Al had just returned to his chamber in the Virellano estate.

"Ah… what kind of dreadful thing did I just experience…"

He murmured faintly as the heavy door closed behind him. His voice carried the weary tone of someone who had just been dragged through a storm of chaos and revelation.

His steps faltered as he crossed the dim corridor toward his bed, and before even bothering to turn on the lights, his body slumped down onto the edge of the mattress, moving as if his bones themselves resisted his weight.

His hands trembled. He lifted them slowly, staring at them with an empty gaze — as though he could not yet comprehend that those hands still belonged to him.

His fingers felt light yet unbearably heavy at the same time, as if a part of himself had been left behind somewhere beyond comprehension, in a realm that refused to be defined by words or form.

"I can't even tell what's real anymore… or what's not." he muttered under his breath.

A long breath escaped him as his eyes remained fixed upon the ceiling.

Though the room lay in complete darkness, the golden radiance within his mind continued to spiral, unrelenting — that blinding light that had pierced the fragile barrier between dream and reality.

He leaned forward, pressing his palms against his face, then laid down, closing his eyes tightly as if by doing so, he could erase everything he had just witnessed. Yet the more he tried to forget, the more vivid it became.

Everything had felt real. Too real.

The vision returned — an infinite white expanse where countless beings of pure light stood in solemn, incomprehensible majesty.

The divine agents aligned in endless ranks, their brilliance unfurling like galaxies, their presence vibrating through the air with the soundless echo of creation itself. They were listening to something that no mortal was ever meant to hear.

But for some reason…

The more I try to recall what they were saying among themselves, the more that memory fades into nothingness. The only thing I can still remember is standing there — waiting for my turn… and the message that I received. That message.

He glanced once more at his trembling hands, still pale as though drained of their very essence.

A message that struck my soul as if a billion hammers fell upon it at once. Each word that was spoken felt like a blade tearing through every layer of my existence.

He let out a faint, broken sigh and covered his face with his palm.

"Why me…? And what is that message supposed to mean for me? I don't understand…" he whispered quietly.

He exhaled deeply, his gaze drifting toward the half-open window. The night air slipped in, cold and damp, brushing against his skin. Yet compared to the void of that divine place… this chill felt almost warm, like the fragile comfort of mortality.

"He said, He is the leader who walks upon the wrong branch. He is the message whose life was stolen. And he is the anointed child gambling with falsehood." Al muttered, his tone tinged with analytical frustration.

"What does that even mean? He said I'd understand in time — but who in the world could understand words like that?"

He rubbed his forehead, groaning.

"Who's the leader walking on the wrong branch? Who's the message whose life was stolen? And who's the anointed child gambling with falsehood? He said it's not about me — so who then? Or what? Is it literal? Metaphorical? A riddle? Is it about humans? Djinns? Something else entirely? Ugh… this is giving me a headache."

He rolled to his side and shut his eyes, trying to calm his storming thoughts, but the mind refused to rest.

"Forget it. I can't think straight right now. Why do divine messages always have to sound like riddles?" he grumbled.

He recalled the moment he had voiced that same complaint to the leader of the divine agents — the radiant being whose presence shattered his sense of scale.

"I asked him that question. And all he said was, 'Your soul cannot endure more than this. But your soul will find the answer. Believe.' Hmph... If my soul's so fragile, then why did they choose me in the first place…"

His muttering continued, endless and weary, echoing through the silence of the room. No one heard him. No one answered. He sounded like a man slowly slipping into madness — a mortal struggling to wrestle with the language of gods.

Eventually, his breath steadied. A bitter laugh slipped past his lips.

"How ridiculous. I haven't even settled things with the human world… not even done with the djinns… and now I'm entangled in divine affairs. Fantastic."

The laugh faded quickly, swallowed by the stillness that followed.

He gazed at the ceiling again. In the corner of his eyes, the faint golden light seemed to pulse, lingering like an afterimage of something that no human should ever behold.

"No. Enough. I don't want to think about it anymore," he told himself firmly.

He tapped his temple lightly, as if to drive the haunting visions away. Then he turned his body to the other side, pulling the blanket over half his face. Beyond the window, dawn was still far away — only the faint shimmer of the city lights reached through the curtain, painting the room in muted gray.

And for a fleeting moment, it seemed that the world outside remained utterly calm — unaware that one of its residents had just returned from a place even the gods dared not speak of.

---

He shifted his thoughts, letting his mind drift away from the divine echoes that still lingered in his head, trying instead to focus on the more tangible matters that had recently unfolded.

Just as he began to breathe evenly, a faint vibration rippled through the air around him. A crimson glow flared across the glyph etched upon his forearm — the sign of an incoming transmission from his subordinates.

"Master," a composed yet weary voice resonated within his mind, transmitted through the glyphic channel. "All is secure. The man named Basri and his daughter have safely arrived at Ataris, along with Shae and Sa-Ya. They're still unconscious, but their conditions remain stable."

