**Chapter 1: Spiritual Communion**

  In a vast training ground covered in dirt and gravel, countless boys around six or seven years old stood trembling. Some were anxious, others so terrified they wet their pants, only to be dragged off to an unknown fate.

  Among the crowd, a familiar figure stood out. His handsome, refined face was framed by naturally tousled chestnut hair. He wore a tattered, blood-stained military-style uniform. His expression was pensive, impenetrable, with cold, chillingly emotionless eyes. This was none other than a young Lucien Graye.

  A towering man approached, standing around six feet tall. His bald head and scarred, ferocious face made him appear even more menacing. Dressed in a military uniform, he carried a Mosin-Nagant bolt-action rifle, inspecting the boys as he walked. Beside him was a slight, delicate young man, likely a secretary. “Hey, secretary, anything interesting about this new batch of kids?” the tall man asked.

  The secretary promptly responded, flipping through a thick notebook as he reported, “Sir Zim, only one boy, Lucien Graye, passed the combat test and killed a fully grown Caucasian Shepherd.”

  “Sounds intriguing. What did he use to kill it?” Zim asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

  The secretary answered calmly, “Sir, he used his bare hands. He had a knife at first but dropped it, so he resorted to strangling the dog. He held it tightly, no matter how much it thrashed, until its neck snapped and it died.” The secretary described the incident in vivid detail.

  Hearing this, Zim’s face split into a wide, grotesque grin, his excitement reaching a fever pitch. The secretary, observing his commander’s reaction, shook his head and muttered to himself, “I hope you survive this, kid.”

  From then on, Lucien Graye was captured and subjected to unimaginable torture. He was forced to ingest countless poisons, endured brutal beatings that left him bruised and with broken bones, and was electrocuted. The torment continued for over seven years. Even as he grew into adulthood, the organization kept him under strict training and surveillance. Though he feigned weakness and fragility compared to others—having learned that the organization would never spare those who tried to leave—he wished he had known sooner to start pretending at six years old. 'But back then, that mysterious figure was likely still under the organization’s watch. Was meeting him a coincidence or something else? It’s all so strange. From age six, I endured seven years of physical, mental, and intellectual torment. I survived it all. At thirteen, the organization began sending me on trivial missions—assassinations, thefts—while continuing the training. Five years later, at eighteen, I met him, the mysterious man. He was bizarre, constantly muttering in some incomprehensible language that I couldn’t understand. His mind seemed to house thousands of souls—sometimes mad and erratic, other times startlingly lucid. At times he was volatile, at others poised and gentle, like a woman. He claimed he was once part of the organization but had escaped. He told me to fake weakness until my hundredth mission, to steal an item and flee. I don’t know why, but for the sake of freedom, I wanted to follow through.'

  “Hahahaha!” Lucien’s thoughts, a recollection of his past, were interrupted. Back in the present, Lucien Graye, still sitting in the dilapidated rented house, burst into maniacal laughter like a madman. His body was smeared with dirt and blood, but curiously, the pool of blood he had spilled on the floor had completely vanished. After laughing for a while, he stopped, his face turning icy cold. He looked at his body and said, “Ha, you’ve endured so much. You’ve been manipulated by everyone. The organization knew you were pretending and kept training you, planning to use some mystical artifact to strip your memories, emotions, and consciousness once you came of age. After all, they’re an organization that collects strange artifacts. But they didn’t expect you to slip out of their control on your final mission. As for that mysterious man, he tricked you into stealing that strange box for his own purposes, whatever they were. Yet I can sense some malevolent entity behind it all, orchestrating everything to get that box. Still, that mysterious man helped you in many ways. But I don’t understand why the organization only sent a few people to capture you. Don’t they realize the power of that wooden box?”

  Lucien analyzed and pondered, finally reaching a conclusion. He spoke to himself, “I think this organization is just a small branch in this city. There’s likely a greater power above them. Perhaps those higher-ups trusted the strength of this branch to easily retrieve the box. And it was easy indeed. As for providing no information beyond the box’s appearance and that it could be taken from a bar owner, they probably didn’t want too many people knowing of its existence.”

  At that moment, a faint, ethereal figure appeared before him, sitting and staring at Lucien with a mischievous yet admiring gaze. Upon closer inspection, the figure was an exact replica of Lucien Graye.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Are you here to say goodbye, my other self?” Lucien asked, looking at the figure he called his other personality.

  The personality grinned and said, “You slept well, didn’t you, Lucien—the real one? Since I was ten, I suddenly appeared, no idea how. I heard your voice in my head saying, ‘Hold on, wait for me.’ So, I lived as you all this time, pretending to be cold and ruthless like you. It was really tough.”

  “I know,” Lucien said calmly. He truly knew everything but could do nothing, only able to feel the events unfold. It was excruciating. Yes, despite his cold, ruthless exterior—forged by relentless torture—deep inside, he was still a child with the same emotions as any other. But he never showed it.

  The personality didn’t dwell on Lucien’s deeper thoughts and continued, “I’m a bit foolish, not as smart as you, so I got deceived for years. I nearly got shot to death. I feel like I did a terrible job at this.”

