The convenience store's fluorescent lights hummed a flat, monotonous tune against the encroaching night. To Li Chen, it was the anthem of the graveyard shift—a sterile, artificial sun fighting a losing battle against the deep blue darkness pressing against the glass walls. Outside, the city was very much alive, a river of neon crimson and electric cyan flowing through concrete canyons. But in here, time felt suspended, thick and syrupy.
He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes, the faint, greasy smell of processed food clinging to his uniform. His phone lay on the counter, its screen dark. For most, it was a portal to the world. For him, lately, it felt like a dead weight. His grandfather's last message, received three days ago, was a cryptic scar burned into his memory: "The moon is a blind eye now, boy. Don't trust the quiet. They are coming." Followed by radio silence. The old man had always been eccentric, filled with stories of a different China, one woven through with silk and spirit, of gods who walked the earth and courtesans who danced with foxes. Li Chen had dismissed them as the ramblings of a man who loved his rice wine a little too much. Now, the silence felt ominous.
The automatic doors hissed open, slicing through his thoughts. A wave of humid, exhaust-tinged air washed in, followed by a man. He was tall, uncomfortably so, and moved with a stilted, jerky grace, as if his joints weren't quite aligned. He wore a long, dark coat despite the mild evening, its collar turned up, shadowing his face.
"Welcome," Li Chen said, the practiced greeting falling flat.
The man didn't respond. He moved through the aisles, not with the aimless browsing of a typical customer, but with a predatory, deliberate slowness. His head didn't turn to look at the shelves; it was as if he was sniffing his way through.
Li Chen's skin prickled. He straightened up, his senses, honed by years of navigating the city's unpredictable undercurrents, screaming a silent alarm. This was more than just a weirdo. This was wrong.
The man finally stopped in front of the chilled beverage section. He didn't reach for a can. Instead, he stood there, perfectly still, his reflection a distorted smear in the glass door. Then, he slowly turned his head. The shadows from his collar fell away, and Li Chen's breath hitched.
The man's eyes were utterly, terrifyingly black. No sclera, no iris, just polished obsidian orbs that seemed to drink the light from the room. A cold, ancient malice radiated from him, a pressure that had nothing to do with the store's air conditioning.
Grandfather's stories... They were never just stories.
The thing wearing a man's shape smiled, a crack splitting its lower face that showed too many, needle-like teeth. It took a step towards the counter, its movement a liquid glide that defied physics.
"Little morsel," it hissed, its voice the sound of dry leaves skittering over stone. "So much… light in you. It has been so long since I tasted a bright one."
Li Chen's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. Fight or flight was a luxury he didn't have. There was nowhere to run. His hand closed around the only thing within reach—a heavy, industrial-strength flashlight kept under the counter for emergencies.
The creature was before him in an instant, the smell of damp earth and decay cutting through the sterile air. A long, unnaturally thin hand, its fingers ending in dark, hardened points, reached for his face.
"The gods are gone," it whispered, its breath icy. "This world is ours for the taking."
Instinct took over. Li Chen swung the flashlight. It wasn't a trained move, just pure, desperate survival. The metal cylinder connected with the creature's wrist with a sickening crunch that sounded more like breaking pottery than bone.
The creature let out a shriek that was pure noise, a frequency that shattered the humming fluorescent lights above them. The store plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the frantic pulse of the neon signs outside, casting the scene in strobes of red and blue.
The thing recoiled, its black eyes flashing with a venomous light. It lunged again, faster this time.
A new voice cut through the chaos, calm and authoritative. "Step away from the civilian."
A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, backlit by the city's glow. She was of average height, clad in practical, dark tactical gear that bore no insignia. In her hands, she held a weapon Li Chen had only seen in video games—a sleek, matte-black device that looked like a cross between a rifle and a scientific instrument. A low, resonant hum emanated from it.
The creature spun around, hissing. "Purger."
The woman didn't flinch. Her eyes, a sharp, flinty grey, flickered to Li Chen for a nanosecond, assessing, then locked back on the target. "This is a designated neutral zone. You are in violation of the Residual Accord. Stand down."
The answer was a guttural roar as the creature launched itself at her.
She moved with an economy of motion that was breathtaking. A sidestep, a pivot. She raised her weapon. There was no loud bang, only a thrum of concentrated energy, a pulse of light that looked like contained lightning. It struck the creature center-mass.
It froze mid-air, its form shuddering violently. The human disguise it wore began to peel away like burning film, revealing something beneath that was all jagged edges, shadows, and that same terrifying blackness. It writhed, letting out a sound that was the essence of agony and rage, before it imploded into a wisp of black smoke and a handful of drifting, ash-like particles. The oppressive presence in the store vanished.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
The woman, the Purger, lowered her weapon. She tapped a device on her wrist. "Incident 7-Alpha-9 neutralized. Civilian present. Sending clean-up coordinates." Her voice was all business.
She walked over to Li Chen, who was still gripping the flashlight, his knuckles white, his entire body trembling. The strobe effect of the neon outside made her seem like a ghost stepping between worlds.
"Are you injured?" she asked, her tone softer now, though no less direct.
He could only shake his head, words failing him.
She looked at him, really looked at him, and her brow furrowed slightly. "You saw it. For what it was."
It wasn't a question. Li Chen managed a nod.
"Most people's minds just… refuse to process it. They see a mugger, a maniac, anything their sanity can latch onto." She leaned closer, her grey eyes intense. "But you… you saw the Hollow." Her gaze then dropped to his left hand, still clenched on the counter. "And you fought back."
Slowly, he unclenched his fist. He hadn't even realized it. Nestled in his palm, warm against his skin, was the small, milky-white jade pendant his grandfather had given him for his last birthday. It was glowing with a soft, internal light, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.
The Purger's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She recognized it.
"Who are you?" Li Chen finally croaked out, his voice raw.
Before she could answer, two more figures in similar tactical gear entered the store, moving with quiet efficiency. They began deploying small devices that emitted a low-frequency buzz, seemingly erasing the evidence of the struggle.
The woman ignored them, her focus entirely on Li Chen and the glowing pendant.
"My name is Lin," she said. "And it seems your quiet life is over. The myths aren't dead. They're sleeping under the neon. And you…" she gestured to the light in his hand, "...you just became very interesting to them. You need to come with me."
She extended a hand, not in threat, but as an offer. A gateway.
Outside, the city pulsed, indifferent. The moon, a cold, distant sliver in the smoggy sky, watched, offering no counsel. The world he knew had just cracked open, and from the fissure, a new, terrifying reality was pouring in.