I sat up slowly, every joint in my body protesting the movement, my clothes clinging to me like a second, damp skin. A light drizzle continued to fall, the cold seeping in just enough to make my bones ache. I blinked hard, scanning my surroundings—trees, mud, more trees. No buildings, no cars, no streetlights. Just… wilderness.
One second, I was grabbing a midnight snack, the next? This.
"What the hell?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the soft patter of rain on leaves.
My mind was spinning, trying to rationalize the irrational. Did I pass out? Am I dreaming? Hallucinating?
The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and moss, clinging to everything like a second atmosphere. Panic started to rise in my chest, hot and sharp. I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, my breath catching.
"Okay… okay, think," I whispered to no one. You're a rational person. You don't just teleport into forests.
But this wasn't a dream. The pain in my ankle was too real. The drizzle was too cold. And I was too awake.
"Please let this be a dream," I murmured, squeezing my eyes shut and pinching the inside of my arm until it stung.
Still here.
I wasn't waking up.
Then the darker thoughts started to creep in, slow and sinister.
Was I kidnapped? Did I wander off during a panic attack? Was I… was I drugged?
A terrifying thought surfaced, Was I assaulted? Left out here after…
"No." I cut off that spiral fast.
My hands flew over my body, checking. Arms, legs, torso, under my clothes. Nothing. No bruises, no cuts, no soreness.
I let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry. "Okay. You're okay."
Nearby, my first aid kit lay half-buried in a patch of ferns. My phone was there too, mud-smeared but intact. My lifelines.
With trembling fingers, I grabbed my phone and pressed the power button, hope flickering for a brief moment.
Nothing.
"No, no, no," I muttered. I pressed again. Held it down. Shook it a little. Still nothing. The screen remained black.
I sat there for a moment, letting the weight of it all settle over me like the rain-soaked fabric against my back. Then I took a breath, pushed the panic down—just for now—and looked around.
I needed shelter. I'd freeze if I stayed out here much longer.
That's when I saw it. To the left, maybe ten yards away, half-concealed by drooping branches and a slope of jagged rocks—was that a cave?
It was dark, and the entrance was narrow, but it looked dry. It wasn't much, but it was something. A little sliver of hope.
Carefully, I stood—wincing as my ankle gave a dull throb—and limped toward it, clutching my first aid kit tight to my chest. Each step felt like a gamble between survival and disaster.
As I reached the cave's mouth, I hesitated.
What if something was in there?
Then again, what if I stayed out here and froze to death while weighing my options?
"Cave it is," I muttered, forcing myself forward.
I ducked inside, the sound of the rain dulling as I passed through the natural threshold. It was cooler inside, and smelled of wet stone and moss. I dropped the kit to the ground and sat down, pulling my knees to my chest.
The cave was colder than expected, like Mother Nature had decided, Let's add hypothermia to her list of problems. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop shivering. The air smelled like damp stone and regret—earthy, metallic, and old.
Outside, the light was fading fast. I had no idea what time it was. My phone was dead, and I'd lost all sense of direction somewhere between panic and denial.
Then I saw it.
No smoke. No wood. No crackling sound. Just flames flickering merrily on bare stone like they didn't care about physics.
I crouched down beside it, slowly reaching out a hand. Warmth radiated from it, but when my fingers brushed the flame, nothing happened. No pain. No sizzle. My hand passed straight through, like I was waving at a particularly dramatic screensaver.
"What…?" I blinked, unsure whether to be impressed or terrified. Maybe both. Was this cutting-edge tech? Was I in some top-secret VR experiment? Or had I just finally snapped?
I didn't have time to decide.
A sharp bang echoed from deeper in the cave, followed by a series of metallic crashes, like someone had thrown a bunch of swords into a dryer and hit spin.
I jumped, heart practically cartwheeling.
"Cool. Great. That's normal," I muttered. Because sarcasm made fear less awful, apparently.
I hesitated. The smart move was to back away slowly, find a corner, and pretend I'd seen nothing. But curiosity—and possibly poor life choices—got the better of me. I tied the first aid kit to my belt and moved forward, every nerve in my body on edge.
The sounds grew louder with each step. My footsteps echoed, too loud in the silence between clashes. Then, just past a sharp bend in the tunnel, I saw them.
Two figures, locked in combat with something that absolutely did not belong in a cave. Or the real world. It was all limbs and jagged edges, like someone had tried to build a nightmare from spare parts.
The fire—still hovering midair because, sure, why not—lit the scene in bursts. Blades flashed. Shadows moved. Whatever was happening, it was definitely above my pay grade.
