"Hey, stop talking."
The strange man shook his head and waved a hand.
"I’ve been waiting here so long, I’ve lost track of time.
This place… it’s cursed, you know. Doesn’t matter if you go forward or back—you’ll just keep circling around this same hall."
"Hmm..." Sani murmured thoughtfully. "May I ask—who are you, and how did you end up in this place?"
As a former agent, he instinctively began probing for information, slipping into old habits.
The strange man sighed. He casually picked up a chunk of beef curry from the table, chewing on it as he spoke:
"Name’s Yan. I’m from Emberlight. Used to be a fisherman.
Ten years ago, I joined a long-range fishing expedition.
We sailed thousands of kilometers out from Emberlight…
Then we ran into something strange out on the ocean.
When I came to, I was already stranded on an island..."
...
Creak...
The decrepit wooden door was shoved open with a rude clatter, jolting the three men awake in the cramped, dimly lit room.
They were all obese, lying side by side on a low communal bed, their faces dull, their expressions empty.
A short, stocky, dark-skinned man stepped inside with a scowl, barking impatiently:
"Cut the act—get up and line the hell up!"
Without waiting for a response, he turned and stomped out of the ramshackle shack.
The three men didn’t say a word. Silently, they slipped on their frayed sandals and shuffled outside.
A long queue had already formed beyond the doorway.
It was still the dead of night. There was no extra lighting, and the end of the line was lost in darkness—but it was clear there were hundreds of people.
Everyone in the queue looked just like them—fat, dressed in rough burlap clothing, and wearing lifeless, glassy stares.
The bald fat man among them whispered in confusion:
"What the hell is this for? You don’t need this many people just to draw blood..."
He turned to Yan beside him.
"Yan, you’ve been here longest. Ever seen anything like this before?"
Yan shook his head slowly.
"Never. There’s only a few dozen vampires on the island. To summon this many—"
Before he could finish, the fat man with chipped teeth next to him abruptly clamped a hand over his mouth.
"You nuts?" he hissed. "They hate that word. Say it again and you’ll get tortured to death."
The bald man nodded frantically.
"Yeah, yeah, don’t drag us down with you!"
"Pah." Yan pushed the hand away with a sneer.
"We're living like livestock. At this point, who the hell cares anymore."
Even so, he didn’t dare say the word vampire again.
The three of them squeezed into the queue. The people they edged past didn’t react—they barely noticed.
After all, being rushed off to become food wasn’t something anyone was eager for.
The moon climbed higher.
And under its pale glow, the color began to shift—reddening, deepening, until the entire landscape was bathed in an ominous crimson hue.
Beneath that blood-hued moonlight, the line continued inching forward, one sluggish step at a time.
At some unknown point, several robed figures descended from the skies above—monsters, humanoid but twisted, clad in black wizard robes, fangs glinting in the dark.
"Gr!!!"
They screeched with gleeful malice upon spotting the crowd, then dove like hawks, seizing people at random and soaring back into the air.
The victims shrieked in terror—but the cries didn’t last long.
Because the moment they were grabbed, the creatures sank their fangs into their necks.
By the time they reached the clouds, those fat, heavy bodies had already been sucked dry—reduced to brittle husks.
After feeding, the monsters let out satisfied howls, then tossed the shriveled corpses casually back to the ground.
Bang!
One desiccated body landed squarely at Yan’s feet. The thud was heavy, and the corpse’s twisted expression froze him in place—his earlier bravado instantly shattered.
The horror had unfolded right before their eyes—yet not a single scream escaped the crowd.
Not because they were numb.
But because anyone who had screamed before… had been the next to die.
The black-robed monsters circled overhead for a while longer, but still couldn’t extract the reactions they desired. Frustrated, they descended again, snatching up several more people for blood.
Even then—silence.
No terror. No sobs. Only the quiet shuffle of tired, defeated footsteps.
Eventually, bored and disappointed, the monsters drifted off into the night.
