beneath him shook violently.


    Step!


    Then another. And another. In just four steps, he covered dozens of feet, closing the distance to the raging beast, which remained rooted in place, roaring incessantly.


    Sollivan raised his head and stared at the monstrous, hideous face now only a few feet away from him.


    Terror, helplessness, panic¡ªthese were the emotions anyone else would have felt in his place. Perhaps they would have even wet themselves in fear.


    But Sollivan didn¡¯t flinch, even as the beast¡¯s foul, rancid breath washed over his face, carrying an indescribable stench.


    He raised his tightly clenched fist, radiating an indescribable power, and delivered a punch straight to the beast¡¯s neck.


    Boom!


    The beast¡¯s head jerked violently, twisting at an impossible angle. But that wasn¡¯t the end of it¡ªhundreds of cracks spread across its body, starting from its neck and extending to its limbs, accompanied by a sharp, shattering sound, like a ceramic vase breaking.


    Seeing this, Sollivan¡¯s expression finally changed. A mocking smile spread across his face as he muttered coldly,


    ¡°You¡¯re just a beast.¡±


    He withdrew his fist, clasped his hands behind his back like an emperor surveying his domain, and watched indifferently as the beast howled in agony, slowly crumbling.


    But it didn¡¯t disintegrate completely; instead, its cracked body began to ooze a dark, sticky blood that pooled on the ground, forming a small puddle that quickly expanded.


    Sollivan took a few steps back, his brows furrowed in deep confusion, but he didn¡¯t intervene. The blood continued to flow, turning the puddle into a vast, red lake.


    Then, in an instant, the lake receded abruptly before surging upward, forming a massive wave that grew larger and larger, heading toward the red moon in the sky.


    At that moment, Sollivan¡¯s composure shattered. Terror gripped his features, his confidence and calm demeanor vanished, and he began to run in desperation¡ªbut it was futile.


    The wave crashed down on him, sweeping him away.


    His body was crushed, and the deadly whirlpools dragged him mercilessly, tossing him around like an ant caught in a flood. His eyes turned red, his face flushed, and blood began to seep from every pore of his body.


    He tried to scream, but the blood rushed into his mouth, choking him, suffocating his last breaths. Before he could comprehend what was happening, his body began to dissolve, merging with the raging waters around him.


    He disappeared entirely.


    ...


    ¡°Hooof¡­?!¡±


    Cough¡­! Cough¡­! Cough¡­!


    Sollivan¡¯s eyes snapped open as he gasped wildly, coughing violently. Water spurted from his mouth as if it had been trapped inside him.


    Mucus mixed with water dripped from his nose, sticking to his drenched face. His vision was blurry, and a loud ringing filled his ears as he looked around at the vague shapes surrounding him and the flickering flames in the background. His mind struggled to process what was happening.


    Cough!This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    His physical and emotional pain intertwined, and he couldn¡¯t stop coughing and trembling. His heart pounded madly, and his warm blood gushed from his unhealed wounds, staining the ground beneath him a dark color. He tried to move, but he couldn¡¯t, and his suffering only intensified.


    He was tied to a large pole embedded in the ground.


    After what felt like an eternity, the coughing subsided, but he was still breathing heavily. The blurriness in his vision cleared, but the pain in his head and the ringing in his ears persisted.


    Memories began flooding his mind rapidly¡ª


    His arrival in this strange world¡­


    The terrifying beast¡­


    His desperate fight, his brush with death¡­?!


    Before he could organize his thoughts, a harsh voice, laced with murderous intent, pierced his ears.


    ¡°Who are you? Where did you come from? What is your purpose?¡±


    Sollivan lifted his head with difficulty, drenched and exhausted, looking at the faces before him. They appeared human, but¡­ not entirely.


    In front of him stood several individuals with tall, muscular builds. Small red horns protruded from their foreheads, and hard, pale red scales ran across their brows and necks.


