Isekai Murim In The Apocalypse

Aziel's eyes flew open, his breath catching as he found himself standing before a colossal gate. Intricate patterns twisted across its surface, their meaning unknown yet strangely familiar. The gate loomed over him, its presence overwhelming, with a single keyhole at its center.

Confusion gripped him. He scanned his surroundings but found only an endless void stretching into infinity. Darkness pressed in from all sides. The only entities in this space were himself and the gate.

"Where...?" he murmured, shaking his head. No, there was something more pressing. His gaze fell to his hands, where a key rested, cool and solid against his palm. He couldn't recall when he had picked it up or how he had arrived here, but something deep within told him that this gate—this massive structure—was precisely what he had been searching for.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward. His fingers curled tightly around the key as he raised it toward the keyhole. The moment the metal slid inside, a click echoed through the air, resonating in the vast emptiness. Ancient gears groaned and creaked, the grinding of unseen mechanisms setting his teeth on edge.

Then, the gate began to open.

A brilliant light erupted from the widening gap, forcing him to wince and shield his eyes. Simultaneously, an invisible force pulled at him, dragging him forward. The air around him twisted, swirling like a vortex, tugging at his clothes, his hair, his very being.

And then, before he could resist, he was swallowed whole.

Aziel's eyes fluttered open, the world coming into focus in a haze of muted colors and unfamiliar sights. He blinked away the disorientation, rubbing his face before glancing around. His breath caught as he took in his surroundings.

He was no longer in the void.

Instead, he stood in the middle of a bustling street lined with wooden buildings, their tiled roofs curving gracefully at the edges. The air was rich with the scents of spices, sizzling meat, and something faintly sweet. Shops and restaurants flanked the narrow road, their faded banners swaying gently in the breeze. People filled the street—merchants, warriors, common folk—all dressed in flowing robes, some with swords at their waists.

Aziel's heart raced.

"This... where am I?"

It had been years—more than a decade—since he had seen a place so alive. Ever since the apocalypse began, settlements had been scarce, let alone a vibrant city.

His mind reeled, struggling to make sense of it all.

"Did that gate bring me here?"

Something felt off. His senses, though overwhelmed, picked up on the smallest details—the distant chime of bells, the murmur of conversation, the way the wind carried unfamiliar words. His gaze swept across the storefronts, where strange symbols adorned the signs, characters he had never seen before.

Yet, somehow, he understood them.

And it wasn't just the writing.

"Mother, I want to play by the lake!"

"Not now, we need to get you some new clothes."

"Anyone know when the red-light district opens?"

Conversations drifted past him, spoken in a language completely foreign yet as clear as his native tongue. His stomach churned, the sheer impossibility gnawing at him. But before he could dwell on the strangeness, another sensation took precedence—a deep, gnawing hunger clawing at his insides.

Hadn't he eaten earlier? Rations, though meager, should have been enough to stave off starvation. Yet, at this moment, it felt as if he hadn't had a proper meal in days.

Then, the scent hit him.

Rich, savory, and utterly mouthwatering.

His head snapped toward a nearby building. Wooden beams supported its faded red lanterns, and a simple red curtain hung over the entrance, its golden characters slightly worn with age.

'Li Chen's Noodles.'

His feet moved before he could think. The curtain brushed against his shoulders as he stepped inside, immediately enveloped by warmth and the intoxicating aroma of broth and sizzling noodles.

The space was intimate, with only five seats lined up at the counter. Two were occupied by swordsmen, hunched over steaming bowls, their chopsticks moving in practiced rhythm. Behind the counter, an old man with a graying beard moved with effortless precision, his hands a blur as he worked. Neither he nor the swordsmen paid Aziel any mind.

'What is this place...?' Aziel swallowed hard, his hunger making it difficult to think.

His eyes landed on an empty seat at the counter. In front of it sat a bowl brimming with noodles, golden broth shimmering under the lantern light. His mouth watered as he stared, almost mesmerized by the meal before him.

'I doubt I can have this for free... This is a settlement, after all. But I can't think straight—I'm starving. Should I just take it and run?'

He bit his lip, the temptation nearly overwhelming. But then—

His breath caught. His body stiffened.

In the broth's glossy surface, a reflection stared back at him.

But it wasn't his own.

The boy gazing up at him from the liquid was not the dark-haired, purple-eyed young man he had known all his life. Instead, a pale-faced child with wild red hair and piercing green eyes looked back at him. His clothes—tattered, barely more than rags—hung loosely off his unfamiliar frame.

'Who... is that?'

His hands shot up to his face, fingertips tracing features that no longer felt like his own.

'Is this... me?'

His thoughts splintered, panic threatening to rise, but before he could fully process the revelation, a voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

"So, how long are you just going to stare at the food, kid?"

Aziel's head jerked up. The chef had finally acknowledged him, his sharp eyes scrutinizing him from behind the counter. The two swordsmen also turned to look, their expressions unreadable.

Reality crashed down on him. His appearance—his tattered clothes, his disheveled look—made it obvious: he had no money. No right to be here.

Before any of them could react, before he could be reprimanded, Aziel turned on his heel and bolted.

The old chef scratched his cheek, watching the boy disappear into the streets.

"Huh? Why'd he leave? I was going to tell him to eat it before it got cold. A customer ordered and never showed up."

But by then, Aziel was long gone.