CREATOR ZERO

The dawn broke with reluctant light, its golden rays tangled in the iron-gray clouds that loomed over Jìng Shuǐ village. The air carried a chill, crisp but heavy.

Shun stood amidst the aftermath, his breath uneven, his eyes fixed. Before him—Mei and the priest, both barely clinging to life. The metallic scent of blood.His heartbeat quickened. He wasn't panicking because of their condition; he was panicking because he didn't know what the hell to feel anymore.

"Free them," Shun commanded, his voice steady but carrying the weight of exhaustion.

The village chief hesitated, his wrinkled face pinched with doubt. "But… Lord Shun, after what they've done…"

Shun's gaze turned cold, piercing through the old man like frost creeping up a windowpane. "I said free them. The world doesn't need more death."

Reluctantly, the chief obeyed. The rope binding them fell from their wrists like shackles of shame hitting the soil, but their freedom was bittersweet.

Shun, now with a mind struggling to reconcile the instincts of a warrior and the heart of a teenager, approached Mei. Her face was streaked with tears, her lips trembling as she tried to speak.

"Forgive me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

Shun reached out, his hand steady as he helped her to her feet. His words were quiet yet laced with an unfamiliar kindness: "I will forgive you. But before that, you must forgive yourself. No one else can do that for you."

He turned to both Mei and the priest, who sat trembling, his face pale as the moon. Shun's voice carried like a solemn bell tolling in the distance. "You are both victims of your human emotions—fear, desire, pride. They've chained you to the worst versions of yourselves. But chains can break, and so can cycles of regret."

Mei collapsed to her knees, clutching Zhong's with a ferocity only grief could summon.

Her cries were guttural, primal, filling the air with a sorrow that seemed to weigh down even the crows circling above. Shun placed a hand on her shoulder, gently but briefly, as if saying, "This moment is yours, not mine."

The priest, however, sat paralyzed, his eyes glassy and vacant. The shadows of Abyssal Reflection still clung to his mind like phantom claws, dragging him through the horrors of his guilt. Shun crouched before him, his tone sharp yet strangely devoid of malice.

"Go," Shun said. "Turn yourself in to your sect. If you truly believe in redemption, seek it in the judgment of those you once served. But make no mistake—your penance is yours to carry. No one will lift it for you."

As Shun stood, the first rays of the sun broke through the clouds, though their warmth seemed hesitant to reach the earth. He turned toward the village gates, where The village chief, Granny Zhao awaited him, her hunched figure framed by the rising light. The villagers whispered amongst themselves as they watched him leave.

The journey began under a sky that couldn't decide whether it wanted to bless the earth with light or curse it with rain. Clouds gathered like silent witnesses, their shadows stretching across the hills and fields. The faint scent of petrichor teased the air, a reminder that storms often linger even after the winds have passed.

Granny Zhao walked beside Shun, her steps deliberate despite her age. Shun glanced at her, his thoughts a tangled mess of curiosity and weariness.

"Granny," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "I don't know much about this world. I have questions."

She gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes like weathered stones that had seen countless storms. "Ask, and I will answer what I can."

Shun frowned slightly, his gaze drifting back to the village they had left behind. "Why didn't the villagers bury Zhong's body or cremate it?"

Granny Zhao sighed, her voice carrying the weight of old traditions. "In this land, the dead must be purified through ritual before they can return to the earth. It is the priest's duty to perform this rite, which is why every village has one. Family members are allowed to touch the body— other wise it is considered a grave taboo, a disruption of the soul's journey."

Shun's eyes narrowed, his thoughts lingering on the priest's betrayal. He looked to the sky, where a lone hawk circled above, its cry piercing yet distant. "Rituals," he murmured. "They seem more like chains than bridges."

Granny Zhao said nothing, her silence an agreement louder than words.

When they reached the village entrance, Shun adjusted the pack on his shoulder, preparing to step onto the uncharted road ahead. But before he could take another step, a voice broke through the quiet.

"Zhong! Zhong, wait for me!"

He turned to see Mei running toward him, her face flushed, her eyes desperate. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"To the capital," Shun replied curtly.

She hesitated, her voice soft and hesitant. "Can I come with you?"

Shun stared at her, his mind racing. His body stiffened as he remembered: this wasn't his life. This wasn't his name.

"Shit," he thought. "I forgot this body had a wife too."

Out loud, he said, "Look, lady, you're still young. You can start over. Marry someone who loves you, build a life, find peace. Forget me."

