A figure muttered, watching Minh and Tài step out of the director’s office.
The mother of the bully had just demanded an explanation for why they hurt her son, yet they walked out untouched.
The figure grumbled under their breath,
“I can’t stand them anymore”
The crowd of students returned to their classes when the bell rang.
The figure went back to its classroom as well, muttering along the way,
“Why do I hate them?
They were my closest friends.”
A pause. “I want to be friends with them again… but how?”
Another pause.
“It’s Minh’s fault.
If he hadn’t isolated himself, none of this would’ve happened.”
A quiet step.
“Maybe I could help them, but those bullies are too many, too strong.”
And then, barely a whisper,
“Why… why could they beat those bullies by themselves?”
Before the period began, the figure muttered,
“They called me a coward… last night, they actually dared to call me a coward.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday came.
During their free time, Minh and Tài met again.
This time, both had crossed out every name on their list.
They looked at each other and said in unison,
“Who else?”
The two scanned the list, trying to recall the one they had forgotten.
But no matter how hard they tried, the memory wouldn’t come.
Minh glanced around the courtyard, then his eyes stopped at the canteen.
Something in his mind stirred. It looked like he’d finally remembered what, or , he had missed.
Minh suddenly remembered the ones he’d forgotten.
“Phúc… Linh,” he said softly.
Tài’s eyes lit up.
“Yes! We missed them.”
His voice then lowered, eyes falling to the floor.
“We were close friends for so long… why would they hold a grudge against us?”
Minh took a breath.
“I remember, that Sunday morning.
Phúc, Linh, and I came to your house.
Then they got mad at me, blaming me for your anger.”
Tài frowned, trying to recall. Slowly, he nodded.
“That was my fault. Even though I hated you back then…
I shouldn’t have shut that door.”
Minh smiled faintly.
“After that, I was too busy trying to find a way to save you.
I never looked for them again… and then, somehow, I forgot.”
Tài nodded.
“Me too. But why?
It wasn’t that serious.
We could just apologize, they’d forgive us. It’s only … a week since that Sunday.”
Minh straightened up.
“Whatever the reason, we’ll talk tonight. At my place.”
Tài nodded again.
“Alright.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The figure spent the whole Wednesday feeling uneasy.
The nightmares had grown fiercer, and more real.
Last night, it had been dragged into a place of darkness and fog.
A single word echoed there, again and again:
Even now, that voice seemed to linger in its ears, whispering through the halls of the school.
Its thoughts tangled; anger rose at the smallest things.
It lashed out at anyone who tried to care, even the homeroom teacher.
By noon, the figure was sent to the infirmary.
The nurse checked its temperature, frowned, and made a call.
“Your child has a fever,”
She said softly.
“You’ll need to sign the absence form for your child.”
The line went quiet.
Outside, the school bell rang again, but the figure heard only the echo,
The figure waited in the infirmary.
Moments later, its mother arrived.
It followed her quietly, the pain in its head pounding with every step.
When they reached home, the figure went straight to its room.
The moment it touched the bed, everything went dark.
It had fainted.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That night, before the foggy domain, Minh and Tài stood side by side.
The mist swirled endlessly before them, thick enough to hide whatever lay inside.
Tài frowned.
“So… what now?”
Minh took a deep breath.
“Let’s think about Linh and Phúc. Maybe the fog will clear.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Only the wind moved, carrying a faint sound from within the mist, like a heartbeat waiting to be heard.
Minh fixed his eyes on the foggy domain, letting his mind fill with Linh’s image. He muttered softly,
“Wherever you are, Linh… we’ll help you.”
The mist trembled but didn’t clear.
Then Minh’s thoughts shifted, this time to Phúc.
“We won’t leave you, Phúc,” he whispered.
At those words, the fog began to thin.
The swirling mist parted, and light seeped through as the domain transformed, from an Unexplored DomainExplored Domain.
Minh glanced at Tài. Tài nodded.
Together, they said the name, “Phúc.”
The domain before Minh and Tài had taken the shape of a zoo.
Behind the thinning fog, they could see animals, large and small, wandering restlessly inside their cages.
Each of them carried two pillsMinh created three more, while Tài formed one.
They exchanged a glance.
No words were needed.
Together, they stepped into the domain.
Minh looked toward the gates of the zoo and said,
“I think this is Phúc’s mind.
Before we can reach the true domain, we have to pass through the origin, the surface of his thoughts.
Like yours, remember?
Your mind appeared as that modern complex guarded by robots, the form Chaos took in you.”
Tài’s eyes widened.
“Really? But… isn’t this Phúc’s domain?”
Minh shook his head.
“Not yet. We have to get through the protective zone first.”
