Chapter 28#
Chapter 28#
At Creation · III
After he answered, the Gatekeeper did not speak for a long time.
Yu Feichen turned back. In that dim, pale glow, he saw Claros in his black robe staring straight at him.
The hood obscured the upper half of the Gatekeeper’s face; Yu Feichen could not see his eyes.
Yet intuition told him clearly—those hidden eyes were fixed deeply on him.
He had been wary from the beginning, but at that moment of being watched, his alertness spiked sharply. His gaze remained calm, meeting the stare without flinching.
It felt like an invisible contest, a silence stretched taut.
After a long moment, the lower half of Claros’s face—what showed beneath the hood—curved into a faint smile.
The pressure around Yu Feichen instantly lightened. “Correct. Those worlds awaiting salvation come from outside the door.” The Gatekeeper stepped slowly toward him, speaking in a soft tone as he approached.
“Many guests arrive at the Gate of Eternal Night. I rarely tell them this. Those who can, like you, guess the truth on their first entry… are very few. Moreover, it seems you had already sensed it even before visiting the gate.”
Cold fingertips brushed Yu Feichen’s cheek. Claros studied him—like a wild beast examining an approaching stranger.
Yu Feichen disliked that gaze; his voice dropped to ice. “Why tell me?”
A light chuckle brushed his ear. Then, in an instant, Claros’s voice turned impossibly cold and distant, whispering against his ear: “To keep you from wandering off into foolish thoughts, child.”
He withdrew his hand.
Yu Feichen remained expressionless.
Claros turned away again. When he spoke next, his voice had returned to its gentle, coaxing cadence—this time addressing Bai Song.
“In the long eternal night, countless beings suffer. Thorned paths fill the darkness, and none can lend a helping hand. To prevent needless sacrifice, only believers of great merit and many battles are granted the right to enter the Eternal Night.”
“Before they decide, I tell them three rules.”
“First: aside from your original strength, God will give you no assistance. Whatever you desire you must take from beyond the door yourself.”
“Second: once the Gate to Eternal Night opens, it never closes. Your next entry may come at any time, any place, without pattern.”
“Third: once you die in the Eternal Night—you are gone forever.”
Yu Feichen watched him coldly.
Even though he had already resolved to enter the Gate, and knew many never returned, Claros had told him nothing—not a single rule—before he went in. The Gatekeeper had not even appeared.
He had simply been asked one question—“Why have you come to the Gate of Eternal Night?”—and then thrown inside.
Claros placed a hand on Bai Song’s shoulder. “Of course, you no longer have the right to decide anything. I merely want you to understand the situation, little fool. Only once you understand the rules can I tell you what you must do.”
Bai Song’s eyes were unfocused; he looked fully like a genuine little fool now.
“Beyond the Gate,” Claros continued, “the worlds you enter fall into two types.”
“The first type is whole: vast lands, countless beings, everything progressing according to its own laws.”
“In such worlds, as a believer of the High God, your task is naturally to spread God’s blessing. When you and your companions bring about enough change, God’s power will seize the world’s core—thus, victory.”
“A friendly reminder: the fastest way is often to win its decisive wars.” He smiled faintly. “But true change is always long. Sometimes you may have to stay a decade, a century.”
Hearing this, Yu Feichen remembered the system tone in the last world—“Decisive victory.”
But before that, when they escaped the facility, there had been “Deconstruction successful.” So he asked, “And the second type?”
“You must accept this one thing, without reason,” Claros said, gaze piercing even through the hood. “Some worlds are incomplete, just as some souls are shattered. The second type is broken—worthless.”
“Fragments vary in size. Most are small, sharply bounded. Their logic is riddled with holes, their rules differ wildly, and death is everywhere.” Claros spoke slowly. “You may find yourself in a man‑eating labyrinth, or thrown into a tunnel where demons dwell. It is hard to list all possibilities. My most bizarre experience was falling into a two‑dimensional world… becoming nothing but a twisted line.”
He sighed. “But don’t worry. Such strange worlds are rare, because most have already shattered to dust. A few minutes more, and they dissolve completely—becoming pure power, consumed by other worlds.”
Yu Feichen seized the key phrase. “Worlds… consume power?”
“To sustain themselves, worlds require power. A broken world is desperate to absorb outside power to remain whole. Meanwhile, outsiders covet the remnant power within.”