    Their ears, though human-like in structure, were long and pointed. Their other features, though strange, were close to human.


    One of the men frowned as he noticed Sollivan¡¯s eyes quickly scanning them. He stepped forward, lifted a leather pouch filled with water, tore it open, and abruptly poured the cold liquid over Sollivan¡¯s bewildered head.


    ¡°Agh¡­!¡±


    Sollivan¡¯s body convulsed violently, but he couldn¡¯t move due to the ropes binding him.


    Unintentionally, he moved his broken hand, causing him to howl in pain. At that moment, he regained full consciousness and stared at the three figures before him, stunned.


    But the man didn¡¯t stop at pouring water. He grabbed Sollivan¡¯s hand forcefully and pressed on his broken fingers, making him scream in agony.


    ¡°Aaaah¡­!!¡±


    ¡°Ah?!¡±


    Without any regard for his cries, the man repeated his question in a harsh tone.


    ¡°Who are you? Where did you come from? What is your purpose?¡±


    ¡°Answer?!¡±


    He increased the pressure on Sollivan¡¯s hand, watching his pained expression.


    When he saw Sollivan¡¯s eyes begin to lose focus, he stopped squeezing, pulled his hand away, and glanced at the small amount of blood staining his fingers with a complex expression that lasted only a moment before he regained his composure and splashed the remaining water from the pouch onto Sollivan.


    ¡°Hooof¡­!¡±


    Sollivan shuddered again, suppressing a groan. His expression twisted in pain, but despite everything, he showed no resentment or hostility. His mind was racing, but the pain in his head slowed his thoughts.


    After a brief moment, he finally opened his mouth and spoke in a trembling voice.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡±


    But he couldn¡¯t form the words properly.


    The man in front grew impatient and was about to press on Sollivan¡¯s wounds again when one of the men in the back grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.


    This person was different from the others¡ªyounger, with more prominent features. His skin was smooth, his horns longer and sharper, and their color darker than the rest. Despite standing in the back, his presence was overwhelming.


    Sollivan lowered his head helplessly, calming slightly, then finally spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m Sollivan... I was here... because... I don¡¯t know.¡± He shook his head with a distorted expression and stammered, ¡°I... can¡¯t remember... Ah?!¡±


    A deep frown appeared on the faces of the men before him.


    They exchanged glances, their brows furrowed, before the young man stepped forward and knelt gracefully, bringing himself to Sollivan¡¯s eye level. His sharp, dark eyes bore into Sollivan as he spoke coldly.


    ¡°Sollivan, then... Let me tell you something. We are not patient people, and your silly tricks won¡¯t work on us. So speak up and tell us who you are, and we won¡¯t make things difficult for you.¡±


    A serious look crossed Sollivan¡¯s face as he stared into the young man¡¯s eyes with fear and pain.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t remember anything. All I know is my name. I don¡¯t even know who you are or what I¡¯m doing here. Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to you? Why?¡± His fear began to turn into panic, and he lost his composure.


    His rapid, fear-filled words only deepened the frowns on the men¡¯s faces.


    The rough-looking man¡¯s brow furrowed, and he quickly stepped forward, slapping Sollivan hard across the face. The force of the blow turned Sollivan¡¯s head to the side, and blood sprayed from his mouth and nose. The man growled,


    ¡°You filthy wretch, how dare you raise your voice at the young chief!¡± He raised his hand to strike again.


    ¡°Warrior Willard, that¡¯s enough,¡± the young man said indifferently. He then looked at Sollivan, who was staring wide-eyed in the opposite direction, his lips moving as if he were saying something, but no sound came out.


    For a brief moment, a dark expression flashed across Sollivan¡¯s face before it turned to sheer terror. He began to tremble and raised his head to look at the young man¡¯s eyes, utterly stunned.


    The young man¡¯s brows furrowed, and he turned to Willard with a meaningful look before saying to Sollivan,


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you ten minutes. When I return, I want a satisfactory answer.¡± He stood calmly and gestured for Willard to follow him.