And yet... I couldn't look away.
One of them wore flowing white robes, every movement precise and almost too graceful—like he'd trained with an ancient swordmaster and a ballet troupe at the same time. His blade gleamed even in the dim light, slashing through the air with unsettling elegance.
The other moved in the shadows. His robes were black, sleek, and his style was all speed and sharp angles—dodge, pivot, strike, like he was three seconds ahead of everyone else, including gravity.
And the thing they were fighting?
Yeah, that's when I seriously considered whether I'd hit my head harder than I thought.
It was a giant scorpion. Not just a scorpion—the scorpion. Massive. Black as night. Its tail curved menacingly overhead, dripping venom like it had a personal grudge against biology. And just to up the nightmare factor, it was wrapped in some kind of swirling black smoke. Not the metaphorical kind. Literal smoke, alive and pulsing, moving like it was… breathing.
I stood there like a useless extra, frozen. What was I even looking at? Who were these sword-swinging cosplay warriors? And what kind of nature documentary had I stumbled into?
Then something clicked. Or maybe snapped.
The man in white—there was something about the way he moved. That stoic vibe. That posture. That damn headband.
"No," I whispered, squinting like a grandma reading small print. "No way. Is that...?"
He looked exactly like Lan Wangji. From The Untamed.
Was someone filming a fan-made sequel? Was this a hyper-realistic VR game? Or had I just blacked out in my living room and landed in someone else's fever dream?
My existential crisis was interrupted by the white-robed guy suddenly pausing mid-fight, pulling out a Guqin like he was about to drop the sickest ancient diss track in history.
He plucked the strings with practiced precision, and a haunting melody filled the cave—low, mournful, and somehow way too powerful for a string instrument. A blue light spiraled from the strings, gathering into a glowing beam aimed at the scorpion.
I barely had time to register the wow, that's beautiful before the beam collided with something invisible and ricocheted off, slamming into a nearby boulder.
The rock exploded.
As in, full-on cinematic detonation. Shards went flying.
I screamed. Loud. Sharp. Totally involuntary.
The music stopped.
Both the fighters and the monster paused like someone had hit the "mute" button. And then they all looked at me.
The man with the Guqin slowly lowered his hands. His eyes locked on mine—curious, assessing, and very much not amused.
I froze, every cell in my body screaming run, but my legs were like, "Nah, let's stand here and marinate in the embarrassment a bit longer."
Before I could spiral further, the creature made its move—because apparently it didn't care about dramatic timing.
It lunged.
Its claw sliced through the air like a wrecking ball. The guy in black barely dodged, but not fast enough. The claw ripped across his side, tearing fabric, skin, everything.
He staggered, a raw cry escaping his lips, blood painting the ground.
The man in white rushed to him immediately, moving with terrifying control. He raised a hand and summoned—not even kidding—a shimmering barrier of faint blue light that bloomed between them and the creature.
A literal energy shield.
"I—what? Is this real?" I breathed, blinking hard like that would fix anything. "Did I die in my sleep? Did I get reincarnated into a high-budget wuxia game?"
The shield flickered under the creature's blows. Each hit sent ripples through it like a pond under a storm. The man holding it up was starting to falter—just slightly—but enough to see the strain in his shoulders.
They were losing ground.
And suddenly, it hit me: this wasn't a movie. Or a prank. Or a fan project with suspiciously good CGI.
This was real.
Too real.
My pulse rocketed.
If that shield failed, they both would be dead—I had nothing. No weapon. No plan. Just a first aid kit and the distinct feeling I'd wandered into someone else's final boss fight.
"What am I supposed to do?" I whispered, voice shaking. "Throw band-aids at it?"
And the worst part? No one else seemed nearly as confused as I was.
My eyes darted around the cave, desperate for anything remotely useful. Weapon? Distraction? Literal miracle? I'd take anything. The fear was real—tight, suffocating—but adrenaline had finally kicked in, shoving panic aside just long enough to scream: Do something.
"Think, come on, think!" I hissed at myself.
The white-robed guy's shield was cracking now, thin lines of light spidering across its surface like it was made of glass instead of whatever energy-magic nonsense this was. He was running out of time. And so was I.
This was probably the worst idea I'd had in my life, but I felt compelled to help him. Maybe it was a survival instinct. Maybe it was the dozen times I watched The Untamed when I should've been doing literally anything else. Either way, I was suddenly Team White Robe.
The creature didn't even bother looking at me, too focused on its main target. So, naturally, I decided to announce my presence in the worst possible way.
