2025-11-06 17:42:33Morning light slipped through the small window, landing on Elior’s face like warm gold. It should have been a normal morning. Birds chattered. Someone in the village pounded grain. Smoke drifted from early cooking fires.
Nothing unusual. But Elior lay still, staring at the ceiling, feeling like someone had peeled open the world and shown him the bones inside. He blinked slowly. Yesterday had not been a dream. He knew. He did not have the luxury of pretending. He had seen beginnings. Real beginnings. A darkness so deep it felt endless. A spark so bright it felt alive. A book made of light opening like it had been waiting millennia just for him. His heart beat softly. In his mind, a voice continued to echo in cold clarity: > Contrasting bloodline detected Attempt merging… Merge failed Beginning purification Bloodline altering… New lineage granted Law Genesis Bloodline awakened Even now, he could feel something faint flowing through his veins, not like qi, not like the world’s energy, but… ancient. Primordial. Heavy like truth. His fingers curled in his blanket. No one must know yet. Not until he understood it himself. He slowly sat up. A dull warmth curled in his chest, like a coal glowing under ashes. His bones felt… awake. Like his body had remembered something it was never told. Voices murmured outside. He stood, feet silent on the floor, and walked into the main room. His mother was there, stirring porridge over the clay stove. “Morning,” he whispered. Rina turned. Her eyes softened, relief and worry mixed in them. She came forward and touched his forehead, fingers cool. “No fever,” she murmured. “Good.” “I just slept,” Elior said lightly. It was true. He slept. But the universe did not leave him even in dreams. Stars flickered behind his eyelids when he blinked. Runes burned faintly in his memory. Law. Order. Birth. Patterns. He quietly took a breath. Act normal. Mother nudged a bowl toward him. “Eat. Then help your father gather wood.” He nodded, lifting the bowl. The porridge smelled simple but comforting. Real. Grounding. The first mouthful burned his tongue. He hissed. Rina chuckled. “Slow down. Food will not run.” He rubbed his tongue in embarrassment. “I know.” She stared at him a moment longer. Something worried lingered in her gaze. “You were shaking in your sleep,” she said suddenly. Elior froze mid-spoon. “Oh.” Not good. “Nightmare?” she asked. Should he say yes? Too suspicious. Should he say no? Also suspicious. He settled for a shrug. “I… do not remember.” Her hand brushed his hair. “You do not have to be strong every second, Elior. Childhood is not a battlefield.” He almost laughed. If only she knew. Childhood was a battlefield. Just one with softer weapons. He nodded weakly and returned to his bowl. Outside, his father’s voice rose. “Rina! Where is my good rope? The stubborn cow knows I do not need her stubbornness today!” Elior hid a smile. Earth remained earth. He finished eating, wiped his mouth, and stepped outside. His father stood near the shed, rope tangled around his arm like a serpent punishing him for disrespect. Aran saw him. “You are early. Come, help your old man. This rope is committing rebellion.” Elior took the rope and untangled it with steady fingers. Aran blinked. “Your hands moved fast today,” he noted. Elior froze. Too sharp. Too focused. Slow down. He made the knot messy on purpose next time. Aran sighed in relief. “Yes, that looks more like you.” Elior almost snorted. Acting weak was more tiring than anything the universe had shown him. They walked beyond the field to gather firewood. The trees whispered quietly. For the first time, Elior felt something in