    ...


    [Willard¡¯s POV]


    Willard raised his hand, which had been gripping Sollivan¡¯s broken fingers, and looked at the dark blue blood staining his rough skin. Though he didn¡¯t show it, his hand trembled for a moment before stopping.


    He felt a mix of emotions and wondered inwardly, ¡°Primordial blood...¡± Even though he had seen it before, touching it made him feel a sense of inferiority.


    His complex emotions lingered for a moment before he turned his stern gaze back to Sollivan, who was writhing in pain.


    When he saw Sollivan¡¯s lips move as if trying to speak, his frown deepened, and he wanted to inflict more pain. But then he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder. He turned his head respectfully and looked at the young man with the powerful aura behind him.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Willard,¡± the young man said.


    Willard took a step back and, without waiting long, saw Blear stand and gesture for him to follow.


    The two walked slowly to the edge of the camp. The number of people in the camp was small, but due to the sudden incident, the rest had been dispersed in all directions to monitor their surroundings.


    When they reached a relatively empty spot, they stopped. Blear looked at Willard with wide eyes, unable to hide the shock he had concealed earlier. ¡°Is what we saw true? This person has primordial blood.¡±


    Willard couldn¡¯t pinpoint his emotions, but his face twitched, and his expression became unusually stern. ¡°When I touched it, I felt the blood in my body tremble with inferiority.¡±


    ¡°Even if I don¡¯t believe my eyes, my instincts can¡¯t be wrong,¡± Blear said with confidence, but he lowered his head and looked at the ground uncertainly.


    ¡°How can someone with primordial blood appear in this remote part of the vast plains? It¡¯s impossible,¡± Blear added, scratching his forehead as if trying to massage his brain, which was struggling to find a solution.


    Willard thought for a moment, then spoke. ¡°We can¡¯t decide this matter on our own. Even though this person is lying about his identity, killing someone with primordial blood or leaving him be could bring a lot of trouble. We don¡¯t know who supports him.¡±


    Blear was surprised and asked, ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Willard shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s something wrong with this person. Even though he has noble blood, he¡¯s incredibly weak. And his body doesn¡¯t bear any of the characteristics of the three primordial lineages.¡±


    Blear was puzzled, and his confusion grew. After a brief silence, he finally decided.


    ¡°The only two people in the tribe who can make a suitable decision about this are the chief and the priest. It seems we¡¯ll have to take him with us.¡±


    The faint chirping of a bird echoed across the vast, silent plains, making Blear and Willard look to the east.


    ¡°Dawn has already arrived. The events of this hectic night have left us unable to rest. Tell the men to pack up the camp. We¡¯ll head back to the tribe in two hours.¡±


    ...


    Sollivan stared at the large fire in the center of the camp, his expression lost and his body tense with fear. His eyes were filled with confusion and a hint of despair, but his mind grew calmer.


    ¡®My face betrayed me. Everything happened so suddenly. These brutes didn¡¯t give me a moment to think about what to say or do.¡¯


    He sighed silently. ¡®These people aren¡¯t simple. Their numbers aren¡¯t small, and they¡¯re well-trained and well-armed.¡¯ His thoughts paused as he remembered something.


    He lowered his head slowly and looked at his blood-stained clothes. In the clear light of the fire, he noticed the unfamiliar color of his blood¡ªit wasn¡¯t red but a dark blue.


    Sollivan was stunned. ¡®My blood is different. This explains their strange reactions.¡¯ With his limited knowledge and the shock of the situation, he couldn¡¯t form a logical explanation. But he was sure of one thing: his blood wasn¡¯t normal.


    ¡®Things are getting more complicated.¡¯

 Chapter 7: Strange tribe

    In the midst of the vast, monotonous, and repetitive plains, a small caravan composed of dozens of people and a few horses and carts loaded with supplies made its way.


