The world turned dark and wet. Liquid cold as ice and black as night rolled over me. Stars poked through like pinpricks in a blanket, dots of light that were visible even as it covered my eyes and submerged me, soaking through my robes and pressing against my skin. Then it began to boil. I blinked to try to clear the black liquid enveloping me. The tiny pinpricks of light glowed brighter and brighter until an entire world took shape around me.

  I was on a wagon. A blue sky stretched out above me, the sun beating down. For a moment, I thought I had been teleported again. I tensed as I took in the sprawling wilderness.

  The untamed wilds were dangerous, even for cultivators of the Third Realm. The lands that men did not claim often belonged to Spiritbeasts.

  But nothing moved. I couldn’t shift my body beyond where I sat.

  Birds remained frozen in the air, leaves from massive trees remained in the air, and the wagon beneath me remained in place.

  Text boxes scrolled in front of me.

  [Level 15 Scenario]

  [You are a cultivator guarding a caravan from threats. Prove your worthiness by defending the caravan from all threats without the use of [Skills.] Deliver the caravan back to Windhewn Peak. Attributes have been suppressed for the duration of the scenario.]

  [Reward: Levels, Attribute Points, Spirit Healing Progress]

  [Anti-Light Scepter Detected; Additional Information Authorized]

  [This challenge, localized to the Ludus Arbor, is designed to pass down power to potential inheritors of the Anti-Light Order’s Legacy. Each completed trial will raise a users access to the labyrinth and affinity to an Anti-Light Path. Be wary; the challenges within can and will kill.]

  The System’s scrolling text confirmed my thoughts — this place was a legacy — a massive one, the kind of inheritance that a sect leaves behind. The kind of inheritance that the Anti-Light Order leaves behind,

  This Labyrinth was a legacy — a massive one. Cultivators, when they reached a certain realm, all built Legacies of their own — manuals to inherit their original techniques, but often also great training halls to pass them down; it was so widespread that I had suspected it was a quintessential step to advancement.

  But one this massive, this hidden, and this forgotten? That was unheard of. And I had never heard of Anti-Light; not as a major attribute of qi, a path, or a sect. Whoever they were, they had long since faded from Bloodstone’s history.

  Time unfurled like a wet cloth, moving forward drip by drip.

  “What’s wrong?” A man — a mortal — asked me, looking up at me with worry on his face. The wagon we were on rolled unsteadily on a wild path. A spear rested between my legs, pointing upward, the tassel tied near the blade bouncing in the wind as we rode between gigantic trees. There was nothing like them in the territory of the Feng; the closest I had seen was at Snowshadow hall.

  [Be wary; the challenges within can and will kill.]

  The man looked upset, his face twisted in a rictus of fear.

  “Nothing is wrong.” I said, plastering a smile I didn’t feel on my face. The mortal calmed, but not completely.

  “You frightened me, my lord.”

  There was a feeling settling in my stomach in those moments; it was like the sensation of drowning, the moment where your body demands air and demands that you breathe. It wasn’t my lungs demanding air, though. It was a sensation I had long become comfortable with, one that had turned into a dull ache.

  I grimaced as that ache became a sharp pain, wincing and preparing for it to hurt more as I dragged qi from the air into my meridians and toward my dantian. But instead of the sharp pain of the qi bleeding out through my shattered core, I felt the core inside me.

  The qi in the air was so dreadfully thin that it was nothing more than the tiniest wisp of power I had pulled there; but I felt inside of me a sensation I hadn’t felt in years; a sea of power, calm and quiet in my core, ready to boil out. My eyes widened.

  [You are a cultivator guarding a caravan from threats.]

  This illusion was capable of fully simulating a dantian. It was there, real to all of my senses, boiling with power under my own control.

  With the tiny wisp of power I absorbed, I felt the qi in the world around me. Under me, inside the tied down crate I sat on, were piles of what felt like spirit-stones; each one bled specific attributes of qi, rather than the pure, unattributed qi I was used to.

  This was a wagon loaded with cultivation resources. A pang of greed filled me as I stared at the cultivation resources. Even though I hadn’t properly accumulated qi in years. Even though I could do nothing with them. Even though they were power for a path I only held as long as I was in this illusion.

  I was always taught that it was good for a cultivator to be greedy.

  But this wasn’t really my dantian. There was no way it would stay after this scenario ended. And besides that…

  “Tell me of the recent spirit beast sightings in the land ahead.” I told the mortal.

  “No sightings, Lord.”

  I raised an eyebrow. That was hard to believe. Even if there were no spirit-beasts about normally, the cart of goods would attract them like nothing else. Especially with the abnormally dispersed qi of the area; this place must have been a barren land, like the Feng desert territory surrounding Sandgrave.

