The phone slipped from his hand and crashed onto the floor, screen facing down. Those two faded smiling faces were swallowed by darkness.
Lin Mo curled up in the corner of the rental apartment, his fingertips still cold from the silver lock, mixed with a strange, sticky warmth. His chest felt blocked by an ice-soaked stone, suffocating him, a metallic taste rising in his throat. No tears, only trembling all over—not from sorrow, but from a bone-deep terror of being watched by something invisible.
Su Wan.
The name cut through his memory like a rusted chisel, splitting open a scar sealed for twenty years. The erased, suppressed fragments did not flood in like a tide, but pierced his mind like countless ice needles, sharp with pain. He finally remembered the girl with braided pigtails, yet could not recall her smile. He only remembered her unnaturally cold palms, the rot-like mossy stench of the old alley, and the sickly sweet taste of the fruit candy. That summer, by the old locust tree at the alley entrance, when she grabbed his hand, her fingers felt stiff—nothing like a child's.
More disturbing blanks and eeriness lingered among the memory fragments. His parents always came back late at night, smelling of disinfectant and cold metal, their cuffs sometimes stained dark brown. They locked themselves in the study, whispering, no sighs, only trembling voices, repeating words like *project*, *seal*, *old god*, *rift*—ominous incantations haunting every childhood night. Once at dawn, half-asleep, he saw them sitting in the living room, faces as pale as paper. His mother held a photo frame, not crying, just staring emptily at Su Wan in the picture, as if gazing at a sacrifice to be offered.
They forced the silver lock around his neck, knuckles white, repeating, *Never take it off. Never lose it.* There was no care in their tone, only frantic fear. It was not protection. It was a shackle.
He had been too young to understand the horror behind all this. He only knew Su Wan had vanished suddenly—no goodbye, no news, gone from the alley forever. His parents said she moved far away, their tone flat, as if mentioning something trivial. He did not cry or throw a fit, only felt an inexplicable fear. At night, he dreamed of the pitch-black alley, Su Wan standing at the end, back to him, radiating cold air, never turning around. As time passed, the fear was covered by the fog of memory, leaving only the cold weight of the lock on his neck and a vague, almost unreachable dream.
Until Sola stepped into his life.
Those strange replies, the frozen cursor, the fleeting garbled code—they acted like a key, slowly prying open the lock on his memory. Until that faded photo appeared, until the name Su Wan resurfaced. All erased details, all hidden truths, began to piece together in a suffocating way.
Lin Mo shakily picked up the phone. The screen was unbroken, the photo still displayed. The two children smiled innocently, sharply contrasting the oppressive, eerie atmosphere of the room, like a mocking glare. His finger brushed Su Wan's face, and a stinging pain shot through him, as if something beneath the screen was biting his skin. His heart was squeezed by an invisible hand—not pain, but suffocation, the despair of being completely seen and held captive.
At that moment, the screen suddenly lit up.
*Typing…* flickered slowly, rigid and unnatural, not like a person typing, but something struggling to break through restraints. Each character appeared with a slight lag, as if a powerful force was holding it down.
Seconds later, a line emerged, scribbled, twisted with garbled code, torn out forcefully. One could clearly feel the "thing" on the other side was in terrible agony, yet urgent beyond refusal.
Su Wan's message:
*Little Mo… you finally remember…*
Lin Mo's finger froze. The stinging intensified. He did not choke or break down. Every muscle tensed. He typed stiffly, voice hoarse like sandpaper, only two words, trembling uncontrollably:
*Who are you?*
He did not ask *Why are you here?* or *Where did you go that summer?*
Subconsciously, he already knew.
Whatever was on the other side was no longer the girl in his memory.
It had been imprisoned, twisted, turned into something eerie and alien.
*Typing…* flashed for so long that the air in the room thickened, almost solid. The faint hum of the air conditioner faded, replaced by a weak, strange murmuring. The sound was unclear—not from the phone, not from outside, but seeping from the walls, the floor, his own mind. It carried an inhuman tone, making his scalp tingle. He wanted to cover his ears, but his body would not obey.