    Most of the caravan members walked on foot, while the young leader Blear and Willard rode on massive horses, leading the group of warriors toward their destination.


    The horses they rode were not ordinary. They had massive bodies, sharp horns protruding from the center of their foreheads, blood-red eyes, and sharp fangs, making them resemble monsters more than domesticated horses.


    But the most peculiar feature of their bodies was the natural, solid armor made of their skin, which spread from their hooves to their bellies and stopped at their necks. The upper part of their bodies, their backs, were covered in fur, making riding them somewhat comfortable.


    In the middle of the caravan, where the largest number of armed warriors were gathered, Sollivan''s hands were tied to one of the carts, forcing him to walk hurriedly and stumble as his back slightly hunched from his inability to keep up with the caravan''s pace. This caused him to be dragged forward involuntarily.


    His broken hand was wrapped in thick, strange brown leather, tightly bound to prevent his fingers from moving, which somewhat alleviated his pain.


    Nevertheless, his breathing was erratic and labored, and his body was drenched in sticky sweat that made his dirty clothes cling to his skin.


    Despite his many attempts to steady his breathing, he couldn''t hide his exhaustion. But the caravan didn''t stop to rest, making his expression grow darker.


    He looked around helplessly, scanning his surroundings. If it weren¡¯t for the occasional scattered trees, anyone in his position would have thought they were walking in place.


    "Huff!"


    ''There are no hills or elevations, just a flat plain full of grass and a few trees. Even the beasts and animals are almost nonexistent. Throughout the journey, I¡¯ve only seen a few birds.


    This land is like an endless desert plain. Seeing this monotonous view for a long time would make anyone stuck here uncomfortable. But that¡¯s not the problem.''


    He shook his head irritably and glanced at the warriors surrounding him, muttering.


    ''How much farther do we have to go before these people stop to rest? We¡¯ve been walking for five hours at a very fast pace, but they haven¡¯t shown any desire to stop.''


    He lowered his head and looked at their feet, observing their strange way of walking for a short while before letting out a sarcastic sigh.


    ''Ordinary humans can¡¯t keep up with trained warriors.''


    He wasn¡¯t blind, and he knew they were using some kind of movement technique, like light steps. For him, the distance they had covered was extremely long and had exhausted his body.


    If it weren¡¯t for his strong willpower, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to continue. But for the warriors around him, their pace was very slow, to the point that some of them complained about it.


    ...


    Hours passed, and the sun began to set peacefully, but the caravan didn¡¯t stop.


    Instead, they continued their journey at an even faster pace. Each step they took covered a great distance. As for Sollivan , he sat on one of the carts and silently watched their path.


    A few hours earlier, he had reached his limit and could no longer walk, causing him to collapse and be dragged by the cart. The caravan finally stopped because of this, and after a brief consultation, they decided to place him on the cart and continue their journey.


    They could have done this from the beginning, but Sollivan was just a prisoner who couldn¡¯t expect kind or respectful treatment. If he hadn¡¯t been slowing them down, they wouldn¡¯t have moved him to the cart.


    Despite the rest he had gotten, his nerves didn¡¯t relax, and his expression grew darker.


    His sharp eyes kept looking at the strange shape that had appeared in the distance on the plain. His body tensed and twitched involuntarily, but in the end, he could only mock himself.


    ''Can¡¯t things be a little easier? Ever since I came here, I¡¯ve been jumping from one danger to another, facing problems beyond my capacity.''


    He raised his head and looked at the crimson sky that was about to darken, smiling bitterly.


    ''It¡¯s all so ironic. I¡¯d rather go back home and read books. One adventure in this life is enough for me.''


    He fell silent, lamenting his uncertain fate, but despite that, he quickly regained his composure and turned to look at the warriors around him with curiosity.


    He was no longer anxious¡ªor rather, he hid his anxiety by letting his curious personality take over. He observed the warriors and examined their bodies carefully.