Tài frowned, confused, so Minh went on,
“You like machines and modern things, right?
That’s why your mind built a fortress out of them.
Anyone trying to enter your heart has to pass through that defence first.”
Tài nodded slowly and stepped toward the zoo entrance, but Minh stopped him with a hand.
“Careful,”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Minh warned.
“The guardian of the protection will shock us if we rush in.
I don’t know what Phúc thinks of us now, but if it’s anything like yours… we’ll face something painful.
In your case, the Chaos that guarded your zone took my shape, a weak man sitting on a mighty throne.”
Tài’s eyes widened again.
“I made you like that?”
Minh smiled faintly and nodded.
“Yes. I was shocked when I realized the boss guarding your mind looked exactly like me.”
Tài laughed softly.
“Hehe… guess I thought pretty badly of you back then.”
Minh smiled again.
“You ready?”
Tài nodded.
Together, they stepped through the gates of the domain.
Inside the zoo, the air was thick and humid.
The smell of damp straw and rusted metal filled their noses.
Animal cries echoed from every corner, not wild, but restless, like they were waiting for something.
Minh looked around and said quietly,
“These cages… they aren’t made for beasts.”
Tài frowned, glancing at the empty name plates in front of the pens.
“Then what for?”
“For memories,” Minh whispered.
“Each cage holds a piece of Phúc’s heart.
If we open the wrong one, the mind might collapse.”
They walked deeper.
The fog was thinner here, but the light came from nowhere, as if the world itself refused to show its source.
In one of the cages, a lion stared at them with human eyes, tired, but kind.
Tài reached out, but the lion turned away, lying down beside a pile of broken glass.
“Don’t,” Minh said,
“That’s not the guardian yet. This place is testing us.”
The two wandered through the endless zoo.
No Chaos appeared.
No sound followed their steps.
Only the wind, faint and cold, brushed past their ears.
The path twisted between cages and dark corners, yet every turn looked the same.
The dim light posts flickered weakly, barely cutting through the fog that still clung to the ground.
Each post carried a small metal plate.
Minh leaned closer to one, the letters carved into it were almost gone, but he could still read:
“Only friend known.”
Tài frowned.
“What does that even mean?”
Minh’s eyes stayed on the sign.
“Maybe… Phúc’s way of saying friendship is the only thing real to him.”
“But then why the cages?”
“I don’t know,”
Minh whispered, looking into the next enclosure.
“Maybe because even that, ”
He paused, “needs to be locked away.”
They walked again.
Step after step, the same fog, the same cages, the same sign repeating like a broken memory.
The more they moved, the more the silence pressed down on them, until it felt like the air itself was waiting for them to speak.
Then Tài noticed something strange.
Every cage had a small mark near the lock, a star sign.
Each one carried a different number of stars, arranged in odd shapes: triangles, spirals, broken lines.
He stopped and stared, his eyes widening as an old memory surfaced.
“Minh,”
He said slowly,
“These… these look like Phúc’s cards.
You remember? Each card had stars to show its power.”
Minh stepped closer, squinting at one of the signs.
“You mean the ones he used to collect in middle school?”
Tài nodded.
“Yeah. But these symbols…”
He shook his head, frustrated.
“I don’t know them.
Phúc once showed me his full collection, but I didn’t pay attention.
I thought it was just a game.”
Minh glanced down the endless rows of cages.
“Then maybe this is his game, only, we’re inside it now.”
The words hung between them.
Somewhere deep in the zoo, a faint metallic creak echoed, not loud, but enough to remind them that silence never truly meant safety.
Minh and Tài decided not to act carelessly.
They examined each cage with caution, moving slowly through the rows.
But there were hundreds of them, too many to count, and each one bore stars tangled with strange symbols.
The longer they looked, the more the patterns repeated, twisting into confusion.
Every cage seemed to lead them back to where they started.
Tài rubbed his temples, muttering,
“None of this makes sense.”
Minh tried to keep calm, but even he could feel the pressure of silence turning heavy.
In a burst of anger, Tài kicked at one of the cages.
The door wasn’t locked.
A harsh clang echoed through the air, and the cage creaked open by itself.
The ground trembled.
One by one, the other cages began to rattle and swing open.
The dim lights flickered violently as shapes stirred inside.
Then came the roar, not from one creature, but from all of them.
From every direction, Chaos poured out.
Minh and Tài raised their arms, instinctively forming their shields.
Tài shouted over the growing noise,
“We triggered it! We triggered the whole zoo!”
Ten or more Chaos surged toward them at once.
Each creature took the form of one of Phúc’s old card monsters, beasts and spirits drawn in sharp lines and colours now twisted into living shapes.
