The world swirled around Soren like foggy mist as the voice of something familiar echoed distantly. He felt a jolt of pain linger over his head, as if a mountain had formed during his slumber.

"So…ren…"

His name reverberated across his mind's void.

"Soren!"

He heard it again, this time with a rather punctual roar. Like a startled wild animal, Soren felt himself rise unknowingly. Eventually, the endless mist shrouding his vision faded slowly—the darkness of his room had returned to him.

Frowning, he placed a palm over his forehead to massage the pain. "How many times have I been knocked unconscious in the past week?"

It felt as if a dangerous pattern was forming.

"You bastard… You're finally awake again."

He heard the familiar voice once again. This time, he recognized it.

"Tazzith?"

"Who else, you fool."

Soren shook his head. "Why did you wake me so abruptly… I could have used a bit more rest…"

"Because you were about to die."

"What?" His brows furrowed.

"You heard me, you damned fool! Your consciousness was this close to slipping away! Ripping yourself of all your anima is one thing, but to then go and sacrifice your blood as well… The Fairy Bind spell you use to keep the corrupted aspects within your Three Layers locked away disappeared abruptly because of your actions!

"If not for my interference, the Whispers of the Rift would have already consumed you. As amusing as you are, perishing in such an insignificantly idiotic way would truly sour my mood."

Soren remained silent during the Demon's lecture, trying to recall all that happened. A portion of his memories was entirely missing—likely due to the corruption that had inadvertently seeped out during his coma.

Eventually, he sighed. "Thanks… I owe you big time…" The words were hard to speak aloud—owing a Daemon like Tazzith wasn't a very pleasing thing to admit.

"You promised to entertain me, Little Spirit. A show cannot close without a proper end!"

Shaking his head again, Soren reached out to his Soul Weapon which was resting on the bedside table, and ordered [Record] to activate. The ordinary looking tome began to glow in a radiant golden hue as a rush of knowledge swiftly drifted into his mind.

He immediately recalled everything that had occurred. From discovering the ritual instructions for his Soul Alchemy Ritual, to his somewhat hopeful experiment at trying to create his own material rune.

"I see…" His frown deepened. During that trial, he had recklessly gambled his own blood in the hopes that the added willpower would aid in the representation of the material rune he required.

Because material runes according to Pendragon are forged through the perspectives of those who observe the objects they represent, different perspectives could forge different outcomes in the Beyond. Since his affinity for Mesmerism (combined with wards) was unique, he was the only one who needed to observe the object—in this case, the illusionary sword made of tiny triangles.

If he had sought the aid of mistress Solyara or Tazzith, the representation might have changed drastically. The material rune that needed to be forged could only be done through his own willpower alone.

Of course, at the time, he worried that his chance might slip away. With only one month's worth of anima accrued, Soren wasn't sure if it would be enough. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, he decided to recklessly gamble with his blood as well…

"How many days have passed since the trial's end?"

The ancient demon responded instantly, "Three days."

"Three!..." Soren repeated. He grit his teeth furiously. "What a damn waste…"

According to The Record's estimates, only twenty one something days remained before Cantor's Crown fully corrupted his Runic Existence. Of course, that time frame had now shrunk to only eighteen days…

I still have to find the missing Materials of Influence…

Gathering his strength, Soren lifted himself off the comfy bed and walked to where he would usually find his clothes hanging. A new set of robes had been meticulously placed there, sitting next to his old checkered robe and cone hat.

Ignoring the mismatch, he donned the blue and white robe and picked up his violet-colored cone hat anyway. After wearing it for so long, he had naturally grown attached to its presence.

He walked eerily quietly across the dim corridors, making his way through the frosty bridge. The winds howled their usual sorrow rhythm, and yet the dense canopy of fog and ice didn't linger as densely. As he slowly walked across the stone path leading to the Second Temple, his gaze naturally lifted to the starry skies above. Endless waves of colors could be seen shifting ethereally, unbothered by the mortals beneath them.

When was the last time I've seen an Aurora Borealis?..

He thought he would remember his time on Earth, traveling from one continent to another, trying his best to please everyone with his talents…

But strangely, what he saw instead were murky visions of the mountain while he floated aimlessly within the boundary of the stars above. That old dream continued to linger in his mind daily, replacing the older ones he had experienced during his pilgrimage.

A faint smile took over his face. "I get it Orbits of Fate. Do not worry—this pawn you love so dearly will achieve what you desire soon enough. But just as you demand a price, I too will one day demand one from you…"

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Keeping his gaze steadily ahead, Soren finally reached the brick wall at the end of the bridge. He placed a palm over it, reciting the same thing he had heard from Venissa.

"Open."

The bricks shifted. Like pieces in a ruined puzzle, they scrambled in countless directions until an opening was formed, allowing Soren to enter inside.

He was once again met with a large open hall, fit for a noble's banquet. Though, it was a lot less lively this time. Many of the sisters were missing, and the few that remained were far older.

They greeted him swiftly before returning to their conversations. Some spoke of ill manners across the globe while others noted their observations of the stars as of late… Either way, Soren ignored them and walked directly to the high seat at the back of the chamber. Sitting somberly upon it was an all too familiar figure. The former Witch of Star Fate, Rania Yvain.

Her crystal-like eyes felt foggy and still. It lacked the usual luster he would see in the others like Solyara or Sienna. And yet, the smile on her face remained present. Her last moments were likely filled with comfort and acceptance…

Locking eyes with the hollow figure, Soren's frown deepened. A question popped in his mind that he inadvertently mumbled out loud:

"Was it comforting to accept your fate?"

