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Zhou Mingrui's mind turned momentarily blank as both creatures suddenly manifested before him, towering over his form.

These creatures both had had their attention drawn towards the other.

The air around the lamia grew colder, her skin taking on a greyer hue as her nails grew sharper, and it along with the barbed tail turned darker as the stench of rot and decay permeated around her. Her form grew more massive as her lower serpentine part coiled incessantly onto itself, her eyes focused on the most immediate threat to her.

Opposite the lamia, faces sprouted along the trunk of the treant, one face had its hollow eyes seemingly focused on the aggressive presence before it, as red light spread from its pulsing crimson veins. Its roots slithered on the grey foot beneath it to seek for more purchase, fruitlessly. Invisible threads— unseen by the other two occupants around it— slowly inched towards both from its branches, seeking to capture and control any and all life around it.

Zhou Mingrui's pulse quickened, hammering against his ribs like a frantic animal trying to escape its cage. His breath came short and shallow, his body locking up as if caught in invisible chains; the overwhelming stillness before a storm.

Zhou Mingrui took a step back without thinking, his body moving before his mind could catch up. The instinct was primal, ingrained— the reaction of prey when confronted with something undeniably, irreversibly predatory.

His step did not make any sound, yet the foreign movement could never escape the notice of both high-strung creatures.

Something slammed in front of him, and while he felt nothing hit him, the sound made him flinch as he scrambled back and away the monsters. When he opened his eyes again, he found both beings restrained as grey fog coiled around them, thickening with each bit of resistance the monsters offered.

'I hope the grey fog takes them away. ' Was the subconscious thought that instantly popped in his mind, afraid that the monsters might break free from their restraints.

Zhou Mingrui felt it before he fully understood it— a connection between him and the two creatures stirred in him and the air suddenly shifted. The grey fog surged forward in an instant, flooding the space like a living force. It moved with eerie precision, not spreading outward but targeting. Wrapping itself around the treant and the lamia, curling into every crevice of their beings.

There was no fight.

No sound.

No struggle.

One moment they were there, looming and brimming with violence, the next, they were gone.

It wasn't a command. It wasn't even a prayer.

And yet, the grey fog had obeyed.

Zhou Mingrui stood frozen and breathless, staring at the now-empty space where they had been. The oppressive atmosphere had vanished as if it had never existed. The mist still churned, but lazily now, as though the moment of violence had never happened.

Like nothing had changed.

Like nothing had ever happened.

His hands trembled. He clenched them into fists, trying to force some semblance of control back into his body. The faint shaking in his limbs betrayed him.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, forcing himself to quiet his panicked thoughts. As he let out a sigh, he opened his eyes and all the tension that radiated from him disappeared, he let out an embarrassed cough as though caught doing something he shouldn't.

'Did I do that? Did the grey fog listen to my thoughts and send them away?'

He could still feel the connection to the two stars belonging to the creatures. They were not dead, and he knew that all it would take to bring them back was to simply touch their stars.

'What would I even say if I did, ' his lips thinned in a cross between a smile and a grimace, ' "Hey guys, it's me again, just checking if it still works." '

What was this place? What had he stumbled upon? Was this the reason he woke up in the new strange world? If he woke up again, would he find himself back in his world or a new one altogether?

However, what puzzled him was that the grey fog had not only protected him on its own, but it also obeyed his thoughts.

'Does this place actually responds to me.'

The thought was absurd, why would this place do as such? Was it because he had stumbled upon it and its master is actually dead, or worse, sleeping somewhere unable to wake up so soon?

Zhou let out a shaky laugh at the cliche horror story he just brewed in his mind, and yet only silence was his answer.

'The owner of this place should either be severely incapacitated or dead if I, an outsider, am able to enter this place and control it. ' As this thought registered in his mind, he paused then intentionally ignored the line of thought for now.

What he should focus on was what those creatures were and where they came from. Were they trapped in those stars or did he just pull them here from somewhere in the real world? Does each of these crimson stars correspond to a different creature? Just how much control of this place does he have?

'Okay, let's try something out first.'