My hand closed around a rock—cold, damp, definitely not Excalibur, but hey, desperate times. I took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of wildly misplaced courage, and hurled it at the giant demon-scorpion.
It hit.
Square on the side.
And bounced off.
Not exactly heroic. But enough to be noticed.
The creature turned. Slowly. Menacingly. Its entire body coiled like a spring, black smoke writhing around it like it was trying to become a horror movie poster in real time. Its glowing red eyes—if you could even call them eyes—locked onto me.
I forgot how to breathe.
"Oh... shit," I whispered, because of course I'd just made myself the main course.
It started toward me, massive, clicking claws scraping against the stone like it enjoyed the sound. I froze. Every part of my body screamed run, but I could barely move.
Then—twang.
The Guqin sang again.
A sharp, piercing note echoed through the cave as a wave of shimmering energy slammed into the creature. It staggered back, just enough to buy a few seconds.
"Get behind me!" the man in white shouted.
For once, I didn't argue with the sword-wielding stranger. I scrambled behind him like my life depended on it—because, well, it kind of did.
As I ducked behind his flowing sleeves of danger and mystery, my brain, traitorous as ever, had thoughts.
What is even happening? I was binge-watching a drama last night. Now I'm living in one. Is this karma for not folding my laundry?
I glanced toward the guy in black. He was slumped against the cave wall, bleeding and completely unconscious. He was definitely not up for Round Two. Which meant it was just the guy in white holding the line. And judging by the way his hands were trembling, he was barely holding it.
The creature refocused, screeching like a broken violin, its rage now dialed to eleven and aimed straight at us.
Okay. Need a bigger distraction, I thought. A much bigger one.
And then I saw it.
A stalactite, dangling precariously from the ceiling, right above the monster. Classic video game weak spot. Worth a shot.
I grabbed another rock. Heavier this time. My hands were shaking so badly it felt like I was trying to throw while in a minor earthquake, but I aimed for the base of the stalactite and hurled it with everything I had.
The rock hit the stalactite dead-on.
There was a sharp crack, and for a split second, I actually believed I'd pulled it off. That I, the barely-functioning adult with a dead phone and zero upper body strength, had just helped defeat a demonic scorpion.
And then it missed.
The stalactite crashed harmlessly to the cave floor with all the dramatic flair of a failed group project. The creature flinched at the sound but was otherwise perfectly fine. Not even a scratch.
"Damn it!" I hissed, clenching my fists. Of course, it missed. Of course.
But maybe the noise did something. The scorpion paused, confused—or possibly insulted.
White Robes didn't waste the moment. He let out a short, clipped shout and strummed his guqin again, harder this time. The sound that burst from it wasn't music—it was force. A sonic wave, shimmering with energy, slammed into the creature, and this time, it worked.
The black smoke around it blew apart like mist under a spotlight. The creature shrieked, stumbling, clawing at nothing, but still upright.
And then it turned.
Right. Toward. Me.
Its eyes—those glowing red murder-orbs—locked onto mine. Its body tensed, claws raised, and I knew.
It was coming for me.
My heart was doing the drum solo from hell, and I couldn't move. Couldn't think. I was just standing there, watching death approach, every thought reduced to this.
The creature lunged.
Everything slowed. I saw its claw swing toward me—jagged, glinting, inches away.
I didn't scream. I couldn't.
Then—
Light.
Not from the guqin. Not from the shield.
From me.
A sudden, brilliant light exploded out of my chest like I was a human disco ball possessed by a divine being. The whole cave lit up—blinding, searing, impossibly bright.
The light surged outward, wrapping around the creature and slamming into it like a tidal wave. It screamed, a horrible, guttural screech, its body twisting in pain as the light consumed it.
And then—boom.
A deafening crack split the air. The creature vanished in a burst of white and smoke, gone as suddenly as it had appeared. Silence followed. But not for long.
The ground trembled beneath me.
Somewhere above, I heard the ominous groan of stone giving way. Then—crash. Rocks tumbled down from the ceiling, slamming into the floor with thunderous finality. One after another, they collapsed over the cave's entrance until it was completely sealed.
Darkness.
Not just dim. Absolute.
For a few seconds, all I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears. My entire body was shaking.
"What the hell just happened?" I whispered into the dark. My voice sounded small. Frayed.
No answer.
The cave was silent now. Heavy with it. But I wasn't alone. I felt someone—or something—nearby. Not threatening… but close.
"Hello?" My voice cracked. "Are you… okay?"
Still nothing.
The silence felt less empty now, more like a held breath.