Chapter 3: Shadows of the Awakening
The first night after discovering the Book of Realms, Jingyu—now fully inhabiting Nirva Meltein's body—did not sleep. Sleep felt impossible. The body was alive with energy, the mark on his neck pulsing with a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat of its own. Every muscle, every nerve, tingled as if vibrating in harmony with something beyond the room, beyond the village, beyond even the mortal world.
He stood before the mirror again, watching his reflection. Nirva's pale face stared back, but the expression was no longer one of despair. Instead, there was a spark—something alive, fierce, untamed. The blood mark glowed faintly under the dim moonlight, casting a crimson halo over the sharp lines of his face.
A whisper began, faint at first, curling around the edges of his mind:
"The blood calls… control it, Nirva… control it…"
Jingyu gritted his teeth. "I'm not Nirva. I'm Jingyu Wang!" he shouted, but the words sounded foreign in his own mouth. The voice in his mind did not falter; it continued its chant, rhythmic and insistent.
He felt it first as heat, rising from the mark on his neck, crawling down his spine. Then came a tugging, pulling him toward the window. With trembling hands, he lifted the sash. Outside, the night was alive. The village slept unaware, but the forest beyond shimmered with faint, unnatural movements. Shadows moved independently of any light source, twisting and bending toward him.
It was not human.
Instinctively, he raised his hands. The energy inside him surged in response, forming faint crimson arcs that danced over his fingers. The whispers intensified, now clearer, sharper, almost melodic:
"They are coming. Protect yourself. Awaken fully."
Jingyu's heart raced. The Book of Realms had hinted at this—enemies drawn by the awakening of a bloodline, creatures of darkness and other realms sensing the surge of power. But nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it.
He stepped onto the balcony, the wooden floor creaking beneath him. Shadows coalesced in the clearing below, forms that shimmered and blurred. At first, he thought they were illusions—but then one stepped forward: a figure tall and hunched, with glowing red eyes and jagged claws that scraped against the earth. Its gaze locked onto him.
A creature of nightmare.
Jingyu's body reacted before his mind could even catch up. The mark on his neck flared violently, and a crimson energy ribbon shot from him, whipping through the air like a living whip. It struck the creature, slicing through shadow and bone, dissipating it in a mist of darkness.
The other shadows recoiled, hissing. More appeared, moving faster this time, circling the clearing. Jingyu's breathing became ragged. His mind raced to recall the passages from the Book of Realms—rituals for defense, for attack, for control. He raised both hands, forming a barrier of swirling crimson light.
The first attack hit the shield like a storm of knives. The force jolted him backward, but the energy held. He felt the thrill of power, raw and intoxicating, coursing through his veins. Nirva's memories added clarity to his instincts: precise movements, predicting attacks, manipulating energy flows. He was a novice, but the bloodline's legacy guided him.
"You will survive, Nirva," a voice whispered in his mind.
Jingyu swallowed. "Not Nirva," he corrected, gritting his teeth. "Jingyu Wang!"
The creatures lunged again. This time, he responded with more confidence. Crimson energy formed a sword, jagged and searing. Each swing sent arcs of light through the air, cutting down shadows as easily as a scythe through wheat. One after another, they fell, evaporating into the night.
The battle was fast, chaotic, and terrifying. The adrenaline coursing through him felt like fire in his veins, and yet, beneath it all, a strange calm persisted. He was learning. Every strike, every movement, felt more intuitive, as though the power itself was teaching him, whispering the secrets of control.
Then came the final shadow. It was larger, taller, almost humanoid, yet impossibly distorted. Its eyes glowed like molten gold. It didn't attack immediately. Instead, it watched. And in that moment, Jingyu felt something he hadn't expected: fear—not for his life, but for the consequence of failure.
The creature's voice echoed in his mind, deep and resonant: "You wield power that is not yours. You cannot survive."
Jingyu raised his sword, crimson energy humming along its blade. "I don't care whose power it is! I'm alive, and I won't die here!"
The creature lunged. Time slowed. Jingyu moved with instincts he didn't know he possessed. Each movement was a symphony of precision and energy. He parried, countered, and finally, with a burst of force drawn from the mark on his neck, struck the shadow at its core. The light of his sword exploded, sending the figure screaming into the night air before it vanished.
The clearing fell silent. Only the sound of his ragged breathing and the faint pulsing of the sigil remained. He lowered his sword, trembling, his body slick with sweat, though he had not truly been touched.
Jingyu sank to his knees, trying to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The whispers in his mind faded, leaving a silence heavier than the battle itself. He had survived. He had awoken. But at what cost?
The Book of Realms hovered in his memory, its lessons unfinished, its secrets only partially revealed. The night was far from over. He knew the shadows would return, stronger, faster, smarter.
And more than that—he could feel something else, lurking beyond the village, waiting for the awakening to fully manifest. Something intelligent, something ancient. The first trial had been won, but the war for Nirva's—and now his own—soul was only beginning.
Jingyu stood, knees unsteady, gaze fixed on the horizon. The moon above was crimson, its light spilling over the forest in blood-red rivers. He had inherited Nirva's body, Nirva's blood, and Nirva's enemies—but he would not inherit Nirva's despair.
"I am Jingyu Wang," he whispered into the night, voice firm and steady despite the exhaustion clawing at him. "And I will not die like you did."
A sudden breeze rippled through the trees, carrying with it the faintest whisper:
"Good… very good. But the real awakening is yet to come."
Jingyu clenched his fists, feeling the heat and hum of the blood mark. Every instinct in his body told him the night was far from over. He could feel the creatures lurking just beyond the reach of his vision, feel the pulse of realms overlapping his own, like thin glass separating one world from another.
He was alone—but not entirely. The Book of Realms had chosen him. The bloodline had chosen him. And he, in turn, had chosen life.
The forest was quiet now, deceptively calm. But Jingyu knew better. Shadows waited. Power waited. And somewhere, in the farthest reaches of the world—and perhaps beyond—something was coming to test him, to challenge the awakening that had begun within the body of Nirva Meltein.
With a deep breath, Jingyu straightened, letting the crimson light from his neck wash over him. The first step had been taken. The first battle won. But the path forward was dark, treacherous, and relentless.
And he would walk it.
Because now, he was alive.
Because now, he was Nirva Meltein.
Because now, he was Jingyu Wang.
And the awakening had only just begun.