He focused, and with deliberate intent, he willed something into existence. A throne fit for a mighty existence and the ruler of this place. As the new 'ruler' of this place– joking thought given how it protected him and could even banish whatever he brought here– wouldn't it be more becoming of a 'mighty' existence like him to be sitting on a high-back chair of a palace, its surface engraved with ancient symbols and patterns as he observes his visitors.

Such an image would cement his status quite well as someone in actual control of the situation. Well, he wouldn't keep up such appearances if whatever came next time couldn't be restrained.

Suddenly, the grey fog started to churn again . A ripple passed through the mist, like a silent tremor echoing across the void. And then, as though the fog itself had woven reality from nothing, massive towering stone pillars appeared around him, with a vast dome that encapsulated the whole place.

It was magnificent, grand and lofty, like a palace for giant gods.

At a place that seemed like a wall of grey fog, a high-back throne appeared, shone with crimson red and adorned with mysterious outlines of constellations that were very different from any he knew.

Zhou Mingrui blinked, his pulse skipping as he found himself seated upon the throne.

He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against the cool surface. It felt real. Solid. Smooth.

His lips parted, the edges curling in something between awe and disbelief.

"What else can I make?"

Pushing the hesitation, he conjured objects familiar to him. A smartphone appeared in his hand, sleek and familiar. But the moment he tried to turn it on, he knew— it didn't work. The screen remained dark, the weight in his palm hollow.

Of course. No power. No internet.

The disappointment barely had time to register before he tried again, summoning a laptop, a television, a radio— each one came into being, but none of them functioned. They were illusions of reality, props that lacked fundamental aspects that made them work— or maybe he was missing something to make it work, maybe they were too complex for him yet.

Still, the potential was staggering.

Zhou Mingrui exhaled slowly, shaking his head with a half-smile.

The thought should have reassured him, should have given him confidence. And in a way, it did. If he controlled this space, then he had no reason to fear those two creatures.

No reason to fear anything here.

He should be able to act like a great being, untouchable and unfathomable. The thought amused him.

Except…

Zhou Mingrui groaned, rubbing a hand down his face.

"I already ruined it, didn't I?"

His reaction had been too raw, too human . He had shown fear, and they had seen it. Whatever image of authority he could have projected had been shattered the moment he backed away in panic.

There was no recovery from that.

'So much for being mysterious.'

Shaking his head, he let out a breath of dry laughter.

Looking at the numerous stars, he had a feeling that with his current strength, two was the limit of how many connections he can form now. Any attempt to touch the other stars would not suddenly bring forth more creatures into this space. Not that he was afraid much anymore given the passive protection and the knowledge he can send them away himself.

Turning his attention back to himself, he decided one last thing. If he was going to sit here like some mysterious being, he should at least look the part, and his leather tunic just wouldn't do.

Focusing his will, he altered his attire. Klein's rough, crude clothes he had worn before shifted into something grander—layers of deep black with intricate silver embroidery, the long coat settling over his frame with an elegant weight.

Satisfied, he turned his gaze back to the distant crimson stars pulsing in their silent, rhythmic glow. He reached out, extending his consciousness toward one of the distant lights. The moment he made contact, a pull— gentle at first, then sudden and forceful— tugged at his mind, dragging his consciousness forward.

His vision darkened.

There was no blinding flash, no gradual shift—just absolute darkness.

Zhou Mingrui frowned, his senses straining, searching for anything—a voice, a movement, a flicker of light. But the void remained untouched.

He waited.

Nothing.

The silence gnawed at him, oppressive and still. His mind floating weightlessly in this abyss. 'Is this one broken? A dead connection? Or maybe this one got eaten by another creature.'

He clicked his tongue in frustration and disappointment.

Willing himself away, he found himself back in his chair before he reached for another star. The pull came again, gripping his mind and dragging him through the fog.

This time, when his vision cleared, he found himself somewhere else.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of rune-inscribed lanterns casting eerie patterns along the smooth stone walls. The architecture felt ritualistic, yet not primitive—a fusion of an arcane and scholarly feeling. The space was large, circular, and clinical in its organization, devoid of dust or neglect.

