The Redmist Gorge wasn't exactly marked on any maps with cheerful banners or friendly "Welcome!" signs. In fact, the first thing Arin noticed upon arrival was a weathered stone tablet that read:
"Turn back. Even the ghosts hate it here."
Below that, someone had scrawled in spirit ink:
"Also the squirrels bite."
Arin squinted. "Charming."
The gorge loomed before them—deep, narrow, and constantly shrouded in thick, reddish mist that clung to the ground like a bad system update. Every tree was twisted, every rock too quiet, and the air buzzed with ancient, unresolved grudges.
Yura, now fully geared up in sleek fox-themed armor, sniffed the air. "Yep. Definitely cursed. Smells like blood, regret, and expired demon snacks."
Jun Bai, holding a spirit lantern, sighed. "Why are we doing this again?"
"To prove I'm useful," Arin said. "Also, because Elder Mushi promised me a 'mysterious talking flute' if we succeed."
Jun Bai gave him a flat look. "Why would you want a flute that talks?"
"I don't. I want to teach it to beatbox."
Yue Lan joined them from behind, her usual calm demeanor intact despite the oppressive aura. "We stick together. We find the old outpost. We scan for corruption. We get out."
"Sounds like a plan," Arin said.
"Which you will ruin by paragraph three," Yura muttered.
As they moved into the gorge, the red mist thickened. Visibility dropped to mere meters. Their spiritual sense felt... muffled, like trying to scream underwater.
[Warning: Local Spiritual Field = Inverted]
[System Efficiency: Reduced by 40%]
[Trash System Alert: Unknown interference detected]
"System," Arin muttered, "don't start glitching on me now."
The system replied with a rare direct message:
[Would love to help, but someone gave me the divine equivalent of bubblegum and duct tape.]
Arin whispered, "You mean the goddess?"
[No comment.]
Yura suddenly stopped and held up a hand. "Wait. I hear something."
Jun Bai strained his ears. "It sounds like…"
A wet, gurgling moan echoed through the gorge.
Then another. And another.
Soon, silhouettes formed in the mist—figures wearing old sect robes, their bodies distorted, half-transparent, and twitching unnaturally.
"Ghost cultivators," Yue Lan said quietly. "Former disciples. Long dead. Trapped by something."
One of them turned toward them.
Its face was a shattered mask. Its fingers were swords of bone. And it spoke.
"W̶h̴e̷r̵e̴ ̴i̵s̷ ̴m̸y̷ ̴s̸y̸s̸t̵e̶m̴…?"
Arin winced. "Oh no. These are system junkies."
Yura readied her blades. "If they're corrupted, they're dangerous."
[Detection Active: System Failure Traces Confirmed]
[Cause: Admin Dataworm Corruption - Fragmented]
[Recovery Possible: 3%]
[Suggested Strategy: Run or stall with bad jokes]
Arin grinned. "Finally. I've trained my whole life for bad joke combat."
He stepped forward. "Hey! You! Bone-fingers! You dropped your beauty routine somewhere between 'ghost' and 'nightmare fuel.'"
The ghost cultivator screamed and launched forward.
The battle began in a blur of flashes—Yue Lan intercepting the first strike with a spiritual shield, Jun Bai using illusion steps to bait another, and Yura dashing through the mist like a spectral fox with knives.
Arin's role?
He held up a mirror talisman that reflected corrupted energy like a disco ball made of bad karma.
[Enemy Confused.]
[Ghost cultivator internally questioning its life choices.]
Arin smirked. "That's right. Who's your antivirus daddy now?"
But then, a ripple passed through the gorge—deep, ancient, cold.
A presence larger than the mist. Stronger than the ghosts.
A voice echoed directly into Arin's system interface:
[You found me, little bug.]
[Initiating System-Level Contact… Entity: "Root Fragment: The Nameless"]
[Warning: This entity corrupted over 900 systems.]
[Combat? Negotiation? Or… trickery?]
Arin swallowed hard.
"Well," he muttered, "this just went from Scooby-Doo to Elden Ring."