Chapter 15: The Chosen Shell

Hao Thien stood motionless.

In the empty space where only a crimson moon hung overhead, he faced the strange being — the air was neither cold nor hot, yet it made his skin feel taut, as if something invisible was brushing against his soul.

"Who are you?"

He spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it rang out clearly through the boundless void.

The massive being before him — dragon-like in form but not quite a dragon — shifted its wings slightly, the scales faintly shimmering. There was no pressure, no hostility. Only an overwhelming presence… unlike anything Hao Thien had ever known.

A ripple of thought stirred — not through ears or mouth, but directly within his mind:

"…I do not remember."

"You don't… remember anything?" Hao Thien frowned.

The voice that answered carried no emotion, yet it wasn't lifeless. It was as if the creature was trying to grasp at something… too ancient to reach.

"I only know… that I have slept… for a very long time."

Hao Thien looked into the third eye that remained open on its forehead — a swirling red vortex, deep as an abyss. There was no malice, no rage. Only… silence.

A pause lingered between them.

Then, the being lowered its head ever so slightly — a gesture unexpected from something of such existence.

"Thank you."

"For waking me."

It wasn't a dramatic line, nor did it carry any grand meaning. But in that fleeting moment, Hao Thien felt as though something impossibly ancient… was slowly awakening in this void.

A quiet ripple passed between the two of them.

Then that voice echoed again — softer this time, carrying a hint of curiosity, like someone slowly waking from a slumber that had stretched across eternity:

"What is your name?"

Hao Thien lifted his head slightly, his gaze still locked on the being before him.

"…Hao Thien."

The name rang out into the empty space — simple, clear. Like a mark that affirmed his presence in this boundless void.

The being was silent for a moment, then asked again:

"How… were you able to wake me?"

There was no accusation in its tone, just genuine surprise — as if it, too, couldn't comprehend how it had been awakened, after sleeping for so long that even memory itself had faded.

Hao Thien shook his head slightly.

"I… just touched it. My blood dripped onto it… then it started to crack."

He looked down at his hand, where the faint sensation of the cut still lingered.

"I don't know why."

It was a simple answer. Honest, without embellishment.

Just the truth — shared plainly, between two entirely different beings, in a place that belonged to no world at all.

After a long silence, the massive wings stirred gently. There was no wind, yet an unseen pressure seemed to ripple through the void once more.

The voice echoed again—slower this time, deeper, as if weighing every word carefully:

"With your current strength… you won't survive."

Hao Thien frowned slightly, but said nothing.

"This world… is far more cruel than you can imagine."

The third eye on the being's forehead dimmed slightly. Then the voice continued, carrying a tone that felt almost… gentle:

"You woke me—whether by accident or fate."

"If you wish to grow stronger… I can help you."

The creature's blood-red eyes locked onto Hao Thien—not with hostility, not with command, but with something that felt like a quiet offering.

A choice.

"Choose, Hao Thien."

"Keep walking… or fall, like so many before you."

Hao Thien stood silent for a moment.

He looked straight at the being before him—his eyes no longer hesitant, no longer proud.

There was only a simple question, yet it carried with it full acceptance:

"Do I have any other choice?"

The words rang out calmly, as if fate had already been decided the moment he stepped into this strange dream.

The being regarded him for a long time, then slowly nodded. A deliberate, satisfied nod.

"Good."

"You understand."

Its voice didn't come from its mouth, but instead echoed directly in Hao Thien's mind—clear and distinct, as though his own consciousness was translating thoughts that had no words.

"I will help you grow stronger."

"But… not without a condition."

Hao Thien furrowed his brow slightly, but showed no resistance. He simply waited for what would come next.

The being continued, its tone slow and measured, as if each word was being drawn from the remnants of a long-forgotten memory:

"The condition is—help me find what I've lost."

"What exactly?" Hao Thien asked.

A brief silence followed.

The being's gaze flickered. All three of its eyes slowly closed, then opened again.

"…I don't remember."

The answer didn't feel vague—it felt like a simple truth. No dramatics. No sorrow.

It had simply been asleep for too long.

So long that even the most important thing… had no name.

"Then how are we supposed to find it?"

"I don't know."

"But as you grow stronger, I will begin to recover. And my memories… will return."

Hao Thien stood quietly for a moment, then gave a small nod.

"Alright."

Just one word. No further terms, no questions asked.

But between the two—one a human, the other a remnant of a forgotten era—

a pact had silently been forged.

Morning light filtered gently through the cracks in the cave walls, casting soft golden rays inside.

Hao Thien opened his eyes.

A dream… or something more?

He sat up. His body still carried a trace of cold, but his mind felt unusually clear — as if a door within him had just quietly opened after a long slumber.

Stepping outside, he took a deep breath.

The morning air was fresh, laced with dew and the earthy scent of the forest. The first sunlight was rising on the distant horizon, painting the drifting clouds in shades of pale gold.

And then—

A voice echoed in his mind.

Not abrupt. Not oppressive. Just like a quiet breeze, whispering gently by his ear:

"Where are you planning to go now?"

"What are you planning to do?"

Hao Thien didn't flinch.

He simply stood there, staring out toward the distant skyline.

"I'll go seek power."

"And do what I want to do."

