COZMART: Corner Shop of Visiting Gods

The white void pinched inward like silk meeting flame—then reality slammed back in one brutal, graceless drop of stones and scattered limbs.

All nine teams were spat out simultaneously. Bodies—commanders and team members alike—sprawled like puppets cut from strings, the arena floor suddenly crowded with the living, the limp, and the barely conscious.

Eathan didn't know how long had passed before his eyes snapped open to a carousel of lanterns and ringing in his ears. The gold that had sheathed his skin a heartbeat ago had blown out like a candle; he was just breath and bones again, coughing grit.

Familiar HUD diagnostics flashed before his vision:

[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION:

You have completed [Main Quest]:

Survive round three of the Realm-Barrier Games!

You have been rewarded: 1000 Karma, 1000 Qi Tokens, 7% Integrity

[Integrity] has increased by 7%! (60% → 67%)

Host [Level]: Lv. 49 → Lv. 55

He blinked through the cheerful text, throat raw. A glance at his [Humanity] showed 50%, a fragile, stabilizing middle ground amidst chaos.

Taking three breaths, he rolled onto an elbow. Chewie was coughing to his left, dark ichor speckling small knuckles; to his right, Willow was upright by force of will, jaw clenched around a shoulder that had gone a color shoulders shouldn't be. Finn clutched his cursed eye and muttered something profane in three languages.

Team 001 looked wrecked. Everyone else looked worse. Across the stone, elites trembled on hands and knees; some commanders even knelt among their team, aura-scarred and pale. The scenes of bloody injury had painted the arena like a graveyard.

No one had escaped unscathed. The sheer spread of injury—blood, cracked armor, stunned eyes—made one truth obvious:

Without the abrupt termination of the nightmare, the Realm-Barrier Games would have ended very differently—far fewer survivors, and far more consequences.

Eathan's heart twisted as he turned to the dais assigned to Area 001's own commander.

Empty.

Hollowness echoed where divine authority should've stood. Eathan's chest fulled tight.

"Mister… White?"

It came out thin, brittle. Silence answered; even the arena's hum seemed to recoil.

He pivoted to survey other teams again, taking in their commanders' presence among exhausted team members. On Team 002, Erlang Shen balanced on one knee, third eye sealed and bleeding at the edges; Lady Meng guided spectral wisps back into unsteady flesh; Ao Bing stood guard over his squad with frost-crazed plates and a stare like winter.

Their gazes, one by one, slid to the same vacancy—the absence where the White Tiger should have stood.

Above, RealmNet feeds stuttered and then roared back alive, commentators tripping over their own breath.

"Stream's finally up!" Brother Woo's voice cracked as he dove back into his script. "All teams returned simultaneously—this… this defies every precedent!"

Yverie stammered beside him, eyes wide. "We lost visuals entirely once Eathan Lin from Team 001 activated that unknown resonance at Demon Prince Cang's platform—something disrupted the Cloud-Jade Ledger broadcast!

Rapid-fire comments shot out beneath their explanation:

[@CouncilStaffToBe]: Finally back online!! What happened to the stream?

[@WhiteTigero0o]: Did Team 001 break the Games?

[@PermanentlyConfuzzed]: Someone confirm Area 001 commander status asap!!!

Amid this mounting chaos, a single note rang clear—a mechanical chime. The arena stilled a fraction, and the impassive tones of the Cloud-Jade Ledger broke through the hush:

"Commander 001: Core integrity 48%.

Location: Unknown."

The arena stilled, whispers dying mid-sentence. Eathan felt the cold settle under his ribs. All eyes collectively turned toward Team 001.

Li Wei's expression grew severe, exchanging glances with Foxfire. Even Qiongqi's look of permanent disdain was replaced with gravity. The commanders understood collectively—Bai Hu's actions had forcibly terminated the nightmare for every commander present, sparing many of them a far worse fate.

"What does it mean?" Finn's whisper barely carried over the heavy quiet.

"He sacrificed himself," Chewie said. "He broke his own core."

Willow stared blankly ahead, understanding dawning. "He brought everyone out together. He knew—"

"Without him," Chewie muttered, "we would've been trapped until our souls cracked."

