Luo Yanxue did not move for a long time.
He sat by the dying fire, the river whispering softly behind him, the forest breathing in the distance. His eyes were fixed on his right hand—on the ring that rested quietly around his finger.
A ring.
And yet, not a ring.
He raised his hand slowly, turning it under the pale daylight. The metal looked ordinary again. Cold. Silent. Ancient, perhaps—but no longer glowing, no longer warm.
As if what he had seen earlier had been nothing more than a dream born from hunger.
But his heartbeat told him otherwise.
That grey land.
That cracked sky.
That single fragile sprout.
They were too clear. Too detailed.
"…So I wasn't imagining it."
He pressed his thumb against the ring, half-expecting something to happen.
Nothing did.
The forest remained the same. The river flowed. The ashes of the fire drifted lightly in the wind.
Luo Yanxue exhaled slowly.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's say you're not normal."
He spoke to the ring as if it could hear him.
"I'm not asking you to be magical or anything. Just… don't kill me."
Silence.
Only the sound of water answered.
He stood up and dusted off his clothes. Whatever that place was, panicking would not help. He had learned that much from years of illness. Fear wasted strength. Calm preserved it.
First: survive.
Second: understand.
Food came first.
He fished again.
Then again.
By noon, he had caught two small fish and one barely edible shrimp-like creature clinging to the rocks. He roasted them, ate slowly, and saved the bones.
Afterward, he wandered farther from the village than before.
The forest thickened quickly. Tall trees blocked much of the sunlight, their roots twisting like sleeping beasts across the ground. Birds watched him from the branches. Insects hummed unseen.
He kept his sharpened stick in hand.
Not for courage.
For comfort.
After walking for nearly an hour, he found a fallen tree and sat down to rest. Sweat dampened his back. His breathing was shallow.
This body was still weak.
Too weak.
"If I stay like this… even a wild dog could kill me."
He lowered his head, staring at his thin arms.
Then, slowly, his gaze drifted back to the ring.
"What exactly are you?"
This time, he closed his eyes.
Not tightly.
Not forcefully.
Just… naturally.
He focused on the memory of that grey land.
On the feeling of being pulled.
The warmth returned.
Soft.
Gentle.
The world tilted.
And suddenly—
He stood there again.
The sky without color.
The endless cracked earth.
The same silence that pressed against his ears like thick cotton.
Luo Yanxue inhaled sharply.
"So I can enter… whenever I want?"
His voice echoed faintly.
He looked around.
Nothing had changed much.
The barren land still stretched infinitely, dead and dry. The small patch of darker soil still existed, no larger than a bed. And from its center, the tiny green sprout swayed weakly.
He approached it slowly, crouching down.
It was a plant.
No taller than his finger.
Its leaves were pale green, fragile, as if the slightest wind could kill it.
"…You're alive here too?"
He touched the soil.
Cool.
Damp.
Unlike the rest of this world.
He stood up and walked farther.
The land remained cracked. No water. No stones. No life.
An empty world.
A broken world.
Or perhaps… a world just beginning.
He stayed there for a long time.
Long enough that his legs felt stiff.
Then he focused again.
And returned.
The forest rushed back into existence.
Birds cried overhead.
The smell of leaves filled his nose.
He staggered slightly but managed to stay upright.
His heart was pounding.
"That place… it's real."
A private space.
Hidden in a ring.
Even someone from his old world would understand how absurd that sounded.
Yet it existed.
He did not know its purpose.
But instinct told him it was important.
Very important.
That night, he did something new.
He gathered dry leaves.
Soft soil.
A handful of seeds from wild grass near the river.
Then he sat by the fire, holding the ring.
"If you really are a world…"
"…then you should be able to grow something."
He closed his eyes.
The grey land welcomed him again.
He walked to the dark patch of soil.
Knelt.
And planted the seeds.
They were ordinary.
Worthless.
Grass seeds.
In his old world, no one would even bother picking them up.
He covered them with soil.
Water was a problem.
He had none.
He hesitated, then did something foolish.
He bit his finger.
A single drop of blood fell into the soil.
It soaked in.
Nothing happened.
"…Yeah. That was stupid."
He sighed.
When he returned to the forest, the wound on his finger throbbed lightly.
He wrapped it with cloth.
Then lay down.
Sleep came slowly.
But his dreams were no longer empty.
He dreamed of rain falling on grey land.
Of cracks closing.
Of something beneath the soil… moving.
Three days passed.
His life fell into a pattern.
Fish.
Fire.
Sleep.
Explore.
Enter the ring.
Leave.
Each time he entered, the patch of soil changed slightly.
The cracks nearby grew thinner.
The air felt… heavier.
Not unpleasant.
Just different.
On the fourth day, something happened.
He entered the ring as usual.
And froze.
From the soil where he had planted the seeds, thin green shoots had emerged.
Not one.
Not two.
Dozens.
They swayed gently in the colorless wind.
Alive.
Truly alive.
"…It worked."
His voice trembled.
These were not special plants.
Just grass.
But in this dead world, they were miracles.
He laughed softly.
A quiet, broken sound.
For the first time since arriving in this world, genuine joy touched his chest.
"If grass can grow…"
"Then vegetables can too."
"And maybe… fruit."
"And maybe…"
Food that never ran out.
A place no one could steal from.
A sanctuary.
He clenched his fist slowly.
"This ring…"
"It's my chance."
He did not realize that this place was not merely land.
That the soil itself was precious beyond imagination.
That even kings would kill for a single handful.
To him, it was simply… hope.
That evening, he returned to the forest.
But something was wrong.
The birds were silent.
The insects had stopped humming.
The wind had died.
The forest felt… tense.
He noticed broken branches on the ground.
Fresh.
Large footprints pressed into the mud near the riverbank.
Not human.
Too wide.
Too deep.
His heart slowed.
He crouched.
Touched the footprint.
Still wet.
"…Something big came through here."
He straightened slowly.
The forest ahead was dark.
Too dark.
As if the shadows themselves were gathering.
From somewhere deep within the trees—
A low sound rolled out.
Not a roar.
Not a howl.
But something between breathing… and hunger.
Luo Yanxue tightened his grip on his wooden spear.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
"..."
The sound came again.
Closer.
And then—
A branch snapped.
Far ahead.
Something massive shifted in the darkness.
Watching.
Waiting.