In theory, it is said that every black hole connects to a white hole — a mysterious counterpart where everything swallowed by the black hole is suddenly hurled out. Like cosmic portals, black holes and white holes are intertwined gateways in space-time. But this remains only theory; no one has ever dared to venture inside a black hole, nor witnessed the journey firsthand.
Dan's eyes were vacant at first, a glazed blankness reflecting the vast unknown around him. He was utterly lost, adrift in a place that defied familiarity. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. Blinking against the harsh glare of unfamiliar skies, he took in his surroundings. His spaceship, lay crumpled nearby — a twisted shell that had nearly flash-crashed. He scrambled toward it, heart pounding, desperate to check its systems, but nothing responded. The instruments were dead; the GPS blinked futilely. He had no clue where he was.
The air was breathable — faintly cool and tinged with the sharp, metallic scent of distant rain on strange soil. Encouraged, he stepped outside, feeling the uneven ground beneath his boots: a mixture of coarse dirt and scattered pebbles, warm from the sun that filtered through a pale, thin atmosphere. The sky stretched wide above him — a faint wash of pastel blues and soft whites, like watercolors bleeding into one another.
Dan hesitated, then pulled the broken airship inside again, worry tightening his chest. Repairing it would cost more than he could afford. It wasn't just any ship; it was a precious gift from Brent, the Duke's son, and losing it felt like losing a piece of his fragile safety.
Surveying the landscape, he saw a planet that seemed deceptively ordinary — rolling fields, clusters of slender trees swaying in a light breeze, distant hills melting into the horizon. But in an instant, his senses snapped to alert.
A low rumble vibrated through the earth. Dan's breath caught as a massive shape emerged — a lion the size of an elephant, stepping out from the shadow of a gnarled tree. This was no ordinary beast. Its fur rippled with a thick, coarse mane streaked in shades of bronze and shadow, teeth jagged and unnervingly long, jutting from snarling jaws like ancient ivory trophies. Its eyes burned amber, fierce and unblinking, scanning the terrain like a living relic from a prehistoric legend.
Dan's gaze sharpened as he quickly assessed the creature:
Bronze Age Lion
[Sacred Level Beast]
He pressed himself flat against the rough bark of the tree, heart hammering as the beast prowled nearby. The air seemed to thicken with the scent of musk and dry earth, a primal perfume that spoke of age-old territory and untamed power. Dan recalled the ancient texts from his home planet — this species had vanished millennia ago, wiped from history. Yet here it was, alive and roaring with feral authority.
Suddenly, the lion unleashed a roar — a deep, resonant bellow that shook the very air, echoing off distant cliffs like thunder rolling across a stormy sky. At once, a surge of movement behind it stirred the underbrush. From the shadows emerged more lions, their muscular bodies coiling and stretching, eyes gleaming like molten gold in the dim light. They moved as one — a pack, or perhaps a pride, numbering in the hundreds, fluid and terrifying.
Dan's pulse quickened. These were no ordinary lions; they were survivors of a lost epoch, fiercely territorial and organized in ranks. The sacred level lion led them, a towering presence among esoteric level hunters, all exuding a predatory grace honed through ancient evolution.
Despite the danger, Dan felt a flicker of relief. If these were the only sacred level beings here, he might stand a chance. Yet, a heavy shroud of mystery hung over this place — its secrets buried deep beneath a veneer of normalcy.
He longed to understand where he was, and whether this world had ever been touched by humanity. No scripture, no legend in his vast knowledge spoke of lions roaming these lands. This region, he realized, was likely undiscovered — an untouched pocket of the cosmos hidden from all explorers.
With a tightening throat and steadying breath, Dan clung to one hope: that he could find a way home, that he would not vanish like so many others who chased the unknown dimensions, only to be swallowed by silence — never to be seen or heard from again.
Dan started looking around and exploring the place. He found many beasts—some rare, some unknown to humanity, and some very common. They moved with eerie grace or brute chaos, their forms strange and twisted, some glistening with iridescent scales, others coated in rough hides like cracked stone. There was every variety of beast in this region, and each one seemed to belong to a different nightmare.
He was searching for something—a human habitat, a trace of civilization, even a discarded tool—anything that might hint at human presence. He clung to the desperate hope that, if he found a way out of this alien land, he could run back to the safety of his own world. But the thought gnawed at him like a splinter in his mind: What if there is no way back? What if I never go home again?
