14th December, the year 333 of Dawn Era; the cramped room ushered in silence, its dark atmosphere suffused with a sense of coldness. A faint aura coagulated around the region, twisting and turning, forming into a whole, breaking down soon due to a lack of cohesiveness.

A figure slept on a bed, his face scrunched up in distress. His forehead perspired with sweat, drenching the bedsheet wrapped around. His eyebrows faintly shivered, as if affected by something, preventing a sound sleep from knocking the door.

There was a white fog, broiling around in varying intensity, forming a natural barrier. It covered the landscape, leaving behind only a scrap piece of land, circular in shape, sporting a radius of 10 metres.

Scrapped remains of tables and chairs were strewn around, covering them were pieces of papers, with the intact ones sporting diagrams of human anatomy. Situated at the centre of the land was a large pile of books, shredded to the extent they had turned into grains.

The entire scene was desolate, lacking any signs of life, like one that had faced apocalypse. Faint gusts were stirred up, actuated by the action of the broiling fog. The wind swept past the pile of books, lifting the grains from the top layer of the mound.

The grains flew, carried by the wind, revealing a faint shiny black surface, one filled with thin tendrils, looking similar to hair but sported sharp ends. Upon coming into contact with the ambience, the shiny black surface paled in complexion, soon becoming a shade of blue.

It turned crystalline, its transparent surface revealing tiny wriggling strands floating within, squirming under the catalyst that was the ambience. Soon, the black surface wriggled, pushing the surrounding grains.

What appeared to be a leg peeked out, followed by another. A few more trailed behind it, followed by a flat surface that dug out. Soon, a spider stood on the grainy mound, looking at the broiling fog.

Suddenly, two tendrils erupted from within its body, parting it along the mid-section into two halves, like mirror objects. The two tendrils increased in length, becoming thicker than its body. They flashed around, impacting the broiling fog, forming an indentation at the point of contact.

The spider cried out in pain, unable to control the two tendrils that slammed the broiling fog, causing it to thin out, revealing a blurry landscape beyond. Spurred by the appearance of the blurry landscape, the two tendrils thrashed about even wilder.

They coiled around one another, forming a spike, touching a certain spot, drilling their way through. The broiling fog was unable to contest with them, soon caving in, dissipating when it was pierced through.

Before it could be fully split into two, the spider watched the landscape, feeling a sense of horror envelop it. The place the landscape existed before was now replaced by a forehead; the place the spike pierced was a spot that looked like a human's glabella.

The forehead began to shrink in size, soon turning small enough for the spider to gaze at its entirety, letting out a mournful cry. It was a human woman, sporting wide facial features. The whites of her eyes were currently displayed, her twitching arms lacked any strength in them to resist.

The spike drilled out of her head, emerging on the other side, instantly causing her limbs to droop, eliminating all signs of life. The mouth moved up and down once, forming a word before the scene was drowned by a sea of blood.

"Jyor…ta…"

Jyorta woke up with a start, trembling in fright. He hurriedly touched the side of his ribs, not spotting any extra-biological outgrowth. His heart thumped in increasing speeds while a faint stench of sweat wafted out from him, one that wasn't normal.

Jyorta placed a hand on his forehead, feeling a coarse grainy texture. He swiped it and gazed at his palm, only realising that the room was dark. His other hand shot towards a switch, illuminating the room.

It took him a minute for his eyes to get used to the ambience, allowing him to see the substance on his hand. It was a white powder, looking similar to chalk powder but seemed to be made of a gelatinous substance.

"Brain Crystal impurities?" Jyorta entered the restroom, taking a glance at the mirror, experiencing a fright. His face looked a stark shade of white, like a spectre. The roots of his hair too had turned white, the case being the same for the rest of his body.

He opened the tap, watching a steady stream of water fall. He placed his palm underneath it, watching the shade of white covering it thin out a little. He peeped out the door, watching the time displayed on the clock hung on the wall.

7:17 AM, Jyorta decided to freshen up. Done with emptying his bowels, he brushed his teeth, finding his tongue had turned white. He picked up a tongue cleaner and cleaned his tongue, noticing the white come off like old skin.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he rinsed his mouth and headed to take a shower, observing the water fall on his body. The puddle of water formed on the floor was a shade of white, also having sediments formed in a matter of seconds.

Jyorta scrubbed like a mad man, using more than half of the soap. Finished with his bath, he stood before the mirror, watching his hair revert to its prior colour—dark brown that looked black when viewed from afar.

He noticed a new set of clothes placed at the end of his bed, wondering when it was placed. He then wore it and exited the cramped room, watching the numerous rectangular boxes that were stacked next to the circular bench.

Two of them were bigger than him, making him wonder the species sealed within. Jyorta glanced around, finding Anruk Light's absence. He arrived before the room of his sister, trying to open it, finding it locked.

He then walked towards the remaining room, finding its state the same as the other two. Left with no other choice, he arrived at the exit, the door that led into the narrow hallway. As he twisted the doorknob, he found it locked too, leaving him in an exasperated state.

Jyorta took in the view of his blue soul, sending his Soul Cornea out, passing it through the door. He didn't want to use his psychic arm, lest his actions were detected by the others, causing unwanted problems.

So, he played it safe. The Soul Cornea appeared on the other side, failing to sense anything. After all, even his Soul Cornea could only sense the happenings in a metre radius around him. Beyond that, its perception was an absolute zero.

Through his perception, Jyorta had an inkling that the length of his Soul Cornea had slightly increased, now surpassing a metre.

'So, the limit is no longer a metre. If it is the same as my psychic arm, it would soon grow to be 10 metres long.' Left with no other choice, Jyorta sat on the circular bench, watching the rectangular boxes with a gaze of curiosity.

He wanted to probe them with his Soul Cornea, making them his subsouls should they pique his interest. But, thinking of Atika Light, Jyorta controlled his actions, unwilling to take his chances.

Even though they had been placed there with the intention to be of use to him, without getting permission from Atika Light, he didn't want to act. Moreover, his sister was his priority. Satisfying his curiosity could wait until later.

Jyorta closed his eyes, sensing his Brain Crystal, trying to get a grasp of his current abilities.

'Even though they are naturally being discharged by my body, my Sync Rate has still been affected. Based on my senses, it has now dropped to 65 percent. But, the good news is that I no longer feel any obstruction in my psychic energy, meaning, I have gotten rid of all the Brain Crystal impurities.'

8:00 AM, the door opened as Atika Light entered, holding a tiny box in her hands, immediately noticing him. On seeing her, Jyorta stood up and made a slight bow, greeting vibrantly.

"Good morning, ma'am!"

"Morning, child." Atika Light smiled, arriving before Heima's room as she opened the door. She beckoned for him to follow, entering first.

Within a minute, Anruk Light arrived, carrying a thin bag, dragging his feet, looking exhausted. He stood before the door and sensed its rattling. In response to that, he picked up five rectangular boxes, similar to the ones he had sent in the previous day.

He opened the door and sent in the five boxes, including the thin bag he had brought in, closing the door the moment he finished the delivery. He then leaned on the wall beside the door, heaving a sigh, expressing his exhaustion.

He looked at the ceiling, feeling his eyes turn blurry, forming faint patterns, informing him of something. He retracted his gaze, closing his eyes, pinching his nose for a moment.

'It is time to make a breakthrough.'