It was only after they disappeared that a collective exhale rippled through the line.
"Wuwu..."
A small child up ahead finally broke the silence, choking on tears he could no longer hold back.
"Sigh..."
Yan exhaled heavily.
Crying wasn’t shameful.
But if tears could solve anything, if weeping until his eyes went blind could buy him a way out of this purgatory—Yan would gladly cry himself into darkness.
But there was no such mercy.
No one came to save them.
The thought made his hunched shoulders droop even lower.
Their footsteps dragged on.
Under an atmosphere so suffocating it seemed to warp time, they walked for hours—from their rotting shelters to the lake.
Above the water, only a dozen or so black-robed monsters hovered in the sky, occasionally letting out eerie, soul-grating shrieks.
Liong stared blankly at the rippling lake surface beneath the blood-tinged night and was overcome with grief.
For the past ten years, his entire life had been confined to a tiny, crumbling shack.
He was only ever summoned when those creatures needed to feed.
The short, fat man who had driven them out earlier returned—now armed with a stick. He was accompanied by several other cleanly dressed men, each wielding similar clubs.
They were the monsters’ servants.
Human collaborators.
In exchange for helping manage the others, they were granted food, clothing… and their lives.
The servants barked orders, shoving and striking, forcing each person into a designated spot along the lake’s edge, until the entire shoreline was ringed in a complete circle.
Within minutes, the dense crowd had formed a black band completely enclosing the lake.
"Hiss..."
The bald fat man cracked a wry smile.
"I didn’t know there were this many people on the island."
Yan turned slightly, puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"I heard the lake’s seven or eight kilometers wide. If every person stands half a meter apart, then do the math—forty to fifty thousand people."
"Oh?" Yan raised a brow.
"Didn’t know you could count, Lauho."
Lauho shot him a look.
"I was an engineer, you know. Coward or not, I still had to know numbers. Can’t build a damn bridge without them."
"Mm."
Yan grunted, uninterested in how the fat man Shaohu had ended up here.
But really, did it even matter anymore?
They were all going to die anyway.
The thought drained the last bit of care from his heart.
Bzzzzzz—
A low, unnatural hum suddenly vibrated across the lake, interrupting Yan’s thoughts.
Looking up, he vaguely saw a scarlet beam of light shoot down from the crimson moon, striking the center of the lake with unearthly precision.
Liong rubbed his eyes hard—
In an instant, the light had vanished.
Had it been an illusion?
He turned back toward the lake, wary but drawn in, just in time to see the waters at his feet begin to darken and thicken.
The ripples turned sluggish. The surface gleamed with a viscous, dark red glow—like blood.
Gurgle...
Gurgle, gurgle...
Suddenly, grotesque blood-red faces surfaced from the lake, sending a violent shudder through Yan’s entire body.
They weren’t densely packed, but drifted eerily in groups of three or five… until, from the very center of the lake, a towering figure made entirely of blood began to emerge.
At once, the drifting faces became manic, thrashing through the water with savage hatred, surging toward the bloody figure like a storm of vengeance.
Even a humble fisherman like Yan could feel it—
Pure malice.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
As if these souls had crawled out of hell for this very moment, just to rip the figure apart.
But the figure didn’t react.
It simply raised its arms wide—welcoming the hatred like a king receiving the cheers of his people.
It embraced every curse hurled its way.
"Mycenae, you! You’ll never die in peace!"
"Mycenae, I curse you to rot in hell!"
"Mycenae, heaven will strike you down!"
"Mycenae, I’ll carve your flesh into a thousand pieces!"
"...!"
The wave of curses rolled across the lake, battering the minds of the living like a tide of madness.
The crowd screamed and clutched their heads, collapsing to their knees in agony as the howls pounded through their skulls.
At this point, even the most oblivious among them realized:
That blood-soaked entity floating above the lake—
It was performing an ancient, evil ritual.
And they—all tens of thousands of them—
Were the sacrifice.
Today…
They were going to die.
