***

Dear Advers,

You have wonderfully accomplished the first mission. Congratulations! A superb stunt indeed!

But now we have to take the next step towards your path, and of course, towards your survival days. Please bear and listen carefully to the instruction that follows as this audioletter will become unavailable after three uses.

To access your mindbox, you should begin by delving deeper into the darkness inside your mind. But by doing so, you will need the utmost concentration to find this space where your mindbox figuratively resides. Bear in mind as well that the seal to your mindbox requires you to find a way to open it and reseal it, and your mental strength will allow you this feat. Within the mindbox contains the following:

Dreamscape Reality Letter.

Dreamscape Rewards Letter.

Class Letter.

System Activation Letter.

Dreamscape Equipment Letter.

Instruction Letter(2/2).

If you have not cracked the seal under one hour, your mindbox will randomly reduce itself an item from the rewards letter and send it to other magicians that have at least the same type of class as you have. After that, every one and a half hours, your mindbox will begin to empty its content one by one. So it is greatly encouraged that you should start to unseal the mindbox. However, please be warned that the restricted area within your mindbox must not, I repeat, must not be forced to open at all cost as the ward that surrounds it strains your meager mental power as of now. Please bear that in mind.

P.S.(I) Last set of instructions available after unsealing the mindbox.

P.S.(II) Please begin to open your mindbox.

Yours Truly,

The Guide

***

The clear voice of the Guide demanded Advers' attention from his hard-earned wounds adorning his entirety. A grim expression behind his misted dark eyes foreboding to spill, yet, only the clarity of pain was undeniably showed. So unfathomably evident as a crease started to creep to his forehead that was trickling with cold sweat, the mask he had donned didn't quite manage to contain the stings that assaulted his nerves.

A thrum escaped his pale lips as he curled, holding his right arm as he felt its unrelenting pricks pierce deeper to the gash that slit across the back of his elbow up to his wrist; madly bleeding to a remorseful passion. Worse than that, the wound, if scrutinized closely, seems to have been haphazardly slashed by a dull object as the edges of the skin across his elbow could be seen to be very unevenly ripped; as if it was frustratingly split apart by force alone.

Moments later, blood leaked gently from the cut, and Advers could feel the injury numbing his arm. Although the pain was now bearable to dislodge the rigidness of the nerves that ran across his face, this did not stop Advers to pale even further, the knuckles of his left hand taut to a white as he tremblingly and tightly gripped his right upper arm.

He distressedly observed the cut that drew a couple of bloody mess from him. It cut a blazing scarlet from his elbow until it created a fine line reaching the tip of his ulna. Wincing with more all-embracing pain as the scarlet liquid elevated the sheer whiteness of something from his arm, albeit with hues of red bathing it. He could already feel the numbness brought by the intense pressure that his left hand was applying on his right bicep, yet, it seems to have waned at the sight of it. It wasn't gruesome at best, one would dare say, but for Advers who've dared himself of not even a cut, this is a massive jump of experience that could only be negotiated through time.

He drew a deep shivered breath as he sat upright, the grim and distress that he so tried to suppress poured unabatedly. He tried to push his aching left foot to a stand but only hissed in the process of doing so. To make it even worse, the provocation brought by the multiple grazes that ran across his body fought his willpower to break. And even if these wounds seemed non-fatal, the totality of all these insignificant cuts was equivalent to the despondency emanating from his arm.

For a very good long time, unspecified, Advers began reciprocating the stings with encouragements and disingenuous placebo. Exhausting all his abilities to undermine the tenacious pulsing.

As he finally was able to distract himself from the pain, restraining it, Advers, now extremely weary and with shortness of breath, apprehensively observed his surroundings. Trying to discern where he was and, most importantly, know if any unseen threat befalls to him again.

It was past midnight, but the intense light emitted by the moon allowed him to perceive things close to him. Around him are the remains of the wooden sections that his room emptied, mixed along with the broken set of furniture that went along with it, papers littered around. Most notably was the bed he landed with now lying askew beside a boulder, the white bedding sheet punctured by splinters of wood greatly accentuated amidst the deep dead colors of the trees and their silhouettes.

