February 8, 2027.
Sunset was bleeding into the sky, its deep blues dissolving into the final, vivid pockets of twilight as shadows swallowed the Darkwoods.
Slumped in the dense undergrowth lay a teenage boy.
He possessed a pale complexion, onyx-black hair, and azure eyes.
Though built like an average youth, he now lay entirely motionless in a spreading pool of blood.
His eyes were dim, glassy, and seemingly devoid of life.
Yet, a faint, desperate rise and fall of his chest proved he was still clinging to existence—at least for now.
“Is this really the end for me?
How pathetic…
My life was just getting started.
Damn it all.”
He panted heavily, every breath an agony.
“My journey to greatness had barely begun.
To top it off, I never even got a girlfriend.
I’m actually dying a virgin!
I won’t even get to try out that Battle Online VR pod I just bought…”
A weak, bitter chuckle escaped his lips.
“Sorry, Mom.
Sorry, Ellen.
I failed you both.
It’s so cold…
so heavy.
I guess…
this is it.”
Darkness surged forward, dragging his consciousness into the abyss.
And just like that, Ceres Turner was gone—a seventeen-year-old aspiring hunter who died buried under a mountain of regrets.
burdened with countless unfulfilled wishes.
Then, a beam of ethereal crimson light pierced the space between his brows.
Moments later, the supposedly deceased Ceres opened his eyes.
A bloody crimson hue swirled across his pupils before gradually receding, giving way to his signature azure gaze.
Ceres sat up, his vision dim and unfocused.
Dazed and lost in thought, he bore the look of someone newly awakened from a deep slumber.
He swept a sharp gaze across his surroundings.
Towering trees with pitch-black trunks loomed overhead, casting ominous shadows upon the damp earth beneath the eerie radiance of a green moon.
“It seems the Sanskrit of Samsara prevailed in the end…” he muttered.
A heavy silence fell before he spoke again, his voice dropping.
“But I never imagined Selene, of all people, would betray me.
I suppose the old adage holds true—never judge a book by its cover.
No matter.
The past is the past.
They will answer to my blade the next time we cross paths.
I will ensure it.”
His eyes glinted with a dangerous, lethal intent.
This entity was Asterius, a soul that had transcended the boundaries of space and time to seize control of Ceres’ physical vessel.
As he attempted to shift, a searing pain flared through his midsection.
Looking down, he discovered a horrific, gaping wound tearing through his abdomen.
Residual traces of foreign energy still festered deep within the cavity—undoubtedly the catalyst for the original Ceres’ demise.
Drawing upon the fractured remnants of universal laws etched into his soul, Asterius channeled his power, forcing the horrific wound to barely knit itself shut.
“Dammit, this vessel is pathetic,” he hissed, letting out a sharp sigh.
“In this fragile state, invoking my techniques will completely shatter this body.
Still, it seems I have no choice…
Though, I suppose it isn’t entirely a curse.
Otherwise, I would have lacked the raw essence required to seal this wound at all.”
With great effort, he dragged himself upright and leaned heavily against the tree trunk, resolving to sift through Ceres’s fragmented memories.
Ceres Turner was a seventeen-year-old aspiring genetic hunter, driven by a restless surge of unfulfilled ambitions.
He belonged to a household of three: himself, his mother Judith Turner, and his sister Ellen.
Judith, a retired genetic hunter, sustained the family through a modest, small-scale restaurant that served as their primary source of income.
His father, Aaron Turner, had vanished when Ceres was only seven, leaving a decade-long void in his life.
Now a graduate of the prestigious Battle Saints Academy, Ceres had recently crossed into the first mystical plains at seventeen—even though the minimum age requirement for entry was sixteen.
A century and a half prior, an aerospace engineer named Andre Van Livingston had engineered humanity’s first successful intergalactic vessel, a monumental feat celebrated globally.
Yet, this historic triumph ultimatel7y paved the way for an unprecedented catastrophe.
During their maiden deep-space expedition, human explorers crossed paths with an extraterrestrial civilization.
Following a tense, protracted debate over the risks of contact, they chose to approach.
It was a revelation that shattered their worldview, upending the long-held conviction that humanity reigned as the sole intelligent life form in the universe.
The race they would later come to know as the Nox.
It was a fateful encounter that ultimately became their undoing—a catastrophic miscalculation that plunged humanity’s golden age into total darkness.
Ambushed without warning, the crew faced immediate capture by the Nox.
The standoff rapidly degenerated into a brutal, bloody skirmish.
It quickly became clear that the humans were hopelessly outmatched; the Nox were a civilization far advanced in architecture, technology, and the martial arts.
Their formidable, powerful physiques—combined with their abstruse combat techniques—shattered the human defenses and pushed the survivors to the absolute brink.
With their lines collapsing, the humans had no choice but to stage a desperate retreat.
At the cost of countless sacrifices, seven escape pods punched through the atmosphere, charting a desperate course for Earth.
