21st September, the year 334 of Dawn era. The ringing sounds of an alarm rang within a room, increasing in amplitude as time passed. Five minutes later, the sounds stopped.

Snuggling within a blanket was Jyorta, his expression a mild frown, despite the posture of comfort his body was in. The morning rays of the sun were warm while the air was slightly cold, creating the perfect atmosphere for sleeping.

His eyelids trembled constantly while sweat formed on his forehead. He turned from time to time, seemingly suffering from a nightmare.

"Murderer!"

A loud voice echoed, resounding in his mind with such startling clarity that it shook him awake. Jyorta sat up in fright, panting as he clutched his head. The voice resounded in his mind once again, making him feel jittery.

His eyes darted to and fro, gazing at his surroundings, focusing on the items in his room but was unable to understand them for the time being. Some seconds later, clarity returned to his mind. Looking around and seeing the familiar things, Jyorta murmured, "I am in my room."

Only then did he notice his clothes slick with sweat. He had a headache as he gazed at his fingers, noticing them faintly tremble without any signs of stopping. He clenched his hand into a fist, closing his eyes as he firmed himself.

"This is hard. What am I supposed to do?" He buried his face in the bedsheet, his body trembling while a thin stream of tears flowed from his eyes. Nightmares, questionable identity, loss of judgement, failure in perceiving surroundings, emotional outbursts, foreign habits that couldn't be associated with humans, Jyorta experienced them all in the past one day.

He didn't touch the memory fragments of the other three Tier 2 Crust-Mantles for the time being. He couldn't even recover from the damage he had suffered from a single batch of memory fragments. He didn't wish to court death for the time being.

The moment he slept, he was plagued by nightmares. Most of them were related to the scenes of him killing the Crust-Mantles but, the only difference was him being the respective Crust-Mantle in the memory. This caused him to hate himself unknowingly, damaging his sense of self.

After all, he had killed the owners of the memories he possessed. So, he was plagued by a lot of things that affected his mental state. He tried all possible methods but was unable to curb the damage for the time being. Only time would heal. But, this also meant he wouldn't be able to know more about the plan the Frenzy Beasts were concocting.

If he fails to inform Psychic Ancestor Marble and whatever plan the Frenzy Beasts were concocting came to fruition, Marble City might very well be destroyed. He didn't wish to see the home he had come to accept be destroyed like that.

'Creepy-haired man, do you have a method to solve this?' He thought, sighing as he massaged his temples. He waited in patience, hoping the being who brought him to this era possessed a method. More than an hour passed, but he didn't hear anything.

Jyorta sighed and stood up, taking a step forward, feeling something sharp prick his leg. He retracted his leg in reflex, watching a screw lay on the floor. Near it was one of his alarm clocks, its glass sporting a crack.

Jyorta inserted the screw in its place in the alarm clock, shaking it a couple of times before he saw it work again. Sighing, he placed it on the table and picked up the basket. He placed his toiletries and a change of clothes in it, taking the key from its socket as he exited the room.

An hour later, he returned, refreshed. He peered out through the window, watching the students exercise on the ground. But, he felt detached from everything, as if he didn't belong in the place. Jyorta closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he controlled his thoughts.

"I am Jyorta Bone, a human studying in the 7th Ring's military academy. I am a Human! I am a Human!"

He chanted it a couple of times before exiting the room, leaving the Indigo Building. A minute later, the alarm with a cracked glass started ringing, its sounds broken, the pitch jarring to the ears.

"I.Am.Telling.You…" Followed by a rage-filled shout, a boy with a large built appeared. When he saw the door ajar, he pushed it open, walking in rage before he was rooted to the spot in shock.

Clothes strewn across, with some ripped to shreds. A table that seemed like it had been chewed by a beast, with splinters scattered around. The chair lacking a leg, its armrest bent in a weird shape. The bed was ripped, with the cotton and coir in it pulled out and strewn all over the room.

Books were torn to shreds and piled at one corner of the room, their book covers strewn at the top, folded into paper claws. Thankfully, the cupboards were left intact, the contents within were left untouched.

