The young girl, Adrienne, wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her sleeve, then spat onto the ground, watching the dark stain disappear into the filth of the alley. Her ribs ached, her stomach throbbed, and her skull pounded with a dull, lingering pain. But none of that mattered right now.
Because she had food money.
With stiff, aching fingers, she uncurled her fist, revealing the crumpled wad of bills she had managed to snatch from that bastard's pocket while he was busy throwing punches. He'd been too caught up in the whole 'intimidating thug' act to notice.
Dumbass….
A crooked grin tugged at her lips as she forced herself to her feet, biting back a wince. Her body protested every movement, but hunger drove her forward. The money wasn't much, hardly enough to cover anything decent. But right now, it was worth more than gold.
Adrienne walked with a limp, one arm curled around her bruised ribs as she navigated the winding alleys of Coca Town's lower districts. She kept her head down, her crimson eyes darting from shadow to shadow, checking for threats. It was a habit ingrained through necessity.
The night market stretched across several blocks, a chaotic sprawl of makeshift stalls, rusted carts, and rickety tables piled high with anything and everything someone might want to buy—assuming they weren't too picky about where it came from.
Adrienne kept her head down as she moved through the crowd, her crimson eyes scanning the faces around her with quiet calculation. She had been coming here long enough to know the rules: Don't look weak. Don't make eye contact with the wrong people. And, most importantly, don't linger too long in one spot.
The market was as much a hunting ground as it was a place to trade. Thieves slithered through the crowd, their hands faster than the eye, while enforcers for various gangs stood in shadowed corners, keeping silent watch over their territory. A few street kids weaved between the stalls, running errands for merchants or simply trying to scavenge whatever scraps they could.
Adrienne barely spared them a glance.
Her destination was a food stall wedged between a counterfeit clothing vendor and a man hawking bootlegged action movies. The air around it was thick with the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat, the smoky char mixing with a heavy layer of spice.
Behind the counter stood the old man who had been running this stall for as long as Adrienne could remember. His hands moved with mechanical precision, flipping skewers over the open flame, the firelight flickering against his worn, lined face. The years had carved deep grooves into his features, his leathery skin stretched taut over sharp cheekbones. A stained apron hung loosely over his frame, and a faded bandana barely held back his thinning hair.
"If you're here to beg, get lost," he said without looking up.
Adrienne rolled her eyes. "Good evening to you too, old man."
He finally glanced at her, taking in her bruised face and the way she favored one side. A grunt of acknowledgment rumbled in his throat as he flipped another skewer.
"Tch. You look like hell, brat. Who'd you piss off this time?"
Adrienne smirked, though it tugged painfully at the split in her lip. "Just some idiot with slow hands."
The man snorted. "One of these days, that mouth of yours is gonna get you killed."
"Maybe. But not today."
He grumbled something under his breath, then waved a hand toward the counter. "You here to buy or just to get on my nerves?"
"Both," she said, slapping the money down onto the counter. "How many can this get me?"
The old man picked up the crumpled bills, smoothing them out with a weathered thumb. His gaze flicked to her face, then back to the money, clearly aware it had been stolen. But he didn't care. That wasn't his problem.
"I can only do you two for this much."
Adrienne clicked her tongue. "Two? Come on, old man, that's barely a snack. At least give me three."
He scoffed. "Not a chance."
He didn't wait for her to argue, simply grabbing two skewers from the grill and dipping them into a thick, reddish-brown sauce before handing them over.
Adrienne sighed but accepted them without complaint.
The moment the first bite hit her tongue, she nearly groaned. The meat was greasy, heavily spiced, and slightly charred in places—but it was food, real food, and after the day she had, it might as well have been a five-star meal. The heat seeped into her fingers, a small comfort against the night air, and the richness of the flavors dulled the ache in her stomach.
Damn. Worth it.
She chewed slowly, savoring every bite, leaning against the corner of a flickering streetlamp. Around her, the night market bustled with the usual mix of drunks, gamblers, and desperate folks looking for a quick fix to their problems.
The fights had been good tonight…
She'd snuck into the Crimson Crown Arena earlier, and managed to witness most of the matches, well, before getting caught by those thugs. It hadn't been easy—she had to wedge herself between two drunk bettors, duck under a distracted guard's arm, and climb over a rusted fence to get inside.
Still it was worth it. She had seen the Bone Queen, covered in jagged plates of bone, fighting like a demon in human form. The Dawn Guardian, standing unshaken behind his enormous shield. And The Slasher… well, that guy was something else entirely.
She could still picture the moment his machetes shattered the supposedly unbreakable shield. That one instant where it seemed like the impossible had just happened. The crackling energy. The explosion of debris. The stunned silence before the entire arena erupted in chaos.
Adrienne let out a breath, shaking her head.
If only…
All those fighters, all those cultivators, had something special. They were faster, stronger, tougher than normal people. They could do things that defied logic—ripping through stone, shattering shields, moving at speeds that made her eyes hurt to track.