Mei argued, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. But Shun's resolve didn't waver. Eventually, she turned and ran back to her house, only to return moments later with a small tiffin box wrapped in cloth.

"Take this," she said shyly, handing it to him.

Shun accepted it with a quiet "Thank you" and turned away. As he walked, the clouds above thickened, and the first drops of rain kissed the earth.

He glanced upward, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like even the heavens want to cry me off the stage."

The road unfolded before Shun like an ancient, forgotten hymn. The hill he ascended was draped in emerald tapestries of moss and vines, the canopy of trees above weaving a cathedral of light and shadow. The air grew denser here, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, as though the forest were breathing with him.

Zero hovered lazily around his head, a faint glow amidst the muted greens and browns.Shun messing with his system to find new things and features.

"Do you know about your personalities?" Zero asked, breaking the tranquil silence. Its tone was direct, almost clinical.

Shun smirked faintly, his gaze fixed on the winding path ahead. "Oh, you mean the circus in my head? Yeah, I've been told about them. My psychiatrist used to say it was a 'disorder.' But, to be honest, it's like being in a twisted theater—I get to watch the show, but I can't stop it."

"And how did that happened to you?" Zero pressed.

Shun's steps slowed as his voice turned grave, a shadow passing over his face. "Back in my world, we used to mess around with rituals. You know, kids being kids. Lighting candles, chanting nonsense, summoning angels or devils—whatever we found online. It was all just a game."

Zero tilted slightly, its light flickering as if mimicking curiosity. "But something went wrong, didn't it?"

Shun chuckled darkly, a sound devoid of humor.

"One night, I blacked out. When I woke up, everything was different. My mind… fractured. My other personalities weren't just pieces of me anymore—they became voices, shadows I couldn't shake. That night, I stopped being 'whole.'"

The wind rustled the trees and rain drop fell down at the soil, carrying whispers that seemed almost alive, as if the forest itself listened to his story.

As Shun spoke, he reached into his pack and pulled out the tiffin Mei had given him. He unwrapped the cloth and lifted the lid, the aroma of the food wafting up to meet him. It smelled... off. Still, he poked at it absentmindedly with a pair of chopsticks while continuing his conversation.

"One of the voices says they won't control me against my will anymore," he muttered, almost to himself.

Then, without warning, Shun tossed the tiffin to the side, its contents scattering across the forest floor. Birds descended eagerly, pecking at the food.

Zero watched silently as, one by one, the birds dropped dead, their lifeless bodies strewn among the leaves.

"Another voice," Shun said casually, his tone disturbingly detached, "just told me the food was poisoned."

Zero blinked rapidly, a faint hum of disbelief emanating from its form. "And you threw it away without hesitation?!"

Shun shrugged, his expression unreadable. "What can I say? Trust issues build character."

Before Zero could respond, a sharp chime echoed in Shun's mind—a system alert.

Eliminate 40 bandits in 2 minutes.

Save the child in the carriage.

Rewards:

Unlock Item Summoning Page.

10x Free Spin.

7,900 EXP.

Random Fighting Style Mastery.

5,000 Savior Points.

Shun's eyes darkened, a familiar adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Save the child". He broke into a sprint, the weight of the task heavy yet familiar. The forest seemed to narrow around him, branches clawing at his arms like desperate hands.

It wasn't long before he heard the cries—high-pitched, heart-wrenching wails that could only belong to a child. The sound cut through the rustling leaves and snapping twigs, guiding him like a beacon.

As he emerged from the thicket, the scene before him froze him in place.

A carriage lay toppled, its white curtains now crimson with blood. The metallic tang of death hung thick in the humid air. Around it, forty-five bandits circled like vultures, their ragged armor and cruel grins marking them as predators of the worst kind. At the center, a maid knelt, her body battered and bloodied. In her trembling arms, she clutched a toddler who screamed in terror.

The maid's eyes, hollow and lifeless, locked onto Shun. For a moment, hope flickered in her gaze, a dying ember rekindled by his presence.

Shun reached for his mask, sliding it over his face. As it settled into place, he activated Heart of Gold. A soft, golden glow enveloped the maid, knitting her wounds and filling her with warmth. Her breathing steadied, but her gaze remained fixed on Shun.

To her, he didn't look human. He was a dark silhouette cloaked in swirling smoke, his presence both terrifying and divine.

"It smells like a bonfire," she murmured weakly, her voice barely audible.