Eathan's stomach turned. Taeril's last smile—quiet, almost fond—flashed behind his eyes. He shut them once, hard, against the heat gathering there.

This wasn't victory—it was survival. Survival that tasted like iron.

Before anyone could speak further, a spiralling golden portal tore open from the high arena sky, casting shadows over the confused, shaken contestants. Pristine figures emerging from the rip in the sky, each draped in immaculate silver.

Platinum Paladins of the Heavenly Realm.

They hit the stone as one—a ring of gleam and statute, blades at rest but stance uncompromising. Within seconds, they had spread across the space to form containment lines around each team.

From the portal's epicenter, a senior Paladin strode forward briskly, his armour gleaming like frost. Approaching Team 001, he raised one hand—his presence a perfect balance of military precision and bureaucratic detachment.

"Remain calm," he instructed, sharp eyes scanning them one at a time behind the helmet. "This is a sanctioned medical extraction. Direct orders from the Jade Deity himself."

The circle around each team tightened. Paladin medics moved with quiet efficiency, diagnostic talismans clicking, scan-threads darting like threads of light across wounds.

Eathan struggled to focus, exhaustion dragging at every limb, consciousness flickering. Yet even so he felt an uncomfortable feeling creeping under his mind. He glanced toward Willow, whose eyes narrowed at the white-clad soldiers.

Fragments of whispered conversation reached Eathan as medics checked his vitals, detached hands sweeping over his frame.

"…core integrity dangerously low. Immediate recovery priority—no public disclosures…"

"…direct order from Jade Deity, secure the core immediately."

"This…" Willow leaned slightly towards Eathan, voice a whisper beneath medical chatter. "This doesn't feel quite like a rescue."

He didn't disagree. He was too busy feeling the invisible hands of policy settle like cold wire around them. Paladins were not first responders; they were statute in motion—the Heavenly Realm's favorite auditors when a ledger said jump and everyone else had to ask how high.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Eathan glanced around, fatigue mingling with an urgent instinct: something was terribly wrong. However, the Paladins allowed no room for protest or interrogation. They moved them swiftly into isolation, sharing the same stoic look on their face.

The arena lights dimmed; a colossal holo bloomed over the floor, Cloud-Jade characters folding into a new decree.

"Area 001 placed under Mandatory Dormancy Protocol Lockdown. Official commander presence absent until successful return or dormancy period expires."

Participants exchanged wary, confused glances, while RealmNet screens around the arena erupted into furthered frenzied speculations.

"According to the Cloud-Jade Ledger," Brother Woo jolted in the commentator booth, scrambling to clarify, "when a commander's core is compromised or missing due to an unplanned emergency, their jurisdiction faces a mandatory 90-day dormancy period to allow karmic stabilization. However—

He paused, scanning the latest emergency bulletin displayed before him. "Given the unprecedented severity of Bai Hu's core dispersal—threatening direct karmic collapse across Area 001—this dormancy period is being significantly extended. In this unique case, the mandatory dormancy will last a full year."

"A full year?" Yverie breathed. "The Council will have to decide an interim—"

RealmNet erupted instantly, screens flooding with hysteria unchecked:

[@SnakeSpirit003]: A WHOLE YEAR? Is Area 001 getting abandoned?

[@ConfusedMortal]: Did Bai Hu really just… semi-die?

[@ImmortalityOverTea]: Who will replace him if the White Tiger doesn't return?

Brother Woo continued, speaking rapidly yet clearly to stabilize the wave of panic. "This extension arises directly from the White Tiger's karmic magnitude. Commander Bai Hu's core fracture presents an unprecedented danger, directly threatening Area 001's qi infrastructure. The Council of Ten must deliberate on either an interim commander or potential reclassification once the full dormancy period ends."

"Two Council seats empty simultaneously…" Yverie's expression remained carefully professional, though visibly shaken. "Political equilibrium is unstable at unprecedented scales. If not addressed immediately, repercussions could ripple through mortal and immortal realms alike!"

Eathan's stomach churned. Dormancy meant locks slammed on budgets, node authority throttled, Equilibrium points frozen in place; it meant politics wearing teeth. The Council of Ten would circle the vacuum, smiling with their mouths and calculating with their eyes.