He could, even with bleary eyes, distinctively see one of the ridges having blood unhurriedly flowing down that it flamed the bedsheet to cold fiery ruby. It coursed from the bed, then to a patch of grass forming a very narrow route of a bloodied trail that directed itself to where Advers rested, an open space that weirdly had not been encased by a copse of verdant trees.

Deliberate. Was it? He grimly mused.

Looking to his left, he could hardly spot his bag leaning against a crowd of yellow-colored flowers, a few of his plain-colored shirts and black jeans not far from it was also resting on the same patch of yellowy flowers, which, to his minute relief, was able to come along with him. He really couldn't think how he'll do his ghastly wound if it didn't. Further than that was only the howling silhouettes of trees, his eyes no longer capable of distinguishing farther.

On the other hand, to his right, were the table and chairs that have long been broken by the fall. Most of the disheveled and crumpled papers congregated here. He could also see flowers of various colors stemming not far from the debris, a few, even had the same feature as the perrenial plants on his left. But beyond that was only the same pitch-black figures that were ominously encircling him.

A cold breeze passed by and assailed Advers nose with the scent of fresh leaves and copper, grimacing as it traced his wounds, but in return this allowed him to determine the murky outlines as trees. The rustle and the quivering of the edges its proofs.

He scanned further around and had concluded that, presumably and hopefully, he was safe at the moment. So he rested his agitated and disconcerted mind for a moment before he rectified his breath to a rhythm.

Looking to his leg, he groggily tried once more to move, this time towards the direction of his clothes as he knew that his battered arm is quietly bawling for it. He was able to take a few grams of his weight to push him at first tries, but the succeeding movements abruptly contested his bruised mind to a halt. But even then, Advers still tried. Thus, a second attempt came forth, then a third, and another one, his last attempt that in the end, Advers conceded and stopped the futility that would only wear him further.

Knowing that his body still didn't allow him movement, he reorganized his thoughts on the diabolical voice that propelled him here, renewing his attention on the white paper that gently laid on his lap. He squinted as he observed it, unsullied even though he saw droplets of blood slipping onto it earlier.

Cautiously, he took and scrutinized it much closer. It looked ordinary at most, most obviously is just a white paper with silver lines bordering it; no characters, no words, and not even a dot written on it. Flipping, he found that the back of the paper had the same image as its back, except having no silver border this time, only the purity of white had painted it whole. The silver-adorned surface, it seems, was the front page, he loosely thought.

Yet still, perplexed, he flipped it a few more times for good measure if he missed something.

There was nothing.

The paper itself could even serve as another copy of the blank sheets of paper scattered around him. Or maybe, it could be exactly just that! It must have been a paper that fell on him. A carapace for such thought indeed! But then, how would that explain the oddness that he saw earlier? Even more, the glittering silver lines didn't strike a memory on him.

A throb stopped his muse, his eyes twitching to a pained gleam.

"This is going nowhere." Advers murmured with a paltry voice.

He had enough to experience for the night, and the more he thinks, the worse he could feel his headache becomes. He could also sense the dizziness kicking into his system that made him take a deep breath as he refocused his mind, setting aside the mystery of the paper as he redirected his intention on the few shirts on his left, his dilemma badly in need of it.

With pained movement, Advers started to shift, this time using his hand as his lower limbs didn't allow him mercy. Gently, trying not to disturb the stillness of his right arm, he pulled himself with snail's pace. His left hand considerably burdened by the weight of his whole body. Pushing, pulling, his hand tormented itself against the rocks and weed he used as leverage. Digging even when he found nothing to help him move.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

A word that he kept on repeating. Trying to distract himself from the headache that was building up and the dizziness that was slowly overtaking his decision to keep on moving. Cold sweat trickled down from his face as he neared a black-colored cloth, yellow crunching under the grip of his hand. Grimly, he could already feel the cold creeps numbing his head and all the pain coming from his injuries.