Warmth.
That was the first sensation he felt — a faint, almost alien warmth seeping through his skin. Aelric stirred, the world slowly regaining color as his eyelids fluttered open. Above him, the golden light of dawn spilled across the sky like liquid fire, painting the clouds in hues of crimson and amber.
He was lying on rough earth, the scent of wet soil and blooming grass heavy in the air. The gentle murmur of wind brushed past his ears, carrying with it the soft rustle of leaves and the distant cry of a hawk. When he finally lifted himself, he found that he was in a valley cradled between towering mountains — peaks shrouded in mist that glowed faintly under the morning sun.
For a long moment, he simply sat there, watching the light crawl down the rocky slopes. The beauty of it all was almost disorienting — too serene, too vibrant. It wasn't the cold, perpetual twilight of his homeland, nor the heavy crimson haze that hung over his clan's domain. This world… was alive.
Aelric exhaled slowly, his breath curling faintly in the cool mountain air.
"So… this is where that artifact has thrown me," he murmured, voice soft but carrying an undertone of caution.
He rose to his feet — graceful, deliberate — and brushed the dirt from his black robe. His reflection caught faintly in a pool of water nearby; his pale face was unblemished, and his long white hair flowed freely down his back. There were no visible wounds — the slashes across his chest, the burn on his arm, even the gashes that had pierced his ribs were all gone.
But as he reached inward, seeking the familiar pulse of his crimson essence, his expression darkened.
His heart — once a wellspring of immortal vitality — beat weakly, unevenly. The channels through which his essence flowed were fragmented, like shattered glass. He could feel the power within him, but it was… distant.
"Only the surface was restored," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly. "Inside, I'm… broken."
He clenched his fist, frustration flickering behind his calm eyes. Even breathing too deeply sent faint tremors of pain through his core. His strength — the strength that once let him silence nations — had fallen to a mere fraction. Perhaps not even twenty percent remained.
And then, there was it.
The cube lay a few paces away, half-buried in the grass. Even in the sunlight, it radiated an otherworldly presence. The once-vibrant white glow had dimmed to a faint pulse, like a dying ember refusing to fade. Aelric crouched beside it, his crimson gaze reflecting its soft shimmer.
"You brought me here," he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent — but laced with suspicion. "But why… and at what cost?"
The cube offered no answer. Only the faint hum of its core responded, as if breathing in rhythm with him. He extended his hand, and for a brief instant, the surface of the cube rippled like water before stabilizing once more.
He sighed and tucked it carefully inside his robe, close to his heart. The artifact felt strangely heavy — not in weight, but in presence, as though it carried a will of its own.
He looked toward the horizon. The valley stretched endlessly ahead — a carpet of jade grass dotted with crimson flowers, bordered by forests of tall, silver-barked trees. In the distance, faint trails of smoke rose lazily into the air — the sign of civilization.
"Good," he muttered. "I'll need shelter… and information."
He began walking. His footsteps were silent, his movements measured, betraying the predatory grace that still lingered even in his weakened state. Each breath he took drew in the unfamiliar aura of this world — vibrant, rich, and alive with spiritual energy unlike anything from his realm.
He could sense it — this was a cultivation world.
The very air thrummed with the power of heaven and earth, a rhythm of existence structured around life's ascension. Yet, something about it felt… foreign. His vampiric essence — born of darkness and blood — did not resonate with this world's flow. It resisted him, like two opposing melodies clashing within the same song.
By the time he reached the edge of the valley, fatigue had begun to gnaw at his limbs. His inner injuries flared with every step, forcing him to rest beneath an ancient oak whose roots broke through the earth like the veins of a slumbering beast. He placed a hand on his chest, breathing steadily, trying to circulate what little energy he could muster.
"Even regeneration is… sluggish," he muttered. "I'll need time."
From his position, he could now see the village nestled along the cliffside — small, humble, smoke rising from thatched rooftops. The faint echo of laughter and the distant clang of metal drifted through the wind.
It was strange. In his world, human settlements were distant lights — places of prey, not refuge. But now, he found himself longing for their simplicity. He needed to blend in, recover, and observe.
As he started down the forested slope, the canopy above thickened, filtering sunlight into soft shards that danced upon the moss-covered ground. The air here was cooler, damp with the scent of pine and earth. Birds scattered as he passed, and small creatures retreated into the underbrush — instinctively recognizing the predator that walked among them.
Yet even weakened, Aelric's senses remained sharp.
Something felt… off.
The forest grew eerily quiet — the natural chorus of life fading into silence. Aelric stopped, his gaze sweeping the dense foliage. His fingers brushed the edge of his sleeve, instinctively reaching for a weapon that was no longer there.
Then he heard it — a scream.
High-pitched, desperate, echoing faintly from deeper within the trees.
It was the unmistakable sound of human fear.
Aelric's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "How troublesome," he murmured. His body ached, every movement a reminder of his fractured state, yet his curiosity stirred. In unfamiliar lands, information was currency — and those in peril often spoke freely afterward.
He moved toward the sound — silent as a shadow, steps gliding across roots and leaves without a whisper. The cries grew louder, interspersed with the snapping of branches and the low, guttural growl of something inhuman.
The forest opened into a clearing. The light there was dim, filtered through mist. At its center, a young man — perhaps a cultivator or hunter — stumbled backward, clutching a wooden staff. Blood trailed from his arm. In front of him loomed a beast — a massive wolf-like creature, its fur black as midnight, eyes burning with an eerie blue light.
Aelric's crimson gaze flickered — not with concern, but assessment.
The beast's aura was weak compared to what he once faced — a low-tier spirit creature, perhaps. But in his current state, even that could pose a risk if he wasn't careful.
The youth screamed again as the beast lunged.
And Aelric… moved.
To the untrained eye, it would seem as though he vanished — one instant standing at the edge of the clearing, the next between predator and prey. His hand shot out, palm striking the beast's chest. The impact was light — almost gentle — yet the creature's body convulsed midair, crashing into the ground several meters away.
Aelric's eyes glowed faintly, his irises bleeding into a deeper red.
A faint hiss of pain escaped his lips as his inner injuries protested, but he stood tall regardless.
The beast staggered up, snarling — but one look into those eyes, and it froze. Its instincts screamed of ancient fear — a fear written into its blood by something older than this world.
Aelric raised his hand, fingers curling. Shadows gathered faintly around his palm — not essence, not mana, but the lingering authority of a being who once commanded night itself.
The beast whimpered… and fled into the forest.
For a moment, silence returned. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the young man now collapsed to his knees, staring in disbelief.
Aelric turned toward him, expression unreadable. "You. Where is this place?"
The man's lips trembled. "T-The Azure Mountain Valley, s-sir… this is the outskirts of Yunlai Village…"
Aelric nodded once, cold and silent, his crimson gaze drifting toward the faint glow of the village lights in the distance.
"So, that's where I begin."
The wind stirred his white hair as he turned away, the faint pulse of the black cube beneath his robe syncing with the rhythm of his heartbeat — as if whispering secrets only he could hear.
And somewhere deep within the cube…
an eye opened.