Tomes and artifacts lined the shelves that encircled the chamber. Some books bore aged leather bindings with incomprehensible glyphs embossed on their spines, while others gleamed with metallic etchings, exuding a subtle, otherworldly presence. The artifacts varied wildly— some seemed little more than old trinkets, but others pulsed with an unnatural glow, their shapes unfamiliar and unknowable.

Zhou Mingrui's gaze lingered on a certain glass orb resting atop an obsidian pedestal.

Inside it, grey mist swirled.

The movement was slow, deliberate, almost identical to the endless fog of his domain. He felt the connection with it, as if it was it that brought him here.

Before he could process the implications, movement drew his attention.

The heavy stone doors at the far end of the chamber groaned open, their weight causing a faint tremor through the floor.

Five elves entered.

The first, standing at the entrance, seemed unremarkable— he was merely the one who had pushed the door open.

The next two dragged a corpse.

The corpse of a giant .

Even in death, the massive being exuded presence, its once-powerful body was marred with deep, deliberate wounds— the cuts were precise, each injury seemingly measured, a testament to not only its own endurance, but the lethality of its hunters. This was not a kill born of reckless battle but a methodical execution.

Zhou Mingrui's gaze flickered to the remaining two elves.

One was elderly— his features sharper, his silver hair flowing past his shoulders, adorned with gold-threaded robes lined with emerald inlays. He carried himself with the practiced grace of someone used to command, his expression unreadable beneath the weight of greater knowledge and authority.

'How gaudy,' He noted dryly, his lips twitching.

His eyes then landed on the last elf— the youngest among them.

Unlike the others, he was clad in simpler attire—a dark, high-collared tunic with only a few silver accents, lacking the elaborate embellishments of his elder.

Zhou Mingrui narrowed his eyes as he remained silent, watching. Waiting.

Something should be about to happen.

The first elf strode around the room lighting up flames and bathing the room in dense light, before moving towards the shelves that lined the stone walls. As Zhou Mingrui scrutinized the elf, he noted the similarity in the attire to the elder— though less adorned, with fewer embellishments, suggesting a role of an assistant or apprentice. The robes, whilst elegant, were more muted in their ostentation, lacking the gilded flourish that decorated the elder elf.

The two elves that dragged the giant corpse were clearly of a different ilk. Their attire and movements seemed precise and disciplined, honed by experience and training. Unlike the elder and his assistant, they bore an armour similar to the elves in Klein's memories— the elves that had attacked them. Their armour was crafted from interwoven leather and bits of metal, designed for more flexibility rather than protection.

Zhou Mingrui turned his focus back to the centre of the room, where the elder stood over the altar.

The elder began speaking in a commanding tone, his words rolling off his tongue in an unfamiliar cadence. Zhou Mingrui strained to grasp the meaning, but the language was just alien to him, its syllables fluid and sharp, unlike the rough and simple Jotun tongue he was barely beginning to get used to.

The young elf moved reluctantly to the altar, his bare feet barely making a sound against the stone floor. His hands trembled as he laid down, the anxiety in his eyes betrayed the steadiness of his breath.

'This seems more like a sacrifice than some rite of passage.' Zhou Mingrui mused as he observed the fear on the youth's face, his mind racing with thoughts. Elves in all kinds of fiction he read never struck him as being so crude as to offer sacrifices of their own.

The warriors laid the giant's corpse with reverence, positioning it on its knees as though in prayer, the massive head bowed over a large stone basin.

With a flick of his wrist, the elder extracted a pair of ornate tongs and approached the giant. He plunged them into a cavity in the giant's chest, withdrawing a rough fist-sized stone, bearing veins a vibrant, dawn-like blue.

Zhou Mingrui's breath caught as the stone glowed softly in the dim light, a serene contrast to the grisly scene unfolding.

The assistant, who approached with a large opened tome in hand, laid it at the foot of the altar, near the elder who glanced at the tome's open page— a stylized drawing of the same blue stone on one of its pages, encircled by intricate runes, probably the language the elves used.

He couldn't get close enough to see clearly, his form being stuck near to where the glass orb was.