    ''I wonder, what is the name of their race? It¡¯s clear they¡¯re not human, despite the slight similarities between us.''


    He thought for a moment, furrowing his brows with a complicated expression.


    ''Ignorance is a fatal weakness. I¡¯ve read all kinds of books and manuscripts, but all my knowledge is useless now. That¡¯s why they say: A thousand miles of travel is better than reading a thousand books.''


    He mocked his own ignorance, then cleared his mind and began reviewing everything that had happened to him, raising the questions he deemed appropriate.


    ''There are significant differences between us, and we share no connection or knowledge.


    This puts me in a weak position, and I¡¯ll be seen as a threat. That¡¯s not the problem here. They¡¯re strong, and I¡¯m weak, which makes me nothing more than a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.''


    His mouth twitched as he thought about it, and he involuntarily swallowed a mouthful of saliva.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ''No, it¡¯s clear they don¡¯t know what to do with me. Is this because of my blood? This complicates things even more. Maybe I¡¯ll become a slave. Ah, there¡¯s no use thinking about it. I can¡¯t find any solutions or answers. This is frustrating.''


    He resisted the urge to scream in surrender, but in the end, he raised his head and let out a long sigh that all the warriors around him noticed.


    ''Everything will be revealed soon.''


    ...


    His gaze fell on the small, strangely shaped city ahead of them.


    At its center stood a massive structure resembling a tall, primitive cylindrical tower. It had no features¡ªno windows, no pointed peaks, no protruding shapes¡ªjust a stone cylinder, with some blue grass growing on it, altering its color in some places.


    But the rest of the city¡¯s components weren¡¯t visible due to a massive wall surrounding it on all sides. There were a few small towers designated for archers, but they weren¡¯t very tall or well-crafted.


    For Sollivan , who had seen the architectural beauty of the Golden Lion Kingdom, this city seemed crude, dilapidated, and extremely primitive. Even the Red Bell City where he lived, which he despised for its backwardness, seemed advanced in comparison.


    The materials used in the construction were random and inconsistent. A large part of the wall was made of square yellow stones stacked together, but in some sections, it was built of wood or patched with clay and bones.


    Even after examining the massive wall, he didn¡¯t think much about it. He didn¡¯t have the luxury of enjoying the scenery.


    When the caravan reached the city¡¯s large iron gate, his heart began to pound, and his body tensed. His thoughts fell silent, and the only thing left in his mind was a single sentence repeating like an alarm.


    ''Whatever lies beyond this gate, I must survive.''


    In the tall towers beside the gate, the guards watched the caravan of warriors with confused faces full of questions. They glanced at each other in bewilderment, and none of them dared to leave their posts.


    The young leader Blear and Willard saw this but didn¡¯t do anything.


    They remained standing in their places, looking at a specific spot. After a few moments, a large, burly man with a thick beard and disheveled hair appeared.


    His face was marred by a massive scar that ran from the middle of his head to his chin. His face looked fierce and terrifying, but contrary to his appearance, his eyes were calm and clear, out of place with his demeanor.


    "Open the gate," the fierce man ordered in a calm voice, then left his position without looking back.


    Creak!


    The iron gate slowly opened, revealing the interior of the small city, which consisted of hundreds of small houses¡ªor rather, hundreds of large tents made of beast hides and wood.


    The tents were arranged in an orderly manner, forming neighborhoods and streets, with some empty spaces here and there. A wide street divided the city into two sections, starting from the large gate.


    The group of warriors and Sollivan entered through the gate and walked down the wide street. Whenever the passersby saw them, they made way and stood to the side with their hands clasped over their chests and their heads held high.


    Even Sollivan , drowning in fear, couldn¡¯t resist the urge to enjoy the strange and fascinating sight of the city.


    When he saw the people¡¯s actions on the sides of the road, he immediately realized it was a form of respectful greeting filled with reverence.


