15th November, the year 333 of Dawn Era, it was evening by the time Jyorta got discharged. Accompanied by Heima, he left the 4th Academy, boarding a metro train back home.

"I probably won't be coming here again." He sighed, murmuring, "The memories of my first year at school."

"You are quite calm as compared to me from back then," Heima said, recalling her experience. The fear she experienced, the weakness she felt, and the disgust she masked at a creature residing within her; her eyes flashed with thought, recalling things she never wanted to remember.

"I've been experiencing all sorts of emotions for the past one week. I feel like I have exhausted a month's supply of emotions," Jyorta said, wincing in pain as he began to climb up the stairs, his body failing to cooperate with him.

"My memory is filled with the rehabilitation ward," Jyorta sighed as he got carried by Heima, his weight posing zero challenge to her. Disregarding the stares from curious onlookers, Heima boarded a train, heading back home.

She dropped him at the doorstep, opening the door after a series of procedures, finding the living room coated with a faint layer of dust. She then noticed the door to the balcony ajar, the reason for the accumulation of dust.

Heima looked to her side, motioning for Jyorta to enter, "Sit somewhere; let me clean the house first. I'll then cook us dinner."

Jyorta nodded, finding a sofa to sit on. He slumped on it with force, raising a small dust cloud, giving him a fit of cough. He found the remote on the table before him, switching on the TV. He surfed through the channels, stopping on a channel, his eyes widening in shock.

"T-Tom and Jerry?" He blurted out, his shout deafening. He then looked at Heima, noticing her gaze. "I grew up watching this cartoon. H-how can this appear here?"

"Are you sure this isn't something similar?" Heima inquired, her brows scrunched up into a frown.

"No, this is the exact same version. This cartoon is a masterpiece; I have watched each episode at least 10 times. So, I know each minute action, the position of each character, the plot, the action, and the accompanying background music. They are the exact same." Jyorta frowned, his thoughts exploding.

Over the past year and a half, he experienced many things the world had to offer in full, despite his area of exploration limited to his home, school, and the nearby market. He witnessed strange products, each of which being bizarre.

The only familiarity he felt was the food but, that didn't seem odd to him. The cuisine in his previous world incorporated everything edible under the heavens, so it wasn't a surprise that he found something familiar. But, it was only familiar, not similar. The taste, the ingredients, many things were different which led him to believe that the civilisation here also invented dishes along the line of his previous world.

But now, seeing a show that was a hundred percent match from his memories, Jyorta fell into deep thought, his mind turning chaotic. "Sister, is this the first time this show has aired?"

"Hmm, nope." Heima shook her head, "It airs on this channel at this period every year. You were busy with the exams last year, so you hadn't watched much TV. But, I myself have seen this show thrice."

'When my body was under Jyorta's control, he hadn't seen this show even once. Or maybe, he just wasn't interested? Then…'

Jyorta closed his eyes, looking through his memories, using his blue soul's capabilities to the limit, searching through the information, and filtering the ones that originated from him and the ones that originated from the previous Jyorta.

'Hmm, there is nothing out of the picture here. The shows the previous Jyorta enjoyed during childhood are not familiar to me. Then, why is Tom and Jerry the only exception?'

His train of thought slowly changed, his expression turning into one of alarm, "Sister, do we have old calendars in our home?"

"They should be in the storeroom. Let me fetch them," Heima replied, her expression serious. Many memories that she had inherited from Gajara Rahi surfaced, giving her clues and furthering her confusion.

She entered the storeroom, dug through a pile of old books and papers, and picked out a rolled bundle from within. She coughed a couple of times, dusting the bundle as she unravelled it. She then brought them out, laying them on the floor in the living room.

Jyorta flipped through them, looking at the months, dates, etc. his expression lost. "12 months…January 31, February 28…December 31 for a total of 365 days; there are seven days per week, addressed from Monday to Sunday. The years 330 and 226 have 366 days, the extra day allotted to February, giving it the 29th day. This is the Gregorian calendar used in the 21st Century. How come I never noticed it and took it like it was obvious?"

"Yes, Dawn Era." Jyorta turned towards Heima, "Sister, do we have anything before that, before the Dawn Era? The oldest calendar we have is only the year 225."

"I'm afraid we don't have that." Heima shook her head, "Even if grandfather possessed them, he wouldn't show it to us. Though, I doubt even he has it. Probably only the two Royal families possess them since they existed from the beginning of Dawn Era."

"Sister," Jyorta spoke after some thought, "The internet available to you is different from the one available to the regular populace right?"

"Yes, though our search results there would be heavily monitored. Once you graduate from the military academy, you too would have access to it." Heima replied.

"Then, search for the terms: twitter, messenger, falcon 9, and blackberry. See if anything pops out." Jyorta said. Immediately, Heima entered a soundproof room, searching up the results on a computer.

She closed the door, barring Jyorta's entry. There was a possibility that they might look at the person who was searching, and if they ended up finding the presence of Jyorta—someone who hadn't yet obtained the qualification to access it—then things would get difficult for Heima.

