"Welcome to—"
"The Shattered Realm."
"I know you must have many questions right now—and that’s perfectly normal," the woman said, gesturing for everyone to gather around the table. "Getting to know a new world is never easy, especially one so utterly different from your own."
"Next, I’ll give you a basic overview. Feel free to ask anything along the way."
"This may be a long story… so I hope you enjoy the telling."
Ming Yi and the others exchanged uncertain glances.
"First—please accept this: no matter how honored your status was, or how comfortable your life, it’s all in the past now. Because everyone who arrives here shares one truth—"
"In your original world… you are already dead." She winked playfully.
*Just as expected.*
Ming Yi lowered his head silently. Beside him, Xiao Chengcheng gasped sharply; Dandan let out a hushed whisper of shock.
"In other words—you might think of this as an afterlife."
"But here’s the twist," the woman’s tone shifted. "This is *not* a world for the dead. Everyone here—including us and you—is still alive."
"Imagine this: at one precise, identical moment, every person who died in your world was pulled by an unknown force into a separate, isolated space—this place. On the surface, it mirrors the outside world… but everything here is decayed, broken, ruined."
"Outside objects are unusable unless we remake or refine them ourselves. Written language is erased. To communicate, survive, rebuild—everything starts from zero."
She paused. "This is Rule One. The most fundamental."
*A world severed from civilization?*
*No… not necessarily.*
*There’s a loophole.*
*If everyone who died at that exact moment was randomly gathered… surely some were masters of their crafts.*
*My own knowledge and skills remain intact,* Ming Yi realized. *If objects are merely decayed—not gone—then with effort, they can be restored.*
*Civilization could continue here!*
As if reading his thoughts, the woman continued: "This conclusion came from the very first arrivals—over a million souls. They paid the highest price, learning this world’s rules with blood and lives."
"We call them the 'First Generation.'"
"The First Generation?" Yu Chen asked. "Then… according to that guy in black, we’re the third group to arrive?"
The woman nodded.
"Their arrival was nearly a century ago. From their records, the outside world was engulfed in global war."
"World War II," Old Lei murmured, stunned.
Dandan tilted her head. "Is… anyone from the First Generation still alive today?"
"One remains," the woman said, eyes soft with memory. "Most fell to Ravager hunts or faction wars. The rest… passed with time."
"'Ravagers'? The monsters that chased us?" Xiao Chengcheng frowned. The memory clearly stung.
"Exactly. Which brings us to Rule Two—you’ve already felt the change in your bodies since arriving."
"You mean… we don’t feel hunger or thirst?" Xiao Chengcheng ventured.
"Precisely. Metabolism sustains itself internally. No need to eat, drink, or excrete. Your energy source is no longer food—but Blood Essence."
Yu Chen’s eyes widened. *That dark red stone the man in black pulled from the monster… the one that healed Ming Yi.*
"Blood Essence appears unpredictably—but Ravagers are the most reliable source. With enough of it, you survive."
"Hunger is gone… but fatigue, injury, illness remain. Blood Essence fuels all recovery."
*So Blood Essence is the only true currency here.* Ming Yi’s mind clicked into place.
*But…*
*That Ravager we faced—its scale-plated bulk would’ve required heavy weaponry even in our old world. How could the First Generation fight back here, with nothing?*
Noticing his doubt, the woman smiled. "You’re wondering: did we fight them with heavy weapons?"
"Impossible. This world couldn’t sustain that cost."
"Think back," she said, glancing at Ming Yi and Senior Yu Chen. "When you were bleeding… didn’t you feel something?"
They exchanged a startled look.
Ming Yi remembered—a strange, electric sensation the moment his blood flowed.
*Did Yu Chen feel it too?*
Yu Chen met his gaze, then nodded slowly. "You felt it too?"
"A sensation… where your blood answers your will, shaping into something familiar?" the woman asked.
Ming Yi froze. A faint dissonance prickled inside. Yu Chen showed no confusion—only quiet certainty.
"If you felt that," the woman said with a warm smile, "congratulations. You’re no longer ordinary." She drew a small knife, slit her fingertip.
"As your blood obeys your mind… coalescing into a form long buried in your subconscious…"
The crimson droplet writhed, swelled, reshaped. When it stilled—a meter-long sniper rifle lay on the table.
Its silhouette echoed a Barrett M82A1, forged in deep crimson. Twisted grooves coiled along barrel and stock, pulsing with eerie life—as if the weapon itself hungered for blood.
A collective breath caught.
"…Then from that moment," the woman whispered, her smile brightening,
"—you bear a new name."
"—Shatterborn."