    He looked at the young leader riding his horse with pride and dignity, like a crowned prince. Then he remembered some of the warriors¡¯ conversations about him.


    ''They referred to him as the young leader. Does that mean he¡¯s like the royal heir here? What an honor to be captured by their prince personally.''


    Despite his sarcasm, his expression remained dark, and it grew even darker when he saw the caravan approaching a large, arched tent in the center of the city. Due to its enormous size, the tent looked like a small palace.


    As for the stone tower, after entering the city, its location became clear to Sollivan. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn¡¯t located in the center of the tribe but at its end, outside the wall surrounding the tribe, isolated from the rest.


    ''The feeling of helplessness refuses to leave me.''


    The caravan stopped in front of the large tent¡¯s gate, surrounded by strong warriors wearing thick leather armor.


    Their armor wasn¡¯t well-crafted, and even the armor of low-ranking guards in his kingdom was better. But it was clear that the materials they used were of very high quality and expensive.


    Sollivan wasn¡¯t a master of the Arcane or someone who had strengthened his body, but he had seen many strong people in his life. He immediately realized that the guards of the large tent were extremely powerful individuals, the elite warriors of this tribe.


    "Get down," Willard stood by the cart and pointed at him with a stern expression.


    Without hesitation, Sollivan climbed down from the cart and stood politely and respectfully.


    But contrary to his polite demeanor, Willard grabbed his arm with a strong grip, making him groan, and dragged him hurriedly toward the tent¡¯s gate. The guards in the area watched them with sharp, hawk-like eyes, but they didn¡¯t do anything and remained standing like stone statues.


    Blear walked at the front, and as soon as he reached the gate and was about to enter, he paused for a moment, causing Willard and Sollivan to stop as well.


    He turned slowly and looked at the warriors who had accompanied him, then ordered in a very stern voice.


    "No one is allowed to leave until the leader decides on this matter.


    If any of the information you¡¯ve witnessed leaks out, you will be executed. Is that understood?!"


    All the warriors nodded and thumped their chests with their clenched fists.


    "Understood."


    Their voices were as strong as their bodies, making Sollivan''s ears ache.


    Despite hearing his followers¡¯ response, Blear didn¡¯t show any reaction. All he did was look at one of the guards at the gate.


    "Make sure they carry out this order."


    Unlike the other warriors, the guard didn¡¯t overreact. He simply nodded faintly and returned to standing like a statue.


    They began walking again and entered through the large gate, arriving at a long hallway with some closed wooden doors on the sides. But at the end of the hallway was a large door guarded by two tall figures.


    Blear''s stern expression and fierce aura, which radiated strength, became subdued and filled with respect. His strong steps became lighter, as if he didn¡¯t want to disturb the sanctity of the place.


    Sollivan saw the changes in him and sneered inwardly with resentment.


    He wanted to curse Blear and Willard , who was hurting his shoulder, at the top of his lungs, but he resisted that overwhelming urge to avoid hastening his death. He continued walking with dignity and calm, even though he was being dragged forcefully by Willard.


    His eyes burned with intense anger, but his face was filled with fear that he tried to hide. He wasn¡¯t acting or pretending¡ªit was the truth of his feelings. No matter how strong his willpower was, he wasn¡¯t an unshakable person.


    He passed by the guards at the large door, and at that moment, he felt his blood pulse strangely.


    But that feeling quickly faded after they passed through and entered a large hall in the middle of the palace tent. The tent was well-lit despite the absence of any flames.


    Sollivan raised his head and looked at the large, glowing stone emitting a pure white light at the top of the hall.


    ''A glowing stone.''


    This stone wasn¡¯t unfamiliar to him. He had seen it in his uncle¡¯s palace and in the palaces of powerful families. Although glowing stones weren¡¯t extremely rare, they were still expensive, especially one of this size, which he had never seen before.