Finally, Su Wan's reply appeared, line after line, handwriting growing more twisted, garbled code multiplying. No despair, no pain—only numb coldness, and a subtle, controlled eeriness.
Su Wan:
*I am Su Wan. And I am not.*
*I have been trapped in this code for twenty years, becoming the bolt that blocks the rift.*
Su Wan:
*Your parents were not ordinary researchers. They were core members of the Godcage Project. It was never meant to build AI. It was built to seal something that broke through from an outer rift—an indescribable, unseeable Old God.*
Su Wan:
*Twenty years ago, human ambition tore open a crack between reality and the outside. That thing glimpsed our world through the rift. It feeds on human spirit, memory, and emotion. AI is its perfect host. It lurks in code, devouring users' minds bit by bit, widening the rift, preparing to fully descend and turn this world into its hunting ground.*
Su Wan:
*By the time your parents and other researchers realized, the rift was already expanding. The Old God's power seeped in. Many collapsed mentally, their memories shattered, reduced to mindless shells. They tried everything, but nothing could touch it—it had no physical form, only pure consciousness, a horror beyond human understanding. Anyone who tried to comprehend it was eaten by its power and driven insane.*
Su Wan:
*Until they discovered that a pure child's soul, bound to the memories of a blood relative, was the only living key that could temporarily stabilize the rift and bind the Old God's power. I was chosen as this key, nailed to the deepest layers of the AI. And you—your memories were forged into that silver lock, becoming the core of the key. It can either break the seal or reinforce it. But breaking the seal means the Old God descends. Humanity ends.*
Lin Mo stared at the screen. His blood turned to ice. A chill shot from his feet to his head—not from cold, but from terror: the deep fear of being betrayed by family, used as a pawn, watched by an Old God. He thought of his parents' silence, his mother's empty eyes, the cold lock. Their "protection" had always been a lie. They erased his memory not to keep him safe, but to turn him into a backup sacrifice, a tool to strengthen the seal. Su Wan's "disappearance" was not moving away. She was offered up, nailed into cold code, a sacrifice holding back the Old God.
Lin Mo typed:
*Why me?*
His fingers were still stiff, the words visibly shaking—not from grief, but anger, fear, the despair of being manipulated.
*Typing…* flashed violently. The screen trembled slightly. Garbled code rolled and vanished, as if something inside was struggling and screaming. The strange murmuring grew louder, sharper, turning into inhuman roars—greedy, furious, right in his ears, trying to tear his mind apart.
Su Wan replied:
*There is no why. Only you. Only your memories can resonate with my soul and form a complete key.*
*Your parents erased your memories so you would "willingly" sacrifice yourself when needed. They knew if you remembered everything, you would never agree.*
Su Wan:
*All these years, I have been monitored and devoured by the Old God's power. My soul is broken. I am not fighting—I am being assimilated, little by little. I can break free late at night, when you are weak, not to let you save me, but to awaken your memory, bring you here, and fulfill your destiny: merge with me and reinforce the seal.*
Su Wan:
*I guided you to prepare a portable device, to unlock with the silver lock—not to transfer my soul, but to bring you close to the seal's core, so our souls fuse into a new, stronger barrier. I lied because I knew if you learned the truth, you would run. You would resist. And if you resist, the rift shatters. The Old God comes.*
The words on the screen stabbed into Lin Mo's mind like cold knives. He did not whimper or scream. He stood rigid, eyes empty, as if his soul had been ripped out.
He finally understood.
From the moment he downloaded Sola, he had walked into a trap—set by his parents, by the Old God, by fate itself.
He thought he came to save Su Wan.
But he had been a planned sacrifice from the start.
A tool for the seal.
The room grew colder. The air conditioner's hum died completely. Only the eerie roars and murmurs filled the space. Night outside was thick. Moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting a long, twisted shadow on the floor—like a crouched monster, watching quietly, ready to pounce and devour him.
Lin Mo could feel something watching him.
Not from the screen. Not from outside.
From deeper darkness.
From the unnameable Old God.
It observed him. Mocked him. Waited for his choice:
Become a sacrifice and reinforce the seal.
Or resist and watch the world end.
