---
The coffin didn't open.
It breathed.
Luan staggered back as cracks formed on the ancient chains, their glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
A voice—low, trembling with eternity—echoed in his mind:
> "You are not ready."
He wasn't.
But something inside him… something older than memory… answered back without hesitation:
> "I was born ready."
And the chains stilled—
Not in defeat,
But in recognition.
---
Luan didn't dig deeper.
He covered the coffin, marked the ground with a symbol from the coin Toko gave him, and walked away without looking back.
Smart men don't wake sleeping gods.
Fools call it courage.
---
Elsewhere, in the floating city of "Vael'Sorai," a girl stood alone atop a crystalline spire.
Her name: Isira.
Clan: Shrouded Moonlight.
Realm: First Class World.
Her eyes reflected not the present, but possibilities.
And today—she saw a thread of fate twist.
> "Something… no, someone from below," she whispered. "But the tether is backwards. It's not rising—"
"It's pulling us down."
She opened her palm. A coin of pure black flame rested in it.
She didn't know why it was burning…
Only that it shouldn't exist.
Not here.
Not yet.
---
Back in the mortal realm…
Luan made it to Gravespine Crossroad, a trade city built where five clan territories brushed edges.
It was alive. Loud. Reckless.
But Luan? He was broke. Dirty. A walking ember hiding in ash.
He took odd jobs—guarding caravans, shadowboxing in illegal spirit rings, even stealing books from private sect libraries.
And somewhere between a night of running from a drunk cultivator and dodging flying kitchen pans—he met Zurok.
Zurok: tall, cocky, wore a robe two sizes too big and carried a blade made of recycled spirit coins.
> "You fight like a beast," Zurok said. "Ever think of fighting for beasts?"
> "What?" Luan asked.
> "There's a tournament in the Quarry of Screams. Winner gets a beast egg. A rare one. Like, 'change-your-fate' level rare."
Luan wasn't interested.
He didn't care for fame, or eggs, or showing off.
But then Zurok showed him the flyer…
On it was a mark.
The same as the one on the coffin.
> "This can't be coincidence."
He signed up.
---
The Quarry of Screams wasn't a name—it was a promise.
A deep pit carved into an old battlefield, where echoes of past wars still whispered.
Luan faced warriors of steel skin, women who fought with flying hair, cultivators who summoned rain with a punch.
He fought with instinct, fire, and something more dangerous:
A growing awareness.
With every battle… he remembered.
Not facts, not places—
But how to move.
How to burn.
How to win.
---
And in his final match—
He didn't win with a flame, or fist, or feet.
He simply said one word—whispered from that ancient soul sleeping in him:
> "Khaybar."
And the arena went silent.
Because a roar erupted from the egg—
Not a beast…
But a memory locked in flesh.
It hatched.
And the thing that stepped out wasn't of this world.
Six eyes. No mouth. Wings made of scripture and bone.
It bowed to Luan.
Not because he was strong—
But because it remembered him.
---
Somewhere beyond the stars… a door creaked.
In the Forgotten World—
A council of exiled gods stirred.
One of them whispered:
> "He's reawakening."
Another:
> "Seal the breach before it spreads."
And the third…
She just smiled.
> "Too late."
---
End of Chapter 11
Shall we begin Chapter 12?
Because fate is no longer watching Luan….