  “No,” Lucien countered immediately, refuting the personality’s self-doubt. “You did far better than I ever could. Despite all the torture and torment, you still laugh and live with a light heart, never descending into madness. That makes you exceptional. If it were me, my heart would have died long ago.”

  The personality smiled and said, “Ha, you’re not as cold as you seem.” Lucien couldn’t help but give a faint smile. But at that moment, the personality’s form began to grow more transparent. They looked at each other, and with a mix of regret and relief, the personality said, “I have to go to sleep now.” As Lucien opened his mouth to ask a question, the personality preempted with a cheerful laugh, “Don’t ask me. I don’t know when I’ll wake up. Ha, but maybe we’ll meet again soon.”

  Lucien nodded, having nothing more to say. He stared at the companion who had borne half his life—physically and mentally—as it faded into slumber. A profound sorrow, one he hadn’t felt since he was thirteen, gripped his heart.

  The personality’s form had now dissolved up to its neck. Unfazed, it said, “Lucien, I kind of hate you, but I also really cherish you for giving me a life, even if it was a bit like hell. Ha, I’m rambling again.” Looking at Lucien, it spoke what might be its final words as it faded nearly to the top of its head, “Live well, goodbye.”

  Lucien gazed at the now-empty spot where his personality had sat and said softly, “Sleep well.”

  At the same moment, in another eerily familiar world, a blinding yet darkly ominous light swept across everything. Memories were erased—memories of a man who had silently endured immense suffering but also inflicted great pain. Lucien Graye and everything about him were wiped clean from the minds of all.

  In a strange, desolate place where the land and trees were withered, devoid of any life, stood an enormous, ancient palace within a dead forest. It exuded an eerie, foreboding aura. Inside a coffin lay a shriveled corpse, seemingly untouched for thousands of years. Suddenly, its breathing resumed, as if sensing a grand presence. It opened its mouth, emitting a hoarse sound that shook the forest, the earth, and the palace, threatening to destroy everything: “Ki..ng co...m.e ba.c.k...” The voice caused the ground to crack, and the fissures spread over a thousand meters around the palace. Then, all fell silent, and the vast dead forest sank back into its slumber.

  In a deep forest, Lucien Graye looked outside. A thick gray fog obscured everything. He wore a white dress shirt with a loosened tie, but he couldn’t part with his worn, chestnut-colored trench coat. 'It seems “the fool” (the personality) really liked this style,' he thought. He didn’t mock his companion’s taste but respected it deeply.

  Glancing outside again, he pushed aside the fleeting joy and focused on the matter at hand. 'Hmm, where is this place? That monster teleported me here, then vanished.' Recalling the near-death experience of “the fool” and his own powerlessness, he sighed, blaming himself inwardly. Looking at the bed near the wooden cabinet, he noticed the bloodstain on the floor had vanished, as if it had never existed. Earlier, he had been too focused on analyzing events to notice, but now, settled, he realized this anomaly and was certain it was tied to the monster.

  Rubbing his chin, Lucien froze as a bold, dangerous thought struck him: 'Could that monster have absorbed the blood and burrowed into my body?' He shook his head, unwilling to believe it or entertain the notion. If the monster was inside him, it would kill him sooner or later.

  Sighing, he accepted the possibility of standing on the edge of death at any moment. Walking to the wooden cabinet, he retrieved his two guns and checked them. The Colt M1911 was fully loaded with eight rounds (including one in the chamber) and two spare magazines. The Browning Hi-Power also had fourteen rounds (including one in the chamber) and three spare magazines. “Hmm, not bad. I still have guns and ammo. If I’ve been transported to a strange world, I at least have a chance to survive,” he said. Tucking both guns into his waistband, he stepped outside.

  The sunlight broke through, dispelling the earlier fog. Rays illuminated Lucien’s handsome face, enhancing his striking allure. Squinting at the sky, his eyes suddenly widened, his body trembling with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The sun wasn’t alone—beside it were one, two, four planets visible in the sky, creating an otherworldly scene. But that wasn’t what shocked him most. It wasn’t just the four planets orbiting close to Earth and the sun. The sky was filled with countless dragons, creatures from tabloid myths he’d read, and enormous prehistoric birds. The sight could only be described in one word: “Miraculous.”

  He stared intently until his eyes stung from dryness. Rubbing them, Lucien regained his composure, his mind forming an answer to where he was.

  “I’m certain I’m in another world, a world with dragons and creatures from mythology,” he said, thrilled by his deduction. But an even more exhilarating hypothesis formed in his mind.

  “This world... I suspect it may have beings with powers beyond human limits, powers only found in books and novels.”

  A surge of fiery passion coursed through Lucien’s body. He spoke his heart, shedding his cold, ruthless facade, “Hey, ‘fool,’ you’d definitely love this place. Wake up soon.” But he quickly suppressed his joy, reverting to his cold, impassive expression. He returned to the house to prepare for his journey, eager to discover more strange and wondrous things.

  Unbeknownst to him, just a few hundred meters from the house, a pair of blood-red eyes watched Lucien as he stepped inside, glinting with ravenous hunger.