Chapter 5: Ghost Claw

Not long after nightfall, the roadside lanterns flickered on.

Unlike the graycrystal lamps used in public buildings, these streetlights were fueled by brown oil—a processed substance derived from a perennial tree known as the stonefruit tree.

Once mature at twelve years, these trees bore rock-hard fruits containing a dense, energy-rich oil called stone pectin. Through refining, stone pectin could be converted into brown oil. The residue, when mixed with sawdust, formed combustible fuel bricks, and the oil itself—when blended with resin—could be used to make long-burning candles.

In Cael's mind, stone pectin was the world's version of petroleum.

The only difference? Petroleum came from the ground. This came from trees.

Ten minutes later, Cael pedaled up to the front gate of Keats Block.

This wasn't a typical neighborhood. It was a government-subsidized welfare complex, built for low-income families. Out of its 160 households, only a handful—like Cael—were orphans living independently.

He dismounted and pushed his bicycle toward the gate.

"Woof! Woof!"

Two massive dogs approached, one from either side. Towering to a grown man's waist, the creatures gave off a serious aura.

These weren't ordinary dogs. They were spirit mastiffs—intelligent enough to understand human language, with reasoning ability on par with a fifteen-year-old child.

Every residential zone had them.

Assigned by the City Patrol Bureau, spirit mastiffs served as living security systems, trained to detect danger—especially objects linked to Outsider Gods.

"Taozi! Lizi! It's me!" Cael called out.

The mastiffs wagged their tails in greeting.

The one called Taozi circled him once and then pressed its snout to his schoolbag, sniffing several times in a practiced routine.

A moment later, it gave a short bark and gestured toward the gate.

Access granted.

Cael smiled and stepped into the complex, the dogs trailing him with their watchful eyes.

His apartment was modest but clean. One bedroom. One living area. A small kitchen. And a bath. Just over thirty square meters.

Best of all? Rent-free until he turned sixteen. Every month, the government also gave him 20 kilos of rice, 10 kilos of flour, and 450 copper coins for daily use.

Back on Earth, Cael's cramped single room had cost him a third of his paycheck. He'd paid nearly $1,500 for a place that could barely fit a desk, a bed, and a standing fan.

Here?

No appliances. No electronics. But the burden of life was lighter.

Cael dropped his schoolbag and began preparing dinner.

He poured a bit of brown oil into the stove and lit it. Then, he added a honeycomb fuel block, which caught fire with a whoosh.

After rinsing some rice and putting it on to boil, he grabbed a handful of white umbrella mushrooms, cleaned them, and stir-fried them with slices of smoked meat.

Simple. Satisfying.

He took a bite of the mushrooms and nodded. "Tastes great."

Rich in amino acids, white umbrellas gave off a complex umami flavor when cooked. Honestly? They could rival truffles from his past life.

It amazed Cael how advanced this world's agriculture was—how much effort had been put into cultivating exotic plants and fungi.

Since his arrival, he'd spotted over 500 different mushroom varieties in the local market alone.

After eating, Cael laid down in bed and began to breathe slowly and deeply.

His school taught a method called the Fushan Breathing Technique—a meditation-based sleep tool. Master it, and you could drop into deep sleep within three minutes.

But it was notoriously difficult.

In the entire school, fewer than fifteen students had successfully initiated it.

The body Cael now inhabited? Definitely not one of them.

But Cael wasn't from this world.

He'd once used the Eye of All-Seeing to analyze the technique and received unexpected feedback:"Minor adjustments to this breathing rhythm may improve performance."

It worked.

So, Cael spent half a year perfecting it.

The result? His own custom rhythm: The Draven Breathing Method.

A technique fine-tuned to his physiology.

Two minutes later, he was in deep sleep.

An hour passed.

Cael opened his eyes—refreshed. No dizziness. No fatigue.

He checked his stats:

Spirit Value: 7.2 / 13.2Recovered: 6.6 points

Not bad at all.

He recalled the black cat from earlier and whispered:"Deduce what will happen to that cat in the coming days."

A cool ripple swept across his scalp—activation.

But no results.Spirit -0.3

He tried again.Same ripple. Same silence.

This wasn't unusual. The Eye of All-Seeing had an 85% failure rate at this level.

He kept trying.Fourth time: nothing.Fifth time: nothing.

Sixth time…

Success.

A blurry virtual vision took shape before him.

In the image:

The black cat jumped from the wall. It landed softly, let out a sharp yowl, and darted forward.

Then—a sudden change.

A jet-black shadow erupted from the ground, and from its center, a ghostly claw lashed upward—aiming straight for the cat.

The cat sensed danger and leapt into the air.

But the claw twisted mid-swipe and barely brushed the feline's flank.

A puff of green smoke. The claw vanished.

And then…

Something horrifying.

The cat's body deflated, like a balloon with a hole in it.

Pop!

Only a flat cat skin fluttered to the ground.

All its flesh—gone.

The vision faded.

+4 Proficiency

Current: 20 / 1000Spirit: 2.4 / 13.2

Cael shivered.

"That cat… wasn't ordinary. And that claw—was that Outsider God power?"

A simple encounter on the way home… had turned into something far more serious.

He replayed the scene in his mind.

It was raining in the vision. That meant: the attack occurred on a rainy day.

From the cat's behavior, it had clearly fled from somewhere inside the wall.

"That's a textile factory back there," Cael whispered. "Something's wrong."

If the ghost claw could instantly consume a cat, it could easily kill humans.

And a textile factory was filled with workers.

"If this happens… people will die."

He activated the Eye again.

"When will it rain next?"

Answer: Three mornings from now.

That was the day.

Cael stood up, mind racing.

"I may not be strong enough to stop it… But I can report it. Anonymously, if needed."

He needed more information.More evidence.More certainty.

And the key to that?

The black cat.

It had already encountered the threat. It was linked to the claw. That made it a perfect associated object—an anchor for deeper deduction.

"Tomorrow, I'll take the day off. I'll find the black cat. And I'll uncover the truth."