Claros’s voice lowered, growing eerie, tinged with faint excitement and madness. “You, your companions, innocent captives, and others with darker motives will all fall into a hunt—rules unknown, dangers innumerable, blood and death at every corner. The outcome depends on this: will your life be devoured first, or will its existence be unraveled first?”
“The broken realm always has an entry and an exit. If you find the path and escape the hunt—your escape succeeds.”
“Then, the Tower of Creation reconnects to you, creating a space for you and your companions alone. There, you must explain the rules you discovered. The rest is left to the Tower—it will deconstruct that world from its deepest foundations.”
Yu Feichen listened without missing a word. Claros had said nothing at first, but now everything he explained was true.
Yu Feichen still remembered: after he described the abnormal facility, the system had shown 86%.
He asked, “Do I have to uncover everything?”
Claros sighed lightly.
“Since you have entered the Eternal Night, you should know whom you follow. The High God commands the largest, most powerful domain of this cosmic era.”
“To deconstruct the rules, you must uncover at least three‑quarters. The rest, the Tower will crush with irresistible force.”
“One portion of the power returns to the Tower; the other becomes your reward—power gained directly from the outside world. It belongs to you forever. Only death can strip it away. That is the eternal temptation of the Gate.”
“As long as you survive, anything you desire can be obtained. Go through enough times—and you will understand.”
“Of course,” he added lazily, “if you fail to reach three‑quarters, there is no deconstruction and no reward. Even if you escape, it is merely surviving by luck.”
Yu Feichen understood.
He nearly had all the rules now.
However, there was still one more thing.
“Do I need to bring back companions from broken worlds?”
“No.” Claros answered. “Those realms are a mixed bag. You never know what sort of trash you might bring back.”
“Besides,” he continued lightly, “since you have come to the Gate, I should give you two gifts.” A point of gray light appeared at his fingertip and drifted into Yu Feichen’s body.
“It will measure the level of chaos of a world before you enter—this will tell you if the world is whole or not.”
Another point of light entered.
“And this one tells you what reward you gained once you leave a world.”
“Not before?”
“Sometimes I enjoy testing people. Especially interesting guests.” Claros sat back onto his high seat, propping his chin with his right hand. The sleeve slipped, revealing again the iron shackle around his wrist.
He jingled the chains idly. “But as you see—amusement has its price.”
Yu Feichen ignored him. After a moment, Claros asked curiously, “You only have this few questions? Truly?”
What else?Yu Feichen thought.
Everything was clear: how to complete a mission, what happened to the abnormal facility, why time fractured.
He had entered what should have been a whole world—but it had begun breaking midway, starting from the facility, causing the time anomaly.
Originally, he only needed to lead the Koroshans to victory. After the anomaly appeared, another condition and a death rule were added: escape before the 23rd, or die.
Those were not difficult tasks. The true difficulty was that Claros had hidden everything, forcing him to guess the right direction in complete ignorance to complete the mission.
But now, regardless of the Gatekeeper’s intentions, it would not happen again. He understood the rules now.
Yu Feichen said, “No more.”
“Truly no more?” Claros leaned forward. “Your thirst for knowledge is… lacking. Quite frankly, that is not ideal.”
Yu Feichen reviewed everything again, he truly had no more questions.
Except—maybe one more question, unrelated to the rules.
He glanced at the shackles on Claros’s wrists. “Who punished you?”
Claros stiffened ever so slightly.
His voice turned strange.
“Whom do you think has the right to punish me?”
“I don’t know,” Yu Feichen said, tone flat.
“A person I thought would never leave the Temple of Twilight. I didn’t expect that when we met again, I would be put in confinement for half an epoch.” The Gatekeeper sighed mournfully. “Perhaps Resurrection Day draws near.”
Yu Feichen turned and walked away.
“Don’t go,” Claros called lazily. “I heard you dislike staying on others’ turf—how does it feel to go conquer new lands on their behalf?”
“Not bad.” Yu Feichen said blankly, picking up the still‑dazed Bai Song and pressing the elevator button.
“Don’t forget to visit the Painter on the ninth Floor,” Claros’s voice echoed just before the doors closed. “So you don’t mistake your companions later.”
Inside the elevator, everything was pitch black.
