The underground city was dim and sunless, drenched year-round in shadows and filth. Murky water trickled through rust-covered pipes, and wedged between them stood a small makeshift home — nothing more than patched-up wood and scrap. Inside, in a tiny corner room, a seventeen-year-old boy lay fast asleep, butt in the air, drooling like he’d just dreamt of a feast.
“Li Xin! Liii—XIN—!! I’m counting to three, and you better drag your sorry ass out here!”
A sharp soprano voice tore through the house like a battle horn, threatening to bring down the already fragile roof. The walls hummed with the echo, shaking loose clouds of dust. The cramped home was clearly built with care, despite being made from nothing but discarded boards and pipe brackets.
“Three...!”
With a thud and a scramble, the boy stumbled out of the room, grinning sheepishly at the woman waiting outside, arms crossed and full of fury.
“Aunt Fei—Fei-jie—c’mon, don’t get angry. Wrinkles, remember? You’ll get wrinkles,” Li Xin said, holding his hands up in surrender, as if bracing for a flying shoe.
“You stole your sister’s candy, didn’t you?”
Aunt Fei looked to be in her thirties, hair wild and frizzy in a classic mom style. Her skin was a little ashy and dotted with rough spots. Not quite ugly, but certainly a far cry from graceful. Her fierce expression made it clear she was not someone you wanted to mess with.
Beside her stood a little girl with big watery eyes, pouting like a kicked puppy. Despite the worn and slightly dirty clothes, her beauty was striking — delicate features that couldn’t be hidden. Aunt Fei claimed she was her biological daughter, though few in the slums believed it.
Li Xin blinked in confusion. “Candy? What candy?”
“It was from that boy Kato next door,” the girl sniffled. “He gave it to me and said he’d show me a magic trick. Then he said he’d make it disappear — and he ate it! I would’ve shared if he just asked…”
She rubbed her eyes dramatically, even making sure to peek through her fingers to check how the performance was going.
Kato — the lovesick puppy from next door — danced to her tune daily.
“Aunt Fei, you scared me half to death. Kids shouldn’t eat random sweets, especially when they’re from questionable sources. I was going to take her to the city and buy her something nice anyway. Right, Xueyin?” Li Xin said smoothly. Whenever little Xueyin wanted to go out, she’d pull some innocent stunt like this. A bit of trouble was worth the trip.
“Yay!” Lin Xueyin lit up, grabbing Li Xin’s hand and dragging him toward the door. The city wasn’t exactly safe, but with Li Xin around, Aunt Fei could rest easy.
“Have fun, but stay sharp in the city. Don’t mess with the locals, and be back before dark,” Aunt Fei called after them. She sighed, watching the pair disappear down the corridor. One kid who should be out chasing dreams chose to stay home, and the one who should stay home was always itching to explore.
Tianjing, capital of the Li Long Unified Kingdom, sat on the eastern coast of the Daoyuan continent. It was a major multicultural city, part of a coalition of federations. Bustling, vibrant — and deeply divided.
Li Xin considered himself an orphan. He’d left a strange place — one he barely remembered — and drifted toward Tianjing. Starved and gravely injured, he’d collapsed on the outskirts. When he awoke, he was in Aunt Fei’s care. She’d taken him in, and her daughter Xueyin, seven years younger than him, became his little shadow.
They lived in Blackwater, a vast slum beneath Tianjing’s streets. Nearly ten thousand people crammed into this underworld. Shacks and shanties clung to old pipelines, scrap walls forming a massive subterranean maze. After multiple plagues and riots, the city finally installed basic utilities — drinking water, for instance — allowing some semblance of a functioning society to emerge.
Blackwater wasn’t unique. Dozens of similar districts sprawled around Tianjing, housing failed businessmen, criminals, drifters, and the destitute. Polluted runoff from Hextech factories and the city’s waste flowed into the slums, poisoning air and earth alike. But to slum dwellers, that waste was opportunity — metals to salvage, rare materials to refine. Dangerous work, toxic even, but it paid. In Blackwater, garbage was power.
Li Xin didn’t scavenge — not because he was proud, but because he simply wasn’t good at it. Instead, he hunted in the forests outside Tianjing, bringing back wild game to sell. Regular meat fetched decent coin, but the real money came from exotic creatures — beasts, hawks, even rabbits with perfect fur. Rumor had it, nobles pampered their pets more than their own kids.
