What Happened to My Body!?

7:30 AM.

The clock indicated that he had slept for an entire night, so soundly that he even overslept an hour beyond his usual routine. And yet, Du Lang couldn't recall exactly he had fallen asleep. He was reclining on the bed as he scrolled Weibo for thirty minutes past ten in the night, but his memory cut off there.

Rummaging his hand through the bedsheets, he quickly found his phone that refused to respond regardless of the buttons pressed. Du Lang could only accept the fact that he had drained the battery of his phone completely by leaving the screen at a looped video of an idol dance group performing on stage, and rose to plug it into the charger…

"What is this!?"

Since when were the sheets black and crusted over? And… Heavens, what was that foul, earthy smell!?

For a brief instant, Du Lang firmly believed he had returned to his first year dormitory at Jingdou First University, where he had shared a suite room with two walking pieces of utter filth. Those two were the worst roommates innately possible and the nation's two worst hygienic people given its five millennia history, and the reek emanating from his bed was no different – no, it was worse. The pungent sensation clogging his nose was not unlike a highly concentrated shot of ammonia, sulfur, thioacetone mixed into a single potent substance.

When he lightly shook the bedsheets, clumps of the hardened black substance fell off to reveal – Heavens, what were these? Worms!?

Long, elongated, and crumbly not unlike that of fossilized dirt and carcass… there was no convincing Du Lang that his finger had just stirred through the remains of a worm of unknown origins. As the thought of reason echoed to his terrified mind that similar clumps of suspicious black substance had infiltrated all of his bed and not just this corner that he had lifted off, a violated masculine scream echoed through the single family house and shook its foundations.

Du Lang erupted from the bed and rushed straight towards the bathroom. He ignored that clumps of the black substance dropped from his nightwear and clattered against the usually spotless floor in his haste, nor that some of the clumps gave a final squirm of resistance. Moreover, the instant he rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and raised his face after splashing water onto himself, he received the shock of his life.

"Who… who is this pretty boy?"

Medium-length hair parted slightly towards the right to expose the perfect amount of forehead in a charming yet solidary posture. Not only that, Du Lang blinked as he saw the perfect representation of a piercing, cold and elegant gaze combined with fair skin and the masterpiece jawline desired by many men of the world…

Such fair skin tone and color! The sheer texture of it – women could never attain such smoothness and consistency even after applying the world's most mythical cosmetics!

The fair skin and otherworldly texture was reflected in the remainder of his body. The muscles of his torso and limbs had become toned and compacted compared to his usual overinflated but useless appearance due to an improper workout regime, and he had slimmed quite noticeably in exchange for containing greater athletic capability and raw power.

Most of all, when he moved, the figure in the mirror copied the exact motions. When he exclaimed in shock, the male figure reflected identical reactions. Only when Du Lang looked down could be truly believe the overnight change to his body.

"The Heavens have shown mercy for my suffering last night…"

With a final confirming glance, Du Lang reckoned that he had transformed into the happiest twenty-three year old man existing on the modernized world. Out of sheer temptation, he donned a bathrobe and jerked his now fluid muscles into several poses commonly displayed in action movies, raising his eyebrows at the sensation of sheer intimidation presented.

Releasing a vainglory snort, he jabbed his arm forwards towards the mirror, just like his childhood action movie hero had once done –

"–shi –"

Crash!

Du Lang's eyes constricted as he witnessed a black shadow lunge from underneath his extended arm and strike the mirror's glass surface, completely decimating it in a single strike. Shards of glass from the epicenter scattered all across the bathroom floor as Du Ling covered his face with his other arm, when his gaze locked onto his right arm. There, emerging from within the sleeve of the bathrobe, was a black object wreathed in a thin layer of mist, slightly indistinguishable in its details.

"Is that… a chain?"

Du Ling took a deep breath and lowered his left arm, allowing his gaze to rest upon the destroyed mirror. There, extending from the center of the cracks and destruction of a previously expensive mirror, was the sharp and lethal point of a dagger attached to a black chain. From there, he traced the chain along its length to the point where it extended from within the sleeve of the bathrobe. Regardless of how Du Lang pushed up the sleeves, he couldn't find the origin of the chain.

"What is going on?"

Du Lang's pupils dilated in confusion at the confounding scene. With gritted teeth, he gently tugged his arm downwards, and witnessed the dagger extricate itself from the remains of the mirror, fall towards the ground then… vanish into thin air. The presence of the dagger and chain could no longer be found, even if he sifted his fingers through the exact location that he last spotted it.

"Odd. Truly odd."