But the horror was not yet over.
Heavy ballistics from the enemy warship ripped through the sky, obliterating three of the pods mid-flight.
It was a devastating blow to the future of humanity.
Among the dead were the brilliant Dr.
Andre Livingston and two legendary martial masters: General Armond Ghandhi and General Gerard Enricko, both proud cultivators of the 8th level of the Nascent Soul Realm.
Though the four surviving pods successfully breached Earth’s atmosphere, the atmosphere inside them was hollow.
The escapees were torn between the cold relief of survival and a profound, suffocating grief for their fallen comrades.
Yet, even this fragile peace was stolen from them.
High above, the Nox tracking arrays had already locked onto their trajectories, firmly establishing the exact coordinates of Planet Earth.
The conflict escalated into a catastrophic, all-out war.
The Nox invasion pushed humanity to the absolute brink of extinction, and subsequent onslaughts grew increasingly brutal, leaving human civilization crippled for over two decades.
Yet, in humanity’s darkest hour, a savior emerged.
Rudra Rajput achieved a historic breakthrough into the Spirit Transformation Realm, and during his ascension, he discovered a parallel dimension tethered to Earth.
Recognizing the gravity of this revelation, the high command dispatched an elite expeditionary force to unearth the secrets of this enigmatic realm—a dark frontier shrouded beneath a canopy of towering trees, where abominable monstrosities lurked in the shadows.
On the fourth day of their trek through what they dubbed the Mystical Plains, they ambushed—and were ambushed by—a colossal beast.
It was a red bear, though far larger and more ferocious than any earthly counterpart.
A vicious horn protruded from its skull, and jagged bone spikes lined its spine.
Driven by pure territorial rage, the creature attacked on sight.
Following a grueling, high-stakes battle, the team finally subdued the behemoth, opening a window for a decisive, lethal blow that sent the creature to the afterlife.
But the beast’s death brought no relief.
Instead, a chilling, monotonous voice echoed directly within the mind of the killer:
• Target Slain: Rare Beast (Spiked Red Bear)
• Soul Armament Claimed: Weapon Type — Spiked Club
• Devour Requirement: Consume the flesh to extract 1–10 units of Rare Life Essence
Before he could process the notification, a foreign entity violently breached his sea of consciousness.
Turning his focus inward to investigate, he froze…
An ethereal club, bristling with crimson-tipped spikes, drifted within the depths of his sea of consciousness.
Jarred and apprehensive, he willed the phantasmal weapon outward.
To his shock, it manifested instantly into reality, its heavy weight settling into his palms.
Eager to test its caliber, he struck out at the surrounding forest; towering, ancient trees splintered like twigs, utterly incapable of withstanding the raw kinetic energy unleashed by the blow.
When he recounted the chilling, mechanical voice that had echoed in his mind, his teammates stood paralyzed in disbelief.
Yet, seeing was believing, and the devastating artifact resting in his hands was undeniable proof.
[ ] Determined to map out the rules of this new world, the party hunted down more beasts to test their theories.
Through careful observation, they established five fundamental laws:
1.The one who lands the Killing blow on a beast is prompted by the strange monotonous voice
2.Soul Armaments, as they later became known to be, are equipment dropped when beasts are Slain
3.The acquisition of Soul Armaments isn’t a certainty but only a possibility
4.Consuming the flesh of beasts gives life essence which improves a person’s body fitness and potential
5.The grades of beasts are:
Ordinary–Extraordinary–Rare—…with their corresponding life essences.
When these groundbreaking discoveries were relayed to the Federation, leadership erupted in triumphant celebration.
Yet, a monumental hurdle remained: engineering a stable gateway capable of transporting entire armies to the other side.
Following a grueling succession of trials and catastrophic failures, a permanent rift was finally stabilized.
Legions of soldiers were immediately deployed into the Mystical Plains to temper their combat prowess.
The environment was merciless, claiming countless lives, but the few who survived emerged reborn, possessing unprecedented strength.
Driven by this hardened vanguard, humanity gradually fortified its military might, narrowly repelling the Nox from their home planet.
This hard-fought victory granted mankind a brief moment of respite, even as the theater of war inevitably shifted into the cold expanse of outer space.
Today, access to the rift is strictly regulated.
Only elite graduates from certified martial arts institutions who have reached the age of sixteen are permitted entry.
Anyone below this threshold is instantly crushed and obliterated by the overwhelming spiritual pressure of the plains.
Despite the lethal stakes, the realm has seamlessly integrated into society, evolving into a secondary reality for the citizens of the Federation.
“What a fascinating history these natives possess,” Asterius murmured, withdrawing from the depths of Ceres’ memories.
“Intriguing.
Truly intriguing…
especially this place they call the Mystical Plains.
It possesses a magnificent allure.
I only hope it proves perilous enough to satiate my curiosity.”
His eyes glinted with a dangerous, feral light, burning with an insatiable, frenzied lust for battle.