The bandits turned to face him, their laughter dying as they took in the figure before them. One of them, a hulking brute with a scar running across his face, stepped forward.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" he sneered, his voice dripping with bravado.

Shun tilted his head, his voice calm yet chilling. "Just someone passing through. Unfortunately for you, I don't like obstacles."

The scarred bandit growled, signaling his men to attack. But as they rushed toward Shun, he activated Echo of the Abyss.

A wave of darkness exploded from him, tendrils of shadow lashing out like living creatures. The bandits froze, their bodies paralyzed as an overwhelming fear took hold of their minds.

"You dare stand against us?" one of the bandits shouted, his body shimmering with an aura of deep red—a sign of cultivation power.

Shun's gaze locked onto him, his voice dripping with quiet menace. "You've already lost. You just don't know it yet."

The fight had only just begun, but to the bandits, it already felt like the end.

The bandit with the red aura surged forward, his blade shimmering with a fiery glow. He snarled, "We are root level cultivators" , his confidence bolstered by the cultivation energy radiating from his body. His movements were swift, honed by years of survival in the underworld.

Shun remained motionless, his form shrouded in the swirling smoke of Echo of the Abyss. The bandit swung his blade, aiming to cleave Shun in two, but his strike met nothing but empty air.

Shun reappeared behind him in an instant, the shadows curling around his body like a living armor. His voice, calm and unyielding, cut through the tension like a blade. "Is this the strength of a 'root cultivator'? How… underwhelming."

The bandit's comrades hesitated, their confidence shaken. But fear, that primal instinct, turned quickly to desperation. They charged in unison, a chaotic tide of blades and fists.

Shun raised a hand, his fingers twitching slightly. The tendrils of darkness around him responded, whipping forward with a ferocity that defied logic. They lashed at the bandits, cutting through weapons, armor, and flesh with ease.

One of the bandits—a wiry man with a dagger—tried to flank him, aiming for his blind spot. Shun didn't even turn. A tendril of shadow snaked around his wrist, yanking him off the ground and slamming him into a tree with bone-shattering force.

The scarred leader barked orders, his voice tinged with panic. "Use the artifacts! Don't hold back!"

The remaining bandits fumbled with pouches and belts, pulling out glowing talismans and enchanted weapons. One threw a sphere that burst into a torrent of flames, engulfing Shun's silhouette. Another unleashed a storm of razor-sharp wind blades, tearing through the surrounding foliage.

For a moment, the battlefield was a cacophony of fire and wind, the very air crackling with destructive energy.

Then, silence.

From within the chaos, a single voice emerged—low, cold, and unbothered.

"Is that all?"

The flames dissipated, revealing Shun unharmed. The shadows around him had thickened, forming a shield that pulsed with a malevolent energy. His mask gleamed in the dim light, its expressionless visage more terrifying than any war cry.

He stepped forward, his movements deliberate, almost lazy. The bandits scrambled, their bravado crumbling.

Shun extended a hand, and the darkness obeyed. It surged outward in a wave, swallowing several bandits whole. Their screams echoed briefly before being silenced, as though the abyss itself had claimed them.

The scarred leader, now trembling, activated his own artifact—a large, ornate sword that radiated an icy blue light. He charged, desperation driving his every step.

Shun let him come.

At the last moment, he sidestepped, his movements fluid and effortless. The leader's swing missed entirely, and Shun countered by placing a hand on his chest.

"Your fear is palpable," Shun murmured, his voice almost pitying. "Let me show you what true despair feels like."

Activating I Am Guiltily My Honor, Shun poured his power into the leader. The man's eyes widened in horror as visions flooded his mind—every sin, every betrayal, every failure he'd ever committed played out before him in excruciating detail.

He dropped his sword, clutching his head as he collapsed to his knees. Tears streamed down his face as he whimpered, his will completely shattered.

The other bandits, seeing their leader broken, turned to flee. But Shun didn't let them.

"You chose this path," he said, raising both hands. The tendrils of darkness exploded outward, hunting down the remaining bandits like predators.

Within moments, the clearing was silent once more. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the soft cries of the toddler in the maid's arms.

Shun approached the carriage, his mask still in place. The maid flinched, her body instinctively curling around the child.

He knelt beside her, his voice soft but firm. "You're safe now."

The maid looked up at him, her lips trembling. "W-what are you?" she whispered.

Shun hesitated for a moment before answering. "Just someone passing through."

