Fifth World

Southern Hemisphere

Deui Desert

It was a hundred degrees but an emaciated old man sat in the middle of the desert. In front of him laid a formation of three graves. The wind blew strong but the sand never touched the formation: whenever it was a meter away, it would take a sudden U-turn, as if the wind was afraid of the formation. The old man's skin was cracked in several places due to the lack of moisture and heat, but he stood strong, chanting ancient spells and names of powerful Djinns.

The song of a great magic rang in the air and the formation absorbed sunlight, focusing it at the centre of the formation to form a yellow core. The yellow core caused cracks in the air, which resulted in a sandstorm. When the dust settled, a young man crawled out of the cracks into the center of the formation.

This young man was Tyren O. Bayajidda. He was naked, but otherwise normal.

"Freaking time barrier; it shredded my clothes. I have to work on my focus next time." Tyren murmured to himself.

The old man bowed. "Welcome back, my lord. I have a spare clothes here." He removed a small bag from his robe and handed it over to Tyren.

Tyren dressed into a simple white robe.

"Let's go." Tyren said.

On their way, the old man looked at Tyren. He wanted to ask about what happened on the other side but he couldn't bring himself to.

"What do you want to know, Kána?" Tyren said.

"What happened to the four elders, and what's next?" Kána asked.

"It will be almost impossible for them to survive the time barrier, but in the event they do, they will lose all their powers and Djinns. Our next project is to form an army, and for that we need money. Lots of money. The best way to get money so fast is through the slave trading. I'll just win the upcoming Jinzidal and use the money to start."

"But.. my lord, you already have an army." Kána said.

"You call those prisoners an army? Listen, old man, an army is a group that can take on Urúrú and kill all the First Worlders, an army is a group who can kill all the people that laughed at the rebellion."

Kána nodded in agreement. "I'll be of service, my lord."

In a time where people were so afraid of mentioning the name 'Urúrú', Tyren and his servant where discussing how to end them. They planned to climb up to the First World and faced the creators of the worlds.

***

In another distant place, roughly fifty years ride from Seith, there was an island, sitting between the First World and the Second World. This island was a sacred place even for the First Worlders. It was the place where they trained their young ones, especially those who showed an astounding talent.

They called this island Maina, meaning 'white' in Aldurish, because it was used to train the young members of the clan to turn their eyes from white to black. The inhabitants of the lower worlds defined Urúrú as anyone who had black eyes, but that wasn't generally true. Young members of this clan actually had white eyes, instead of the trademark black. But you couldn't blame the people of the lower worlds since they only saw the adult members of the clan. The last time a child Urúrú came down to the lower worlds was one thousand three hundred years ago.

There was a beach on this island which served as a bathing place for all the young Urúrús.

Currently, two young girls bathed on this beach not far from each other. Their eyes were completely white, including both the iris and the sclera. You would think they were blind.

One of these girls had a blonde hair. She looked younger than the one behind her who had a silver hair. The blonde one was the first to see the body washed away by the sea. She quickly pulled her robe up and closed her body. Then she called the silver haired girl. "Suwee! Suwee!! Suwee!!!"

The silver haired girl turned around hurriedly. Her full name was Suwainah but her little sister called her 'Suwee', which meant moonlight in Aldurish.

"What is it, Zeera?"

"Come and see, there's another one. Where are the others?"

"Father has taken them to the palace." Suwee answered.

"Father?" Zeera widened her eyes in shock. "If father took them himself then it's true. They came from the lower worlds. How is that possible? Is the barrier weakened?"

"Keep your voice down, father has forbade us from talking about it. Where is he?"

Zeera led her to a body of a young man covered in mud. Most of his face was smeared by the mud but there was a red headband on his head. If you looked closer, you would see Armad Wilberforce.

The siblings stood there in dilemma. They didn't know what to do.

"Suwainah, where are you? I have a gist for you." One of the girls on the other side of the beach shouted excitedly.

Both Suwainah and Zeera knew the speaker. For some odd reason, they didn't want her to see Armad.

"What should we do?" Zeera asked, worried but calm.

Suwainah removed a spatial bag from her pocket. The bag was just 5cm but it was elastic. They stretched it to Armad's size.

The younger sister tried to put Armad's head into the bag but, to her utmost surprise, her hand passed through his head as if he was a projection.

"What the hell.. "

She tried again, after slapping herself a few times to make sure she wasn't dreaming, but to no avail.

The elder sister Suwainah tried to pull his legs but her hands passed through as well. They both thought it was impossible, and if it wasn't for the noise of their classmates nearby, they would have taken it for a dream.

"What's going on? The others weren't like this, is he different?" Zeera asked but her sister had no answer.

They tried all the ideas that came to their minds but nothing worked. Amid their dilemma, three other boys and the girl who had ealier spoken to them spotted Armad.

"Suwainah, is that another Lower Worlder?"

One of the boys sneered. "It seems so... hey, don't call them Lower Worlders! It makes them own the lands."

***

Meanwhile, on the deserted island, Armad had been pacing back and forth. He could no longer think straight. The Miyura was now gone. He didn't know what happened to it or how to find it.

He felt different: like he wasn't himself. Every now and then, he would touch his forehead and slapped his face to make sure he wasn't trapped in a dream. He really hoped it was all a dream, and that he would wake up and saw the Miyura. Not knowing his Miyura, and in fact a part of his soul, were fifty years ride away from him.