Aunt Fei was a brilliant seamstress — fiery, sharp-tongued, but kind. Life was tight, but it was enough. And Xueyin was the sun of their little home — clever, radiant, beloved by all.
“Axin, if you’re so amazing, why don’t you apply to the Order Academy? They say it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor — it’s the Grand Chancellor’s gift to the people!” Xueyin tilted her head, eyes sparkling with hope. In her heart, Li Xin was the greatest person alive. Only Luthor the Chancellor came close.
“He says everyone’s equal. Do you think that’s true?”
“That’s a big question,” Li Xin chuckled. He undid her messy braid and began weaving it again — a skill he’d practiced until it was perfect. The style made her eyes look even bigger.
Xueyin pouted. “You have to believe in yourself. Everyone says getting into the Academy can change your life.”
“You sure know a lot for someone so small,” he teased, tapping her forehead.
“But you never even tried! Mama’s been asking you to apply for two years now!”
“I’ll give it a shot... someday,” Li Xin smiled, brushing her hair gently.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Blackwater kids weren’t really citizens. Legally? Maybe. Realistically? Not a chance.
Blackwater had rules, sure. But safety? That was another story. Like anywhere else, the rich few crushed the many poor. And in a place as starved as Blackwater, that truth was amplified. Still, Li Xin’s neighborhood was peaceful. Mostly because he’d beaten the shit out of some thugs trying to collect “protection fees.”
Word got around. He had awakened psionic powers. And that meant nobody wanted to mess with him.
To seal the deal, he once “chatted” all night with the local gang boss from the Spade Crew — a nice, heartfelt talk under a moonless sky. They reached an understanding. The boss was reasonable, and Li Xin’s “terms” were... persuasive. Since then, his corner of the slums became a rare haven. The air still stank, but it was home. People pitched in. Aunt Fei got steady work. They were poor, not stupid.
Li Xin also moonlighted as a courier — Blackwater’s favorite delivery guy. Safe, fast, discreet. Occasionally, he played mediator in local disputes too.
He patted Xueyin’s head again. The Order Academy’s full name was the Tianwu Divine-Engine Order Academy. It had once been a knight school, but after reforms by the city and the Church, it grew into a powerhouse of education — from psionics to Hextech, history to the arts. It was open to everyone now, at least in theory.
Li Xin could try... but who would care for Aunt Fei and Xueyin? Their stability rested on him. And tuition? Insane.
They took a familiar manhole route back to the city. Xueyin giggled as she leapt down, landing in Li Xin’s waiting arms.
The sewer tunnels were a twisted mess, expanded by generations of slum dwellers. Only locals could navigate them without getting lost. After a fun day roaming the city, Xueyin fell asleep on Li Xin’s back, worn out but happy. She always lit up in the city, even if she never said it aloud. She knew — even at her age — that people weren’t treated equally. She’d seen the looks city kids gave her.
Li Xin had considered moving topside, but the prices were absurd, and there were... other complications.
He carried her through the tunnels, following the glowing sludge of Hextech waste. It shimmered under the red moonlight — beautiful, in a toxic kind of way. This water couldn’t be drunk, not even when boiled, but early settlers in the underground had no choice. They drank what they had, filtered what they could, and survived without question.
That’s what the lowborn do.
They survive.
A flicker of light danced in the shadows.
A scurrying sound followed — scratching, squeaking.
Rats dashed across the tunnel floor, paused, and stared at the passing human. They didn’t flee. Some humans in these parts lived worse than they did.
In the city above, even the fallen elite often preferred living in the sewers to descending into the underground slums. A few boards, a blanket, and a pile of newspapers could be called a "home." One drifter left, another took their place — never for long. Still, to them, staying in the sewer meant they hadn’t truly left the city. Not yet.
Xueyin slept peacefully on Li Xin’s back, her lips puckering slightly in her dreams — no doubt still thinking about the candy. She never asked for much. Once a month, at most, she’d pull some innocent little act to convince him to bring her into the city for a sweet treat. And if she failed, well — it was just a performance anyway.
Two rats lunged at them from the shadows, driven mad by hunger.
Li Xin snapped his fingers — once, twice. The rats collapsed silently mid-charge.
His steps were smooth, but fast. Fast enough that to the sleeping homeless in the tunnels, he was little more than a passing breeze.