He stood, turning his gaze to the horizon. The storm clouds that had gathered earlier now loomed overhead, casting the world in a somber gray. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a reminder that his journey was far from over.

And with that, Shun disappeared into the forest, leaving behind a scene of carnage—and a sliver of hope.

The forest stood in eerie silence after Shun's departure, the lingering shadows of his power dissipating like whispers in the wind. The maid cradled the toddler tightly, her hands trembling. The once-bloody clearing now felt like sacred ground, a place where light and darkness had clashed and left an unspoken truce in their wake.

The child, a boy no older than three, had quieted, his wide eyes staring into the distance where Shun had vanished. His small fingers clutched the maid's torn sleeve as if seeking an anchor in a world that had become far too cruel.

"Miss," a voice startled her.

She turned sharply, clutching the child closer, only to see a figure emerging from the edge of the forest. It was an old man in plain, travel-worn robes, his face weathered by time and wisdom. His eyes, however, carried an unsettling glint—one that seemed to see far more than the physical world.

"You survived," the old man remarked, his voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

The maid hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to run, but her body was too weak to comply. "Who… who are you?"

The man stepped closer, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "A wandering scholar. I heard the commotion and came to investigate."

His gaze fell on the toddler, and for a moment, something flickered in his expression—recognition, perhaps, or something deeper. He knelt a short distance away, giving the maid space, and spoke again.

"That man who saved you... was he human?"

The question caught her off guard. Her mind replayed the events: the mask, the swirling darkness, the inhuman precision with which he fought. She shook her head slightly, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't know. He was… something else. A savior, perhaps. Or a demon."

The scholar chuckled softly, more to himself than to her. "Sometimes, the two are the same."

Meanwhile, Shun pressed on, the forest thinning as he approached the main road. The storm clouds overhead seemed to follow him, their gray tendrils stretching across the sky like a painter's haphazard strokes.

Zero floated beside him, its glow dimmed, as if it, too, was contemplating the weight of the encounter.

"You didn't ask about the child," Zero noted, breaking the silence.

Shun snorted, pulling his cloak tighter against the rising wind. "What's there to ask? A kid in a carriage full of blood. Either they're someone important, or they're someone unlucky. Either way, it's not my problem."

Zero tilted slightly, its voice taking on a sharper edge. "You saved them, though. That makes it your problem, whether you like it or not."

Shun stopped, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the glowing AI. "Listen, floating lightbulb, I'm not a hero. I didn't save them because I care. I saved them because it was part of the task. No more, no less."

"And yet," Zero countered, its tone almost mocking, "you lingered long enough to heal the maid. That wasn't part of the task, was it?"

Shun's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the road and kept walking, the sound of his boots crunching against the dirt the only reply.

Hours later, the forest gave way to open fields. The road stretched endlessly, lined with wildflowers that swayed in the gusts of the approaching storm. Far off in the distance, a walled city rose against the horizon, its towers piercing the sky like defiant spears.

Shun paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight.

"The capital," he muttered.

Zero hovered closer, its glow brightening. "This is where your journey truly begins."

Shun smirked, though it lacked his usual bravado. "Yeah, well, let's see what kind of nightmare awaits us this time."

The storm finally broke, rain cascading from the heavens as thunder rolled across the plains. Shun pulled up his hood and walked on, the city looming ever larger, like the promise of something both grand and terrible.

And somewhere within those walls, fate stirred, waiting to weave its next thread into Shun's tangled story.

The storm raged on, the rain soaking through Shun's cloak as he made his way toward the looming city. His footsteps splashed through the mud, the thunder above rattling the heavens, but Zero, his mask, remained eerily silent, a constant presence within his mind.

Shun's thoughts were a swirling mixture of chaos and clarity, the weight of everything he'd discovered pressing against him. The endless void of his soul, the Masks' ominous council, and the bargain struck to keep it all in balance—each revelation was both a blessing and a curse.

"Zero," Shun murmured, his voice barely rising above the howl of the wind. "Do you think this is it? That the city holds the answers I'm looking for?"

Zero's voice, calm and steady as ever, reverberated within Shun's mind. "The city is but another piece in the puzzle, Shun. You may find what you seek there, or you may discover something far more dangerous."

Shun let out a low, humorless laugh. "Dangerous... I suppose that's what I'm good at attracting." He cast a glance toward the city's distant spires, barely visible through the thickening rain. "What happens if I fail? What if I can't control this... this chaos inside me?"