As expected, no answer came. With a sigh, he turned and walked away. But just as he was about to head to High Mistress Solyara's room, he heard the wind whistle a singular word:

"No."

Soren's heart jolted. He swiftly spun around, glancing directly at the distant, statue-like figure sitting plainly on the high seat. Rania had not moved, but his instincts were telling him that the answer came from her…

How is that possible?

She was hollow. Her fate and soul had been consumed by the Vessel of the Stars the moment she passed it on to Sienna. Though her body was still alive, it was nothing more than an empty shell.

He stared silently at the high seat for a while, unsure of what to do. Eventually, he resolved himself and issued the command to his Soul Weapon. The golden butterflies rushed into his eyes as he stared directly at her unmoving figure.

What he saw shocked him.

Beneath the high seat and all around the chamber, a colossal formation of fractals could be seen chained together. It was as if he was staring at an endless spiderweb made of star dust. Formations within formations could be seen stretching endlessly for miles, forming all kinds of interesting patterns.

Before he could observe any further, Soren felt a searing pain radiate across his mind. After feeling a light nosebleed, he quickly deactivated [Eyes of the Fairy].

Glancing at his Soul Weapon, he watched the mysterious fountain pen continue to write in its usual unknown script. A new entry had been [Record]ed.

He ordered The Records to present him with the new information while wiping away the blood.

Temple of the Stars (Mystery)

The Three Temples are an ancient dungeon that was once a part of the Estuary of the Stars. After an unforeseen change 1367 years ago, it became an independent dungeon. Its dungeon core became the Vessel of the Stars. All paths within these labyrinthine halls follow the charted paths of fate as ordained by Sienna Yvain, the current Witch of Star Fate. The more she observes and understands the tapestry of fate, the larger this dungeon becomes.

Addendum 1:

Because of its intrinsic connection to the Vessel of the Stars, all the fates consumed by it will naturally also exist within this subspace. The previous Witches of Star Fate all linger here for eternity.

Reading through the entry, Soren was left utterly speechless. He was not expecting this kind of information in the slightest.

He glanced back up at the high seat with clearer vision. That reply he had heard… It truly came from the previous Witch of Star Fate. Her fate was sealed within Sienna's Vessel of the Stars like the other ancestors, but that Soul Weapon was directly connected to this dungeon.

Meaning, he had truly heard the words of the dead…

Was the answer I received an echo from the past that reached into the future through fate's machinations, or was it truly an instantaneous reply from the previous witch?

Soren couldn't know. He glanced left and right before slowly walking back to the high seat. He glanced up, locking eyes with the "hollow" person. His gaze was as sharp as a knife cutting through stone.

Yet, no change occurred. Rania remained unmoving.

Even so, Soren exhaled before asking aloud:

"Were you the one who answered my question?"

He waited for a bit for a reply but was only met with a disappointing silence.

Did I misjudge the situation?.. He frowned deeply. Perhaps active communication is impossible.

He waited a bit more before bombarding the unchanged figure with even more questions. In only a few seconds, Soren had turned what could have been a conversation to an interrogation. And yet, he didn't care. He simply wanted to see if there was anything that could trigger the old Witch to respond to him again.

In the end, Soren didn't obtain the result he wanted. He was met with an unexpected interruption.

"Soren? What are you doing?"

Turning around, he spotted a woman that looked to be in her late twenties scrutinizing him deeply. Her half crimson, half silver hair was coiled in strands as it fell behind her waist.

"Venissa?" Soren tilted his head.

"Of course it's me, you fool. Did you forget my face after sleeping for so long?"

He smiled faintly while stretching his neck. It was only now that he was beginning to realize that his actions weren't as secretive as he thought they were. The sisters in the chamber hall were all staring at him, bewildered by his strange attempts at conversing with their former master.

"Apologies… I just wanted to test something."

She sighed deeply. "Your inquisitive nature is admirable, but please be mindful of your actions. Mistress Rania has long faded from this world—conversing with her is impossible. Your attempts could be seen as a form of disrespect."

"But I did converse with her."

"Pardon?" His reply left her speechless. "What… do you mean?.."

Soren nodded. "She answered a question of mine. I heard her voice."

By now, the older woman was looking at him both with pity and curiosity… As if she had discovered a rather tragic mental illness. Shaking his head, Soren decided to change the subject.

"Has anything happened in the last three days?"

Sighing, Venissa answered while crossing her arms. "Not much… Oh, I guess your companion has finally accrued what he needs to upgrade his Soul Weapon."

Soren smiled. "He discovered the ritual instructions for his second rune?"

"Indeed," She nodded. "With the help of High Mistress Solyara of course. I believe she plans to help the both of you locate the Materials of Influence you need too."

Glancing down at the floor, a plan slowly began to form in his mind. He had figured out what his next steps should be.

"I assume you'll be heading there now?" Venissa asked while curiously looking at the occupied high seat.

Soren nodded. "I have limited time, you see. Well then, I will be on my way now."

He bowed respectfully in her direction and headed for the exit.

But once again, an interruption occurred. A whispery voice echoed in his mind softer than the winter breeze:

"An arrow shot from its bow cannot cease. A star pushed off-course, cannot end its relentless pull.

"When the time comes, do not hesitate in your aim."

Soren froze. He swiftly turned once again, gaze piercing through the distant figure sitting peacefully upon the high seat. Venissa stood by it, staring at the old witch with reverence in her eyes, unaware of what had just occurred.

Though it was only an illusion of the mind, he felt as if the statue-like person was smiling back at him faintly…

With a deep frown, he turned away and continued walking down the path he chose.

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