Then the voice came.
A voice that wasn’t spoken, but injected directly into their brains— cold and emotionless, vibrating their bones, unraveling their sanity:
"I devour the blood of all beings
I devour the lives of all beings
I devour the malice of all beings
Endless curses… all belong to me.
Using evil as fuel
Sorrowful souls transform into my power
Using sin as a curse
Bitterness becomes my consciousness
All wickedness belongs to me
All evil belongs to me
All calamities belong to me
All power... belongs to me!"
That voice shattered them.
Thousands screamed, clawing at their faces, writhing on the ground in unbearable torment.
Yan gritted his teeth and fought against the agony, forcing his body to crawl, to move—
to escape.
But the earth beneath him turned against him.
The damp soil by the lake was like living cement—wet, sticky, and immovable.
Something invisible had bound him in place, dragging him down with silent force.
Then the Blood Figure, still floating above, raised a single hand and pointed to a section of the crowd.
In that instant, hundreds of people collapsed with a chilling whoosh—
Their bodies bursting like overripe fruit, splattering into steaming pools of blood and shredded flesh.
The thick slurry of blood and viscera surged across the earth, coalescing into a crimson river that lifted off the ground and flowed toward the center of the lake. At the same time, many of the wrathful, screaming faces floating on the lake’s surface rose into the air and fused with the bloodstream, forming a dark, turbid current—a black tide hurtling toward the Blood Figure.
Whoosh!
The black stream slammed into the Blood Figure’s body and was instantly absorbed without resistance. Without even a pause, the figure turned and began its slaughter anew along another stretch of the lake shore.
Far in the distance, Yan lay face-down on the cold earth, trembling violently.
A silent scream was caught in his throat, strangled by an invisible force—he couldn’t make a sound.
Minute by minute, the ritual continued.
More and more people dissolved into gore and blood, devoured by the abomination above.
A thousand...
Three thousand...
Five thousand...
Ten thousand...
Twenty thousand...
Forty thousand...
By now, almost everyone had perished.
Only about a hundred people remained—those positioned near the farthest edge, where Yan lay.
He was drenched in his own tears, paralyzed by sheer terror.
Death.
Especially this kind of death—grotesque and final—was something no one could meet without fear.
At last, the Blood Figure raised a hand once more.
Its finger pointed to the final edge of the lake.
"Then what? What happened after that?"
Sani leaned forward, pressing for more.
Yan rubbed his temples, eyes clouded.
"I... I don’t really remember. I must’ve escaped somehow. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, would I?"
Alban spoke gently:
"Mr. Yan, please—may I see your hand?"
"Huh? Oh, sure."
Startled, Yan extended his hand without resistance.
Alban grasped it, closing his eyes briefly to sense the state of his body and soul.
After half a minute, he released the hand and quietly asked:
"Mr. Yan, do you believe this is reality... or a dream?"
Yan’s body went still. A bitter smile curled his lips.
"I know what you're getting at. But honestly? I don’t think it matters."
"Oh?" Sani frowned. "Why not?"
Yan took a swig from his beer with a contented sigh.
"This place has food, drink, and no torture. I like it here."
Alban looked surprised.
"But doesn’t it strike you as strange? The repeated faces, the identical rooms? It’s like a massive prison."
"So what?" Yan muttered.
"You ask me... where isn’t a prison?"
He poured another glass, the sound of the liquid strangely calm in the silence.
"I just want to stay here. Even if it’s until I die."
"Fair enough." Sani nodded. "Then rest as you wish. We’ll keep moving."
He motioned to Alban, and the two walked away, heading toward the next banquet hall.
As they stepped through the corridor, Alban turned and glanced back at Yan—
A strange flicker of light danced in his pupils.
Creak...
The large door opened again.
Sani turned toward Alban:
"Well? Learn anything?"
Alban nodded slowly.
"More than half of his soul is already gone. Any more erosion, and he’ll be no different from the others—those fake people wandering this banquet hall."