Even in the best-case scenario, she might be jailed and required to pay a hefty fine. Moreover, she could just transmit the search results to him by word of mouth. As long as no one knew of it and as long as Jyorta didn't leak it to a third person, everything would be fine, with none the wiser.

After 10 minutes, Heima walked out, her expression puzzled, "The meaning of the word Twitter appeared, related to the sound a bird produces, filled with its usage in sentences and other related stuff. Blackberry is a fruit that grows in the wilds, very far to the northwest of our subcontinent. Falcon is a Frenzy Beast; it neither possesses any distinct trait that sets it apart from the others nor powerful strength, the max documented being Tier 4."

She then continued, her expression changing a little, "As for messenger, nothing popped out. But, from my memories, it is a pigeon Frenzy Beast that has been enslaved in Reef City. It has many uses…"

Seeing his crumbling expression, Heima stopped elaborating, "I also searched for some other things from my memories, stuff that wasn't too obvious. But sadly, nothing came up."

"Then…" Jyorta let out a sigh, "Forget it for now. We'll find more in the future. Sister, I'm hungry. Let us eat."

"I'll clean the room first," Heima said, picking up a broomstick. She paused, looking at Jyorta, "There are levels for our information access, depending on our strength. I currently have level 3 access. Once I become a Shifter, I'll have level 4 access and be able to search for more. I've also had many questions popping up due to the memories I inherited but, only when our strength rises will we be able to unravel the answers to them."

"Strength…" Jyorta muttered, his expression changing.

While Heima cleaned the house, Jyorta dragged his self to his room, taking his time to dust the area. He opened his cupboard, intending to take a brush to help him clean the intricate parts. His gaze fell on a folder, its contents slightly disarranged.

Jyorta picked up the folder, looking at his certificate for completion of the 10th standard. As for the 11th standard, he had yet to receive. It was due next week since he had survived the Induction Ceremony.

"50…45…56…61…76…43…48; quite the below-average score if I must say. Except for the Modern Rodawri subject, it was difficult to hold back on the others. In preparation for the military academy, I got a bit serious with my 11th standard exams. Only in such a manner will I not raise any suspicions should I give an exemplary academic performance in the military academy. They will just assume I worked harder than anyone else." With a chuckle, he enclosed it inside the folder, stashing it away safely.

He then noticed a long cardboard box at the bottom, exclaiming, "Let me see if anything has changed."

He removed the lid and picked out a narrow piece of paper, a metre in length, and 2 centimetres in breadth. There was a tiny loop made from cotton thread, attached to one end. Jyorta hung it over a hook suspended in the air, situated in the middle of the room, hovering a metre and a half from the ground.

One side of the strip of paper had lines drawn on it, looking like markings composed of three different lengths, separated at regular intervals. It had the least count of 1 millimetre, marked with a short line. There was a medium line every 5 millimetres and a long line that depicted a centimetre, the resultant number printed to its right. It ranged from the number '0' to '100', for a total length of 100 centimetres.

Jyorta sat on the ground, focusing on the number '0' at the bottom, his line of sight horizontal to it. The paper strip hung 2 feet away from him, its surface unmoving due to a lack of wind.

As he focused his attention on the paper, the blue soul within began to chant the verse imparted by the creepy-haired man, creating two Soul Corneas.

The blue soul extended a soul cornea out of his body, noticing its rate of dissipation similar to before. Slowly, he made it touch the paper strip, making contact with the number '0'. Nothing happened, the Soul Cornea passed through it, unable to affect reality.

"Now, corrode!" Jyorta shouted; the Soul Cornea turned pitch black, beginning from the portion near his head until its end, looking like the depth of the cosmos, one bereft of light.

A small inky black substance appeared over the number '0', spreading through it like a blotch, corroding it like a flame, covering its 2 centimetre wide area within a second and spreading further upwards. It proceeded up like a tide, infusing a certain substance into it.

Jyorta noticed the numbers the black ink drowned, watching it proceed up like an unstoppable tide. Finally, the area where the number '0' existed crumpled, disintegrating into fine dust. Starting from it, fine ink-black dust fell from the strip of paper, stopping just a single millimetre from the number '8'.

The strip of paper had its length reduced to 92 centimetres. Jyorta became tired, looking no different from someone who had run a marathon. He looked at the result, grunting in irritation, "The result this time is even lower than the one I obtained on October 31st."

"Of course it will be lower. Your body is currently exhausted from having your psychic energy leaking out at regular intervals." Heima entered the room, taking a glance at the paper strip.

She pulled him up, her voice harsh, "Even though you managed to control the spilling of your psychic energy, you have lost a lot of weight. Look at this skinny stick, is this something a boy your age should have?"

"…" Jyorta blinked, once, twice, thrice, his gaze perplexed. He placed his hand over his stomach, hearing it rumble with protest, "Then let's eat. My potential girlfriends would feel pain in their hearts if they were to see my current appearance."

"You don't have a single girlfriend, not to mention multiple." Heima retorted, pulling him towards the dining room.

"Potential girlfriends…you know…potential."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."