As it descended, only Bai Song’s faint, thread‑thin voice drifted through the darkness:
“Who am I…”
“Am I still okay…”
“I’m broken…”
“I don’t exist anymore…”
“You’re fine,” Yu Feichen said.
“That’s good…” Bai Song breathed with immense relief. “Brother Yu is still with me. Even in my dreams, I’d want to stay with Brother Yu. But your voice sounds different, Brother Yu… Did you catch a cold?”
Just then, the elevator left the thirteenth floor.
Light spilled in from outside—bright as day in an instant. Bai Song froze.
His stiff gaze swept Yu Feichen slowly from head to toe. Then, trembling, he whispered: “…Who are you?”
Yu Feichen: “…”
In the previous world, he had been James. After returning to Paradise, he naturally regained his original appearance.
Back at the Gatekeeper’s hall, he had wondered why Bai Song always recognized him—now he realized it wasn’t because his face resembled James, nor because there was some strange magic on the thirteenth floor.
It had simply been too dark. The boy had never seen him clearly at all.
A moment later, Bai Song asked again: “Who are you?”
Yu Feichen said, “Who do you think?”
Bai Song’s eyes rolled back. He fainted on the spot.
Yu Feichen sighed.
Just then, the elevator stopped—ninth floor.
He had only been to the ninth floor of the Tower of Creation once, when he first arrived in to Paradise. At that time, he had no money, no idea where to go, no idea what to do.
Then a stranger had dragged him here, saying he would buy his “face-shape” for a high price.
Back then, Yu Feichen hadn’t known what “face-shaping” meant. Only after realizing it meant copying his entire appearance onto someone else did he refuse.
Much later, he learned that this floor belonged to the God of art, creation, and inspiration—the one who called himself “The Painter”. In Paradise, all matters involving appearance—fashion, architecture, scenery—fell under this God’s domain.
The doors opened. Yu Feichen walked inside. The God of art and inspiration liked quiet spaces, so this level was nothing like the bustling first floor.
Visitors entered a private space shared only with themselves, the God, and their chosen companions.
It was a gray square studio. Sparse graffiti hung on the long walls; a few unfinished sculptures stood at the edges. Across from them sat a young man in a maroon shirt and painter’s cap, brushing strokes on a canvas until Yu Feichen approached carrying Bai Song. Only then did he set his brush down and look up.
A completely unremarkable face greeted Yu Feichen. Recognizing faces had never been his strong suit, but this God’s appearance was especially forgettable.
Yet in his memory, this had been a very gentle deity.
“Hello, I’m the Painter.” He smiled. “Long time no see. What brings you here?”
Then he noticed the unconscious Bai Song, whom Yu Feichen had been carrying along. “Poor little thing—why is he passed out? Put him down first.”
Bai Song was laid on the floor.
“I entered the Gate of Eternal Night,” Yu Feichen said simply. “I need a mark.”
“You’ve only been in Paradise a short time… that’s rather fast. ”The Painter sounded surprised, then looked at him seriously. “Was the decision made with caution?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” The Painter nodded and stepped closer. “Come, let me see your face.”
Yu Feichen leaned down slightly—he was taller than the Painter.
The Painter’s gentle voice sounded at his ear.
“Some worlds beyond the Gate will alter your companions’ appearances. So you need a mark only the two of you can see, to recognize each other quickly. Preferably on the face, and not a removable item. I recommend a small tattoo—or a mole or scar in a specific spot. Let me see where suits you…”
He lifted an ivory ruler and began measuring Yu Feichen’s facial proportions.
But as he measured, Yu Feichen noticed the Painter’s eyes turning red—like he was about to cry.
“I’m sorry,” the Painter said suddenly, setting the ruler aside. “I don’t want to mark your face. Your appearance fits you perfectly. Any alteration—no matter how small—would break the balance… the quality you already have. I like this rhythm.”
His eyes grew unfocused; his voice grew softer, faster, slipping into something dreamlike:
“Extreme precision and extreme madness lie a breath apart… what balances them is neither cold nor warm but an emptiness… your image is the point of equilibrium…”
Then, as if struck by inspiration, his gaze sharpened. He murmured, “I want to place the mark near your right collarbone.”
Yu Feichen allowed it. A facial mark would be more obvious, but if someone drew anything on his face… he’d want to wash it off.