  “Just the regular losses. Three wagons this year, loaded to the brim. No survivors, no corpses… you’ll keep us safe, yes, Lord?”

  That explained the mortals fear at my reaction. He had assumed I had sensed something, and that an attack was imminent.

  “Of course.” I said, gripping my spear tighter.

  The qi coiling in my meridian wasn’t exactly Storm-qi. It definitely wasn’t whatever Anti-Light was, either. It was wind-qi; not so different as to be completely unfamiliar to me, but not similar enough to the storm-qi I had cultivated to be comfortable.

  All of the artifacts stored atop the wagon matched the qi perfectly.

  I needed information. And I needed it as fast as possible. Powering an illusion like this was beyond expensive — I should know. I trained for hours in similar illusory formations — though mine were less impressive by far.

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  I couldn’t tell that the sky was fake here.

  “How long until our arrival?”

  “Another few days, my lord.”

  I hesitated. Days? That couldn’t be right.

  I clutched my spear tight and waited.

  But hours passed, and no threat came.

  As the sun began to set, I started to ask more questions.

  “How many shipments do we sent a month through this pass?”

  “Oh, no less than thirty, my lord.”

  Which meant three a month was no less than one-in-ten. But there was no way the simulation would put me in a scenario where we weren’t attacked.

  “And we’re carrying the standard transport?”

  The mortal laughed.

  “The standard transport doesn’t involve a cultivator guard such as yourself, my lord. No, this shipment only happens twice a year.”

  I could sense the man’s growing suspicion, but none would dare talk back to a cultivator. I knew this was a simulation. I knew this wasn’t real. But every time I addressed him as a mortal in my mind, I felt an itch, a memory digging itself to the surface. I knew I shouldn’t have asked him his name or learned anything about him. He wasn’t real.

  But this entire illusion felt too real.

  His name was Jian Yi. He accepted the carriage work — taking goods to and from the pass — because it paid more. Much more. He had a sick wife and young child at home, who relied on him when he returned, and his trips often took weeks. The entire county was in a state of famine — the taxes on crops to the local cultivation sects had suddenly increased, and mismanagement left too little food in the city.

  This job, though dangerous, allowed him to sustain himself and his family. He had never been attacked on his route. But he had stumbled across carriages that had been attacked.

  He kept doing the work anyway.

  “We’re expecting another kid.” He said, unprompted. He was smiling. “We’re saving up to expand our home. To build on another wing, my lord.”

  We had stopped for the night now, putting the wagon adjacent to the side of a cliff. I had helped construct a fire pit. It was crackling now. The horse was feeding from a bucket, and Jian Yi looked ready to fall asleep, bundling on a log I had carried over as a makeshift seat.

  “That’s good news. I will pray for the child’s health.”

  “I’m hoping for a son, my lord.” Jian Yi said. Then his face turned serious. “Shall I take the second watch for the night?”

  I hesitated. Then I poked at my core with my senses. My body had been tempered in the Second Realm, and taken a step into the third. Staying awake for a few days would be fatiguing — but not difficult, unlike what a mortal would experience.

  “I’m not tired.” I said. “I’ll wake you when I need you.”

  Poppy Vascara held up the ratty, splintered board that had worked as a makeshift shield for the two weeks. The wood was already rotting and splitting when she found it, and now, she hovered behind what was left of it as they ventured into the deepest, darkest, and most dangerous pits of the labyrinth their clan of looters had been tearing apart.

  She paused at the corner.

  “Sense anything, Thane?”

  The Archer stood to her left, stopping to listen, also crouched. His breath was visible in the dim magical light coming from the rock tied around her neck.

  “Don’t hear nothing. Save running water. Anna…” Thane said.

  “I’m not wasting mana stealthing ahead.” She said.

  “Somethings wrong.” Poppy said. “There were at least eight more goblins in that pack. What if they’re sitting in ambush?”

  “You’re paranoid.” Anna said. “Listen to that. It’s dead quiet. And if we really do get in trouble, I might need that mana.”

  “It’s too quiet.” Poppy said.

  Poppy nodded, warming herself up. The bottom of the labyrinth was freezing cold, pitch black, and smelled like goblin shit.

  They crossed the corner.

  “Well, that’s three of ‘em.” Thane said. He spat to the side.

  “Corpses?” Poppy asked. Her Perception stat wasn’t as high — she couldn’t see in the dark as well as he could.

  “Yes’m. Bled out, I’m guessing.”

  They crossed over the bodies, collecting the ears as they went.

  “Almost to quota. That means dinner tonight.” Poppy said, injecting all the cheer in her voice she could. No one replied. She fiddled with the ring on her finger as Thane worked on removing the last ear.

