The evening settled cold over the ruins where Qiren sat—half shrouded by shadows, the crumbling stone walls pressing close, as if keeping long-forgotten secrets. The silver relic in Yan Yue's trembling hand pulsed faintly, a steady heartbeat amidst the silence.
Qiren's breathing was shallow and uneven, his body curled beneath a thin blanket, pale and worn. His eyes were closed, but behind the lids, a storm raged. Memories not his own surged in floods—visions of destruction and despair, battles and betrayal unlike anything he had ever imagined.
The world burned endlessly: Gates tearing open the sky, spilling nightmare beasts into cities, forests, oceans. Seven figures crowned with ancient magic fought desperately—a desperate alliance of immense power known as the Seven Crowns. Their light could have saved the world, but instead, shadows of mistrust crept in. Friends became enemies, loyalties shattered, and betrayal poisoned what little hope remained.
Among those memories, one vision pierced deeper than the rest—a monstrous, segmented hand, terrifying and cold like a centipede from the deepest nightmares, piercing the chest of someone he cared for desperately. The pain was raw, echoed silently through his body even as he collapsed into darkness.
Yan Yue sat a short distance away, the flickering light of the relic painting her face in blue. She dared not move too close, fearing to disturb the fragile line between life and something worse. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, heart pounding in the quiet.
She didn't understand what was flooding Qiren's mind, only that it was too vast, too cruel for one boy to bear alone.
"Tian," she whispered, voice breaking, "Please… come back."
The sounds of the forest beyond the shrine—rustling leaves, distant cries—seemed distant, almost forgotten here. This place was a sanctuary, built on ancient wards and the magic Yan Yue had painstakingly prepared. It was a fragile bubble in a world gone mad.
The air shimmered faintly as Yan Yue began the delicate ritual she had learned from half-forgotten texts and secret laboratory notes. Fingers moved swiftly over relics hanging around her neck, weaving threads of magic and old power, her voice barely audible, reciting spells older than the city itself.
Slowly, a portal unfolded—shimmering like a veil of moonlight, pulsing softly. It was the hidden inner dimension formerly spoken of in hushed tones, a sleeping place where the mind could heal. A sacred refuge.
Carefully, Yan Yue gathered Qiren into her arms, feeling the frail weight of his body. Her voice trembled but held steady. "Hold on. I won't lose you—not like before."
The world tilted, then folded around them, wrapping them in a soft cocoon of iridescent light. Sounds faded. Time stretched and blurred until only calm remained.
Inside that suspended space, Qiren's consciousness drifted like a lone traveler through forgotten landscapes of memory and prophecy. There was no sound but the echoing of his own breath and the flicker of old battles in shifting light.
He saw the Seven Crowns—their faces fierce, illuminated by magic and pain—as they fought to hold back the deluge of Gate storms. Their powers roared like storms, tearing through monsters that would swallow whole cities.
Yet in their unity, a poison festered—silent lies, broken promises, treachery hidden behind smiles. Friends divided, alliances shattered.
In the deepest shadow of this vision, he saw Valen—himself, older, marked not just by power but by regret and grief. Beside him, someone precious fell, pierced by a monstrous hand. The ache of loss carved into his soul.
He wanted to scream, to fight, to change it all. But he was trapped inside knowledge too vast for any one person.
Outside the dimension, Yan Yue remained vigilant. She could not follow him into this strange world, could not whisper encouragement or offer hands to hold. Her role was watchful guardian—standing sentinel.
Her fingers tightened around relics, weaving barriers of light and wards of protection. Every shadow skittered at the edge of her sight, every rustle set her heart racing. But she would not falter.
Her thoughts were a thousand things tangled at once: fear of losing him, memories of lives lost before, quiet prayers spoken in the dark.
Night deepened, but still she stayed, sweat beading her brow, eyes never leaving the shimmer that marked Qiren's distant form.
Time lost meaning inside the inner dimension until finally, his breath changed. The storm inside him softened. He stirred.
Behind closed lids, he felt the weight ease—slowly, painfully—as the visions began to fade, replaced by a faint glow in his palm.
When his eyes opened, the dimension's serene light bathed his face. Looking down, Qiren gasped softly.
A letter—born of glowing runes and ancient magic—floated gently in his palm, its surface alive with shifting symbols and soft pulses.
Yan Yue's gaze caught the letter's light. She gasped quietly, surprise and awe mixing in her chest. Her fingers twitched, but she held her place—this letter wasn't for her.
Qiren's lips parted as he gazed at it, voice rough and raw. "A path... a place." He paused, reading carefully. "Sanctuary Academy. A school for those like me... for system users and researchers of the Gates."
His eyes lifted, meeting Yan Yue's uncertain one. "It's where I'm meant to be."
A long silence stretched between them—thick with unanswered questions and fragile hope.
At last, Qiren closed his fingers gently over the glowing letter. "I'll go. I have to."
Yan Yue quietly nodded, standing slowly, her face soft with sorrow and resolve.
Without another word, Qiren stepped forward into the thickening dusk, the letter's glow pulsing steadily in his hand.
Yan Yue watched him disappear into the wild, alone but not unguarded.
The letter's light hummed softly—an unspoken promise that the journey had only just begun.