Wei Xichen drove his silver-gray SUV—a vehicle tied to a ten-year loan—slowly along the road leading to the suburbs. He lived alone on the outskirts of the city; the location was remote and the property prices cheap, but it offered a quiet environment that allowed him to focus on tasks he'd rather keep hidden from prying eyes.
The city lights gradually receded behind him as the world outside the window turned blurred and silent. Streetlights grew increasingly sparse, and even the shadows of trees in the wild flickered in and out of existence.
However, as he turned into a deserted side road, a flash caught the corner of his eye. A sudden glint sparked at the edge of a distant forest and vanished just as quickly.
"What was that?" He frowned, easing his foot off the accelerator. The car slowed.
It certainly wasn't a headlight. It was too concentrated, too jittery—like a high-energy electric field leaking out, erratic yet possessing some underlying frequency.
He glanced at the time on the dashboard, then back at the distance. His chest tightened as a strange sense of familiarity crept in. The book had mentioned a similar scene. He remembered the passage:
"When a rift manifests, the world suffers a momentary imbalance. Like static lightning, it flickers within the air."
He pulled over to the side of the road and cut the engine, keeping his movements as quiet as possible. As the car door opened, the wind brought the scent of damp, cold grass—a harbinger of the coming night rain.
Wei Xichen didn't turn on his flashlight. Guided only by the intermittent flashes, he crept toward the wilderness. His feet pressed into the damp earth. The tall grass was eerily devoid of insect cries, and even the wind whistling through the branches seemed hushed. As he rounded a low-lying patch of ground, his field of vision suddenly opened up.
He saw it.
A rift. It was truly there, hovering in mid-air like a distorted mirror, its edges flowing with a cerulean light. It wasn't a hole, nor did it look like a projection; it was as if the air itself had been torn asunder, allowing a piece of the "other side" to bleed through.
Then, dark figures emerged.
Seven silhouettes, crossing the threshold one by one in a disciplined line. Each wore heavy, highly functional gear—some wore masks, others bore a faint metallic sheen on their suits. Their movements were exceptionally cautious. They exchanged silent glances, acting with seamless coordination, frequently looking back to check the state of the rift.
Crouching behind a small slope, Wei Xichen felt his heart hammer against his ribs. "...The book was real?"
The rift continued to throb slowly, its perimeter emitting an aura like an aurora. The air grew frigid. The ground began to vibrate slightly, and leaves moved without wind, as if pulled by some gravitational force.
"This isn't a hallucination," he muttered, certain of what he saw.
He held his breath, observing their every move. These people were steady on their feet, yet they seemed alert, as if guarding against something. One man produced a strange instrument out of thin air; another knelt to touch the ground; a third kept his eyes locked on the surroundings.
Run! Right now! His logic screamed at him.
But his feet were leaden. The rift seemed to be calling him, whispering some ancient secret. Sentences from the book flooded his mind: "If you can see it, it has already seen you."
Suddenly, the shortest figure among them whipped their head around, staring straight toward the slope where he was hiding.
In that instant, Wei Xichen felt a jolt go through him like a lightning strike. His heart leaped, and the hair on his neck stood on end.
He knew he was exposed.
Without a second thought, he spun around, nearly slipping on the grass as he sprinted desperately toward his car. Behind him, the rift continued to flicker, as if it might catch up to him at any moment.
—
"Damn it... damn it... what are those things..."
Wei Xichen gasped as he ran, his footsteps echoing chaotically through the dark. His mind raced, calculating the nearest cover, the fastest way to start the engine, and which route would lose his pursuers.
He was barely ten steps from the road when a cold palm suddenly clamped onto the back of his neck. It held him in a pincer-like grip. He froze instantly, his throat tightening as his flight instinct was forcibly shut down.
A low, raspy voice hissed into his ear: "Hello there, Aboriginal. Why don't you tell us... where is the nearest Overclock Broadcast Core?"
Wei's heart was thundering, but his captor's face remained utterly void of expression. It wasn't a question; it was a final warning. Years of life experience told him one thing: when you don't know who you're dealing with, never rush to take a side. Observe, stabilize, then strike.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his terror, and spoke in the steadiest tone he could muster:
"Overclock Broadcast Core? ...Sir, I'm sorry. As a professional mechanical technician, I can assure you that our world does not have what you're looking for."
He turned his head slightly, intentionally sharpening his tone. "However... perhaps you've come to the wrong place? I could take you to see similar facilities nearby, provided you grant me one request."
The hand seemed to weigh the value of his words for a moment, then slowly released its grip.
Wei Xichen turned around and locked eyes with an old man. The man was shorter than he had imagined, with a thin face dominated by an aquiline nose and pale, cracked skin. His eyes were narrowed into thin slits. He wore a black cloak, looking like someone who had stepped out of an assassin film.