Adrienne had always thought that if she could do something like that, she wouldn't be stuck here. Wouldn't be starving. Wouldn't be preparing to sleep in an alley.
She swallowed another bite of meat, the heat warming her insides, but the weight in her chest remained.
"If only I wasn't a dud," she muttered under her breath.
She glanced down at her own hands, flexing her fingers.
No glow. No energy. Nothing.
She let out a quiet, bitter chuckle.
"Yeah, right," she muttered to herself. "Like that'll ever happen."
She had tried. She had tried so many times. Watching cultivators fight, mimicking their movements, willing herself to feel the rush of that first time—but she was just a dud. No fancy abilities, no superhuman strength. Just a half-starved street rat getting her ass kicked for pocket change.
No time for moping around…
Her jaw clenched. She threw the last chunk of meat into her mouth and tossed the stick aside, wiping her greasy fingers on her tattered jacket.
Pushing off from the streetlamp, she winced as pain flared through her bruised side. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off, and now every movement felt like her ribs were held together with duct tape and spite.
She needed to crash.
Moving at a slow, stiff pace, she made her way to the alley she had claimed as her sleeping spot. It wasn't much, just a half-hidden gap between two rundown buildings where the wind didn't cut through as badly. The walls were close enough to block out most of the noise from the city, and the dumpsters nearby kept people from wandering in too often.
That didn't mean it was safe, but to be fair, nothing in her life ever was.
Her ribs ached with every step, and her stomach still twisted with hunger despite the meager meal. At this rate, she was gonna have to figure out another way to get food tomorrow.
She sighed.
Maybe I'll go see if there are any openings at the big box store tommorow.
The department store at the end of town usually gave out a few odd jobs like sorting scrap, running errands, maybe hauling some junk to the back in exchange for food and if the owner was in a good mood, a little pay. If she was lucky and she arrived early, she might even snag a few hours helping out in the stockroom, which paid a bit better.
The early cat gets the bag, or at least I think that's what Agnes used to say—
She was only a few blocks away from her alley when she felt it.
The air shifted.
The noises of the market, the chatter, the distant hum of traffic—it all seemed to dull, like someone had thrown a thick blanket over the world.
A cold pressure settled over her skin, like a storm rolling in, heavy and electric. Her instincts screamed, every nerve on edge.
And then, right in front of her, the darkness itself seemed to twist.
A void. A perfect, pitch-black hemisphere, as if the night itself had been cut out of reality and stuffed into a neat little bubble. The world around it seemed to warp slightly, as though space itself was being bent to make room for this impossible thing.
Adrienne's breath caught in her throat.
What the hell is that?
She had seen some weird shit in the city. She had seen cultivators move like blurs, seen people punch through concrete, seen guys survive what should've been lethal wounds.
But this?
This was just wrong.
The darkness wasn't just an absence of light. It was a thing. It felt thick, like the air around it had turned heavy. The edges of it wavered slightly, shifting like oil on water, like reality itself was trying to figure out what the hell to do with it.
Her instincts screamed at her to run.
But she couldn't.
She stood there, rooted to the spot, her limbs refusing to move, her mind caught somewhere between horror and disbelief.
Then something stepped out of the darkness.
It wasn't human, or anything she was familiar with.
A hulking figure of stone and metal emerged, its massive frame moving with an unnatural fluidity for something so solid. It had four arms and no discernable facial features. Instead, it had three lines of two holes where the face should have been, which were glowing with a golden light. The dim light reflected off its jagged body, casting shifting shadows that made it look even more alien.
Adrienne's stomach twisted.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She somehow knew.
She knew.
This was it. This was what had been causing the mass disappearances.
She had heard rumors of other street kids disappearing, gone without a trace. No bodies. No signs of struggle. Just gone.
And now it was her turn.
The golem turned its head toward her, its golden lights face locking onto her position.
Run! her brain screamed. Move!
But her body refused to listen.
She wanted to back away, wanted to bolt, but fear had her in a chokehold. Every instinct screamed at her that if she so much as twitched, it would come for her even faster.
Not that it mattered.
The golem started moving.
One step.
Then another.
Each step it took was eerily silent, despite its sheer weight. Then, before she could even think about escaping, it reached for her.
No. No, no, no, no—
Massive, stone-like fingers, if they could even be called that, curled around her waist, lifting her effortlessly. The sudden movement snapped something in her brain, and she finally found her voice—except it came out as a pathetic wheeze. Her body trembled, her arms uselessly pressing against the cold, rough surface of the creature.
Her mind screamed for her to fight, to kick, to bite, to do something.
But all she could do was shake. She was paralyzed, trapped in the suffocating grip of absolute terror.
The golem turned, carrying her toward the black void.
And then—
They stepped into the darkness.
The last thing she saw was the city lights disappearing.
And then, she and the black void disappeared.
As if they had never existed at all.