Illusion Report

Although it seemed no one had told the Kai Family the specifics of their Path, it didn’t stop everyone from opening them in the same area, at the same time. The place where they got out of the vehicles was a bustling district with heavy foot traffic, packed with shops, restaurants, and office buildings.

"Let’s all split up and open our Paths,"

Tian Xi got out of the vehicle, and the sharp BEEP of the lock echoed through the underground parking garage. The two just-emptied vans were parked side by side; for the next seven days, at most, they would wait here in silence for everyone to return.

"As long as you open your Path from within the designated area, you should land somewhere in the Old Port warehouse district inside the Nest. If your Path is particularly tricky or strange, and its activation requirements can’t be met here, please tell me now."

Everyone looked at one another, but no one spoke.

’I wonder what all their Paths are like?’ Mai Mingle couldn’t help but think.

She had heard from Hai Luwei that the simplicity of a Path was often an indicator of a Hunter’s foundational talent. If someone had a difficult Path, they certainly wouldn’t want to admit it to the Kai Family at a time like this.

Mai Mingle, however, had no such problem. On the way into the parking garage, they had passed a large shopping mall, and there was no shortage of colorful, ad-playing screens both inside and out.

’Huh, does that mean my talent is actually pretty good?’

"Does everyone have their orange tags and supply bags?" Sha Xue did a final check, then nodded to the group. "Okay, see you in the Nest."

They all said their goodbyes, left the parking garage, and individually melted into the bustling crowds on the street.

Even though the road ahead was filled with unknowns and danger, Mai Mingle still felt a subtle, thrilling excitement every time she was about to enter a Nest. How could her previous eighty-six years and these last six days possibly belong to the same world?

She’d heard that many places were now equipped with metal detectors. Her heart was in her throat as she walked toward the mall, lugging a supply bag filled with guns, ammunition, and knives. If she were discovered, the police would be called immediately—it would be a cruel joke to end up at the police station before she even made it into the Nest.

But Mai Mingle got lucky; no alarms went off. Feigning a casual air, she walked into the mall’s first-floor lobby and quickly found her target.

On a screen outside a shop, a fit model with long, lean muscles wore a swimsuit, her skin shimmering with a sun-like golden glow.

Mai Mingle waited furtively outside the shop for several minutes, her gaze sweeping her surroundings. Right when she was beginning to feel suspicious of her own behavior, she finally found a moment when no one was passing by and took a soft step back—plunging into the beach and ocean on the screen.

When she opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was, once again, the ocean.

Only, this stretch of sea was gray and hazy, looking as deflated as a popped balloon. It was only palm-sized, blurry, and dotted with patches of grime. Mai Mingle froze for a second, then straightened up and took two steps back, realizing she had been staring at a window.

The glass looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time. A dreary, gray sea under an overcast sky was visible through the smudges. It seemed the weather in the Nest was synchronized with Blackmoor City.

This time, she hadn’t tumbled in; her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

’Was it because she didn’t lose her balance when she entered?’

’That said, where am I?’

Mai Mingle turned away from the window.

Mai Mingle was crouching on the floor, looking at her.

An uncontrollable scream slipped from her throat. It felt as if her own frantic heartbeat had shattered her eardrums. She instinctively stumbled back, her back hitting the window, and the frame shook with a THUD.

...What?

’Why is there another me? That can’t be a real person, right?’

The sounds of her ragged breathing and the echoes of her scream battered the dead silence in waves before gradually fading away.

’I’m standing right here, so of course the one in front of me can’t be real.’

Mai Mingle stared intently at the other Mai Mingle. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she wiped them forcefully on her pants.

She suddenly froze.

’Where’s the supply bag?’

’I was holding it the whole time. I never let go, not even when I fell into the screen—’

Mai Mingle instinctively glanced down.

Her hands were empty. There was nothing at her feet. The supply bag was gone.

And it wasn’t just the supply bag that was missing.

The fluorescent orange tag from her chest was gone too.

A sudden flicker of instinct, like a single hair stirred by the wind, made Mai Mingle snap her head back up.

The Mai Mingle who had been crouching on the floor had stood up in the instant she’d glanced away. It had one foot forward, as if about to walk toward her—but now, caught in her gaze, it was motionless once more.

The face, a mirror image of her own, was utterly expressionless, as if molded from rubber.

If screaming could have helped her make sense of the situation, Mai Mingle would have done so without a second thought. But she bit down hard on her lip and stared ahead, forcing all her terror back down into her chest, not daring to let out a single sound.

She was in a spacious, empty red-brick warehouse—or rather, what had once been one. It was located in what was probably an area for niche performance art, and had clearly been converted into a makeshift theater.

The Mai Mingle who had been about to walk toward her was about ten to thirteen feet away.

There wasn’t just one Mai Mingle.

Rows of folding chairs were arranged in front of the stage; a Mai Mingle was sitting in one of them, her back to her.

’Even without seeing its face, I can feel that it’s me—but I’m the one standing by the window.’

In a corner of the makeshift theater stood a bar, looking somewhat forlorn without its lights. Behind it, another Mai Mingle was frozen mid-motion, one hand pushing open a side door as if about to exit.

The main door to the theater was pushed open a crack, and from the gap, a Mai Mingle peered out with one eye, spying on the rest of them.

Behind the stage curtain, by the restroom door, even on the scaffolding beneath the theater’s high ceiling... stood Mai Mingle after Mai Mingle. So many versions of her own face, yet each one was different.

One was her at fifteen or sixteen, a version she had long forgotten, with round, full cheeks. Another seemed to be her in her forties, still married, with vacant eyes.

The Mai Mingle who knew nothing of life, the Mai Mingle who was just beginning to realize she was getting old, the Mai Mingle who hesitated about getting her fertility checked...

A Mai Mingle from every stage of her past life now stood before her.

’And wasn’t I just another Mai Mingle from a certain stage of life?’

She tried several times to make a sound.

Any sound would do. Just one sound to puncture the vacuum of dead silence. But she couldn’t make a peep, just like all the other Mai Mingles before her.

The watery, pale daylight from outside filtered through the window, floating in the dusty air.

SWOOSH! A spotlight suddenly flared to life on the stage—its stark white beam was jarringly clear in the gloomy afternoon, instantly capturing Mai Mingle’s attention.

The Mai Mingle by the window looked up.

The Mai Mingle behind the restroom door leaned out.

The Mai Mingle in the chair turned to look at the stage.

A Mai Mingle pulled back the backstage curtain.

In the pillar of white light sat a chair. On the chair was a supply bag that Mai Mingle knew all too well.

The fluorescent orange tag, caught in the beam, was so bright it was hard to look at, almost seeming to flicker and float right off the supply bag.

Painted on the wall behind the stage were two large lines of text.

"The last one standing can take what is on the chair."

"Please kill all your selves."