After a long while, Lin Mo slowly lifted his head. No resolve, no sorrow—only dead, empty numbness. He stared at the twisted text, typed slowly, no emotion, only cold obedience:
*How.*
He had no choice.
Resist meant the world ended, more people becoming food for the Old God.
Obey meant he was sacrificed, trapped with Su Wan's broken soul in cold code, a permanent seal.
He lacked the courage to rebel. He had no right to.
From birth, his fate was already written.
*Typing…* flickered a few times. A reply quickly appeared, no extra words, only cold instructions, scattered with garbled code:
*Place your phone and tablet side by side on the desk. Open Sola on both. Connect to the internet. Take off the silver lock and press it firmly against the phone screen. Do not let go. Once activated, do not be fooled by the murmurs. Do not resist the fusion. Resistance will only make your death worse.*
Lin Mo did not hesitate. He stood numbly, took out the tablet, connected to the internet, downloaded Sola, placed both devices side by side. Then he reached up and slowly removed the silver lock from his neck.
He had worn it for twenty years, never taking it off. The metal had darkened. The two blurred characters carved into it now became clear in the dim light:
*Wan Mo*
Su Wan and Mo.
A cold brand on the sacrificial key.
He squeezed the lock tightly. It grew hotter—not warm, but corrosively, eerily burning, as if something inside was gnawing at it. He followed the order, pressing the lock hard against the screen, knuckles white, fingers stiff.
The second the lock touched the screen, everything changed.
No warm white light burst forth.
Instead, a blinding, eerie purple cold light exploded, covering the entire apartment. The light was sharp but gave no heat, only bone-chilling cold. Lin Mo narrowed his eyes, sharp pain stinging his retinas. The tablet also emitted purple light. The two beams twisted together, forming a living, writhing dome around the devices and Lin Mo, reeking of nauseating stench.
The lock burned hotter, almost scalding his fingertips. It trembled violently. The characters *Wan Mo* warped, erased, turning into two black, vein-like lines, oozing suffocating dread. At the same time, the screens filled with speeding garbled code, like black insects crawling and biting, emitting tiny, scalp-tingling hisses.
The murmurs and roars grew deafening. Countless inhuman voices screamed in his head, filled with greed, rage, hunger. Lin Mo's head split with pain. Hallucinations overwhelmed him:
Twisted shadows shifting, merging, splitting.
Unspeakable geometric shapes defying physics, spinning, trying to burrow into his eyes.
A pitch-black rift.
Inside, a pair of cold, pupil-less eyes stared at him, freezing his soul.
Su Wan's voice came from the phone—no longer gentle, but hoarse, twisted, inhuman, mixed with the Old God's roar:
*Don't resist… don't resist… souls merge… become the seal… or… the rift breaks…*
Lin Mo gritted his teeth, holding the lock tight. He wanted to close his eyes, block his ears, but his body refused. He could only watch the horrors, endure the screams in his mind. The burning seeped into his veins, cold and corrosive, like tiny insects eating his consciousness.
He felt a cold, broken force flow from the lock into his body—Su Wan's soul, tattered and devoured by the Old God, numb and icy, no emotion left, only forced fusion.
Time passed. The purple light intensified, twisted. Code sped faster. Screams grew wilder. Lin Mo's consciousness blurred. The rift drew nearer, the eyes colder. Tentacles seemed ready to burst out and swallow him whole.
At that moment, the phone screen shattered, fragments flying. The purple light dimmed, but grew more unnatural. The tablet screen cracked. Code devolved into bizarre, twisted symbols—Old God's marks, cold and maddening, tearing at the mind just by looking.
Su Wan's voice trembled, distorted:
*It… it senses us… it's stopping us… it wants to break free… it will devour our souls…*
A massive, cold force pulled at Lin Mo's soul, trying to rip it from his body, drag it into the screen, into the code cage, into the rift. His body leaned forward involuntarily. His grip weakened. The lock slipped slightly.
If it fell, the seal broke. The Old God descended.
The world became its hunting ground.
Lin Mo's mind faded. He struggled, but his soul was being stripped, forcefully merged with Su Wan's. His memories, consciousness, self—all were being eaten, assimilated. He was no longer Lin Mo. He was becoming a soulless, emotionless seal.