Zero's response came with a chilling certainty. "You will not fail. Failure is not an option when the stakes are as high as they are. You will find your way, even if it means destroying everything in your path."

Shun smiled, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a strange mix of confidence and madness. "I like the sound of that."

As he neared the city gates, his mind sharpened, focusing on the task ahead. There was something waiting for him within those walls. Something—or someone—that would bring him closer to understanding his true purpose in this world.

With a steady breath, Shun entered the city, the gates closing behind him with an ominous clang.

Rain stopped,

Shun wandered through the capital's bustling streets, the sounds of merchants shouting their wares and the clink of coin against metal filling the air. The city was alive, full of energy and noise, a stark contrast to the quiet village he had left behind. His gaze swept across the various stalls, each one overflowing with goods—bright fabrics, strange trinkets, and pungent spices wafting through the air.

He approached a stall where an elderly man was selling bundles of herbs. The old man, bent with age, looked up as Shun approached.

"Ah, traveler!" the man called out, his voice raspy. "You need herbs for healing, yes? These will cure the common cold, soothe a stomach ache, or help you sleep after a long journey."

Shun tilted his head, inspecting the wares. Healing... No, that's not what I need. I'm fine for now. "I'm more interested in something to keep me awake, actually," he replied, his tone casual, though the suggestion of a deeper weariness lingered beneath his words.

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "You young people always looking for things to keep going. You must learn to rest! But if you must, I have a tea that will keep you alert for hours. Very good for long travels."

Shun considered it for a moment, then shook his head. I've been traveling long enough, but I still feel like I'm running on empty. "I'm not here for a long trip. Just trying to figure out where to sleep for the night."

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Ah, an inn, yes? There are plenty around here. But beware—the capital can be cruel to those who wander too aimlessly. It's not as welcoming as it seems."

Shun gave a slight nod. I'll manage... for now.

He walked off, leaving the herbalist behind, his mind occupied by the thought of finding a place to stay. As he continued down the street, he saw a lavish restaurant with a golden sign hanging above it. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, making his stomach growl. A well-dressed waiter stood at the door, ready to greet new patrons.

"Good evening, sir!" the waiter said with a polite bow. "Are you looking for a meal or perhaps a room for the night?"

Shun surveyed the restaurant, the lavish interior visible through the open door. He wasn't hungry, but the thought of a comfortable bed appealed to him more than a meal. A room sounds better than anything right now. "A room," he said flatly, his voice steady, yet carrying an undercurrent of indifference.

The waiter gestured for him to follow. "Certainly, sir. Right this way."

As they walked through the restaurant, Shun couldn't help but notice the disparity between the rich, finely dressed customers and the worn-down servants scurrying about. The contrast between comfort and suffering was stark. It's always the same... he thought. The system never changes.

At the inn counter, the innkeeper—a stout man with a thick beard—looked up from behind the counter when Shun approached.

"Ah, a guest!" the innkeeper said, grinning widely. "A room for the night, I take it?"

Shun studied the man for a moment. He doesn't seem bothered by the endless line of travelers, or maybe he's just learned to ignore them. "Yes. One room."

The innkeeper smiled broadly, nodding. "That will be five silver pieces, sir."

Shun handed over the coins, his face unreadable as he pocketed the key. "I'll take it."

He turned away and walked to the stairs, the creaking of wood beneath his feet the only sound. His room was small but clean, a simple bed in the corner and a small window overlooking the bustling streets below.

As he set down his pack and sat on the bed, he glanced out the window and saw a commotion in the square below. A crowd had gathered, and Shun could hear the harsh sounds of someone pleading.

He stood and walked to the window, peering down at the scene. In the center of the crowd stood a man, his hands bound, his face bruised and bloodied. A tall officer was holding a long iron rod, ready to strike.

The officer's voice rang out over the crowd. "This man is a thief! He stole from the merchants, and now he will face justice!"

Shun watched the scene with an unsettling calm. Criminal or not, it doesn't matter. People like him are always discarded, tossed away when they no longer serve a purpose.

The man pleaded for mercy, but the crowd seemed unbothered, their attention fixed on the spectacle. The officer raised the rod, bringing it down with force.

Shun's eyes narrowed. This is the world we live in... a place where justice is decided by the whims of the powerful. It's a show for them, nothing more.

He turned away from the window, his thoughts clouded with the realization that, no matter where he went, the world would always remain the same.