Cicadas sang as the afternoon sun filtered through the forest canopy in golden shafts, casting dappled light that danced across the forest floor. In the heart of the lush woodland lay a small clearing, cradling a beautiful, luminescent pond. Its surface gleamed like polished glass, untouched and sacred. The water was impossibly clear, so pristine that every moss-covered stone on the bottom and every fish gliding lazily through its depths could be seen with perfect clarity, as if the pond held no secrets.
In front of the pond sat a boy who appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen years old. Though still a teenager, he possessed a striking, almost ethereal beauty, the kind that didn't fully belong to the world around him. His silky black hair fell just below his ears, gently tousled by the forest breeze, and his icy blue eyes held a quiet, piercing intensity, as though they could glimpse things hidden behind the veil of reality. Even seated, he seemed tall for his age, likely around 170 centimeters. He was holding a simple wooden fishing pole, the grain worn smooth with use, as he gazed over the still pond with a furrowed brow.
"What's going on today? I'm not catching anything," Sejun muttered, his voice low and colored with mild irritation. His lips twitched downward as he gave the line a slight flick, more out of habit than hope.
He shifted his weight on the sun-warmed stone beneath him, the rough edges pressing into his palms as he leaned forward. The pond's surface was utterly still. Not even a ripple broke the mirror-like calm.
Fishing wasn't just a hobby for Sejun, it was a rhythm, a way to breathe. A quiet ritual that let the noise of the world melt away. He came here alone more often than not. His family rarely joined him; they didn't understand the solace it gave him. His little brother had tried once, tugging at Sejun's sleeve every few minutes, asking why the fish weren't biting, until he eventually wandered off. His twin preferred the simple beauty of the arts, painting, sketching, singing when no one was listening. But Sejun… he found peace here, in the hush between breezes, in the slow, steady silence of water and stone. This was the one place where nothing was expected of him.
The breeze carried the scent of damp moss and distant wildflowers. Above him, a dragonfly buzzed lazily, wings catching the sunlight in flashes of green and blue.
He closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the quiet.
Then, suddenly, he felt a tug on his line.
His eyes snapped open.
"Finally," he murmured, gripping the pole with both hands as he leaned back.
At first, there was real resistance, something tugging sharply beneath the surface. The line curved taut, slicing a soft V-shape across the pond. Whatever he'd hooked was strong. Stronger than it should have been. His muscles tensed as he braced his feet, struggling against the unseen weight pulling hard against him.
It felt… deliberate.
With a soft splash, he yanked the catch free. A medium-sized fish burst from the surface, scales flashing in the sun. It thrashed violently for a moment, a blur of silver and shadow, before landing with a wet thud beside him on the grass.
"Not bad," Sejun muttered, lowering the rod as he knelt beside it. His breath came a little faster than before, heart still racing.
The fish twitched once. Then again. Finally, it stilled, sides rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths. Its gills flared weakly.
But as Sejun reached for it, his brow furrowed.
Something was… off.
Its belly bulged strangely, too round, too rigid. Not the soft swell of a well-fed fish. It looked like something had been forced inside it. The skin across its stomach was stretched taut, the scales along the underside slightly torn and tinged with an unnatural hue. Beneath the thin membrane, a faint bluish light pulsed softly, rhythmic, slow. Like a heartbeat.
But the strangest part wasn't the swelling.
It was the fish itself.
It looked… ethereal.
The scales shimmered with an internal glow, not the way sunlight played on wet skin, but something deeper. Like moonlight had soaked into the fish's body and stayed there. The glow clung to it, subtle but constant. Even its eyes, half-closed and glassy, gleamed with a ghostly sheen. Not dead. Not quite alive.
Sejun stared at it, throat dry.
He had fished in this pond since he could hold a rod. He knew every ripple, every weedbed, every darting school of shadow beneath the surface. He knew the shapes of fish that lived here, the rhythm of their movement, the way they fought the hook. He'd pulled up catfish and trout, minnows and sometimes nothing at all.
But never this.
Never anything like this.
The quiet around him thickened. No wind. No birdcalls. No rustling of leaves.
Just the soft pulse of light from the fish's belly.
He didn't move.
The forest, the pond, the sky, all of it felt like it had paused.
Watching.
Waiting.
Sejun sighed, the sound quiet and uncertain, before reaching down and gently picking up the fish.
It was still warm in his hands.
The strange glow beneath its skin hadn't faded; it pulsed slowly, as though something inside the creature was alive in a way it shouldn't be.
His fingers tightened slightly around its slick body. He had cleaned plenty of fish before. He knew the steps, the weight, the smell. But this... this felt wrong like peeling back a curtain that was never meant to be moved.
He opened his pack with one hand and pulled out the small knife tucked into its side pocket. The blade was thin, slightly curved, and worn from use, normally reserved for preparing meals when he camped overnight.