It had been six years since he escaped that strange place — a castle, maybe. That’s what he called it, anyway. Whatever had entered his body back then still hadn’t settled. Fortunately, he’d figured out how to live with it.
The Daoyuan Continent was a world ruled by both crown and church.
A land where Relics of the Gods existed — ancient objects said to be remnants of divine power.
Those with awakened psionic energy could resonate with these relics, absorbing them into their bodies and receiving their “blessings.”
Relics from the True Gods were relatively stable. But those tied to Dark Gods often came with… complications — bloodlust, madness, corruption. Maybe that’s why they were labeled “evil” in the first place.
Gods, whether righteous or wicked, had their own hierarchy.
High-tier gods wielded immense Authority, maintained churches, commanded legions of fanatical followers, and were often backed by entire nations.
Then there were the Wild Gods and Wandering Gods — entities with no churches, no order.
They had relics too — strange, unpredictable ones.
Their power was dangerous, chaotic, and often more frightening than anything a Dark God could offer.
Because while the righteous may refuse your prayers, the wild ones?
They'll devour your soul just for asking.
Li Xin’s relic… was a die.
A single, ancient die.
According to the skeletal figure in that long-forgotten castle, the die was not a relic of any recognized True God. But it was the only one that responded to Li Xin. He didn’t have a choice.
It wasn’t destiny.
It was a predator that didn’t mind what it ate.
In the year before Li Xin, five other hosts had tried.
All of them died.
That was the first time Li Xin saw something resembling emotion on the skull’s smooth, grinning face — a strange mix of guilt, awe… and maybe pity.
The die had nine faces — one through nine. It now resided near his heart, beating in rhythm with his life. After six years, he’d uncovered part of its power:
When rolled, the die could predict the success rate of a future event — something he was about to attempt, something he focused on.
But the cost?
Severe migraines. Disorientation. A delayed, overwhelming craving for risk. Sometimes one, sometimes all three.
Even unused, relics like this altered their hosts. They warped thoughts, suppressed reason, gnawed at sanity. Letting it go unchecked would eventually turn him into something… else.
The Church, and various secret societies, had developed ways to manage such side effects.
Li Xin had none of that.
He improvised.
To fight the die’s obsessive need for “games of chance,” he played rock-paper-scissors with himself — left hand vs. right. The losing hand had to do pushups until it collapsed. Crude? Yes. Effective? So far.
To Aunt Fei, it just looked like he was working out.
She thought he was training hard.
In truth, he just didn’t want to lose his mind.
Li Xin wasn’t someone who liked effort for effort’s sake.
And when he did use the die to successfully predict something, that game didn’t help. The headaches came — sometimes instantly, sometimes hours later. The disorientation would make him forget where he was, or give him an uncontrollable urge to throw himself into danger.
When that happened, he’d disappear into the forest for days, hunting until the madness passed.
He’d tried to resist it. Once, he drew himself a detailed map and memorized every turn of a familiar tunnel.
He still walked past the right exit three times.
Hunting was still his main source of income. The forests outside Tianjing teemed with wild beasts — some of which had also awakened psionic abilities.
The awakened ones were valuable.
Their bodies could be used for Hextech refining, or alchemy.
The cheap ones went to industry.
But the rare ones — majestic, trainable, intelligent — those were bought by nobles as pets, messengers, or status symbols.
That was where the real money was. But it only worked if the animal was pristine.
Wounded beasts? Damaged fur?
Useless.
Capturing them alive and intact was brutally difficult. Dangerous, too.
Too hard for commoners.
Too lowly for elites.
But just right for someone like Li Xin.
After his little “agreement” with the Spade Crew boss, he could sell his prey directly to the city. Prices were better — not good, but better.
Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was poor.
Everywhere had rules.
The city especially.
The trade routes were monopolized.
And once they saw you were from the underground?
They slashed the price even harder. The real profit always went elsewhere.
Sure, Li Xin could pull some tricks in the underground. But in the city, he kept things clean. He didn’t want to bring trouble to Aunt Fei.
He adjusted Xueyin on his back and picked up the pace.
His ears twitched.
There — scattered energy, nearby.
Footsteps.
He didn’t stop to look. The presence was chaotic — not just one person. And not ordinary.
Awakened.
Without a sound, Li Xin vanished down another path, his body melting into the darkness.
In the underground, curiosity gets you killed.
Elsewhere, in the maze of tunnels, a chase was underway.
A group pursued… something.
Something humanoid, wearing a woman’s dress.