But the most bone-chilling thing was the smile on his face. It wasn't a fierce or menacing grin; it was gentle, kind—the sort of benevolent smile a primary school teacher might give a student.
"Not bad, clever one," the man spoke slowly, his voice like a nail dragging across fabric. "I grant your request. I will not kill you."
Wei Xichen didn't flinch. Instead, his gaze grew sharper. A smirk played across his lips, revealing neat white teeth. His smile was even colder, even more malicious than the old man's.
"No, what I meant was... you have to tell me everything."
The air between them tightened instantly. The wind howling through the edges of the rift sounded like a distant wail. The two men stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to look away.
—
Night had fallen completely, with heavy clouds pressing down against the entire sky. A fine rain drifted down, drumming against the windshield with a rhythmic patter, veiling the world in a blur of oppressive gloom.
Wei Xichen gripped the steering wheel with both hands, pushing the old nine-seater SUV to its limits. The vehicle sped along the slick, winding country roads, racing toward the heart of the city. He could feel the steering wheel trembling slightly; the rhythmic sweep of the wipers could barely drown out the eerie silence emanating from the back.
Six strangers were crammed into the rear seats, each maintaining a terrifying stillness, not uttering a single word. In the passenger seat sat the one man Wei could not ignore: the elder, Etzel.
He was not a tall man. A corner of his black cloak was soaked, clinging to his knee. The face beneath the hood was almost entirely swallowed by shadows, save for his eyes, which glinted under the passing streetlights. His expression was so peaceful it bordered on benevolent, yet when he spoke, his voice was a raspy, low growl.
"Thornley, you will activate the multi-frequency interference dampener. Remember, our signal must suppress the entire spectrum. The rest of you, take your positions. Act immediately upon receiving the signal."
He paused, his tone dropping into a chilling bass. "Once inside, seal all exits. Do not let a single Aboriginal escape. If there are obstacles, eliminate them without hesitation."
Wei Xichen's Adam's apple bobbed as he stole a glance at the back. The figures remained motionless, like a squad of emotionless soldiers. They didn't look like men waiting for orders; they looked like weapons on standby.
After Etzel finished his commands, he turned his head toward Wei. His tone softened slightly, and he offered a warm smile. "Little brother, once you deliver us to our destination, I will tell you everything you wish to know."
That smile—Wei had seen it before. Etzel had worn the same expression when he first boarded the car: gentle, kind, like a grateful traveler. But Wei knew it wasn't sincerity. It was merely a poisonous pill coated in sugar.
He didn't respond, choosing instead to fix his gaze even more intensely on the road ahead. The rain against the glass grew thicker. He could feel an alien aura radiating from the group; he sensed that a single wrong word would result in his neck being snapped instantly.
—
Half an hour later, the car finally came to a slow crawl in front of the city's largest television station. The building was ablaze with lights. Even at this late hour, the exterior walls flickered with variety show posters and scrolling headlines—the neural hub of the city.
The doors opened, and dark silhouettes stepped out one by one.
Just as Wei Xichen stepped out of the car, the sensor lights at the revolving doors flared to life. Two night-shift security guards, clad in raincoats, walked out with looks of exhaustion and confusion. "Hey! You can't park here! What's your business?"
No one acknowledged them. Etzel acted as if he hadn't heard a thing, merely turning to a man in a black cap and whispering, "Thornley, prepare the dampener."
Wei Xichen was about to turn away when he heard a faint click beside him.
He snapped his head around—in Etzel's hand, a strange... gun? ...had appeared out of nowhere. It hadn't been pulled from a pocket, nor hidden beneath the cloak. It simply manifested, silent and sudden.
The weapon looked like a grotesque fusion of biological bone and cold metal. The frame had a moist, organic sheen, and where the safety should have been, there was a pulsating yellow lump of flesh, twitching slightly like a beating heart.
"Huh? What is th—" The guards didn't even have time to react.
A beam of distorted yellow light erupted from the barrel. It looked like splashed mucus, or perhaps a liquid virus, striking both men directly in the chest. Before they could even scream, their bodies began to dissolve like melting snow. Skin, muscle, and bone peeled away layer by layer. Eventually, they were reduced to two bubbling pools of yellow liquid that spread across the pavement, hissing as they met the rainwater. White smoke rose from the mess, and a nauseating stench rapidly filled the air.
Etzel gazed at the dissolving remains and nodded slightly, as if admiring a piece of art.
"The feel of the Ichor-Eroder is quite exquisite, isn't it?" His voice was full of satisfaction, yet his tone remained terrifyingly gentle. "Once the mission is complete, perhaps the rewards will be enough for everyone to be issued one."
Several low chuckles echoed through the rain. Then, the group stepped through the guard's diluted, viscous remains, their boots pulling up sticky threads of slime as they pushed through the revolving doors of the television station.