"Mm." Sani crossed his arms, brow furrowed.
"Judging by what he said, he used to weigh well over 100 kilos. Now… I doubt he’s more than fifty."
Alban muttered:
"The food he’s been eating—I wonder if it’s even real."
Sani stroked his chin.
"Someone that heavy could survive a while even without eating, just from body mass. But without water? They’d be dead in a few days."
"Exactly. If the food's fake... is the water real? This Sentience Realm is truly strange." Alban’s brows drew together in thought.
"There must be some kind of unknown mechanism sustaining him," Sani said, eyes narrowing.
"Boss Alban, we have to be careful. No food. No drink. And definitely no touching the fake people here."
Alban nodded seriously.
"Understood."
So the two continued forward, silently moving through banquet hall after banquet hall.
About an hour later—
A strange noise reached their ears.
At first it was faint, almost imagined.
As if it came from somewhere impossibly distant.
Whoosh—
Phew ~
Phew ~~
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Alban’s expression shifted. He turned his head sharply—
Then froze.
"No... it’s not just behind us..."
His eyes lifted.
"It’s above, too."
A pause.
"...Wait—it’s below us."
The sound—
It was coming from every direction.
As if something vast and terrible was approaching—fast.
Meanwhile, in one corner of the banquet hall—
Yan sat peacefully, still devouring dish after dish, as if he were a bottomless pit.
Across from him sat a stunning young woman with flowing blonde hair, no older than eighteen or nineteen.
Yan smiled at her warmly.
"Alice, didn’t you say you wanted to learn how to dance last time? I could teach you later if you’d like."
Upon hearing Yan's words, she immediately lit up with a cheerful smile, resting her chin in her palm as she chatted happily with him.
And Yan… somehow, actually seemed to understand her, even humming softly along as she spoke.
If Alban and the others had been present, they would’ve been stunned to discover that the beautiful girl's words were nothing more than incoherent babble.
Yet the finely dressed gentlemen and ladies all around them, watching this odd, mismatched pair, showed no mockery—only warm, indulgent smiles.
“What? You want to introduce me to your parents? Well, uh… I…”
Yan was caught off guard by the girl’s sudden words. Clearly flustered, he scratched his cheek awkwardly, his expression utterly embarrassed.
Seeing his reaction, the girl's smile grew even sweeter. She suddenly sprang up, seized Yan’s hand, pouted playfully, and pulled him toward the dance floor.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
Light footsteps echoed across the hall.
Yan, dragged to the center of the ballroom, lowered his head slightly. He seemed a little uneasy, clearly unused to such a lively, extravagant scene.
But still, he straightened his posture and danced stiffly with her, hand in hand.
At that moment, the once-grand and fiery music began to soften, the melody becoming tender and enchanting, as the lights gradually dimmed.
Seeing this, a shadow passed over Yan’s face. As if remembering something, he glanced up at the ornate golden clock on the wall.
23:05
“Less than an hour left before the banquet resets,” Yan muttered to himself.
He knew that the charming, radiant girl smiling in front of him would forget him all over again in just one hour.
When the clock struck noon once more, the entire banquet would reset.
In truth…
This was the 1,653rd time Yan had ‘met’ the blonde girl, Alice.
Each time, he only had twelve hours with her.
After those twelve hours, she would once again regard him as a complete stranger.
A stranger who, from beginning to end… had always loved her.
Click…
Click…
Click…
The second hand on the clock ticked, paused, and moved again. Yan expertly spun Alice under his arm, continuing the dance without missing a beat.
Then—snap—his left pinky was accidentally twisted and broken.
A shard of bone pierced clean through the skin and jutted out grotesquely. Yet no blood flowed, and even the torn muscles beneath were pale, lifeless in color.
Yan didn’t react.
He casually popped the finger back into place and went on dancing with the clumsy, smiling Alice, as if nothing had happened.
