When evil gods hold a meeting in my head

Richard stepped into the darkness, stroking the brim of his top hat. Flames rose from the brim, illuminating the entire room with an orange-red light. The next second, he saw the room as it truly was.

He checked it carefully.

There were no hidden doors in the walls, no cellars on the floor, and no gaps in the ceiling...

There was a musty smell in the air, mixed with the scent of earth, but there was none of the aura that one would expect from a supernatural object.

"There's nothing there," Richard muttered to himself.

Rosalie stood behind him, staring at the pile of clutter, her face still expressionless. Thales huddled in the doorway, looking around nervously, afraid something might suddenly appear.

Richard checked again, but still found nothing.

"The exit isn't here," he said. "Then you'll have to go to another room."

He turned and walked out of the room, with Rosalie and Thales following behind him.

The door to another room was right next door, exactly the same as the first one. The wooden door was old, the paint had all peeled off, revealing the grayish wood underneath. The door was closed tightly, and you couldn't see what was inside.

Richard stood in front of the door and stared at it for a few seconds.

The mental trap on that door almost killed him. What could be inside this door?

He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

Purple mist surged from the ring, swirling in his palm. He drew the mist towards himself, letting it seep into his nose, and into Rosalie and Thales's noses as well.

He silently prayed to himself, "Please don't believe anything you see next; it's all an illusion. No matter what you see, no matter how shocking or terrifying it is, don't believe it."

He read it over and over again, letting the words seep into the depths of his consciousness with the mist.

Then he took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The moment the door opened, a gust of cold wind rushed in.

Richard suddenly realized he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

Below me lay a bottomless abyss, pitch black with no end in sight, only the howling wind rising from below. One more step and I would fall, shattering into pieces. Behind me lay the path I had come from, but it was collapsing, chunks of stone falling into the abyss, the sound of them hitting the ground barely audible for a long time.

Rosalie and Thales stood behind him. Thales turned pale with fright and shrank back. Rosalie remained the same, staring intently into the abyss, her eyes bright.

Richard stared at the cliff, his heart pounding.

The feeling was so real. The stones beneath his feet were shifting, the wind was howling in his ears, and the sound of the wind from the abyss sounded like something wailing. He could feel the dizziness of standing on the edge, and the fear that he would fall if he took just one more step forward.

But he didn't move.

He silently repeated to himself: It's all fake, it's all fake.

He lifted his foot and took a step forward.

Thales cried out in surprise behind him, "My benefactor!"

Richard ignored him and continued walking forward.

The place his foot was about to step on should have been empty, which should have caused him to fall into an abyss. But when his foot landed, it touched solid ground.

He opened his eyes.

There were no cliffs left. He was still standing in that room, with a wall a few steps in front of him. The floor in front of that wall was where he had just stepped.

He glanced back. Rosalie and Thales stood unharmed behind him.

Richard let out a long breath.

"It's done," he said softly.

He turned around and began to look around the room.

This room was larger and much cleaner than the previous one. A wooden bed stood against the wall, covered with clean sheets and a blanket. There was nothing on the bed, the pillows neatly arranged. Apart from that, there was no other furniture in the room. The walls had been whitewashed, and although some parts were peeling, it was much cleaner than the previous room.

The sunlight is shining in from somewhere, making the room very bright.

Richard looked in the direction of the light.

There is a window on the wall.

The window wasn't big, with a wooden frame, and the glass was very clean. Sunlight streamed in through it, warm and pleasant.

Richard stared at the window, a strange feeling suddenly creeping into his heart.

That's the export.

It wasn't a guess or a deduction; it was an indescribable feeling—like the spiritual guidance he received when he used the ring before, subtle yet certain.

He walked over and stood in front of the window, looking out.

There was an alleyway outside, and sunlight shone into it, casting several shadowy figures as they walked by. He recognized the alley; it was the one he had just come from.

Richard turned to look at Rosalie and Taylors.

"The exit is here," he said. "Jump out and you'll be back in the alley."

Thales paused for a moment, leaned closer to look outside, and then withdrew.

"This...will this work?" His voice trembled. "Jumping out...what if I fall and hurt myself..."

Richard ignored him. He took Rosalie's hand and made her stand in front of the window.

"Stay close to me," he told Thales. "Just jump out."

Then he took a deep breath, stepped onto the windowsill, and, pulling Rosalie along, jumped—

A sudden dizziness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was already standing in the alley. The sun shone warmly on him. The familiar fishy smell mingled with the smell of coal smoke in the air. A few pedestrians walked by, glanced at him, and continued on their way.

Rosalie stood beside him, still expressionless. Thales fell behind him, sprawling on the ground, groaning in pain.

Richard ignored him. His gaze was fixed on the alley entrance.

The young man stood there.

He was still wearing that tattered coat, his hair was still messy, his beard was still unkempt, his hands were in his pockets, leaning against the wall, with that ambiguous smile on his face. When he saw Richard come out, he was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting them to actually come out.

Richard did not hesitate.

He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

Purple mist surged from the ring, condensing, stretching, and taking shape in his palm. A few seconds later, a huge iron hammer appeared in his hand, larger than the one he had used before, with a hammerhead as big as a washbasin, iron-gray in color, gleaming coldly.

He gripped the hammer handle and charged toward the young man.

The young man's expression changed, and he turned to run away.

But he had only taken two steps when Richard caught up with him. Richard swung the sledgehammer and smashed it hard into his back.

A muffled thud.

The young man was thrown forward and landed on the ground, pinned down by the large hammer. He tried to struggle, but the hammer was too heavy, pressing down on his back like a small mountain, and he couldn't move at all.

Richard walked over, stepped on the hammer handle, and looked down at him.

Why are you running?

The young man lay on the ground, looking at him sideways. The ambiguous smile on his face was gone, replaced by a complex expression—a mixture of surprise and annoyance…

"You..." He opened his mouth, his voice muffled, "How did you get out?"

Richard didn't answer, but instead increased the pressure on his foot.

The young man groaned as he was pressed down.