the world… like threads moving between things. Roots speaking to soil. Dew clinging to leaves by a rule older than life. Law. He could not touch it fully. Not yet. But he sensed it, like a scent carried on wind. He knelt near a fallen branch, fingers grazing bark. In that moment, he saw a seed sprout, a tree rise, leaves fall, earth reclaim. The cycle was faint, only a breath’s glimpse, but real. He flinched, heart quickening. Not now. Slow. Learn. Hide. Aran collected logs. “You are quiet,” he finally said. “Just thinking.” “A dangerous habit,” his father teased, ruffling his hair. Elior gave a small, innocent smile. “Then you must be very dangerous.” Aran blinked, then burst into laughter. “This boy, eh!” Warmth spread in Elior’s chest. Despite everything, this moment was safe. He wanted it to last. But safety was an illusion in worlds like this. He knew that from a past life, and more now after touching creation itself. Once wood was gathered, they returned to the village. Children were running around excitedly near the square. Lana spotted him immediately. “There you are! I thought you melted in your blanket!” “No,” Elior replied calmly. “Blankets do not melt children.” She blinked. “…You talk weird.” A voice scoffed. Taron approached, arms crossed. “He fainted yesterday. Weak people always talk strange to hide it.” Elior tilted his head. “I did not faint. I simply rested… on the ground.” Lana burst into laughter. Taron frowned. Elior felt satisfied. Victory can be small and still sweet. “Anyway,” Lana said, bouncing, “the chief said we will practice sensing again later this week. I felt two laws yesterday! Two!” Taron puffed his chest. “I sensed three.” Lana gasped. “Three? Dangerous. Your head might explode before you grow taller.” Taron deflated like a punctured gourd. Elior bit his lip to hold a laugh. He looked toward the chief’s house unconsciously. The memory of floating, gravity bending, the awe in children’s eyes… and then his vision… His stomach tightened. He was different. Not chosen. Just… placed on a path he did not ask for. A path only he could see. And with that path came eyes. Someone or something would eventually notice. Already, faint pricks crawled at the back of his neck sometimes. Like a distant presence sniffing the air for change. A wolf howled from the forest. Far, but not far enough. Some hunters looked uneasy lately. Something watched the village from the trees. And his awakening would not stay silent forever. He bent to pick a pebble, grounding himself. The world was big. He was small. But smallest seeds birthed forests. Later that evening, the sun dipped orange behind hills. Dinner was warm. Soup and bread. Simple, comforting, safe. Rina sat beside him, brushing his hair. Aran sharpened tools, occasionally humming a tune Elior did not recognize. Home. Afterward, Elior lay on his mat. Shadows stretched softly across the ceiling. He looked like a child preparing to sleep. Inside, the Book of Laws glowed faintly. A page turned in his mind. Law of Beginning 0.1% A shiver ran through him. Vastness pressed against him like a sky too heavy for shoulders too small. Not yet, he thought. I am not ready. The book dimmed slightly, as if agreeing… or simply waiting. Outside, an owl hooted. Wind rustled leaves. Beneath it all, he felt the faint pull of laws around him, calling softly, like distant songs. Elior closed his eyes. He would grow slowly. He would hide in plain sight. He would learn, breathe, observe, endure. He was a child. He was a seed. A beginning wrapped inside another beginning. And somewhere beyond the forest, something stirred, sensing the faint birth of a power older than stars.
