"Goodness arcana! That is… scary!"

Adam stood upon the still waters of his spirit sea, staring up at the fractured sky.

Jagged fissures split across the sky above, each a mark of his broken mind and the fragments of a soul still struggling to mend.

In fact, a small section of the sky was completely blank. When Adam gazed at that particular part, his dark eyes flashed with cruelty, and his lips curled into a cold smile.

"Ah, you must be wondering how come I have dark eyes all of a sudden, when only yesterday they were hollow and filled with madness," he chuckled coldly, glancing over his shoulder.

But no one was there.

He was talking to no one.

Or was it someone? He did not know.

All he knew was that the more he talked to himself, the more he could drown out the whispers of the Laughing God.

His lips curled into a wide smile, and he continued, "That's because right now I'm inside my spirit sea, and this…" he gestured towards himself, "is my spirit body. Unlike my physical body, my spirit body remains unscarred and supremely beautiful, I might add."

When he gazed at his body, his smile turned even wider. Unlike before the Battle of Ravenfell, his spirit body right now appeared slightly more… incorporeal.

"Like a part of me is missing…" he mumbled.

Adam raised his head, gazing at the blank section of the sky above. He couldn't help but heave a helpless sigh. "Ah, that was very impulsive of me. I could have died. Reckless but… worth it."

He turned around and asked, "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

No one answered. No one was there.

"Well…" He waved a hand and said, "Do you want me to tell you?"

After a long pause, he burst into laughter. "Too bad, I won't," he said.

Then, he allowed his body to fall backward. The next thing he knew, he was sinking into the depths of his spirit sea. In the dark depths, his gaze settled on the pristine white lotus. Its petals were pulsing rhythmically, sending ripples of otherworldly energy outward to repair his soul.

Resting on one of its three broad, verdant leaves was a colossal figure, deep in slumber. When Adam's gaze fell on this giant figure, his eyes involuntarily teared up, and he smiled brightly.

"Val… it's me again," he murmured as he gently landed beside the young dragon.

In the Battle of Ravenfell, Valerian had been heavily injured towards the end. It was a miracle that he was even able to survive several powerful blows from a mighty Mana Core Magus.

And as a result…

"He hasn't woken up since, you know?" Adam's words echoed in the dark depths of his spirit sea.

"Fractured ribs, severely damaged spine, broken forelegs, shattered jaw, caved in skull…" He murmured.

Adam's lips quivered, but… he found himself unable to cry. He shed tears, but his lips curled upwards.

"I'm sorry, Val…" He gently lay a hand on the young dragon's scaly head. "I'm sorry… It's all my fault…"

"It is."

Adam's eyes widened, and he quickly turned around. But there was no one there. Just him, the young dragon, and the white lotus.

No one else…

His eyes narrowed, and he muttered to himself, "Am I going crazy?"

Shaking his head, he turned back around and cast one final gaze at his dear familiar… his little brother… his best friend…

"I miss you, Val," he whispered to the sleeping dragon. "Get well soon…"

He was about to leave when suddenly he halted. He looked at the young dragon with a slight frown, then at the place where he was sleeping.

"Strange," he murmured. "He used to always sleep in the center of the Lotus, surrounded by the white petals. But this time… how come he's sleeping on the leaf instead?"

Adam tried to think deeply about it, but the ravings ceaselessly assaulted him.

"Ugh…" he groaned in frustration. "It's louder inside the spirit sea. Forget it, I'll think about it later."

With that said, he left his spirit sea.

***

The days lost at sea were quite relaxing…

"If not for the voices in my head!" Adam raised his fists and roared to the skies.

His thunderous voice echoed all throughout the island. He remained in that position for a few moments, then resumed his training.

He had nothing to do except listen to the ravings, try not to turn mad, eat, sleep, practice mindfulness, and carry out his mana combat training.

"Oh, by the way, did I tell you how difficult it is to sleep with the Laughing God constantly whispering in my mind?" Adam turned to a random direction and spoke those words.

Of course, no one was there.

"It's very difficult. In fact, I barely sleep these days," he muttered in resignation. "But we have to play the hand we've been dealt, isn't that right?"

Again, there was no response.

Because no one was there.

Adam heaved a long sigh. "I think I'm going crazy…"

The next moment, his lips curled into a happy smile as he began practicing the movements of the Astral Tyrant Manual against the rocky wall before him. With every strike, the coral hill before him shook violently, and even the ground trembled beneath his scarred feet.

Suddenly, he stopped.

"What was that?" He turned to the side and asked in a soft voice.

An eerie silence descended around him. He waited for several moments, still there was no response.

"…I must be hearing things," he murmured.

Shaking his head, he resumed his training. During the Battle of Ravenfell, in fact, even before that, in the Second Trial of the Grand Magus Tournament, Adam felt that he had touched upon something very vital, a hidden key that would deepen his understanding of the Phantom Dance.

He had even entered a sort of trance on two occasions back then. But now, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't understand the underlying concept of that murderous battle art.

"See, the thing is." He took a short break, then turned around. He waved his hands as if explaining to someone who… wasn't even there.

"Unlike other manuals and techniques, I don't have the memories of the expert to guide me through the Astral Tyrant Manual. The Magus discovered this battle art in the ruins of some ancient civilization, and he never got the chance to practice it before he died, so…"

Adam shrugged, then turned back around and resumed his training. Strike after strike, punches, elbow blows, knee shots, and swift kicks, until at last… the hill before him crumbled into a heap of rubble.

He heaved a heavy sigh and muttered under his breath, "It's all up to me to uncover the true potential of the—"

Right at that moment, the entire island rumbled.

And then…

A deep, ancient voice rolled through the air like thunder:

"Enough!"

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