In the pit of the cave, darkness reigned.
No sound lingered—
save for the soft scrape of footsteps against stone.
Finally, a voice cut through the black.
"Turn on the f***ing lantern, meathead," Leia snapped, irritation sharp in her tone.
"I don't even know where it is," Gio shot back. "Why are you yelling at me, brutehead?"
"C-Calm down," Sol whispered, sweat trickling down her face. "What if something hears us?"
Another junior quickly moved to placate Leia, murmuring reassurances, while Ren walked silently at the back—eyes sharp, senses stretched.
"Ah—here it is," Gio said.
And in that instant, he already knew what was coming.
Leia's voice echoed.
Just then a hand clamped over her mouth.
"Shh !" Sol hissed.
Gio turned the lantern on.
Light flooded the cavern.
Bones.
Small. Coiled. Broken.
The floor was layered with dried blood—so old it had turned black—smeared into the stone like something had tried, and failed, to crawl away.
There was little left to smell.
Just bones.
Sol gagged.
She turned sharply and vomited against the wall, the sound echoing far louder than it should have.
Faces paled.
One by one, the others followed—retching, choking, unable to hold it back.
Heartbeats spiked.
Tears of disgust streamed down Sol's face as her throat locked.
Panic seized Leia.
"W-What… what is this?" she whispered.
Ren answered quietly.
"Cave serpents. Cannibals. They eat their own until only one remains and that too dies by starvation."
Silence.
"And when there's nothing left," he continued, "the last one dies of starvation."
Someone made a sound—half sob, half gag.
"Don't stop," Ren said firmly. "If you do, it'll only get worse."
No one spoke.
No one looked back.
They moved forward.
The cave narrowed, pressing them into a single line.
Hesitation clung to every step.
But this was a mission.
They kept going.
The tunnel ended.
Light spilled forward.
It revealed a small chamber—low-ceilinged, narrow, barely large enough to turn around in.
Two serpent skeletons lay at its center.
One was larger.
Too large.
The bones were delicate, half-formed.
A newborn.
Negi swallowed.
"…Is that the parent cave serpent?"
"Most likely," Ren replied.
While the others glanced around uneasily, Ren crouched and pressed his fingers to the stone.
Dry.
Sticky.
He brought them closer to the light.
Dark stains marred the floor.
Blood.
His brows furrowed.
"…It didn't die of starvation," he murmured.
A chill crawled up his spine.
Ren straightened abruptly.
"We move. Now."
The juniors stiffened.
"What? Why?"
Ren didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the skeletons.
"In places like this," he said slowly, "the strongest survives. Beasts like cave serpents consume the weak until only one remains."
His eyes narrowed.
"But this one didn't starve. These bones are already hardened."
Silence pressed down on the group.
"…Which means," Ren continued, lowering his voice, "something stronger killed it."
"S-so what now?" Leia asked. "Is it over?"
Ren turned, a calm smile forming on his face—measured, reassuring.
"No. This is still a lesser minor beast territory. Whatever did this shouldn't be too powerful. Still, we'll move on for now."
The moment he finished speaking—
Leia suddenly leapt forward and clung to his arm.
—
Elsewhere.
Arin's head broke through the stone.
Light brushed against his eyes.
Not the harsh glare of fire—but a soft, steady radiance that made the darkness behind him feel unreal.
It carried no warmth. The air was still cold.
But it was enough to see.
His body slipped forward.
He fell.
Grass.
The sensation was foreign. Blades bent beneath his scales, prickling softly as he moved.
The cavern was small—yet unmistakably strange.
One by one, the lesser serpents tumbled through the opening behind him.
Then Arin noticed it.
A shallow pond rested at the center of the chamber. Its surface rippled faintly as small fish darted beneath, silver bodies flashing whenever they caught the glow.
Arin stopped just short of the water's edge.
He watched.
Slowly, the tension bled from his body. His coils loosened.
This place wasn't perfect.
But it was safe.
His tail lowered.
The tip scraped the soil, carving a shallow groove around the pond—wide enough to be unmistakable, far enough to leave space.
He paused.
Then he traced it again, deeper this time.
The lesser serpents approached—and stopped.
They stared at the line.
Arin didn't turn back.
The message was clear.
He coiled near the stone wall, drawing inward at last.
For the first time since waking in this body—
there was nothing chasing him.
He retrieved a piece of spirit meat.
He didn't bite.
He swallowed it whole.
His eyes closed.
And he began to cultivate.
Only then did he notice it.
The qi here was thick—too thick.
Dense. Pure. Far purer than the birthplace.
Time slipped past unnoticed.
When Arin opened his eyes again, barely an hour had passed.
He froze.
"…Ninth stage of Body Tempering?"
His breath caught.
"Amazing… this qi…"
Laughter burst out of him—raw, unrestrained, almost hysterical.
Riding that surge of excitement, he swallowed the Qi Refinement Pill and coiled once more.
Then—
he noticed something.
The four lesser serpents were cultivating.
Truly cultivating.
Arin went still.
For the first time since arriving in this world, his heart raced for someone other than himself.
A strange warmth spread through his chest.
He remembered the hunger.
The pain.
The fear.
Quietly, he laid out the remaining horned rat meat beside them—within reach, just in case.
A small smile lingered on his face as he closed his eyes once more.
And cultivated...
As he cultivated, strange things unfolded outside for the cultivators and, more importantly, for the four cave serpents, unknown to him,