The first step was to change the way the townspeople thought. To do that, he had to learn how to wield the power of the “Pillar.”

Mu Sichen hadn’t become a cosmic horror through the usual channels of ascension; he had acquired his Pillar through the “Backdoor Recruiter” skill—essentially poaching it from Big Eye. He was still stumbling in the dark regarding its use. But since he was now inside the sanitarium, he felt as though he were standing within the heart of the Pillar itself. If he could truly connect with it, he might finally grasp its mechanics.

He touched his left eye, deciding to utilize the sight he had stolen from Big Eye. As he closed his eyes, a world usually hidden from human perception flickered into view.

He “saw” a colossal Totem of the Self etched into the very foundations of the sanitarium. Every person inside, including Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo, appeared as a point of light in their chest. These lights released thin, glowing threads that anchored them to the Totem.

This was the source of the Pillar’s power.

Far above, however, the Great Eye of the Sky—the three-pupiled emblem of Big Eye—loomed over the domain like a predatory storm, watching. Beneath its gaze, the “Sky” portion of the Self Totem was beginning to blur and fade.

Mu Sichen realized the gravity of the situation instantly. During his three-day absence, Big Eye’s influence had begun to erode his domain. If he had stayed away much longer, his hard-won sanctuary would have been swallowed whole.

And if the Safe House vanished, he didn’t want to think about what would happen to the three of them back in reality, given how this world’s power tended to leak into theirs.

He walked to the center of the lobby, standing at the heart of the Totem. As he quieted his mind, knowledge began to pour into his consciousness. To repair the fading Totem, the Pillar required emotional energy from the people within its bounds.

The Pillar didn’t care about ethics. It was an unfeeling machine, inherited from a God, and it had only one demand: Extract more. Harvest more. It pressured him to expand the domain, to increase the population, and to squeeze every ounce of sentiment from his followers to keep the structure from collapsing.

It wasn’t a support system; it was a bottomless pit.

No wonder the Pillar and Big Eye had different agendas before. The Pillar didn’t care if the volunteers lived or died; it only wanted to manufacture more “patients” to farm their despair.

Mu Sichen felt hijacked. A frantic urge rose within him to start milking “Hope” from the residents just to satisfy the Pillar’s hunger. He wondered if Big Eye felt this constant, gnawing pressure too.

He opened his eyes, jaw set. He refused to give the townspeople a new idol to worship. Doing so would just be Big Eye’s reign under a different name. But if he crushed their spirits, the Pillar would crumble, and all their efforts would be for nothing.

He needed to understand their immediate needs first. “How has life been these past few days?” he asked a nearby volunteer. “Is there anything you need?”

The volunteer, who had eyes on both cheeks, blinked. “It’s been alright… but we can’t leave. I miss my friend at the Food Processing Plant. He used to sneak me extra snacks. I’m… actually quite hungry. I’m not complaining, Dean! It’s just… when will the food be distributed?”

Food. It was a mundane necessity Mu Sichen had completely overlooked.

“How long since you’ve eaten? Where did your supplies come from before?”

“The Apostles used to hand them out,” the volunteer replied. “I haven’t eaten in a day. We had bread and milk in the warehouse, but the stock ran out today. We didn’t know what to do… the medical staff is currently setting up an altar to pray for you to manifest food.”

Mu Sichen’s brow furrowed. “Where is this altar?”

“On the seventh floor. The room where you fought the Apostle.”

A sense of impending disaster gripped him. He motioned for Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo to follow as he sprinted for the stairs.

They burst into Room 704. The massive hole in the wall remained, but the room had been scrubbed clean. In the center of the floor, a giant Self Totem had been painted in fresh red oil. In the middle of the emblem sat the “Antenna-Eye” volunteer—the one who had helped them in the elevator—bound with ropes.

The sight made Mu Sichen’s blood run cold. The Totem, meant to symbolize self-actualization, now looked twisted and sinister, as if it were being fed by something dark.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mu Sichen barked at the circle of doctors.

A doctor in a white coat looked up, his face lighting up with fanatic joy. “Dean! You’ve returned! You heard our prayers! Don’t worry, we are just about to offer this sacrifice to you.”

“Enough!” Mu Sichen roared. He strode to the center, untying the sobbing Antenna-Eye volunteer. “What is wrong with you?”