Al lifted his arm slightly, the sigil pulsing like a living ember, and replied in a calm, effortless tone.

"Good. I'll meet them soon. Let them rest for now — Shae and Sa-Ya will need more time to recover. And make sure Basri and his daughter are kept under close observation."

"Yes, Master," came the cautious response, followed by a hesitant pause. "There is… one more thing."

Al's brows lifted faintly. "Hm? What is it?"

"Ruri returned to Ataris two days ago. As expected, she's already grown close to the girl named Eva — the one you brought back, Master. And it seems… Ruri is attempting to help her awaken. What should we do? None of us, aside from you and the Queens, are capable of restraining Ruri's actions. The Queens have left the decision to you."

Al leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as a slow thought surfaced.

Ruri, huh… So that venomous witch actually let her return to Ataris. And she's already met Eva…

He raised his hand and brushed his fingers over his eyes — and in that instant, his irises shifted, radiating faint crimson light as his Dimensional Eyes awakened.

If Eva succeeds in awakening and begins learning magic, she'll eventually perceive the dimensional pattern within her own sight — and once she does, she might become dependent on it. Does that mean I won't be able to extract her dimensional eye's fragment anymore?

He exhaled quietly, his thoughts forming and dissolving like smoke.

My encounter with those Divine Agents did stabilize my Dimensional Eyes somewhat. For now, I don't even know if I need that fragment anymore. Perhaps it's time I learn to lessen my dependence on it… Letting Eva use it might not be a bad idea after all. It's hers by right. A pity, though.

He finally responded through the glyph, his tone measured but faintly reflective.

"Leave it be. The child's destiny seems to have already taken root in that path. It'll be for the best if she awakens and learns magic — the power she bears will inevitably draw danger toward her in the future."

"Understood, Master."

"And make sure she doesn't leave Ataris before I return. Tell Ruri not to take her out. That girl's far too reckless for her own good."

"Yes, Master."

The connection dissolved, and the crimson glyph dimmed into silence.

Al let out a low sigh and deactivated his Dimensional Eyes, the glowing sigils in his pupils fading into black once more.

"Ruri… and Eva. Hm. How interesting," he murmured with faint amusement.

An idea flickered in his mind.

"Wait. That girl named Putri — she's also there now. Their ages aren't that far apart… And Putri is nearing full demonization. Should I make the three of them a team?"

He pondered the notion briefly, then shook his head.

"No… no, that wouldn't do. Eva and Putri aren't part of our peoples. And I still don't know whether Eva can even awaken. As for that Putri girl…"

His thoughts drifted, leading him back to the memory of recent events.

When he had returned to the bunker, the Divine Agent assigned to guard Almakubar — the third dimensional gate — had forcibly pulled Shae and Putri's soul out of it. The Death Agent had stabilized Basri's soul, granting him an extension of life — a strange kind of mercy, or perhaps a divine compensation for a soul that had been corrupted and torn apart by a cursed being.

Shae and Sa-Ya had collapsed almost immediately — an aftereffect of the potion he had given them.

But when the girl named Putri awakened, her mind had been blank — devoid of recognition, stripped of memory, unable to even recognize her own father. Then, without warning, she lost control, manifesting her Djinn forms in a sudden burst of chaos. Al had been forced to neutralize her swiftly, subduing her and casting her back into unconsciousness.

"Hm… Even as a Quartus Human, her Djinn energy remains enormous. And after what she experienced in the Third Dimension, she's already undergone partial demonization. Who knows what she'll become next…" He rubbed his temple, his voice low and thoughtful.

"For now, keeping her away from people is the safest choice. I'll need to visit them soon… perhaps after the national exams are over."

He exhaled through his nose and muttered resolutely, "That will be my focus for now — my mission of integration with the world."

Gradually, the weight of fatigue began to settle upon him. His eyelids grew heavier, his breathing slowed, and the rhythm of his heart began to steady. He was teetering on the edge of sleep.

He turned his head slightly toward the digital clock beside his bed.

"Four in the morning, huh… Not that long, considering how much time I spent in that void." His voice was laced with quiet exhaustion.

He adjusted his position, lying down more comfortably, and closed his eyes again.

But just before consciousness slipped away entirely, a faint memory surfaced — brief and fragile, like a spark flickering in the dark.

A memory from the very end of his encounter with the Divine Agents.

He remembered the Leader of the Divine Agents — the being of serene radiance — speaking one final line before they parted ways.

A voice, soft and distant, like the whisper of the cosmos itself.

"Ikho–Kun–Chi–Nna–Kia–Matta."

The words echoed faintly through the hollow chambers of his mind — and then, everything went still.

Al's consciousness faded, and he finally succumbed to the embrace of slumber — lying somewhere between night and dawn, while the world outside remained calm and unknowing, unaware that one of its own had just returned from a place even the gods themselves dared not describe.

---

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