Chapter 20: The Calm Collapse

A thunderous explosion shook the entire train, all the lights flickered and went out, plunging everything into darkness.

Lu Mingfei rolled to the ground, already clutching a handful of talismans.

He summoned his troops, cast defensive spells, and closed his eyes to sense their surroundings.

As a self-taught mage who had clawed his way up from society’s lowest rungs, Lu Mingfei’s standard combo was nothing short of seamless. Next, he would rely on his instincts to unleash targeted magic.

Though he never hesitated to share forbidden dark knowledge with others, the painful experience forged in battle was something he never spoke of.

“Don’t be nervous, Lu Mingfei,” a gentle voice whispered in the absolute darkness.

The lights flickered back on. It was still the luxurious train, still the leather sofa—but Professor Gudrian and Fingal were gone. Instead, the boy Lu Mingfei had seen in a dream at Chicago station sat upright on the sofa.

Lu Mingfei stood, recalling his forces, muttering, “Now you’ve learned how to scare people too? Are you here to claim that quarter of my life?”

The boy’s delicate, refined face showed a flicker of surprise.

“What?”

Seeing the boy’s reaction, a taut string snapped tight within Lu Mingfei’s heart—tighter than ever before.

His core trembled uncontrollably, beginning to plead silently as he forced a smile.

“We traded once in Odin’s secret realm, didn’t we? You took a quarter of my life to help me escape.”

Outside, it was no longer pitch black night. The train raced across a vast icy plain, pristine ice tinged faintly blue blanketing jagged mountains piercing the sky. The sky itself was a rich, blood-red, torrential rain pouring down, each droplet crimson, streaming down the window.

Atop the icy peak lay the colossal dragon from the painting, wings folded down to the mountain base, its flesh stained deep red with blood.

Clusters of people climbed along its wings. Those reaching the summit hammered sharp iron spikes into the dragon’s skull. Each time a hole was pierced, white ichor gushed like a fountain, quickly evaporating into thick white mist. They cheered wildly, their voices echoing across the mountain.

Outside the window was a breathtaking and majestic scene, suffused with blood and epic grandeur. Yet inside the carriage, the atmosphere was suffocating. Both sat in silence, unable to appreciate this legendary spectacle.

The boy sat upright, hands resting on his knees, his flawless pale face shadowed by a veil of gloom.

Lu Mingfei was no fool. Given the mood, the boy’s expression, and his own previous behavior, clues he had long avoided now linked themselves into a tight, coherent logic beyond his control.

His rationality creaked under unbearable strain—a terrifying, grinding sound.

Just one last sentence was missing.

His lips felt weighted with thousands of pounds, unable to utter the final question.

He didn’t know if the boy understood his thoughts or was hesitating. After a while, the boy sighed and spoke the answer Lu Mingfei dared not ask aloud:

“We never made a deal.”

Perhaps that string had finally snapped.

Yes, indeed.

The first boy was not the second boy, the second boy was not the third, and only the last boy was the real one.

Revealed memories, hidden secrets, and those that never existed began to collapse, reforge, and intertwine.

Lu Mingfei’s consciousness was like a dam opening, helplessly watching everything he knew gush out in a mournful howl.

Why was his sanity faltering?

Why could Earth, home to no Outer Gods or Old Ones, still freely wield mythic magic?

Who was the boy who appeared the first time?

What else could he be?

Of course—the first name he had shouted hoarsely after returning to Earth, before his sanity returned—

The crawling chaos! The thousand-faced god! The messenger of the Outer Gods! Father of a million favored!

Nyarlathotep!

Perhaps He never truly existed here, but when Lu Mingfei called out His name in madness, He was already present.

Maybe Lu Mingfei didn’t know, or perhaps he always did—but from the start, he had been deceiving himself in madness.

He never left. He never spared Lu Mingfei.

...

Lu Mingfei opened his eyes to find himself lying on a leather chaise lounge, a blanket covering him. He was in a quaint study, lined with bookshelves, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Sitting up and looking around, he saw Professor Gudrian dozing at a nearby desk.

“You’re awake?” the professor said, lifting his tousled head.

Lu Mingfei glanced about and asked, “Where are we? Weren’t we on the train?”

“We’ve arrived at Kassel Academy. The trip went smoothly. You fainted during orientation from shock, so we had to carry you off the train...”

Professor Gudrian smiled wryly.

“Some students get startled during orientation, but your reaction was unprecedented. You’re afraid of dragons...”

He shrugged. “They’re just a powerful species, really.”

Lu Mingfei laughed heartily.

“Ha! I’m fine. Anything else?”

Professor Gudrian looked puzzled.

“Anything? What do you mean?”

Impatient, Lu Mingfei began walking and asked, “Nothing else? If not, I’m off.”

Gudrian was baffled.

“Mingfei, there are still a few orientation steps left, and the door is over there. You’re heading towards the balcony.”

“That’s right, that’s right.”

The study, like the train, was decorated in a typical European medieval bourgeois style—elegant, noble, and lavish. Even the delicate balcony was meticulously crafted.

Behind soft, elegant blackout curtains was a small oak door, framed by lively ivy and ivory-white railings.

Beyond the railing lay green lawns, crimson cobblestone paths, and castle-like buildings. Pigeons fluttered on the distant church spires.

There was even a beautiful little girl.

She wore the academy’s dark green uniform, her pale golden hair almost pure white, braided neatly. Petite but with exquisite proportions, her skin was icy white, and her delicate, snow-like face seemed unreal in its beauty.

The warm sunlight bathed everything in gold, and Lu Mingfei felt a comforting warmth as if he had returned to the world of the living.

“Not bad at all, not bad at all.”

Then, bracing himself on the stone railing with both hands, he stepped up with one foot and suddenly leapt down from the balcony.

Ha! What a show! He jumped!