One piece: Without a system, I have to survive!

The ruins stretched before us, half-buried in thick jungle vines and moss-covered stones. The air was heavy, damp, and filled with an eerie silence—broken only by the faint, ghostly whispers echoing through the mist.

I clenched my fists. The feeling of being watched had only grown stronger.

Something was here.

And it knew we had arrived.

Shira gripped the hilt of her blade, her eyes scanning the dense foliage.

"Tell me I'm not the only one hearing that."

"You're not," Smoker muttered, his cigar smoldering as he exhaled slowly. His grip tightened around his jitte. "Stay sharp."

The carvings on the walls—those ancient symbols—seemed to shift under the dim light. The patterns were strangely hypnotic, almost like they were alive.

I reached out and traced my fingers over one of the markings.

The moment I touched it—

A shockwave ran through my body.

My vision blurred.

The whispers became screams.

Images flooded my mind—

A city in flames.

Figures fleeing in terror.

A dark silhouette standing at the heart of the chaos, eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

Then—

Everything snapped back to reality.

I staggered backward, my breathing ragged.

Shira grabbed my arm. "Ardan! What the hell was that?"

I shook my head, trying to steady myself.

"I… I don't know. But I think—"

CRACK.

A branch snapped behind us.

We spun around.

The mist swirled unnaturally, curling like fingers reaching out from the jungle. The trees seemed to stretch higher, their twisted forms shifting in the dim light.

And then—

A figure emerged.

Cloaked in shadows, its body distorted, like it wasn't fully part of this world.

Its eyes—dark, bottomless voids—locked onto us.

A cold chill crawled down my spine.

Shira unsheathed her sword.

Smoker stepped forward, jitte raised.

And then, the figure spoke.

Not with words—

But with whispers.

Ancient. Hollow.

A voice from the past.

"You should not be here."