The bulletin board affixed next to the door was emitting faint fumes. The pamphlets and papers pinned on it were lying on the floor, half-burned. On the bulletin board existed an inscription, created by carefully controlled heat.

It was a line art of a Tier 2 Crust-Mantle on a sand dune, prostrating itself. The line art was from its point of view. Standing before the Tier 2 Crust-Mantle was a Tier 1 Crust-Mantle and seated atop it was a human boy.

Surrounding the Tier 1 Crust-Mantle were faint outlines of a vine, their shallow inscription and the disjointed lines making it seem like a form of illusion. The vine extended to the top of the bulletin board, with the middle of its stem touching the top before curving down. Hovering at its tip was a bud that almost reached the ground, hovering just above the boy's head.

Five tiny vines emerged from the bud, their shapes horrifying, converging on the Tier 2 Crust-Mantle. One of the vines pierced the Crust-Mantle's head. Faint lines surrounded the line art of the Tier 2 Crust-Mantle, depicting its shivering body.

It wouldn't have meant much if it was a normal line art. But, it was created on the bulletin board through something hot, melting through the surface of the bulletin board while preventing the surroundings from catching fire. It created a sort of style that painted a horrific feeling.

When he saw the bud, the boy's heart lurched. Suddenly, his expression got a bit dazed as he closed in on it, gazing at the bud in close-up. The bud trembled, slowly beginning to open. In the parts that had opened, the boy managed to glimpse a spindle, similar to a Spindle Bee but significantly developed.

He was slowly drawn towards it while the bud bloomed more and more, seemingly drawing him towards it. Suddenly, his body disappeared from the spot, reappearing in his room. His dazed expression dissolved as he regained clarity, perspiring all over in fright.

"What was I doing?" Seated on his bed, he wondered when he heard that annoying sound of the alarm. In anger, the boy stood up, "I am going to give him a piece of my mind today. I don't care if he's an aristocrat or if he's ranked second in our Batch. He's going to receive my anger today."

He exited his room and walked to the nearby room, striding over in anger. Just when he clenched his hand into a fist and was about to slam onto the door, a voice resounded from inside, "Sorry, my alarm broke when I was cleaning my room. Do you know how to fix it?"

The door opened to reveal a tired Jyorta sporting a wry smile. His clothes were dirty while his room was sparklingly clean. There were thick eyebags underneath his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for days. Seeing his figure, the boy's anger cooled down for some reason, "It is better if you dump that alarm into the trash can. That is where it rightfully belongs."

Before Jyorta could reply, the boy turned around and returned to his room, rambling about something in anger. Until the boy returned to his room, Jyorta continued to peek into the corridor, his gaze trailing the other party.

When he heard the door's thud, Jyorta's head slowly inched inside his room, gently closing the door. The room was in the same state as before, messy as if a beast had lived within. Standing before the bulletin board was a figure with a mild hunch.

She carefully straightened her back, massaging her sore limbs as she gazed at the line art on the bulletin board. It was the principal of the military academy, Madam Mary. She looked around the room, inspecting everything without disturbing anything.

She noticed many points of oddity, 'The Table has claw and bite marks but, the chair only has a leg broken while its armrest was twisted. The damage in each area is different, as if more than one had taken part in the process. Strange, this is really strange. Jyorta was perfectly fine when I last saw him.'

She frowned, 'Was he somehow affected in the labyrinth? But, the staff would have noticed it. And, the fact that he spent the past 2 days in the meditation room, only coming out to eat and take care of his daily needs is a cause for concern indeed. It is not matching with his character and his actions for the past 9 months here.'

'There should be a reason.' Madam Mary used her psychic arm to close the door, preventing anyone else from trying to open it. She disappeared and reappeared in her office, seated on her seat as she thought.

Sometime later, she appeared in a different room and picked up a landline, dialling a number. Three rings later, a gentle voice resounded from the other side. Madam Mary sighed, gazing at the figure before her in puzzlement as she spoke in the receiver, "Atika…"