Li Wei's hologram popped up in one feed, jaw tight; Lady Foxfire's profile lit another, gaze sharpened to a knife's edge; Qiongqi's disdain gave way to something grimmer. Around the arena, commanders were already speaking into invisible channels, war rooms opening in the space between heartbeats.

Erlang Shen was the first to break the suspended hush. His hologram resolved with bruised clarity—cracked spear haft at one shoulder, dried blood darkening the line of his brow. "An interim commander must be appointed immediately," he said, each word clipped into the air. His gaze flicked toward Team 001, unreadable. "Balance before sentiment."

"The Council must stabilize, or chaos will follow," Wen echoed. "The mortal realm is always the first to pay the price." A quiet glance slid to Li Wei's feed as if to underline the point.

Ao Bing's image surfaced next, frost-mist still curling from his armour. When he spoke, there was none of his usual haughtiness—only thought. "White Tiger's action cannot be weighed like a routine failure. He dispersed his own core to force termination. That spared us a cascade of collapses."

He didn't say mine too, but the admission trembled between words.

The Council fractured into rapid, tense debate, each commander acutely aware of the disaster narrowly avoided. The White Tiger's core fracture had been the singular act preventing total chaos across realms—had the nightmare persisted, the Game's altered rules would have forced countless divine cores into sympathetic failure.

Instead, one had chosen to break so the rest did not.

Exchanges cascaded across RealmNet—some advocating decisive replacement, others calling urgently for thorough investigation into the White Tiger's fate.

As debates cascaded across various platforms—some demanding immediate replacements, others calling for thorough investigation—the Cloud‑Jade Ledger cut across the quarrel with the authority of stone. Glyphs flared overhead, rendering text no one present could ignore.

[DORMANCY PROTOCOL]:

Area 001—365-Day Mandatory Stabilization Period initiated.

Please submit the Interim Commander to the Cloud-Jade Ledger in the next 24-hours.

Thank you for your cooperation.

The projection's tone was perfectly impartial, which only made the judgment feel colder. The ledger was designed for exactly this—locking procedures in place when equilibrium faltered and forcing all parties to record their moves. Even gods hated a clock they couldn't bend.

Amidst the swelling uncertainty, Brother Woo 's broadcast voice tried to catch the storm by the tail.

"That… concludes the thirty‑ninth Realm‑Barrier Games." He stumbled, recovered into brisk professionalism. "Thank you for tuning in, dear viewers. Further developments will be issued via the Ledger."

Streams snapped to black, leaving ten thousand private channels to fill with rumor, teetering on the edge of inter-realm chaos.

Inside the quarantine barrier, Eathan stared through the wards, watching Paladins methodically seal the perimeter. Each glowing line snapped into place like bars of a cage, cutting Team 001 off from the outside world. Beyond, the central arena emptied promptly, drones and commentators moving out in subdued silence.

"Feels like we fought an entire war—only to lose at the last second," Willow muttered.

"I'd settle for being told that this is all a dream." Finn sagged against the barrier and winced at the hum.

"Well, it's not. And this isn't over," Chewie said, gaze tracking a medic's gloved hands as they checked Eathan's pulse. "Bai Hu's core integrity is below half. Not exactly dead yet, but one wrong move, and there'll be no coming back."

Eathan heard them as if from underwater. The Paladins' neutral voices moved around him like the sea—"stabilize vitals," "no public disclosures," "secure the core"—and all he could see was that last half‑smile shattering into silver. He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Willow's hand settled, quick and careful, on his forearm.

He knew," he whispered. "He knew what it meant."

A heavy silence settled. The nearest quarantine screen buzzed with chaotic RealmNet chatter, digital lines flaring bright against subdued faces.

[TRENDING]:

"Area 001 Lockdown: Guardian Missing, Fate Uncertain"

"Council in Crisis: White Tiger's Seat Empty"

"Bai Hu's Sacrifice—Heroism or Reckless Endangerment?"

Willow's eyes narrowed as she scanned the rapid-fire headlines.

"Two vacant seats. The Council was already on a knife's edge. Now it's practically bleeding into the water."