Truthfully, ever since the 927th time he’d 'met' Alice, his body had completely lost the ability to feel pain. His blood had long dried up, and the vital energy that sustained him was quietly withering.
From the 650th meeting onward, he had finally begun to understand her strange language.
On the 426th time he met Anna, she had… finally answered him.
Time, it seemed, had looped back to the moment he first stepped into this vast hall.
No conflict. No lies. No hunger. No despair.
Only a twelve-hour world—too brief to give rise to corruption or crime.
And in this world, even if he were to rot away bit by bit, no longer man nor ghost… what did it matter?
00:00
The clock struck midnight.
Time rewound again. Everyone within the hall awoke—only Yan remained aware, still able to move.
He gazed at Alice’s beautiful face, his expression softening. With a quiet sigh, he whispered, “See you soon.”
Whoooosh ~~~~~
A strange, distant rumble snapped him out of his trance.
“Huh? What was that?”
Yan blinked in surprise, scanning his surroundings—but everything appeared normal.
Only the sound grew louder.
Until suddenly—
BOOM!!!
A massive section of the banquet hall erupted into a cloud of debris as a monstrous, rusted train engine crashed through, blasting open a gaping hole.
It charged in like a living creature, violently ramming and crushing everything in its path. With brutal force, it demolished half the grand hall in an instant.
The once-frozen guests snapped awake, screaming in horror, scattering in all directions.
Alice, too, shrieked and dropped to the floor, hands over her head. Seeing this, Yan rushed forward, scooped her into his arms, and sprinted toward the main entrance.
CRRRRACK!! GRRRRIND!!
With a deafening metallic screech, the demonic engine forced its way deeper inside, followed by an entire line of railcars behind it. Two figures were clinging to the side of the engine.
Alban and Sani.
Sani's eyes scanned the chaos until they locked onto Yan. He calmly raised one hand, and with a practiced motion, hurled a rugged rope toward them.
The rope lashed through the air and wrapped around Yan and Alice, hauling them toward the narrow connection between train cars.
BOOM! RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE!!!
The monstrous engine accelerated, shaking violently as it tore the entire banquet hall to pieces.
And then—for the first time—they saw what lay outside the hall…
Vast, boundless darkness.
A limitless, terrifying void.
Yet the strange train didn’t stop. It barreled forward through the void, completely unfazed.
Steel rails mysteriously materialized beneath its wheels.
And far in the distance, the shapes of endless desert plains began to emerge.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh ——
This mysterious train, howling and roaring, resembled a foraging, titanic serpent as it slithered through the void—relentlessly smashing through one floating, leaping banquet hall after another.
Vast stretches of bleak desert quickly swallowed the black emptiness. Alban, still clinging tightly to the train with the others, pieced together a grim deduction.
“This train is alive. And the banquet halls... they’re alive too. The train is hunting them—for sustenance.”
Still gripping the carriage frame, Alban turned toward Sani and spoke in a low, steady voice.
Sani’s expression shifted slightly, then he muttered thoughtfully, “If that’s true… then those artificial people must be components of the halls themselves. Like microbes inside a body.”
“Exactly. And Yan is slowly evolving in that same direction,” Alban nodded. “We still don’t know who the black-robed monsters or this ‘Mycenae’ he mentioned are, but they’re clearly tied to the Sentience Realm—deeply.”
Not far away, Yan stood at the coupling between two train cars, cradling Alice in his arms. His face was drawn, terrified.
She… was fading. Bit by bit, her form grew fainter, her face gradually wrinkling and withering with unnatural age.
Yan’s heart seized with panic. He stood up and cried out toward Alban in desperation:
“Mr. Alban! My friend’s body—something’s wrong with her! Can you—can you help?!”
Alban turned his head. A moment later, his figure blurred as he leapt to the train-car joint where Yan and the girl had taken temporary refuge.
The coupling was formed from two massive iron plates locked together. On the opposite side stood an iron door with a small window, and a rusted knob bolted to its face.
Through the blood-smeared glass, Alban could barely make out something faintly stirring in the pitch-black interior.
