And in the heart of that void, beings were born.
Their bodies were not of flesh or stone, but of the silence of the first thought.
There was no sky above them, no earth beneath them, and no sun to cast their shadows.
They were merely consciousness, swimming in a sea of "nothingness."
They did not understand the reason for their existence. There was no creator to ask, no holy book to read. Their existence was the greatest mystery. And so, from that first moment, they found their sole purpose. A purpose born from the womb of nothingness itself: to know... why they existed.
But in this time, and in this world made of mud and despair, one of their descendants was walking.
MG: year 5003 Month of Golden Spikes: Day : 5
"Dream" was striding through the muddy alleys of the "Swamp of Shadows." His steps were heavy and steady, each one imprinting a deep mark in the sticky clay soil. A splatter of dark brown mud leaped up to settle on the hem of his clean, black robe. He stopped for a moment and looked at the stain.
These were not his clothes.
The simple observation triggered a sharp, fleeting memory, an echo of events that had occurred only a few hours ago.
The memory vanished as it had appeared. Only the analysis remained: these clothes were a silent legacy from a dead world. He continued to walk.
The air here was heavier, carrying the smell of rotten poverty and damp despair. He saw small children, their faces smeared with grime, hunched over the corpse of a dog, gnawing at its raw flesh with small, sharp teeth. He felt no disgust; Hong Min's memory told him this was normal. He felt no pity; his logic told him this was the law of survival.
He continued walking, until a small child, perhaps six years old, wearing ragged tatters, blocked his path. The child looked up at "Dream" with wide eyes, then, in a courage born from despair, he picked up a small stone and threw it.
"Monster!" the child screamed in a high-pitched voice.
The stone hit "Dream's" chest with a muffled thud, then fell into the mud without leaving a mark.
"Dream" stopped. He turned slowly, the fluid movement of his massive body more terrifying than any angry gesture. He ignored the other children who had started to flee. He focused all his attention on this child who was frozen in place, the courage he had moments ago now turned to pure terror.
"Dream" approached, each of his steps sinking into the mud, until he stood over the child like a mountain. His huge body bent slightly, and he tilted his head in a cold, analytical motion. There was no anger in his grey eyes, which made the scene even more horrifying.
"This feeling that is overwhelming you now..." "Dream" said, his voice a low, deep rumble, devoid of any inflection. "Fear. What is its texture? Describe it to me."
The child's eyes widened, and he began to tremble uncontrollably.
"What?" "Dream" repeated with an icy curiosity. "What?"
He slowly reached his hand toward the child. It wasn't an aggressive move, but the motion of a scientist wanting to study a rare specimen. The long, stone-like fingers drew closer to the small child's face.
The child burst into a sharp, panicked scream, turned, and fled at top speed, stumbling and falling in the mud before getting up and continuing to run as if the devil himself were chasing him.
"Dream's" hand stopped in mid-air. He watched the child disappear into one of the alleys.
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He straightened up and continued his walk. He had prioritized his greater mission.
He reached the Twilight Bridge, that stone line separating misery from luxury. As he crossed it, he heard in his memory the echo of the majestic anthem of the "Gu Clan." Hong Min had felt humiliation and fear whenever he heard it. "Dream," however, analyzed it coolly: a sonic rhythm designed to entrench authority, words using concepts of eternity and power to create a feeling of inferiority in the listener. Just another tool of control.
He looked at the clan's palace, which rose on his right like a black mountain. He didn't see it with awe, but with a tactical assessment.
He crossed into the "Sunrise Terrace" district. Here, the streets were cleaner, the buildings taller, and the people wore better clothes. He finally reached his destination. The "Ryugin-tei" tavern.
He pushed the wooden door and entered. Silence fell instantly. The noise of the drunks stopped, and the broken laughter froze in the air. All eyes turned toward me. They were not the looks of hatred for the red-haired devil, but looks of shock and terror at the stone-like being with grey eyes.
"A Panir..." someone whispered in the darkness. "Impossible... Call the Gu Clan!"
"Shut up, you fool!" another whispered. "Do you want him to hear you?"
He ignored them. He sat at a table in the corner, the same old table. It was made of dark, polished wood, reflecting the faint light of the lanterns in a distorted way. He looked at his reflection and did not see an empty, stone face.
For a fleeting moment, he saw a flash. A flash of blonde hair that was almost white, and laughing blue eyes. And in the muffled din of the tavern, he heard the echo of a clear voice in his memory:
"Follow me, you stubborn horse."
He involuntarily raised his hand, and it almost touched his lips. But he stopped. What was this feeling? This faint warmth that resembled the echo of an old song. His logical mind tried to diagnose it:
"S-sir?"
The voice of a young waiter came, trembling as he held an empty tray. "Wh-what can I get you?"
I looked at him. "Pork," I said simply.
The man seemed confused. "Just... pork?"
"Yes."
He hurried away and returned minutes later with a large plate of roasted pork, glistening with fat and giving off a strong aroma.
I began to eat. It wasn't a physical hunger. It was another kind of hunger. A hunger of memory. With every bite, my mind was analyzing:
...When I finished, the plate was completely empty. Immediately, I felt an internal message from my core system.
I felt an internal mechanism begin to work to expel the food. But I stopped it with my will.
I stood, ready to leave. The silence in the tavern was still heavy, and all eyes followed my movement as if I were a bomb about to explode.
"Sir!"
The waiter called to me again, having gathered a foolish courage born more from fear of his manager than fear of me. "The bill... two bronze coins."
I paused, my back to him. I turned slowly, a smooth, calm movement that made the very air seem to freeze. I looked into his frightened eyes.
I took one step toward him. He took two steps back.
"What will you do if I do not pay?" I asked, my voice calm, belying the immensity of my body.
The waiter stammered, "I... I will call the guards... sir."
"The guards..." I repeated the word as if it were a strange concept. "So, your fear of punishment is greater than your fear of me. That is a flaw in your risk assessment."
In that moment, I made my decision. The sensory experience of the food had been incomplete. What about the emotions that accompanied it? Fear, duty... what did they "taste" like at their peak?
My hand slid to the hilt of the "Ash Blade."
No one saw it move. It was a blur, faster than the human eye could perceive. A faint hiss like a serpent's breath, then a wet, muffled sound.
The waiter froze in place for a moment, his eyes wide with absolute shock. Then, his head slid slowly from his shoulders and fell to the wooden floor with a loud thud. His body followed a second later, and blood erupted in a fountain of dark crimson.
Silence reigned in the tavern for a full second. Then the place exploded in screams, terror, and chaos.
I stood amidst the chaos, looking at the black blade in my hand. There was not a single drop of blood on it; it had absorbed it all.
I slowly sheathed the blade, turned, and walked toward the door, people scrambling to get out of my way as if I were the plague itself. I walked out of the tavern, leaving behind a pool of blood, a headless corpse, and a new silence filled with true horror.
I was walking the streets of Chang'an again, but I was no longer looking for an exit. I understood now. My mission was not just to "understand" emotions.
It was to "taste" them. One by one.
And this hunger... was infinite.
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