Today, it felt more like a scalpel than a tool.
He positioned the fish on a flat, smooth stone beside him, the glow from its belly casting an eerie sheen across the blade.
His breath slowed.
Then, with practiced care, he pressed the knife into the fish's flesh.
It cut cleanly.
The skin split with almost no resistance, but as he sliced down the swollen belly, the wound opened wider than it should have, as if the creature itself had been holding something back, keeping it in.
A thick, dark fluid spilled out, blackish-red, reeking of iron and something older. It didn't smell like blood. Not exactly.
Then something hard clicked against the blade.
Sejun froze.
There, nestled in the tangle of tissue and viscera, was a shape. Not bone. Not organ.
Something else.
He used the tip of the knife to gently peel back the layers. His hands were steady, but his heartbeat thundered in his ears.
And then it rolled out.
A crystal.
Palm sized. Smooth and slick with blood, but glowing faintly even through the grime. Its surface shimmered with a soft, bluish light that seemed to pulse in time with his own breath, deep, slow, steady.
He stared, wide eyed.
Whatever this was, it wasn't just strange.
It was impossible.
"What the hell?" Sejun muttered, his voice barely louder than the rustling leaves around him.
He stared at the crystal, still slick with blood, glowing like a shard of trapped lightning. It felt like it was looking back at him.
While growing up, Sejun had heard all kinds of stories, old martial artists stumbling upon ancient ruins, sword saints discovering sealed scrolls in forgotten tombs, cultivators awakening strange powers after finding glowing fruits deep in forbidden valleys. His father called them fateful encounters.
But that was the problem.
Sejun liked his simple life—fishing in quiet corners of the forest, sharing meals with his family, occasionally visiting the town to trade or hear the gossip of the day. He was content with what he had. The slow rhythm of living, of not being needed by the world in any grand way.
Martial arts, spiritual training, cultivation—none of it had ever appealed to him. The local sects held entrance trials every spring, trying to draw in promising youth with talk of power, legacy, and glory. And every year, despite subtle pressure from the townspeople and the not-so-subtle expectations of his peers, Sejun had refused to attend.
He wasn't afraid of failing.
He just wasn't interested.
The pursuit of strength for strength's sake had always felt hollow to him.
Yet here he was, kneeling beside a dead fish on the edge of a forgotten pond, staring at something that shouldn't exist, something that felt like it had been waiting for him. A crossroads without a sign.
He could walk away.
Toss the crystal back into the water. Bury it beneath a rock. Deliver it to a sect elder and earn some favor, maybe even gold. Let someone else deal with it.
But his body wouldn't move.
His fingers, wet with blood, hovered inches from the crystal, trembling faintly.
A quiet hum vibrated in the air around him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but steady, like the world itself was holding a single note.
He swallowed hard.
He didn't want this.
And yet... he couldn't turn away.
The world seemed to freeze.
The leaves stopped swaying. The cicadas fell silent. Even the fish beneath the surface of the pond ceased their lazy drifting, suspended like memories in still water.
Everything had halted, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to decide.
Sejun's skin prickled.
He could've sworn something immense and unseen was watching. Not from the woods. From above.
Like the heavens themselves were staring directly at him.
He clenched his jaw, breath trembling in his chest.
Then, with a sharp exhale, Sejun spat out a curse under his breath and reached forward. His fingers closed around the crystal.
It was warm. Almost pulsing. And as he gripped it tightly, it cracked beneath the pressure.
A thin fissure split down its surface.
Then it shattered.
A brilliant burst of red light erupted from the broken crystal, engulfing the clearing in a sudden, searing glow. It was like a miniature sun had exploded in his hands, blinding, violent, alive. Shards of the crystal shot outward in every direction, yet instead of scattering into the woods, they curved midair and plunged into Sejun's body.
He gasped, a choked sound caught in his throat.
Each shard that struck him melted into his flesh, not cutting, but sinking, spreading a strange warmth through his limbs, his chest, his spine. It didn't hurt. It was like fire without flame. Like heat without smoke.
And then the sky answered.
A golden ray shot down from above, piercing through the forest canopy like a blade. It struck Sejun square in the chest, wrapping him in a burning halo of celestial light.
Unlike the red, the golden light did not welcome him.
It burned.
Sejun screamed, the sound raw and cracked, and dropped to his knees. Agony seared through his body, white-hot and relentless. It was as though his bones were melting from the inside out, his nerves igniting one by one. His vision blurred. His back arched. His muscles spasmed violently as he collapsed to the forest floor, convulsing like a fish yanked from water.
It was pain unlike anything he had ever known, sacred, cruel, overwhelming.
He clawed at the earth, gasping, the heat inside him climbing to an unbearable peak.
And then
Darkness took him.