Eathan's gaze fixed unseeing on the polished floor, the memory of the White Tiger's final, resigned smile branded into his thoughts.

"He knew what he was doing," he murmured again. "He knew exactly what it meant—and he still chose this."

Chewie glanced sidelong at him, expression unreadable. "And now we live with it."

Overhead, the last of the crowds were cleared out under soft‑voiced protocols. The arena emptied the way oceans retreat before a tidal change. Team 001 stood alone in a ring of light, quarantined by law and optics both.

The Game's countdowns might have stopped, but a different clock had begun to tick.

***

In the highest sanctum of the Heavenly Realm, light pooled like water over carved jade. Columns breathed that ancient, careful stillness peculiar to halls where decisions outlast their makers.

At its center, the Jade Deity stood motionless, jade robes pooling around him and features shrouded in the shadows.

Before him knelt a Paladin, head bowed and armour glowing in muted reverence.

"Retrieve Seat 001's core at all costs," the Jade Deity commanded. "Ensure no interference."

At his words, the armoured leader raised her head slightly. "Your Majesty," she said, voice emerging carefully neutral. "Regarding Commander Bai Hu—do you intend restoration?"

A prolonged silence followed. The Jade Deity's gaze remained fixed upon something unseen. Shadows danced subtly across his obscured features, intentions masked in shades of uncertainty.

Finally, he spoke again, voice softer now. "It is imperative his core returns to our custody, before matters escalate further."

The Paladin Head lowered her gaze respectfully. "Understood."

Just as she stood to leave, another set of steps entered the chamber with a scholar's unhurried cadence. A man emerged into pale spectral illumination—robes embroidered with golden glyphs, movements fluid like water.

"Minister Mei," the Jade Deity greeted, calm but clearly expectant. "You have insights?"

Minister Mei inclined himself with elegant economy, attention settling almost idly upon the suspended game board at the Deity's side. Ranks of pieces glimmered—some mid‑move, some seemingly drifted by an unseen tide.

"Your Majesty," Mei murmured, tone mild, "the waters of the afterlife hold hidden currents—both dangerous and opportune. Recent karmic disturbances surrounding Seat 001 may require a... nuanced approach."

The Jade Deity's hand paused. His attention sharpened subtly, though his features remained masked by shifting shadows. "Do voice your counsel."

The Karmic Minister's expression remained mild, eyes lowered in deference. "The White Tiger is more than mere power—his core's karmic influence intertwines deeply with celestial harmony. One misstep could cascade into unwanted chaos. Yet, handled wisely, it could yield unparalleled advantage."

"Thus," the Jade Deity said. "You suggest caution."

"Caution and subtlety, Your Majesty."

The Jade Deity turned slowly, gaze directed beyond the columns, toward unseen realms stretched beneath the heavenly chambers.

After a prolonged silence, he gestured to the Paladin on the floor.

"See to it personally, Captain," he said. "Time is against us."

The Paladin raised her head fractionally. "As you command, Your Majesty."

"With Captain Ji's capabilities, success is guaranteed." Minister Mei stepped forward, offering a cordial smile toward the Paladin. "My daughter, Yuling, has much to learn under your esteemed guidance."

The Captain spared him only a brief, expressionless glance before turning fully back toward the Jade Deity. "It shall be done."

Without another word, she rose, saluting once before heading towards the exit. The jade doors sealed behind her, leaving the room once more in silence.

The Minister kept his place a pace behind, patient as a shadow. His quiet gaze lingered upon the space the Platinum Paladin had vacated.

For a moment, the Jade Deity was motionless. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, the chessboard recomposed in midair. The pieces stood still at first, before slowly, silently shifting—each movement rippling as if bearing a mind of its own.

At the board's very heart, a single piece lay toppled on its side—carved in the unmistakable shape of a tiger.

"A delicate game, Your Majesty," Minister Mei offered gently.

The Jade Deity's hand fingers hovered thoughtfully above the piece, neither setting it upright nor removing it entirely. His gaze remained on the tiger, voice low and indistinctly tender with something like regret—or calculation.

"And now, child," he said, to the empty air, to the board, to a realm full of watchers, "we find out whether you remain as player, pawn, or sacrifice."