The figure loomed before them, a ragged gash in the very fabric of existence. It defied categorization, neither ghostly apparition nor divine entity. Instead, it was a bureaucratic aberration of unfathomable antiquity, its nature twisted and complex. Over time, a false sheen of faith had enveloped its procedural essence, like layers of corrupted code masquerading as something sacred, a chilling mockery of the divine. 

It possessed no recognizable visage; instead, a churning mask of complaint codes flickered and danced, each unresolved case a silent, spectral scream echoing through the digital void. Lin Mo felt his deactivated badge throb against his chest, as if jolted awake by a long - forgotten recognition sequence buried deep within its circuitry. The Custodian, it seemed, was acutely aware of his presence.

The Custodian executed another bow, an antiquated gesture harkening back to an epoch cloaked in obscurity. Its motions were rigidly mechanical, yet carried an undercurrent of reverence, much like an ancient automaton meticulously reenacting a long - established ceremonial program. 

“Audit acknowledged. Custodial trial initiated under Clause Omega-Vestige,” it intoned, its voice a dissonant chorus of static and echoes. “Subject: Lin Mo, Offset Heir of the Shelved Complaint. Consent presumed upon lineage verification.”

Zhou tensed, her scanner emitting weak clicks as it struggled to parse the mythogenic energy surging around them. “This isn’t a negotiation,” she whispered, her eyes wide with dread. “It’s an inheritance.”

Lin took a steadying breath. “What happens if I refuse?”

The Custodian tilted its head, a disturbingly human - like gesture that seemed grotesque on its shifting form, like an insect aping empathy. “Then the Complaint remains adrift in limbo. But your timeline... will be rewritten.”

With those words, the temple around them began to warp. Columns stretched into infinity, defying the laws of perspective. Rainfall outside reversed, flowed upward, and zigzagged through the air as gravity succumbed to the whims of some higher narrative logic.

Lin stepped forward, steeling himself. “I accept the audit.”

At his words, the Custodian’s form shifted. Its limbs reshaped into something more humanoid, reminiscent of a father figure, a wise mentor, and a stern judge all at once,a composite of authority and guidance drawn from the deepest recesses of collective memory.

“Then receive the Key.”

Between them, a sigil blazed into being,a hypnotic double-spiral, its seven distinct arms coiling and interlacing with a furtive eighth appendage that blinked in and out of tangible existence, as if flirting with the boundaries of reality. This was no mere key; it was a linchpin of stories, a potent relic that bestowed upon its bearer the authority to confront distorted legends and extract the unvarnished truth from the very citadels of power. 

As Lin reached out to grasp it, the Custodian hissed a warning: “Beware. Every complaint casts a shadow of counterclaim.”

The instant Lin's fingers curled around the anchor, the very fabric of reality splintered. With a violent jolt, the world of Temple Sector 7 was ripped away, and they were hurtled into an infinite expanse of mirrored glass. Each reflective surface warped and twisted, displaying a dizzying array of a billion fragmented skies,an ever - shifting mosaic of fractured realities, a chaotic kaleidoscope where the laws of existence seemed to dissolve into a storm of distorted reflections. 

Suspended above them, a spectral tribunal of fragmented deities hovered in a state of perpetual flux. Their visages were marred by digital decay, half - erased by some cosmic eraser and half - rewritten with glitching code, flickering restlessly between forms as if struggling to maintain a coherent identity. From the very air itself, a voice thundered with the force of a thousand collapsing stars, reverberating through every corner of the infinite expanse: "STATE YOUR COMPLAINT."

Lin's throat tightened, parched as the desert sands, yet his resolve remained unshaken. With a steady hand, he raised the narrative anchor high, its sigil glowing with an otherworldly light, and unleashed his accusations like a storm breaking over the silent tribunal.

"I file against the Celestial Council, architects of this false divinity," he declared, his voice echoing across the void.

"I file against the commodification of godhood, the desecration of the sacred for profit," he continued, each word a hammer blow against the corrupt establishment.

"I file against the systematic erasure of truth, hidden behind the false promise of salvation," he finished, his tone ringing with righteous indignation.

The entire tribunal convulsed, as if struck by a powerful tremor. Reality itself seemed to warp and bend under the weight of his words. Zhou, her face drained of all color, clutched at his sleeve, her fingers trembling. "Lin," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. "They're not rejecting your claim."

Lin turned, his gaze fixed on the spectacle unfolding before him. The broken gods, once adrift in their fragmented forms, now began to converge. Their glitching, half - formed bodies intertwined and merged, reshaping into a new entity，something beyond the comprehension of mortal or divine. It was an abomination, a being unchained from the laws of divinity and the bounds of reality, a force that would soon demand its own day in court. And Lin Mo, who had dared to accept the Custodian's perilous offer, now found himself thrust into the role of the first，and possibly the last，witness in a trial that threatened to shatter the very fabric of existence.