  [Ring of the Bleeding Crown, Level 3, Bonded to Poppy Vascara]

  [This ring transfers 30% of all Experience gained to the wearer of the Bleeding Crown. This ring grants Plus Five to all attributes. Warning: This Ring has leveled and Soul-Bonded the Contract between Poppy Vascara and Solder, and removing it will Shatter all levels and skills gained during the Contract. The contract will be annulled only by the consent of both parties or on the death of a contract holder.]

  She sucked in a breath. She had read it over and over again, but there was no way out. When she reached the shores of the Savage Continent, a land untouched by the Three Great Families, she had thought for certain she would find her destiny here. But even with her two retainers, she struggled to reach level ten, let alone beyond it.

  Poppy Vascara was suppressed from the day she was born. She was seventeenth in line for a throne that rested on an estate she had never visited, on a world where the political elite were so entrenched that there was no shift in the balance of power. The Old Continent didn’t change.

  Blood and Steel was the motto of House Vascara, the Iron Vanguard, the Siege Breakers. Their legacy was carved in stone, entrenched in the earth, and tested in battle.

  The Vascara ruled a third of the continent from a castle in the sky, surrounded by a war fleet that hadn’t seen battle in a dozen generations, whose admirals held levels and ages in the triple digits, impossible to displace, impossible to rise to.

  The old continent had been practically freed of threats, the wild monsters that remained only enough to sustain each generation of carefully nurtured and raised elites, and those who met their standards disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.

  So when a recruiter offered her a place in an expedition that could promise levels, and equipment including a ring that would increase all of her attributes, she took it, and so did her retainers.

  Of course, they didn’t mention the negatives of it. And they didn’t start out that way. At level 1, the ring only consumed ten-percent of your experience. And it wasn’t bonded. You could take it off any time. But the ring grew with you. Leveled with you. Devoured you.

  “Poppy? You ready?” Thane asked.

  “Yeah. Sorry.” She groaned, working the cold from her bones, and then they crossed the next corner, moving slow and steady. They stopped dead as they stared down the hall.

  The hallway widened and grew taller and taller, opening towards a massive, arched door, one they had never seen there. The door had been opened, swinging inward to reveal a ceiling covered in glowing figures.

  “What in the Voids name…?” Poppy asked. She crept forward. The three of them exchanged no words as they crossed the threshold into the room. The air smelled ancient and stale. Poppy was immediately hit by how dry it was compared to the room outside, how the place smelled sterile and untouched. Except for the blood of the five goblin corpses laying on the ground.

  “Found out why it was so quiet.” Thane said, slinging his bow over a shoulder and walking to the corpses. He looked at one. “The cuts on these bodies are so clean. There isn’t a Swordsman that fights like this in the camp.”

  “There is no feasible way another party could have slipped passed us without us noticing. In either direction.” Poppy said.

  “You think this was a monster?” Thane asked.

  Thane inspected the corpses. After a moment, he walked to the wall. There was damage there — the goblins had used their sling. He stared up and down the wall, eyes still dimly glowing, before looking at the ground.

  He leaned down and wiped a finger in a spot of blood, rubbing it between his hands with a frown.

  “What is it?” Anna asked, leaning over with a frown.

  “I… I don’t know. [Tracking] is telling me that it’s [Altered Human Blood.] But I don’t know if that means the Blood has been altered, or…”

  “Or the human has.” Poppy finished. She looked back to the entrance. Then around to the unopened doors.

  “Should we report this?” Thane asked with a frown.

  “And have someone else loot all the rooms attached to this? No. Let’s close the door before anyone notices, collect the ears, and climb back to camp.”

  Once the party collected their bounty, they turned to leave, climbing the spiraling labyrinth.

  “Poppy!” Anna shouted, suddenly enough to catch Poppy off guard.

  Poppy reacted, lifting her shield and looking around. But there was nothing to look at.

  “The door…” Anna said, pointing a dagger to one of the many doors along the dungeon. Unlike the others, it glowed with magic pulsing along the finely detailed carvings in the stone. A swirl of rainbow colors covered it.

  Poppy flinched back, holding the shield up higher. Thane drew an arrow. None of them moved.

  “It’s not opening.” Poppy said after a moment.

  The three of them sat in tense silence without moving.

  “Why isn’t it opening?” Anna asked.

  Poppy furrowed her brows. They had seen the scenario doors. No one ever escaped any of the scenarios alive. Not even the ones that had promised to be [Level 5] challenges. The only thing that ever exited a scenario door was a corpse, often mutilated beyond recognition. And there was never any sign of what had done it.

  “What if it’s already activated? If there’s someone already in there?” Poppy asked.

  “Poor bastard.” Thane said. “We can come collect their corpse later. Hopefully there will be enough of them left to identify them.”