When they came out of the portal, they expected to see the familiar outlines of the Academy, the city outskirts, or at least the familiar sky.
However, instead, they found themselves in a world that seemed to be turned inside out.
The sky was purple, without sun or moon, and dotted with motionless, glued-on stars. The air was thick and heavy, with the smell of ozone and molten metal. There was no ground underfoot, just a vast, cracked surface of black glass reflecting the distorted crimson sky. In the distance, the silhouettes of destroyed skyscrapers towered, but they were strange, angular, as if they had been designed by a mad geometer.
— What... What is this place? Ling Mei whispered, clutching the hilt of her blade. Her voice sounded muffled, as if swallowed by an unnatural silence.
—Borderlands,— Jin said lifelessly, studying the readings of his compass. The needle of the device froze, pointing to nowhere. "Just like he said." But this is not our border. It's... a seam. A place where the reality of our world connects with another. Or maybe she used to connect. Now it's torn.
Khan kicked a piece of black glass. He rolled, clinking, and disappeared before reaching the end of his path.
"It's a lovely place. Just a resort. And where, excuse me, is the enemy we have to fight?
Leng Wei stood motionless, feeling this place on a level inaccessible to others. His bracelet barely pulsed, and the conductor shard went out altogether. But his own blood, the King's blood, responded to this dead reality with a painful hum. He felt her fragility, her incompleteness. She was like an unfinished painting that someone had started to erase.
"They're already here," Xiao Fei said softly, not looking around, but lost in thought. "They're not attacking. They're... waiting. They're watching us. We are a new and intriguing chaos for them.
And then Leng Wei remembered the Archon's lesson: "Don't fight the void. Mend the hole. Fill it up."
He closed his eyes, giving up trying to analyze or search for the enemy. He remembered his old house. The smell of the herbal tea his mother made. The roughness of a wooden bird in a pocket. The warm light of the lamp falling on the pages of the book.
He focused on that memory. I didn't just conjure it up in my head, but seemed to push it out, filling the space around me with it.
But nothing happened. The world remained purple and dead.
"It's no use,— Han grumbled. "Let's look for a way out of here."
But Leng Wei did not give up. He continued. He imagined not just an image, but the feeling of home. A sense of security. The warmth of the hearth.
And then he saw it. At first, there was a barely noticeable, trembling mist a meter away from him. Then the fog thickened, forming a small but bright area of space. The crimson sky above this space brightened and became the familiar dark blue twilight. The black glass beneath his feet was replaced by a worn wooden floor. The smell of dust and herbs was in the air. It was a corner of his room. Real, tangible.
—Damn it... Khan exclaimed, taking a step back.
The site was small, only a couple of meters in diameter, and its borders trembled like a mirage. But he was real.
"You.".. Did you do that? Ling Mei asked, unable to believe her eyes.
Leng Wei opened his eyes. He was pale and breathing heavily, as if he was carrying an unbearable burden.
"This.".. difficult. It's very difficult. How to hold a muscle that you've never trained.
Suddenly, his illusion of home wavered. Shadows appeared from the crimson void outside this space. They weren't black like before, but gray, translucent, and shapeless. They were slowly approaching the island of reality, not attacking, but as if studying it. One of the shadows stretched out a tentacle and touched the edge of the wooden floor.
At the point of contact, the floor began to disappear. Not to burn or crumble, but simply to dissolve, turning into nothing and leaving behind a crimson void. A distorted reality was devouring his creation.
"They're absorbing memories!" Xiao Fei exclaimed.
Leng Wei felt a sharp, gut-wrenching pain. It wasn't physical, but as if a part of his soul was being ripped out. He screamed and lost his concentration. A section of the room instantly crumbled like a dream.
He was leaning on his knees, breathing heavily. It turned out to be incredibly difficult to create a reality the size of a rug, and it was almost impossible to hold it under the pressure of Emptiness.
"It can't be that this is the only way," Jin said, carefully watching the retreating shadows. — The Archon was talking about "rewriting". You tried to create a new sentence on a blank sheet, but this sheet belongs to them. Try not to write something new... and fix the existing one.
Leng Wei looked up. Fix it? He looked around the surreal landscape and his gaze landed on one of the cracked black monoliths nearby. This monolith was dead and empty.
Instead of imagining his home, Leng Wei focused on the monolith itself. He wasn't trying to replace it, but only... to remove the unnatural crimson sheen from its surface. He imagined how the cracks on the monolith coalesce, and the material becomes matte black and stony.
This time, the effort was different — less expensive and more accurate. The surface of the monolith trembled, and for a moment the crimson sheen really disappeared, revealing a dark, porous basalt. The effect lasted only a second, but it was easier.
"I understand," Leng Wei whispered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. — Direct creation is like a hammer. But we need a needle. Targeted intervention. We can't create a whole world... but we can fix this one.
He looked at his companions, and confidence mixed with fatigue shone in his eyes again.
— They expect us to start destroying. And we will rebuild. Even if only a little, but until my last breath.
He straightened up and stepped forward, toward the next distorted object, a crooked, weeping metal spire. His first lesson on this earth had been learned. The war of creation has just begun.