Tài recognized some of them: a twin-headed wolf, a stone serpent, a shadow bird with broken wings.
Each had a small mark glowing above it, stars, just like on Phúc’s cards. The more stars, the stronger the creature.
“Low-grade ones,”
Tài said, his voice tense.
“But too many.”
Minh nodded, raising his guard as the air shook under the monsters’ charge.
“Even weak cards can crush us if they come together.”
The ground cracked when the first Chaos leapt. Minh countered with a burst of light from his hand, forcing it back, but another one, a horned beast, slammed into his side, throwing him off balance.
Tài swung his arm wide, slicing through a serpent of mist.
“We can’t fight them all here!” he shouted.
Minh gritted his teeth.
“Then we move, keep distance and wait for their pattern!”
But the pattern never came.
These weren’t random Chaos, they fought like pieces on a board, attack pattern more like a strategy, coordinated, almost intelligent.
Minh and Tài were on the defensive side.
The Chaos attacked from every direction, making it hard to dodge.
Minh quickly cast a spell on himself, then hurried to boost Tài.
With their speed enhanced, the two barely evaded the assaults and struck back.
When the battle was finally won, both were exhausted.
They swallowed a pill to recover the spirit energy lost in the fight.
The zoo shifted again.
This time, both Minh and Tài found themselves back at the entrance.
They repeated their exploration, the zoo was filled with empty cages, each marked with symbols and stars.
The zoo shifted again.
Minh and Tài stood at the entrance once more, same spot, same silence, same dim lamps.
They exchanged a glance.
They walked the same path, checked the same cages, and again, nothing, only the cold bars, the stars, and those strange symbols.
When they reached the last cage, the air shimmered, and in a blink, they were back at the entrance again.
Tài’s hands trembled.
“No way… we’re looping.”
Minh clenched his jaw.
“A puzzle,”
He muttered.
“If we don’t solve it, we’ll never get out.”
The lights flickered as if mocking them, the same zoo, endless and empty, waiting for them to make the next mistake.
Minh and Tài began examining each cage, step by step, but the road still stretched endlessly ahead.
Then Minh noticed something, the stars and symbols kept repeating.
Again and again, the same patterns showed up.
He frowned, slowing his pace.
“Tài, look. These aren’t random, they’re looping too.”
They decided to search for anything different.
Minh’s eyes caught a faint glow beneath one of the light posts, a small stand with few blank page and an old pen chained to it.
He reached out, feeling the strange energy humming through the pen.
It wasn’t just left there, it was of the puzzle.
They began writing down each symbol and star they saw, splitting up to cover both sides of the path.
When they regrouped, comparing notes under the dim light, the pattern revealed itself.
Out of hundreds of cages, only three had unique symbols, each paired with a single distinct set of stars.
They exchanged a nod.
“If this place wants us to choose,”
Minh said, tightening his grip on the pen,
“Then we start with these three.”
And together, they approached the first cage.
Minh and Tài stood before the first cage, its symbol and stars unlike any other.
They exchanged a glance.
Minh reached out slowly, fingers brushing the cold metal, while Tài tensed, ready for a fight.
The door creaked open.
Nothing happened.
No Chaos. No trap. Only silence.
They let out a breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding.
Their theory was right, the unique cages were the key.
Without hesitation, they moved to the next two. One by one, the cages opened, each met with the same unsettling quiet.
Then, as the third lock clicked open, the ground trembled.
The dim lights flickered violently, and the cages dissolved into mist.
The entire zoo began to shift, twisting, folding inward, until Minh and Tài stood once more in a different space, a new layer of the domain awakening around them.
The zoo reshaped itself again, wider, darker, and filled with even more cages stretching beyond sight.
The faint lights flickered like dying stars above their heads. Minh and Tài looked at each other; they both understood now.
The puzzle had repeated, only larger, crueller.
They moved quickly, checking symbols and stars, marking patterns on the same worn paper.
Their hands trembled not from fear, but from the strain of déjà vu pressing on their minds.
Two cages stood out this time, the only ones with unique symbols.
They opened the first. Silence.
They opened the second. The light went out.
The zoo reshaped again, larger, endless, cages stacking higher into the dark.
Tài let out a weary whimper.
“How long he want us to solve this?
Too boring. He not think anything outside this?”
Minh’s voice turned flat, unpleasant.
“Just get over it.”
Both began their search again, marking symbols, counting stars, their steps heavier than before.
This time, only one cage stood out, one unique among the thousands.
Tài groaned. “First three, then two, now one. Hope this joke finished soon.”
The zoo reshaped again.
- Why does Phúc’s mind look like a zoo?
- What do the stars on the cages represent?
- And how many layers are left before they reach the true domain?