Stripping himself of his robe and clenching his molars at the thought of his next actions, Du Lang steeled his resolve and marched out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen clad only in his underwear. He rummaged through a cabinet to produce a wooden cutting board, and his eyes crinkled in pain.

"Sorry. You've served me well for fifteen years, but I now need to confirm something."

Du Lang consoled himself and the board with a reminiscing gaze, then hardened his gaze. He placed the board at an inclined angle resting against an elevated countertop, and stepped back towards the far corner of the dining room. With a deep breath, he then stepped forwards and jabbed with his right arm, only to briefly spot the black shadow spurt towards the kitchen.

It was far too quick for his eyes to adjust. Other than a black shade passing through the air, Du Lang could only react when he heard the heart-wrenching sound of a wooden cutting board being splintered into pieces. As he reminded himself the priority of the matters at hand, he glanced towards his right arm and deeply inhaled.

The combination of dagger and chain was still present and extended using his right arm as a means of guidance. Fortunately, the origin of the chain was not from within his upper arm nor his shoulder but instead a black spherical, shadowy existence floating behind his shoulder blade. Unfortunately, Du Lang had absolutely no idea what the spherical object was, how it originated, or what it was doing floating of its own accord behind his shoulder. As he performed the slight tugging motion to extricate the dagger, the system constructed of the dagger, chain, and spherical object instantly faded into nothingness.

All that was left was an infinite pile of shattered emotions and the splintered remains of a previously marvelous chopping board.

"This… this had better be a dream," Du Lang whispered in horror and awe as he inspected the splinters of wood.

"The appearance of the chain, dagger, and sphere – that's beyond the laws of physics. Too strange, too strange, this is unbelievab –"

[The host has fallen into a state of moderate to mild shock. The host is advised to take deep breaths and return to rational thought.]

A soothing, feminine voice abruptly erupted in the back of Du Lang's mind, causing him to slap the marble countertop in fright. His throat constricted and prepared to release a second deafening scream of incomprehension, when the voice emerged again. The uncontrollable sensation of cold sweat tricking down his neck and pouring down his back returned.

[Deep breaths are required for the host to experience rational thought. Please do not attempt to comprehend new concepts in a state of panic.]

The feminine voice rang deep within the depths of his soul and seemed to hold little malicious intent. Taking micro breaths to remind himself over and over that he was not trapped in a lucid dream, Du Lang began to increase the length of his breathing, gradually returning to a state of calm. The source of the mysterious voice seemed to have recognized his current state, for it released a pitched note of approval.

"Who are you – why is your voice sounding directly in my mind?" Du Lang's eyes narrowed once he had regained rationality.

"What happened to my body? What is this chain and dagger – more importantly, what was that sphere?"

There were a few breaths of silence before the soothing female voice returned in his mind. As the melodious words streamed into his mind, Du Lang prepared to remember to the last detail as he should as a professional aggressive journalist – retired aggressive journalist.

[The host's questions shall be answered in presented sequential order. The first answer: Sibyl, Curse Platform. Sibyl refers to the world's core – the observatory of all nature.]

"Sibyl? Curse Platform? World's core?"

Why did it seem as though terminology game developers would use in their numerous press conferences? Du Lang couldn't understand, but as the soothing voice continued without stopping, he could only pry his ears – the 'ears' of his mind, and continue to store the information into his memory the best he could.

[The second answer: the Curse Platform has been implanted directly into your soul. Sibyl has been installed into the host's subconscious framework for greatest efficiency.]

[The third answer: the host's body has been cleansed of all impurities innate and external, and optimized to its peak natural state. The host's appearance has been restored to its pure, unadulterated form.]

[The fourth answer: the 'chain and dagger' referred by the host is the primary artifact bound to the host's soul. It can be regarded as an innate weapon that can be controlled directly through either subconscious or direct input. The 'sphere' referred by the host is an optional physical manifestation of the Sibyl interface.]

The female voice was comforting to listen to, but the information provided through the words resounding directly in his mind were no less than terrifying. The instant he pieced together the words 'implanted' and 'mind' into a single coherent sentence, Du Lang's back shivered with a tinge of panic. Thankfully, the Sibyl – as the female voice referred itself was considerate of his feelings, and did not interject much and allowed him to recollect his mind…

[Host, it is recommended to clean the bed and floor. The ejected impurities are corrosive by nature to any constructed material, and can induce permanent harm.]

"O-oh, thanks for the reminder. I'll do that immediately, immediately."

At the helpful reminder, Du Lang's mind immediately smashed back to reality, and he strode towards the closet containing the cleaning products. Thirty minutes later, the frustrated screams of a man echoed through the single residential home.

"What the f*ck, not even Chlorox can get rid of the stain! What even is this substance made of!?"