But it clung upside-down to the sewer ceiling, limbs bent at unnatural angles.
Its face had seven — no, eight — twitching eyes.
It made a low, chattering sound: ka-ka-ka-ka.
It hissed at its pursuers, then vanished into the shadows.
Moments later, over a dozen black-robed figures arrived, their chests embroidered with red crescent moons — priests of the Lunar Church.
Their leader, a man in his forties, narrowed his eyes and raised a hand.
With a shimmer of red light, the corridor changed. In his vision, the dark tunnel flashed with flickers of residual energy.
Faint trails danced above them, showing the creature’s path — until it reached a fork.
And disappeared.
The tunnels of the underground stretched endlessly in every direction — a twisting labyrinth to any outsider. Even Luo Jin, a seasoned veteran of Tianjing, felt a headache coming on just thinking about navigating them.
But they couldn’t let that thing go.
It had killed a Night Watchman.
And now it was playing tricks to shake pursuit.
That meant it was evolving.
If it reached the next stage, things would get very ugly.
“Captain, up ahead is the Blackwater residential zone. If it slips in there, we’ll lose it.”
The man known as Captain was silent for a moment. Then, calmly:
“Teams of three. If spotted — kill it. Whatever it takes.”
“Yes, sir!”
The squad scattered like trained hunters.
The Night Watchmen were the Church’s elite force, formed to deal with supernatural threats.
Their duties: monitor Awakened individuals, punish those who broke the law, and eliminate any humans or animals parasitized by Abyssal entities.
And today’s target was a serious one — an Awakened infected by an Abyssal Worm.
Ordinary humans infected by such parasites became mindless monsters. Dangerous, but short-lived.
But an Awakened infected by a worm?
They became a Licker — a bloodthirsty aberration that retained human thought… at first.
As their strength grew, so did their instincts — until they became monsters driven by pure hunger.
This Licker had already killed a Night Watchman.
And worse — it escaped.
If allowed to grow further, it could become a disaster.
Luo Jin lit a cigarette. Took a long drag.
The timing on this is way too damn convenient.
If this mission failed, he could kiss his promotion goodbye.
He vanished down one of the many branching corridors. A few minutes later, a fat rat emerged cautiously from the gutter, glowing green eyes twitching as it sniffed at the filth.
Rustle… rustle…
Suddenly —
A flash of shadow.
A tongue lashed out, wrapping around the rat and yanking it into the dark.
From the filth rose a twisted figure. Its face was lined with eyes — all blinking open at once. It chewed the rat slowly, wetly, lips twitching in satisfaction.
It was wounded, but the pleasure remained.
Once, such things would’ve made it retch.
Now?
Nothing.
The hunger never faded.
Not since it devoured its first Awakened.
Nothing else compared.
In the beginning, awakening psionics had been exhilarating — power surging with every breath. But afterward, the pain was unbearable. Every use of its powers ripped through its body like knives. Its head would explode in agony.
But then… it found its little treasure.
Now, even pain felt good.
Whether it was killing —
Or being killed.
The Licker tore off the tattered woman’s dress it wore — a leftover from a previous victim. Beneath, its body was riddled with scars and pulsing, jagged flesh.
It needed more blood to recover.
First, it would feed on humans — normal ones. Easy prey.
Then… it would hunt the Awakened.
There were always wild Awakened hiding in the underground. Easier to catch.
And once it grew strong enough…
The city would be next.
Just imagining the Awakened noblewomen — soft skin, beautiful power —
Drool dripped from its open maw.
…Wait.
Something felt off. Its posture?
It twisted its neck a full 360 degrees, then dropped down on all fours.
Much better.
Now its eight eyes had a full, panoramic view.
Efficient.
Comfortable.
With a pleased rumble in its throat, the Licker began crawling toward the Blackwater slums.
Skritch… skritch… skritch…
Ka-ka-ka-ka…
Moments after it vanished, another figure stepped into the corridor.
Cigarette in his mouth.
Unlit.
And watching.
_____________________
📖 Author's Note:
Dear brothers and sisters — my new novel, Divine Storm, has officially launched! This time I’m trying something different: a slower, more atmospheric style influenced by soul-like narratives and the Cthulhu mythos.
It won’t be as fast-paced or punch-heavy as my earlier work — I want to take time laying down the characters and the world. I’m both nervous and excited, and I sincerely hope you enjoy the ride.