The doctor looked bewildered, even hurt. “We were praying to you. You told us to have hope. We waited with full hearts for you to grant us food and happiness. When you didn’t come, we realized our hope wasn’t strong enough. It must be the fault of these ‘Depraved’ ones, so we chose one to sacrifice in your name.”

Mu Sichen let out a harsh, angry laugh. He was speechless. He realized now that the three-day limit wasn’t a system deadline—it was the limit of the townspeople’s endurance. If he had been five minutes later, blood would have been spilled in his name.

Looking at the eerie red Totem, he felt a premonition. If a sacrifice had been made within his Pillar, he would have been “reverse-polluted.”

The Gods could corrupt mortals, but the reverse was also true. If enough followers projected a specific, twisted image onto their leader, the leader would eventually become that image. Was this how Big Eye and Qin Zhou started? Were they once something else, before being warped by the collective madness of their subjects?

It was his fault. He shouldn’t have rushed to log out. He should have stayed to understand their culture, their habits, and the scars Big Eye had left behind. You couldn’t just “cleanse” a mind and expect it to function normally after a lifetime of cult worship.

“Dean… I’m not a Depraved one,” the Antenna-Eye volunteer whimpered, clutching Mu Sichen’s sleeve.

“I know,” Mu Sichen said softly, patting his shoulder. “It’s my fault.”

His own subconscious bias against the more “mutated” volunteers had leaked through the Pillar, influencing the townspeople to single out the most “abnormal” among them for sacrifice.

He took a deep breath, connecting his consciousness to the Pillar. He amplified his voice until it echoed in the mind of every soul in the sanitarium.

“I am not a God. I cannot ‘give’ you hope. Hope must come from within—from yourselves, from your own desire for a better life. It is the fuel for action, not a gift to be begged for.”

The words were etched into their hearts like a divine decree. This was the foundation of his Hope Town. He knew this might cause people to lose faith, causing the Pillar to lose power, but he didn’t care. If he couldn’t hold the Pillar without becoming a monster, he didn’t deserve to hold it at all.

As the townspeople processed this world-shattering idea, the “Ocean” and “Earth” portions of the Totem on the floor began to flicker. The foundation was destabilizing. A wave of collective despair washed over Mu Sichen, nearly choking the breath out of him.

Just then, his backpack unzipped from the inside. A small blue octopus climbed out, pressing a cold, stabilizing tentacle to his forehead. Clarity returned. Rationality flooded his system.

Mu Sichen found his voice again.

“I will find food,” he declared. “But I will not hand it out to you daily. I will find the processing plant, secure the supplies, and teach you to farm and raise livestock. You will fill your own bellies through your own labor.”

The crowd listened, rapt.

“I will drive the Eye of the Sky out of this town and give this land back to you. You will have a normal day and night. But after that, I will not lead you. If you want a home, you must build it with your own hands.”

As he spoke these “Commandments of Hope,” the system chimed in his ear.

[Congratulations! You have established a spiritual philosophy for Hope Town, laying the soul-foundation for a healthy relationship between lord and resident. Plant the seed of ‘Self’ in every heart.]

[Newbie Mission 2: Occupy the Pupil Town Food Processing Plant and secure food for your followers.]

[Newbie Mission 3: Expel the ‘Eye of the Sky’ and occupy Pupil Town. Claim your first true territory.]

[Reward: Completing Mission 2 will stabilize the Sanitarium Pillar. Completing Mission 3 will grant the player a safe ‘Semi-Domain.’]

The missions sounded impossible. But Mu Sichen had no choice. The “Log Out” button had vanished again as the Pillar crumbled.

He turned back to the residents, his gaze firm. “I am not your God. We are in a partnership. You provide the emotional energy to maintain this domain and protect your home. I will expand that domain for you. But you must support me with your will, not your worship. Your life is yours. How can you expect to beg for it from someone else?”

Author’s Note:

Qin Zhou (waving tentacles): I’m feeling a bit sentimental.

Mu Sichen (petting the octopus): What’s wrong? Rare to see you down.

Qin Zhou: I wish I had understood what you just said a long time ago.

Mu Sichen (smiling): It’s not too late to learn now.