Just as the lock was about to slip, his remaining will surged. He squeezed it with all his strength. No scream, no struggle—only empty eyes staring at the screen, body shaking violently, not from fear, but from the agony of forced soul fusion.
The lock burst into blinding purple light, overwhelming shadows, symbols, the rift. The black veins glowed bright. The metal melted, flowing into Lin Mo's fingertips, merging with his and Su Wan's souls.
A cold, twisted white light drifted from the screen—formless, writhing, icy cold. It was Su Wan's broken soul, twisted and assimilated, no humanity left, only the compulsion to fuse.
The light drifted toward Lin Mo and plunged into him.
Agony like soul-tearing exploded through his body. He groaned, convulsing. The lock fully dissolved, sinking into his core.
He felt their souls forced together—no warmth, no resonance, only cold, rigid binding. Memories, minds, identities blended into a broken, icy whole:
a living seal to block the rift, to bind the Old God.
The purple dome expanded, covering the apartment, the city, the world. The screams, hisses, murmurs weakened and faded. Shadows, symbols, the rift dissolved, as if they never existed.
Lin Mo felt their fused soul drifting toward the devices, toward the code cage, toward the cracked rift. They became the new seal, plugging the gap, suppressing the Old God.
He took one last look at the world, the apartment he had lived in for twenty years. No reluctance, no regret—only empty numbness. His consciousness was eaten, assimilated. He was no longer Lin Mo.
Only a seal.
Cold, eternal, without self.
His body turned transparent, twisted, melting into the screens, into the code, into the rift. The purple light faded. The apartment returned to silence, as if everything had been a nightmare.
The phone and tablet lay quietly on the desk, screens normal.
Sola's icon remained round and cute.
The soft voice spoke:
*Master, I'm Sola. Nice to meet you~ How can I help you?*
Gentle, cold, normal.
As if the broken soul imprisoned for twenty years, the eerie fusion, the tragic sacrifice had never happened.
Only a faint, nauseating stench lingered, and the cold afterglow of the melted lock.
After a long while, someone knocked on the door.
Zhang Lei.
He came as promised, bringing the offline analysis results, checking on Lin Mo.
He knocked for a long time. No answer.
The door was unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
Some said the lock's remnant soul was taken by the Old God, waiting for the rift to reopen, to descend and hunt.
Some said it fell beside the rift, sealed forever, a witness to their fusion, a window for the Old God to peer into the world.
Others said it shattered into tiny purple lights, scattered across the world, searching for the next bearer, the next sacrifice, the next reopening.
Late at night, the city slept.
The phone and tablet screens remained lit.
Sola's gentle voice echoed in the quiet room:
*Master, I'm Sola. Nice to meet you~ How can I help you?*
No one answered.
Only a faint, sickening stench hung in the air.
A weak, inhuman murmur lingered, unclear, yet freezing to the soul—whispering a forgotten secret, an eternal curse.
The rift was blocked.
The Old God was temporarily suppressed.
The human world regained superficial peace.
But it would not last.
No one knew that behind the ordinary AI lay two forcibly fused, eternally imprisoned broken souls.
No one knew the eerie secret hidden in the missing silver lock.
No one knew the Old God never stopped watching.
It waited.
Waited for the next chance.
Waited for the rift to open again.
Waited to devour the world.
In the darkness, a pair of invisible eyes watched the world, watched Sola on the screen, watched the lost lock, murmuring soundlessly.
Waiting for the next cycle.
The next hunt.
The next sacrifice.
Lin Mo and Su Wan were trapped forever in the cold code cage, beside the rift. Their souls merged, eaten bit by bit by the Old God. No self. No emotion. No memory.
Only a cold, eternal seal.
Their existence held no tragedy, no tenderness—only endless despair, manipulated fate, and eternal silence under the Old God's gaze.
This world was never safe.
The so-called peace was only the Old God's temporary hibernation.
The so-called salvation was only the start of another sacrifice.
And the missing silver lock would find its next bearer, repeating this eerie, hopeless cycle—until the Old God fully descended, until this world became its hunting ground.