Lin Qiye was utterly drained—body and soul alike.
He had never imagined that his first day at a new school would spiral so wildly: encountering a monster, betrayed by a classmate, fighting for his life, awakening inexplicably, then meeting a caped stranger who melted into the night.
Lin Qiye was no fool. Tonight's ordeal had brushed the world's hidden side: a face-devouring fiend, golden light erupting from his own flesh, and a lone man who felled the creature bare-handed.
That man was clearly backed by a vast, clandestine order devoted to such horrors—an order now eyeing Lin after witnessing the light and his solo kill.
Curiosity tugged at him, yet he refused to let it drag him into the maelstrom. Some secrets, once glimpsed, never release their captives. He had no wish to become humanity's guardian; all he wished to shield was his family.
Sleep soon claimed him.
Familiar mist descended.
In the dream he sighed: "Still hounding me? Monsters when I'm awake, knocking when I'm asleep—what a wretched fate."
With practiced ease he walked on, and an asylum's silhouette emerged. An ancient plaque read:
— Asylum of the Gods —
He grasped the iron ring; the instant finger met metal the ground quivered and fog surged.
What in the world? I haven't even knocked yet.
A thought flashed—perhaps because he had opened his eyes today?
His dream-body, once half-transparent, was now denser, though still incorporeal. Staring at the gate that had barred him five years, hope blazed.
Perhaps tonight is the night.
Drawing a deep breath, he slammed the ring against the door.
Gong—!
An ancient bell boomed, the asylum shuddered.
Gong—!Gong—!!Gong—!!!
Each strike rocked the building like an earthquake.
After the final blow a thunderous crash echoed, then silence—
until the doors groaned and slowly parted.
They opened.
Beyond lay an ancient, dim corridor. Its floor, forged of unknown stone, glimmered faintly; burning orbs hovered along the walls, eerie and arcane.
He followed the passage to a fork beneath a sleek modern sign: Wards ← | Recreation →
"The layout's identical to the asylum I once stayed in," he muttered, stepping first into Recreation.
Few rooms, yet complete: a multimedia hall, a lounge for chess, a library, even a circular lawn littered with exercise gear.
"Exactly the same. What a peculiar dream."
He turned toward the wards—and halted.
"This part … is different."
Sunshine Asylum had several spotless floors. Here was a single level with six doors, every one scrawled with dense sigils that made his head swim. Above each hung an ancient plaque: Room 1 bore a black circle, Room 2 a staff-like glyph, and so on.
Did these chambers hold patients—or, as the name implied, gods?
He stretched a hand to the knob of Room 6. It was a dream—no real danger—and he had pounded these gates for five years; he would not leave in ignorance.
Cool metal met his fingers; he pulled.
Nothing.
Again—still nothing.
Room 5. Room 4. Room 3. Room 2.
All barred.
At last he grasped the handle of Room 1, sure of defeat.
Click—
Runes fractured and drifted away like dust.
Startled, he staggered back.
The door … was open.