The scorching sun caused Cora to be drenched in sweat, with her head pounding.

She felt like a lump of cheap butter, on the verge of melting at any moment. Slowly, she propped open her umbrella again, this time to shield herself from the sun's relentless rays.

The searing sensation around her made her squint her eyes.

This summer was simply too hot.

Twenty minutes later, Cora, perspiring heavily, made her way through the cramped low-rent housing complex. She stopped in front of a run-down apartment building, her home.

She unlocked the door with her key, but before entering, she hesitated for a moment, dragging her feet.

Seeing no immediate movement, Cora stubbornly shuffled a few steps to the side and peeked her head toward her neighbor's apartment.

Why was Micheal so quiet today?

Micheal was a chatty quail who had become her close companion. Its beak was sharper than Cora's tongue, and it greeted her every morning and evening with spirited conversations.

It was like those birds guarding castles in old tales, always observing the princess's every move.

When Cora left home early in the morning, it would secretly chirp, "Go, Cora! Hang in there, Cora!" And when she returned exhausted at night, it would flap its wings excitedly, exclaiming, "Got into a fight again today! Another brawl!"

Given that Micheal was typically mischievous, what could be happening today?

Cora maneuvered to the base of the neighbor's wall, took a couple of steps back, crouched, and then, with a slight spring, effortlessly leaped onto the top of the wall.

From there, she deftly pushed aside the sparse fence and peered inside, whispering softly to her friend, "Micheal, Micheal!"

Micheal had its back turned to Cora, slumped in its bamboo cage, looking unusually lethargic. Upon hearing her voice, it took a while before it raised its head, struggling to flutter its wings and inch its way over. Its orange beak lightly pecked at Cora's palm, a greeting of sorts.

Cora cast a glance at the empty food tray. Although Micheal could mostly roam free, the neighbor's grandmother fed it every day, so it wouldn't go hungry. Was it in a bad mood because there was no food today?

Cora jumped down from the wall, picked a bunch of dark and lustrous grapes from the vines in her yard, and tossed them lightly over the fence, saying, "Micheal, have some delicious food."

After this back-and-forth exchange, Micheal seemed even more listless, curled up in the corner without moving, not even lifting its head.

Cora grew anxious, waiting, holding the grapes in her hands, hoping against hope.

Finally, she realized that Micheal genuinely didn't want to pay her any attention, and with a disappointed sigh, she reluctantly went back to her own apartment.

Once inside, Cora eagerly unwrapped the package on her back and laid it out on the table.

Slowly, the long object inside revealed itself–a fierce and menacing Tang sword, passed down from the era of the Old Civilization.

Cora's eyes widened, and she lovingly ran her fingers along the hilt, her expression one of pure longing.

After admiring it, she retrieved a thick sketchbook from under the table and meticulously drew.

She meticulously sketched every weapon she admired.

However, her interests were so varied that the sketchbook was growing thicker by the day.

In the new era, most traditional weapons had become impractical and people relegated them to relics and archaeological artifacts.

Cora was an exception.

While most people were fascinated by the innovative weaponry promoted by the Alliance in recent years, she had an insatiable fascination with the weapons of the Old Civilization.

The sword she was currently admiring was part of her master's collection, and she could borrow it after emerging victorious in a sparring match with her senior siblings.

However, she had to return it tomorrow.

Otherwise, she might have considered sleeping with it tonight, despite her master's strict prohibition before the journey.

As for her master, that was the reason Cora traveled the twenty kilometers back and forth every day.

Cora was exceptionally talented and had tremendous physical strength from a young age, so her grandfather had decided she should learn martial arts.

She had wandered with her grandfather for several years before finally settling in Yue Mountain (District E104).

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There, she found a historic martial arts training center called Master Zhang's, her eventual master.

Supposedly, he came from a long-lost martial arts lineage, which gave him prestige and made him formidable.

Yue Mountain was an ecological landscape area and not suitable for residence.

So after some consideration, her grandfather had settled down with her in the nearby F199 District, known for its "dirty, chaotic, and poor" reputation.

They never moved again after that.

After thirty minutes of engrossed sketching, Cora stretched her arms and got up from the floor.

Her apartment was empty, save for a few oversized standardized pieces of furniture, making it feel somewhat barren.

She walked into the kitchen and prepared herself a large bowl of plain noodles, garnishing it with fresh green onions. She even indulged herself by making two sunny-side-up eggs.

After cooking, Cora carried her steaming bowl of noodles back to the living room.

With each bite of noodles, she would glance at the Tang sword on the table, then take another bite, and then reluctantly steal another glance at her sketchbook. It was an utterly satisfying meal.

Cora was an orphan, taken in by her grandfather. She had no parents or siblings, just herself.

A few years ago, her grandfather, her sole source of support, passed away.

She learned to live on her own, but because of her difficulty in social interactions. Over time, she had grown dependent on the quail companion she borrowed from the neighbor.

And she didn't really mind the lack of human conversation; after all, she wasn't much of a talker to begin with.

Because she stuttered, naturally.

After finishing her meal, washing the dishes, Cora sat back on the floor and retrieved an old holographic screen her grandfather had left behind. It was his last task for her before he passed away–she had to study for at least an hour every day.

Because of certain circumstances, she had dropped out of middle school a few years ago. But now, in this era of rapid advancement, she needed to keep up with the changing world. Her grandfather was worried she'd become illiterate, so he had set this strict rule for her–she had to study every day, at least to ensure her education wouldn't lag too far behind.

Cora scanned through the holographic screen, eventually plucking out a book titled "Particle Physics Advanced Microbiology," and read, feeling downhearted.

The sensory light above her head emitted a warm yellow glow, casting a drowsy atmosphere.

Cora barely got through a few pages before fatigue hit her. Today, in particular, Cora's eyelids felt as if they were coated in glue, battling to stay open. Perhaps it was due to overeating; she felt weak all over, and the drowsiness spread to her limbs.

"Clang!"

Suddenly, a loud crashing noise echoed in her ears.

The noise startled Cora, causing her to flip over and land on her back. It took her a good while to cover her head and slowly sit up, feeling rather groggy. But as she touched her head, she realized that something was amiss. Her head wasn't made of metal–why had she made such a loud noise?

Struggling to fully wake up, Cora propped her eyelids open and looked up in confusion.

To her shock, she found a large hole smashed through her window, shattered glass littering the floor. The damp and chilly night air wafted in, sending shivers down her spine, causing her hair to stand on end.

Was it hailing outside?

Carelessly tossing the dormant holographic screen aside, Cora quickly got up to investigate.

There was a blurry black shape rolling around on her windowsill, convulsing violently.

Cora approached cautiously, her guard up as she edged closer.

The black quail was trembling uncontrollably, its once sleek feathers now mostly gone, revealing mottled skin underneath.

Its black-bean-like pupils seemed covered by a hazy gray film, and it stared ominously ahead.

Opening its beak, it emitted a hoarse cry that seemed like a plea for help and a menacing growl all at once. But when its mouth opened, it revealed two rows of uneven, jagged teeth, stained with a sticky black substance.

It was Micheal!

Cora's hand gripping the windowsill tightened.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, the quail shuddered violently a few times, its head slumping forward, lifeless.