As Dan continued deeper into the region, he soon stumbled upon a ruined manor—a crumbling house half-swallowed by nature and time. The structure stood like a skeleton of the past, its once-proud frame now cloaked in rot and shadows. The color had long since leached from the walls, leaving them the dull hue of ash. Broken shards of glass glittered underfoot like scattered ice, crunching beneath his boots. The fences, once iron-strong, were now jagged and green with rust, barely holding together. Yet there was something odd about them—something invisible, perhaps, but unmistakable. No beasts came near. Not a single creature stirred in the dead air around the manor.
Dan frowned. Normally, beasts would have torn such a place apart or claimed it as their lair, a fortress in the wilderness. But this house stood strangely untouched, as if protected by an unseen veil. Intrigued, he moved toward the fence, each step cautious. As he passed through the gate, a tingling sensation brushed his skin—like static crawling across his arms—but he couldn't say why. Something was definitely off, though he couldn't name it.
He entered the house. A thick, musty scent of mildew and old paper filled his nostrils. The wooden floor creaked under his weight, groaning like it remembered footsteps long vanished. Inside, the manor was more than just ruins—it had been a home. Framed degrees hung crookedly on the peeling walls, their gold-trimmed edges dulled and dust-covered. Research papers lay scattered, yellowed and curling, and rusted scientific instruments rested on toppled tables like relics from a forgotten age.
Dan wandered slowly, carefully. On a nearby desk, faded photographs sat in broken frames—ghosts of smiling faces, their edges warped by moisture. It was clear now: this had once been the home of a researcher. A professor, perhaps. The aura of knowledge still clung to the air like incense, subtle but undeniable.
He climbed the staircase, one hand trailing along the dusty banister, and explored the upper rooms. Cobwebs laced the corners, and the silence felt dense, almost sacred. He searched every nook and crevice, hoping to find something valuable—an answer, a clue, a map, anything that could lead him home.
But what he found gave him a different kind of clarity.
This was indeed a professor's residence. There were notebooks filled with diagrams and observations, and stacks of worn books left behind by students—some with doodles in the margins, others with corrected homework. As he flipped through the pages, a familiar emblem caught his eye. His breath caught in his throat.
The books belonged to students of the Academy.
The Academy. The name alone stirred a reverence that felt cosmic. It wasn't just an institute—it was a mythic citadel of learning, a sanctuary that selected only the most gifted minds across the universe. A crucible of brilliance and ambition. Its halls were said to forge the minds that would shape empires, balance power, and preserve equilibrium in a volatile galaxy. Most people on Dan's planet had only heard whispers of it, like stories of gods. No photos. No website. Nothing on the networks. It was that secretive, that sacred.
As the weight of that realization settled in his chest, Dan descended the staircase once more. But just as he reached the base, something flickered in front of his eyes.
A notification.
The eyes had activated.
He turned slowly, his gaze falling on a patch of floor in the main hall—just beneath the staircase. His heart thudded. There was something below.
Without hesitation, Dan dropped to his knees and began tearing into the floorboards. Dust billowed into the air. The wood cracked and splintered under his effort. As the last layer broke away, he peered into the opening—and saw a hidden staircase spiraling downward into utter blackness.
It was like peering into the throat of a great stone beast.
The staircase wound around the inner wall of a vast cylindrical chamber, like a helix carved into the planet's flesh. Each step was fixed to the wall, descending endlessly into the gloom like a stone ribbon curling downward.
Dan stared into the abyss. Nothing moved. No sound echoed. Only darkness awaited.
And yet—he stepped in.
The moment he placed his foot on the first stair, the silence deepened. With each step downward, the light behind him faded until it was completely devoured. The air grew colder, thicker, as if the atmosphere itself conspired to press against him. It felt like walking through a dream—or a nightmare—one where time had no meaning and distance was just a cruel illusion. The spiral path seemed infinite. No end in sight. No beginning remembered.
He had lost track of time.
At one point, it felt like he was descending through the very heart of the planet, sinking into the core of something ancient and buried.
And then—finally—he reached the bottom.
Before him stood a massive door, silent and monolithic. He didn't hesitate. His hand found the knob and turned it. It gave way easily.
The door creaked open.
Light spilled out, warm and steady.
Drawn to it, Dan stepped forward into the unknown.
He had entered a hall.
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Something is cooking! guess what you will see in the next chapter ???
a. A human
b. A talking ostrich- eagle
c. A vampire
d. An elf
Correct answers only.