The air around us shifted.
Suddenly, the ground cracked like it was caving in on itself. Flames rose. Screams echoed from invisible mouths. The sky darkened into storm-black as red lightning forked across the sky.
Zhao Yuren slammed the base of the staff on the ground, and the world moved.
"Survive the dungeon I died in," he said. "See what I saw. Fight what I fought."
"Last ten minutes… and I'll know you're worth it."
I gritted my teeth. The pressure was already immense.
But I nodded.
Because this was it. My one shot. And I'd rather burn with it than crawl away empty-handed.
"Let's begin."
---
The sky screamed.
It wasn't thunder. Thunder didn't weep like that. It was something deeper—ripping through the atmosphere like a dying god's wail.
The moment Zhao Yuren slammed the staff down, I was dragged—my body pulled by force into a new world.
No, not a world.
A memory.
His last memory.
Everything hit me at once.
Smoke.
Blood.
The iron tang of bodies ripped open.