He resisted the urge to probe with his waning mental power. Instead, he knelt beside the girl, placed a palm against her forehead, and gently felt for any signs within her body.
Ten seconds passed.
Alban withdrew his hand, his brow furrowed, expression strange.
“She... has no soul,” he said gravely. “She’s just a shell—flesh and blood. Why did you say she could be saved?”
Yan violently shook his head. “No, no! Alice has a soul! She’s just quiet—she doesn’t like talking, that’s all!”
Alban exhaled softly, then patiently explained:
“The girl in your arms isn’t alive, Yan. She’s not a person. She’s a construct—an extension of the banquet hall itself. Like a chair, a painting, a tile on the floor.”
“And that banquet hall, her true body, is being torn apart by this train. She doesn’t have much time left. When the hall dies… she likely will too.”
Yan’s whole body trembled. He looked down at the girl asleep in his arms, her features aged yet still serene.
His heart twisted in agony.
Alban didn’t speak again. He simply stood to the side in silence.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Explosions rocked the train as it plowed through more and more banquet halls, the pace of destruction accelerating.
Alice's body began to shudder violently in Yan’s arms. She gasped, soft whimpers of pain escaping her lips.
And then—Yan’s eyes lit up.
“I see now,” he whispered. “Mr. Alban… what you’re saying is that it’s the main body that’s damaged… and that’s why she’s suffering, right?”
Alban blinked, uncertain, but nodded slowly. “That’s right. Why?”
“I think…”
A fragile but radiant smile bloomed on Yan’s weary face.
“Maybe… if I replace her main body… everything will be okay.”
He slowly stood up, eyes fixed on the iron door behind him.
Then reached for the latch.
Only then did Alban realize what Yan was trying to do. His voice rang out in horror:
“Have you lost your mind?!”
“No.”
Yan looked down tenderly at Alice, her face now etched with deep lines. He whispered:
“I’m terrified of death. I always have been. But I’m even more afraid of losing her.”
“And besides… there’s no other way.”
With that, he yanked the latch.
The heavy iron door slid open.
Whooosh…
A wave of vile, choking aura surged outward. Alban’s skin prickled instantly with goosebumps, his hair and brows frosting over with a layer of white ice.
That malevolent aura spread like a tide—deep, cold, and ancient.
Then, all across Yan’s body, wide, jagged wounds tore open, as if he were being unraveled from the inside.
From those wounds, hundreds of hair-thin iron hooks sprouted like twisted vines.
But Yan paid them no heed.
He just smiled—gently, joyfully—as Alice began to breathe steadily again. The deep wrinkles on her face faded, and her body regained solidity.
Then—
From the pitch-black abyss beyond the door, a dozen long, spindly black claws suddenly lashed out, grasping both Yan and Alice in an iron grip.
Yan, now gaunt and broken, looked up one last time and smiled faintly at Alban—
And then, with a sudden jolt, the claws dragged them into the darkness.
Bang!
The iron door slammed shut.
“Ai…”
Alban sighed deeply, watching the final moment vanish behind steel.
His chest felt heavy.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
The monstrous train thundered across the desolate, alien desert without pause.
Was the banquet hall destroyed?
Or had it escaped?
Neither Alban nor Sani could say.
All they could do was remain on this infinite train, hurtling forward into a haze-shrouded unknown.
As they ran along the corridor between cars, the shadowed desert behind them steadily unraveled, disappearing into the void as the train advanced—leaving nothing in its wake.
There was no sky above. No earth below.
Only a murky, empty nothingness. A silence so complete, it defied words.
Time was gone.
And the two could feel it in their bones:
They were being drawn ever deeper, ever farther… into a world of unspeakable strangeness.
Then suddenly—
The train passed through something.
A barrier.
And became translucent.
“What the hell?!”
Caught off guard, neither had time to react. Their bodies phased through the now-incorporeal train—
And plunged downward into the black, lightless abyss below.