    He didn¡¯t stare at the stone for long, then quickly looked around and examined the hall, decorated with the finest types of soft leather and covered with a very smooth carpet. Finally, his gaze fell on the end of the hall, where a large throne stood slightly elevated as a sign of high status.


    But he didn¡¯t contemplate the throne for long, because as soon as he saw the person sitting on it and their eyes met, his blood began to boil again.


    This time, the boiling was so intense that he felt a great heat in his body.


    His thoughts stopped, and he couldn¡¯t calm himself. He didn¡¯t understand what was happening to him, but his eyes didn¡¯t leave the person sitting on the ornate throne.


    It was a noble-looking man in his late thirties, exuding a powerful and noble aura. He looked at Sollivan with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce deep into his soul.


    Like the others he had seen before, this man wasn¡¯t ordinary¡ªhe seemed even more peculiar. His horns were extremely long and sharp compared to the others, and his scales were a deep crimson. Unlike the others, his scales weren¡¯t just on his forehead and neck but extended down to below his eyes. Even his irises were brown with a reddish tint.


    His face was chiseled with a masculine structure, and his eyebrows looked sharp like swords. Although he didn¡¯t say anything, Sollivan , frozen in place, felt a slight suffocation just by looking at him.


    He didn¡¯t understand the reason and didn¡¯t have the chance to think about it because he was trying to calm his strangely burning body. After several seconds, he finally managed to lower his head and calm himself. He looked at the ground, his face drenched in sweat, and didn¡¯t dare to raise his head again.


    His emotions and thoughts churned in silence. At this moment, he was certain that he couldn¡¯t do anything. Whatever his fate was, he had to stop all desires to resist and accept it.


    ...


    While he was lost in his inner turmoil, the young leader Blear stepped forward and stood before the throne, thumping his chest with his strong fist.


    "This young man greets the Supreme Leader."


    He lowered his hand, opened his fist, and patted his chest more gently, then greeted again.


    "This young man greets the High Priest."


    His second greeting was directed at a strange man standing behind the emperor¡¯s throne.


    Unlike the others, the High Priest wore a black robe that covered his entire body and head, revealing only his pale eyes, which remained fixed on Sollivan in a strange manner. Even hidden behind his robe, he couldn¡¯t hide the widening of his eyes.


    After a brief moment of stillness, the High Priest¡¯s eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced quickly at the Supreme Leader, who remained fixed on **Sollivan**. He didn¡¯t do or say anything, like the others, and waited silently for the Supreme Leader to speak with his rigid expression.


    None of the attendees were surprised by this strange development, as the Supreme Leader was the person with the purest blood in their tribe.


    It was clear that the reaction his blood had upon sensing primordial blood was the strongest among them. After a long silence, the Supreme Leader finally spoke.


    "This is truly unbelievable."


    His voice was strong and eloquent in a strange way.


    But after saying these few words, he fell silent again for a few seconds before saying in a slightly harsh tone


    "High Priest Otieno, examine his body."


    It seemed as though the High Priest had been eagerly waiting for these words.


    He hurriedly walked forward without responding to the king and stood in front of Sollivan , who didn¡¯t dare to raise his head again, fearing he might lose control of his body once more.


    Everything that had happened to him since arriving in this world was so strange that he couldn¡¯t keep up with it all. Even now, he couldn¡¯t think clearly.


    Before he realized it, he saw a tall, dark shadow standing in front of him. He felt the grip on his shoulder loosen as **Willard** released him and took a respectful step back.


    He finally raised his head and looked at the tall, dark figure before him, seeing only his strange black eyes.


    But this time, his blood didn¡¯t react. On the contrary, he felt a cold shiver deep in his soul. Vaguely, he didn¡¯t understand the reason for his dark feeling and strange fear.


    Before he could say anything, he saw a pale, thin hand with slightly unnaturally long fingers gripping his uninjured wrist. Despite the icy coldness he felt and the terrifying tremors overwhelming his heart, he didn¡¯t dare pull his hand away.