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Faurin's inferno
Faurin moved through the jagged cliffs of his assigned region like a predator walking among startled prey. Every step was deliberate. The wind carried a faint heat from his presence. Flames curled lightly at the edges of his flaming sword as if sensing the blood and coin pulses in the air. The cultivators of this region had already learned through instinct that his path was not to be crossed. Those who tried to evade him were often too slow.A young cultivator darted out from behind a rock, his face pale, hands trembling, clutching three coins as though they were a life raft. Faurin paused. His eyes, bright and sharp as molten metal, studied the boy. The pulse of coin energy from this one human was weak, but it drew Faurin’s attention like a faint signal to a hunter.“Please,” the boy whispered, voice shaking, “I beg you… do not take my coins. I have trained my whole life for this. Please spare me.”Faurin’s lips curved slightly, almost imperceptibly. He did not answer. His entire bod
illusions of the hunt
Aeris moved silently through the pale forest of her isolated region, her robes brushing against mist-laden branches as she walked. The trees around her stretched and twisted naturally, but she allowed her subtle illusions to layer over the world. Rocks appeared broken where none were, pathways folded upon themselves, and distant glimmers of light shifted with every step. To a passerby, the forest seemed disorienting, almost alive, yet Aeris’s presence remained calm, deliberate, and unhurried.Her hand hovered over the coins at her belt. Its resonance was quiet, almost imperceptible to anyone not close enough. It was not a beacon that pulled people toward her. It was a signal that someone nearby carried value. She had learned long ago that perception could shape behavior. Contestants would hesitate if they sensed it, and hesitation could be manipulated.Movement caught her eye. A lone cultivator, walking cautiously, entered her illusion. He wore the garments of a minor sect, his blue r
Region domination begins
The forest stretched out before Elior, broken only by jagged rocks and shallow gullies that marked the uneven terrain of his region. He moved steadily, almost leisurely, though every step carried intent. His coin, now faintly pulsing with the energy of five companions, remained nestled against his chest. Its subtle resonance no longer whispered, but hummed like a quiet heartbeat of warning.He had learned the rhythm of the realm. Contestants moved cautiously, skirting around him without realizing why. Even now, he could feel the wary avoidance of others as he passed through the undergrowth. Their hesitation brought a faint smile to his face.“People are smart,” he murmured softly. “They feel the danger before they see it. That will make the hunt easier.”The first target appeared shortly after noon, a young cultivator with a short, crooked staff and two coins dangling from a belt at his waist. The man’s expression twisted with suspicion as he noticed Elior. His body tensed, ready to s
The hunt begins
Elior walked steadily through the uneven terrain of his region, his steps quiet but deliberate. He could feel the subtle shifts in the environment, the way the ground responded beneath his feet, the faint brush of wind carrying scents of earth and stone. The Fractured Coin Realm had been strange and chaotic, but now it had settled into a rhythm. A rhythm he intended to exploit.He had remained patient until now, waiting for the right moment to begin actively hunting. Until this point, he had observed, measured, and ensured his own survival, but the time for caution had passed. He was ready.The thought brought a smile to his face. He could feel it in his chest, the single coin he had acquired earlier, faintly pulsing. A low hum, almost imperceptible, but enough to anchor his attention. There was no rush yet. He had not needed to chase coins before, but now, the hunt would be deliberate, controlled, and thorough.As he moved through a cluster of jagged rocks and low trees, he noticed t
First coin hunts
Elior had known this moment would come.He had delayed it long enough to understand the realm, to feel its rhythm, to observe how others moved within it like fish in unfamiliar waters. But observation had its limits. There was a point where standing still became a decision of its own.And Elior had never been fond of stagnation.He stood atop a slanted stone ridge, overlooking a stretch of forest that dipped into shallow valleys and rose again in broken hills. The Fractured Coin Realm looked peaceful from here. Almost deceptively so.He placed a hand over his chest.One coin rested there.It was not heavy. It did not burn. It did not pulse loudly or call out to anything beyond its immediate existence. Yet it was enough. Enough to place him within the rules of this place. Enough to make him prey or predator, depending on how he chose to move.Elior closed his eyes briefly.I’m done waiting.When he opened them again, his intent had settled.He stepped down from the ridge and entered th
Ripples beneath the surface
Rolan woke to silence.Not the gentle kind that followed rest, but the hollow kind that pressed against his senses and made his breath feel too loud. For a moment, he did not move. His body felt wrong, as though something essential had been stretched thin and never fully returned. His limbs were heavy, his meridians sluggish, and his essence circulation moved with the hesitance of a river after drought.He inhaled slowly, then exhaled.Pain existed, but it was distant. Exhaustion was what ruled him now. A deep, bone settled weariness that made even opening his eyes feel like effort.When he finally did, rough stone greeted him.A shallow cave. Narrow. Natural. The air inside was cool and faintly damp, carrying the scent of earth rather than blood. That alone made his brow tighten.He remembered blood.Fragments surfaced slowly, not as a clean sequence but as impressions. The spiked python erupting from the undergrowth. Its metallic hide catching the light. The crushing pressure of its
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