'These elves seemed to have evolved to the point of making coloured textbooks.' Zhou Mingrui noted. This tome could be a spellbook they used for their various potions, the need to confirm with pictures meant there should be different kinds of rituals for each different creature, each possibly with different abilities.

The assistant then stepped toward the corpse, meticulously wiping the giant's neck with a white cloth. He then produced a dagger, its jade hilt gleaming under the lanterns. The blade sank into the giant's neck effortlessly, a torrent of dark blood spilling into the basin below.

Zhou Mingrui's stomach would have twisted if it were here.

The elder nodded approvingly as he set the blue rock into a bowl, before filling it halfway with the blood. The rock let out a hissing sound as though it was slowly dissolving into the blood, yet the process seemed painfully slow.

The assistant moved to the giant again, and using his own hands, resolutely pried at its only eye with practiced ease before handing it to the elder.

Zhou Mingrui felt glad he did not have a body at the moment yet he still felt queasy, as the elder used the ritual knife to stab eye. Whitish fluid trickling from it and into the bowl.

Sizzle!!!

The sound became more intense and the rock's melting speed improved significantly. The concoction began to churn— colours swirling as it thickened into a bubbling, cerulean mixture that hissed like a living thing.

The elves knelt in unison, their heads bowed and their postures rigid with reverence. The elder's chants grew louder, each word rippling through the room with tangible weight. Zhou Mingrui couldn't understand the language, but the power in the elder's voice was unmistakable.

A heavy pressure settled in the air, thickening with each intonation. Zhou Mingrui's skin prickled as an ethereal gaze seemed to descend— not onto him, but the youth laid bare upon the altar.

Now, more alert, Zhou Mingrui watched as the elder raised the bowl and splashed its contents over the young elf's body. As the fluid landed on the youth, it all unnaturally adhered to his skin, creating a patchwork of vibrant marks that pulsed ominously, as though searing themselves into his being.

The youth screamed, his voice a piercing wail that echoed off the stone walls.

Zhou Mingrui flinched as pain erupted in his own skull, gasping as his consciousness snapped back to the place above the grey fog. His hands gripped the armrests of the high-backed chair, his knuckles white against the fabric of his gloves. The pulsating crimson stars stretched before him once more, unwavering and indifferent. The vast, boundless mist rolled lazily around, as though nothing had happened.

His breath came heavy and uneven as he processed what he had just witnessed.

That hadn't been a dream.

That hadn't been an illusion.

It was real.

An actual ritual— a ritual for power. One that was based on transference of sorts. Something about taking the essence of one being and giving it to another.

Zhou Mingrui leaned back, his fingers pressing against his temple as he worked through the pieces. The blue stone, the giant's blood, the invocation, the raw presence that had stirred. Something had answered them. Something had been watching.

Not watching him.

But the youth on the altar.

Was it protecting him during the ritual?

Zhou Mingrui shuddered, recalling the heavy, suffocating sensation of something vast turning its gaze upon that ceremony. It had been distant, unfocused, yet unmistakably aware .

And the screaming…

Zhou Mingrui exhaled sharply, forcing himself to steady. The details of the ritual burned in his mind like it had been engraved into his brain. 'So this was how they gained power.' It wasn't a matter of natural ability or slow cultivation for them— it was taken. Ripped from the giant, moulded through blood and sacrifice, bestowed by whatever entity answered their call.

Even a dead beast can be used— or must it be dead to begin with?

He tapped his fingers against the armrest, his expression unreadable.

If elves had this… what about the other races?

The mutants. The demonic wolves. The vampires. The dragons. The giants themselves.

'Do they all have their own ways of advancing? Their own versions of this power-stealing ritual? Or were they naturally born with those powers?'

His mind flashed to the two creatures he had accidentally pulled into the fog—the treant and the lamia. They had carried mutations , grafted onto their bodies like living wounds. What if those mutations weren't natural? Or maybe they are part of the ingredients?

What if they were the results of a different kind of ritual? Could you collect and gain different kinds of mutations?

Zhou Mingrui frowned. 'This world is far crueler than I thought.'

Then again, for most of history, civilizations weren't built on knowledge and refinement—but forged in blood and carved from the corpses of their enemies.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a dry laugh. "Of course, I had to tra