Chapter 1: Psychic Armor

Graduation season, breakup season.

Bitter wine burns the throat and pains the heart. Tears streaming down his face, Brian Carter reflected on the four wasted years of college—regretful, unwilling, but above all, disgusted with himself.

The resolute expression of his ex-girlfriend finally woke him up. Leaving the ivory tower of university, what awaited him was the harsh reality.

Yet, recalling bits and pieces of the past, he once again couldn't hold back his tears, slumping onto the floor of his rented apartment, messing up his own hair.

"Isn't it ridiculous? In the end, I'm destined to grow old alone. I've become the person you hated..." The Douyin app on his phone kept looping a certain BGM.

Just like his mood at this moment.

After a while.

He turned off his phone and exhaled a mouthful of boozy breath.

Brian Carter wiped the tear stains from his face, then hurled the empty beer can hard against the wall, cursing out the real reason for his tears: "Beer tastes fucking awful!"

He walked to the window, wanting to breathe some fresh air.

It wasn't dark yet outside. The old residential complex was bathed in the afterglow of dusk. Brian Carter really wanted to shout "Ah!" out the window to vent his feelings, but he didn't. He just looked up at the distant sky, thinking about his plans for the future, about starting over.

Suddenly.

A beam of light descended from the sky, striking Brian Carter directly.

Thud!

His whole body was instantly engulfed by the light, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

……

It was a very, very long dream.

In the dream, scenes flashed by like a carousel, showing a strange civilization. Everything in this civilization was transparent and illusory, including the "humans" of this world, who were just phantom figures. They gathered together, their illusory lights blending like a wondrous ocean.

"The tides of the psychic sea are surging, but we don't have much time left," one phantom figure murmured, looking up at the sky.

"The psychic armor is being forged. We'll succeed in avoiding this disaster."

"Let's hope so."

The scene fast-forwards to a phantom figure presenting a handful of wondrous light: "The first set of psychic armor is complete. We've found the balance between mind and matter. Mr. Temple, we can proceed with the psychic shelter plan!"

Stroking the wondrous light, the phantom figure called Mr. Temple looked up at the sky again: "Too late, too late, there's no time left for us to prepare."

On the horizon, a brilliant light rose. As it shone over the ocean of civilization, everything made of illusory light began to disintegrate.

"Mr. Temple, put on the psychic armor and escape with the legacy of our psychic race!" a phantom figure urged, echoed by the others.

But Mr. Temple only shook his head. He actually threw the wondrous light into the sky.

In the blink of an eye, the light vanished into the horizon, disappearing just before the radiance reached them. The next moment, the light from the sky finally shone down.

The phantom figures began to disintegrate, each showing an expression of fear.

Only Mr. Temple faced it calmly, softly saying, "Without leaving the psychic sea, a Temple who escapes alone—let the psychic armor find its own inheritor."

Boom!

Everything.

Melted into the blazing light.

……

"Whew!"

Brian Carter climbed up from the floor, seeing the clock on the wall pointing to midnight. His head buzzing, he suddenly thought of something, shivered, and hurriedly got up to look at his somewhat stiff reflection in the mirror: "Psychic armor, is it real?"

A protective armor forged by the extraordinary civilization of the psychic race, able to withstand powerful disasters, a wondrous device existing between matter and spirit.

As soon as he thought of the psychic armor, another image appeared in his mind.

A gentle energy enveloped him—formless, intangible, invisible, yet clearly present. With just a thought, this energy could transform into armor and arm him.

"A dream?"

"A hallucination?"

"Or is it real?"

Brian Carter raised his left hand, focused his gaze, and with a thought, imagined an Iron Man glove.