The silence of the primal forest was absolute, broken only by the heavy, ragged breathing of Ethan Vale.
He stood over the massive, pierced skull of the four-eyed beast, his hand still gripping the solid Necronite spear. But his victory was hollow. Suddenly, a series of violent, distorted static bursts flashed across his vision.
[Warning: Critical system failure...] [Space-time travel damage: 87% structural corruption detected in quantum core.] [Biological feedback loop failing... Energy depletion at 99%. Forced hibernation imminent.]
"Chronos..." Ethan muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
No response came. The cold, logical voice that had guided his rise to power was completely silent. The pulsing blue veins on his nano-suit flickered violently before the liquid metal rapidly retracted, melting back into the neural chip at the base of his skull. The sudden loss of the suit's life-support systems felt like hitting a wall. Deprived of filtered oxygen and crushed by the sheer weight of the world
Ethan's vision spun.
His knees buckled. He collapsed onto the cold, damp earth right beside the bleeding corpse of the beast, drifting into a deep, defenseless unconsciousness.
Hours passed. The heavy scent of blood hung in the humid air before the rumbling of heavy wooden wheels broke the silence. A merchant caravan, guarded by men carrying crude iron blades and spears, ground to a halt on the dirt road nearby.
"Set up the camp!" the caravan master ordered. "Guards, scour the perimeter for meat. Keep your eyes sharp."
A small squad of merchant guards fanned out into the brush. These were tough, scarred mercenaries. In this world, there was no mystical Qi to float through the air or grant immortality; there was only the grueling practice of basic body cultivation—tempering the skin, strengthening muscles, and pushing the human frame to its absolute physical limits through brutal training.
"Captain, over here! Blood," a guard called out, slicing through a thick branch.
The squad moved in with caution, weapons drawn. When they stepped into the clearing, they froze. Before them lay the gargantuan corpse of the four-eyed beast. Its skull had been pierced through by something incredibly sharp and powerful.
And just three paces away lay Ethan.
The captain walked over, cautiously pressing two fingers against Ethan's neck, checking his pulse and the hidden rhythm of his muscles. His brow furrowed.
"No calluses on his hands. His breathing is shallow. His muscle density is refined, but he hasn't practiced any known body-tempering techniques," the captain muttered, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and greed. "Yet, he's wearing a seamless, bizarre black garment. He's either a wealthy runaway or an outsider."
In a world where life was cheap and resources had to be squeezed from raw physical labor, a defenseless anomaly was nothing but profit.
"Tie him up with heavy iron chains," the captain commanded coldly. "Take him back to the wagons. If he lives, the master can question him or sell him as a laborer at the next border town. If he dies, we strip him of those clothes."