The Painter gestured for him to loosen his collar. “You suit characters more than symbols. Any letter or number meaningful to you? Preferably common scripts.”
This question struck a blank spot. He had no letters or numbers meaningful to him. After a brief thought, he chose the most recent one in his memory.
“A1407,” he said.
It was the number human scientists gave him in the last world before entering the Gate of Eternal Night—after he turned himself into a zombie in the previous world.
The Painter made a few quick strokes on his collarbone—cold, then gone. A mirror appeared before him.
“Does this work?”
Yu Feichen looked. A neat, mechanical “A1407” rested on his skin.
He didn’t find it displeasing. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
The Painter stared at the characters, then whispered a word: “Objectification.”
Yu Feichen: “What?”
“Objectification,” he repeated, then pulled up the collar to cover it. “A mechanical number feels inhuman. It won’t disrupt your unique qualities.”
“Alright, the mark is done.”
Then he handed Yu Feichen two long black boxes, tied with silver‑gray and dark green ribbons.
“Some clothing suitable for the two of you—a gift for entering the Gate.” He smiled.
“…Thanks.”
Just then, Bai Song stirred on the floor, about to awake.
“Just brought back from outside?” the Painter asked.
Yu Feichen nodded.
“Coming from a familiar world into the Paradise is extremely disorienting. I cried the first time I came here, you know. Of course, the Paradise wasn’t this beautiful yet. Every stone in the Incandescent Plaza was chosen later by me.”
He knelt slightly, gently patting Bai Song’s head. “Take him to Sunset Street for some light pine nut liquor. You don’t seem talkative, so why not hire a guide too?”
“Okay,” Yu Feichen said.
The Painter escorted them to the elevator. “All the best,” he said.
That smile stirred a faint memory from when Yu Feichen first arrived here.
He replied, “Thank you.” The Painter waved them off.
Once they reached the Incandescent Plaza, Bai Song still looked dazed.
“Your tone… really sounds like my Brother Yu… This place is so beautiful…”
Following the Painter’s advice, Yu Feichen took him to Sunset Street, where many taverns were located. He chose a decent-looking tavern on the second floor and ordered two light pine nut liquors.
A girl with snow‑white hair and pointed elf ears brought the drinks. Seeing Bai Song’s blank state, she blinked and added two drops of berry essence, slipping in straws.
The drink calmed Bai Song’s nerves. Before Yu Feichen’s patience wore out, the boy finally accepted that this man was truly Yu Feichen—and that he himself had been brought to a mysterious “Paradise.”
“Brother Yu, you’re the god’s envoy sent to save Korosha! And now I’ve ascended too—so I can help save others!” Bai Song grew excited. “I’m going to do something even greater than Gann’s guerrillas! And—my legs are healed—thank the Gods!”
The boy had shifted allegiances so fast he no longer thanked Yuryllia.
But given how he understood things, Yu Feichen supposed it wasn’t entirely wrong.
Still—something needed correcting.
“I don’t believe in that God,” Yu Feichen said.
“But… but that… that…” Bai Song stammered until he blurted out: “That twisted line—didn’t he say—”
“Twisted line?” Yu Feichen echoed. It even took him three seconds to realize Bai Song was referring to Claros.
So after everything the Gatekeeper had said, the only part the boy retained was that he once became a twisted line in a flat world.
Whether Claros was twisted or not, was unclear. But Bai Song’s brain circuits were certainly twisted.
“He said everyone here is a believer, right? They all came from below…” Bai Song looked at him with pure curiosity.
“Aren’t you one of them?”
Those eyes were astonishingly clear—like blue ocean water.
Memories long unvisited felt almost non-existent.
But once a fragment surfaced, it flooded forward like a rising tide.
“I’m not,” Yu Feichen heard himself say.
“…Huh?”
The scent of pine nut liquor drifted softly around them. Everything felt distant—except the past.
And the past surged up.
His voice was low, a whisper like drifting dream‑speech:
“I was brought here. Like you. Someone asked me, ‘Will you come with me?’”
“And I agreed.”
“And then I was taken from my original world… straight to this one.” He looked toward the bustling Incandescent Plaza. “To that spot. Right there.”
—On that vast plaza beneath the golden sky, countless strange, unfamiliar people moved past him in a constant flow.
He had simply stood there.
“But there was no one beside me.”
From the beginning till the end.
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-Syeki
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