The Madman

In the afternoon, the blizzard suddenly grew violent.

What had begun as feather-like flakes quickly transformed into a violent torrent of dense, icy sleet.

The entire East Port seemed to have been swept over by an invisible, giant hand, plunging completely into a deathly, ash-white silence.

Inside the temporary office of the Port Authority, Ryan held a fountain pen, recording the details of the incoming cargo on rough sheets of paper.

The rustling sound of his pen suddenly stopped.

Cold.

A bone-chilling cold.

This was absolutely not a temperature a normal winter should have.

Even though the coal stove in the middle of the room was burning red-hot, the searing radiant heat seemed to be swallowed by some force mid-air.

The people in the room still rubbed their hands together from the cold. The white mist they exhaled instantly blurred their vision, and thick white frost spread wildly along the edges of the windows at a speed visible to the naked eye.

“Damn it...” a clerk couldn't help but spit, “how is it so unnaturally cold this year?”

Another person tucked his neck in tightly, wishing he could press his entire hands against the hot iron of the stove. “I've been in East Port for twenty years, and I've never encountered such devilish weather.”

Just then, a sudden, sharp whistle blew outside.

Immediately after, the foreman's gruff roar pierced through the wind and snow, echoing across the entire pier:

“Stop work! All work stop! Everyone get back to the cabins to shelter from the cold!”

The people in the office looked up one after another. Through the glass covered in ice flowers, they could clearly see the workers outside beginning to evacuate. The heavy cranes slowly ground to a halt, and the long lines carrying cargo quickly dispersed.

For the first time, this high-throughput port was forced to suspend operations due to the weather.

Ryan slowly stood up, his brow furrowing bit by bit.

Something was wrong. Extremely wrong.

This absurdly low temperature, which defied all common sense, had completely transcended the realm of natural weather.

He instinctively looked out the window. Deep within his left eye, a faint, hidden trace of The Glory quietly lit up.

In an instant, the world transformed dramatically at the boundary between illusion and reality.

In the sky above the port, countless aspect threads invisible to ordinary people intertwined, forming a massive and complex network. In the deepest shadows of the port area, a giant, ash-white node stood quietly.

It was like a cold, heavy nail, driven firmly into the lifeblood of the entire East Port.

At the same time, an image slowly surfaced in Ryan's mind—the ritual diagram he had obtained from the memories of the cultists at the hospital.

The two overlapped perfectly at this moment.

He had found it: the real node.

Without the slightest hesitation, Ryan closed the file in his hand with a snap and turned to Simon, who was still organizing documents nearby. “I'm going out to take a look.”

The fountain pen in Simon's hand dropped onto the desk with a clack, splashing a small puddle of ink.

He snapped his head up, his voice cracking. “What? Go out? In this godforsaken weather?!”

Before his words even finished, Simon's face turned from pale to green. He suddenly recalled some very unpleasant past events—every time Ryan said he was going to “take a look,” the final outcome was usually dead bodies.

Simon stood up abruptly. “Wait! What are you planning to do this time?!”

Ryan had already buttoned his overcoat by now, and he reached up to pull his bowler hat low. “Don't worry, I'm just taking a casual look around.”

The corners of Simon's mouth twitched violently.

Don't worry? Right now, Ryan was the last person in the entire port he could feel at ease about!

Ever since he met this guy, it started with assassination attempts, followed by frequent incidents at the port.

Now, hearing the words “take a look” was no different to Simon than a death warrant from the Grim Reaper.

Watching Ryan's figure push open the door and blend into the wind and snow, Simon massaged his temples in pain and muttered under his breath:

“May the Lord protect us... I just hope the one suffering misfortune today isn't the port itself.”

The howling wind carried icy sleet directly into his face, bringing a knife-like sting.

Ryan had not walked far from the Port Authority when he bumped head-on into Jonathan, who was patrolling against the blizzard.

From a distance, Jonathan saw the iconic black uniform and didn't think much of it at first, until Ryan raised his head in the wind and snow, revealing that familiar face.

Jonathan instantly froze dead in his tracks.

“...You again?”

Ryan smiled politely and tugged at his collar. “Long time no see, Officer Jonathan.”

Jonathan's face instantly turned a dark, sickly green.

He would never forget the disaster triggered the last time Ryan came to the port; this place had nearly turned into hell that very night. Now, this guy had barely recovered from his injuries, yet he was already wandering back here so brazenly.

A chill shot straight up Jonathan's spine to the crown of his head. Without a moment's hesitation, he immediately waved his hands frantically at the patrol officers beside him. “Stay away from him! Disperse! Go patrol the other side!”

Though the patrol officers were utterly baffled, they trusted their commander's terrified expression and immediately scattered like startled beasts.

In the blink of an eye, Ryan was left standing entirely alone in the blizzard, a bizarre, wide vacuum zone cleared out around him.

Ryan stood where he was, his expression somewhat awkward. “Am I really that terrifying?”

Jonathan gave a few dry laughs. While backing away warily, he offered a half-hearted response: “No, absolutely not... It's just that your luck, Mr. Ryan, is always... highly targeted.”

With that, the police officer vanished into the depths of the blizzard with astonishing speed.

Ryan shook his head and laughed helplessly. Gathering his focus, he continued walking deeper, guided by the glow of his left eye.

The closer he got to the core of the port, the colder the air became. Most of the ordinary workers had already evacuated, but a few still braved the blizzard to unload the last critical supplies.

They had no idea that beneath the hard, frozen earth they trod upon, an aspect node massive enough to swallow the entire city was slowly operating.

Ryan stopped his steps in front of an abandoned cargo yard buried under the wind and snow.

Suddenly, a familiar, neurotic laughter exploded in his mind without warning.

“Hehehe...”

Ryan's body stiffened slightly.

This laugh. Chris, that madman.

“Damn it... how can you affect me in reality? What on earth do you want?!” Ryan questioned in his heart, while simultaneously mobilizing the power of the Lantern aspect within his body to suppress this sudden mental pollution.

Chris's laughter did not fade. Instead, it grew increasingly excited, carrying a sickening stickiness and madness as it echoed continuously in the depths of Ryan's consciousness:

“The opportunity given to you... is right here, right before your eyes... Go witness it, Ryan! Go welcome the great gift!”

Ryan knitted his brows. “Speak clearly. What do you mean?”

Chris did not answer, only laughing hysterically. The laughter felt like countless moths violently flapping their wings against a flame inside his head, making Ryan's eardrums ache from the vibration.

“Hahaha... Go, the ‘Lantern’ will tell you the answer.”

“Or maybe... it will make you die here.”

...