His reply carried no arrogance, no wild ambition. Just quiet certainty — the kind that comes from someone who had finally decided where his path must lead.

A gentle breeze swept through the distant trees, rustling the leaves with a quiet murmur.

In Hao Thien's mind, that familiar voice echoed once more—calm, yet resolute:

"I made a promise to help you… and I will."

"But first—"

"Find me a body."

Hao Thien paused mid-step, frowning slightly.

"A body?"

"What kind… do you want?"

There was a brief silence. Then the voice returned, its tone so casual it was hard to tell if it was joking or serious:

"Doesn't matter."

"A bird or a wolf—anything that's still alive will do."

Hao Thien let out a slow breath, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"Not picky at all, are you?"

Hao Thien was moving deeper into the forest, his gaze calm yet sharply attentive to every corner. In his mind, that voice would occasionally echo — like an invisible companion walking beside him.

"Are you sure this path will lead us to a suitable creature?"

Hao Thien replied without turning his head:

"Not sure. But this area shows signs of hunting… it might be the territory of a wild beast."

"Hmph… I still prefer something that flies. But if it has fangs and claws, it'll do."

"So no more birds?"

"I've changed my mind. Wings aren't as important as teeth."

They both fell silent for a moment. Hao Thien brushed past a dense thicket, his hand gently touching the trunk of a tree to check for moisture — a sign that large creatures might have passed through recently.

And then — a low growl echoed not far ahead.

"Did you hear that?"

"I did. Sounds promising."

He quickened his pace. After a short walk, his view opened into a small clearing in the forest. There stood a silver-gray wolf, about the size of a small deer, guarding a fallen tree.

Its eyes glowed red, filled with wary alertness. When it spotted Hao Thien, it let out a soft snarl, baring its fangs — a clear warning to the intruder.

"It doesn't look weak," the voice sounded again in his mind.

"Acceptable."

Hao Thien said nothing. He lowered his stance, eyes locking onto his target.

"Let's see if you're worthy of being his vessel."

In the next instant — he lunged!

The wolf snarled and launched itself forward. Its claws sliced through the air, aiming straight for Hao Thien's throat. But he had already slipped aside, sliding on the leaf-covered ground, gliding just beneath the wolf's belly, his right hand drawing his blade in a flash.

"Slash!"

A fine cut appeared along the wolf's flank. It howled in pain, spun around, and snapped at him.

The two moved like shadows among the trees — one man, one wolf — clashing, dodging, striking, countering.

The wolf swiped horizontally, its claws tearing into Hao Thien's shirt. But he had stepped back just enough — only a thin cut opened along his left shoulder.

Hao Thien frowned. He didn't want to kill it — only subdue it.

As the wolf snarled and lunged again, he crouched low, grabbed its neck with his left hand, twisted with force, and used its momentum to slam it to the ground.

"Boom!"

The earth shook slightly. The wolf struggled, but Hao Thien's palm was already pressed against its forehead.

A gentle stream of spirit energy flowed out, like a lullaby — the wolf's eyes widened, then slowly dulled, its body gradually falling still.

"That's enough," the voice rumbled in his mind.

"This will do."

Hao Thien exhaled, rising to his feet, looking down at the wolf lying motionless at his feet.

"You're sure?"

"This body has enough potential."

"Let's begin."

Under the dim light filtering through the forest canopy, the air seemed to freeze. Hao Thien stood still, eyes calm, staring down at the wolf lying motionless at his feet. There was no killing intent in his gaze—only quiet anticipation, as if something was about to unfold.

Suddenly—

A faint glow formed on his forehead.

His third eye slowly opened.

There was no blinding flash—just a thin red line, like an ancient seal, surfacing on his skin. It split apart, revealing a real eye—deep, molten red, swirling slowly like a bottomless abyss.

From that eye, a crimson mist began to spill out—not roaring like fire, but spreading gently, like blood-soaked fog. It drifted downward, enveloping the body of the wolf.

The wind stopped. Leaves fell silent. The forest held its breath.

The wolf's body trembled.

At first, a paw twitched. Then the whole creature began to convulse—not in pain, but in transformation.

Its silver-gray fur gradually faded into pure white, like snow kissed by morning light. Not just white, but faintly glowing—each strand shimmering softly, as though moonlight had settled on its body.

Its form began to shrink and refine—not weaker, but sleeker, more majestic. No longer a wild beast—it had become something ethereal.

From its back, two bumps slowly rose and burst open—unfurling into the beginnings of wings. At first, they were just skeletal outlines, like ghostly wisps. But soon, muscle and feather took shape—brilliant white feathers laced with silver streaks, faintly glowing like stars.

The wings beat once—softly, but the air around them warped.

And then—

On its forehead, a third eye appeared.

Not red like Hao Thien's, but deep blue, glowing softly like an ancient lake beneath a twilight sky. It pulsed slowly, as if watching the world with calm awareness—no threat, no fury—just presence.

The transformed being opened its eyes.

The two normal ones gleamed a piercing blue. The third, on its forehead, shimmered silently.

It breathed for the first time.

Not the panting of a wild beast, but the calm breath of a consciousness just awakened—a creature reborn between dream and reality.

Hao Thien remained still. The third eye on his forehead slowly closed.

And in the stillness, the voice echoed in his mind, quiet and satisfied:

"This… will do nicely."