When Ethan opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a cracked stone slab.
No—that wasn't quite right. The "slabs" were actually countless documents stitched together. Each was a fragment of the Shadow Dossier, scrawled with blurred handwriting and crossed-out notes, like some overworked bureaucrat scribbling at 3 a.m. while chugging coffee: "Classified / Delete", "To be continued / Damn."
The air reeked of burnt paper. Ethan couldn't help wondering if someone had just used him as kindling.
In the distance, a dry voice whispered:"Do you see? The labyrinth you walked through… was only a shell."
Ethan looked up and realized the voice came from the dossiers themselves. The mass of papers writhed like some pulsing flesh, twisting into the shape of a gigantic eye.
"Jesus," Ethan muttered. "Why can't there ever be a normal archive? Why does it always have to look like a horror prop?"
The paper-eye blinked slowly, scattering letters like falling ash. They swirled together into words:
"The Death Labyrinth… is just the husk of the Void Gate."
Ethan froze. His brain roared like fireworks exploding beside his ears.
"The Void Gate? Doesn't exactly sound like a tourist spot with group discounts." He smirked. "Lemme guess—it's not leading to a tropical resort, is it?"
The fragments shuffled again, this time forming an image: in endless darkness, a colossal door stood alone, covered in countless eyes—all staring at Ethan.
"Great," he muttered. "That thing stares harder than my ex-girlfriend's parents."
The image shattered into fragments, which shot into his skull like shrapnel. Memories flooded him:
— The Bureau's first discovery wasn't nightmare energy at all, but the Gate. The labyrinth was only a protective shell, a temporary cover story—like the "provisional plan" at an official meeting. The real core was the Gate, and behind it lurked a will that was neither human nor divine.
Its name: Void.
"Void?" Ethan chuckled. "Well, that's economical. Sounds like the name of a cheap college philosophy club."
Karl's voice suddenly echoed in his ear:"That's why we got dragged in. Remember? Everyone was searching for the key. But the key is you. And the Gate… is waiting for you to open it."
Ethan's head spun. The dossier shards fluttered around him like playing cards, each flashing fragments of history:— Bureau officials secretly signing pacts with the government, using the labyrinth as cover for real experiments.— Rebels stealing parts of the dossier, only to be driven insane by the whispers of the Void.— Ancient gods already devoured by the Void, leaving only scraps that humans now called "nightmares."
Then he saw himself: an infant laid on a sheet inscribed with symbols, annotated with: "Host Candidate — E13."
"Fantastic," Ethan groaned. "Even my diapers were classified? No wonder nobody wanted to play hide-and-seek with me as a kid."
The last shards fell, spelling one final line:
"When the husk fully collapses, the Void Gate will open."
Ethan stared at the words, then burst into laughter—wild, almost hysterical.
"So all my dying and resurrecting was just… bouncing on the doormat of a giant door?"
Karl's ghostly voice sighed:"Exactly. Welcome to the real beginning."
The walls of the labyrinth peeled away like flimsy stage scenery, revealing raw void beyond. In the distance, the massive black Gate loomed faintly, waiting like a host annoyed at a late guest.
Ethan shrugged and muttered:"Fine. I've gotten used to dying anyway. What's the worst that can happen—die again?"
Laughing, he stepped forward into the void.
The darkness replied with countless low, rumbling chuckles.