The moment his finger touched the orb, it slipped into a void of nothingness. Before he could react, the small orb had already engulfed his entire hand.
His heart pounded as his thoughts spiraled out of control.
What? How vast is this?
As his thoughts drifted, the next thing he knew, he was suspended in a void—an absolute space of nothingness. He felt nothing, only the sensation of floating in endless darkness.
Wait—what's happening? Am I… inside the dimension now?
His eyes darted around.
"This isn't what I imagined—I thought it'd be a field, not empty space. What if I say it? Lack of Supremacy… will something happen?"
Nothing happened. But in that instant, an idea sparked in his mind. Spiral—he just had to keep going. With time, it would evolve into something greater—that much was certain.
He wasn't leaving empty-handed. If this place was one with the darkness, then it would obey him.
Surface!
Suddenly, he drifted down and touched the surface—a dark, liquid mirror. He smirked, sensing control.
I have to be calm—I can't overthink everything!
He tried to glance at his body, but before he could get a proper look, his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed, hitting the ground hard—and lay there, motionless, unconscious.
After what felt like an eternity of slumber, Daylan awoke to find himself in his bed—despite last being in the living room. He sat up slowly, instinctively glancing at himself. He was okay.
How he ended up in his room was a mystery. He was certain Medora and Astara hadn't brought him there—but still, he felt the need to ask, just to be sure.
He wore a confident smile as he prepared to join the others.
To him, the achievement was more than a milestone—it was a step toward finally being himself.
In his past life, Daylan had dreamed of becoming a rocket scientist. He built small rockets, crafted robots, and conducted wild experiments—some failed, some outright insane—but none of it ever seemed good enough for his parents.
Now, he had the freedom to create—freely, fully. To build not just with his intellect, but with everything he had lived through. Not just for himself, but for the people he cared about. And though he found it hard to admit… every part of it made him glad.
The moment Daylan entered the living room, his expression darkened. His mouth parted, eyes wide as they darted around, and his head snapped in every direction—the orb was nowhere to be found.
Astara and Medora wore confused expressions as they stared at him. "What's wrong?"
"Where… where's the orb?"
They both shrugged.
What? Did I absorb it somehow?
Instinctively, he tore off his shirt. His eyes widened as he saw the orb fused into his chest, its dark tendrils spreading like veins across his torso and arms. The others stared in shock, their eyes wide—his body had become one with the darkness itself.
"Please tell me this will disappear soon," he muttered, his eyes flickering as he stared down at himself.
He swallowed nervously.
"Honestly, it's not that bad. Think about it—instant storage… I just punch my fist into your chest and poof, teleportation!" Medora teased.
Medora's words sparked an idea in Daylan's mind. Without a word, he dashed to his room and returned with his mask in hand. He was panting, a wide, eager smile on his face, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Energy Manifest
Soul Spiral
His focus narrowed entirely on the mask. Pointing a finger at it, he began visualizing the absorption of the 'feather' embedded portrayed on it. The moment he finished, he used the darkness stored inside him to recreate the exact same feather—projecting it back onto the mask.
He glanced at the others, but before he could speak, he saw it—dark energy radiating from their bodies like smoke, drifting toward the orb embedded in his chest. He shook his head, thinking it was a trick of the eye, but the vision remained. Shocked, yet strangely calm, he understood exactly what was happening.
"Can I have your masks?"
They both gave him a firm nod and headed to their respective rooms. Daylan took that moment to deactivate Dark Spiral—then activate it again. Just as he suspected, the ability was drawing in their dark energy while it was active. But he had something to finish, and if that meant enduring the constant pull… then so be it.
The moment they returned, he recreated their projectories just as he had done with his own.
Then came the moment of truth. Daylan gripped his mask and gave a silent command—vanish. And it did. He leaped into the air, punching with joy, a triumphant grin on his face.
Medora and Astara stared at him, thoroughly unimpressed. Without a word, they each picked up their masks—and just like his, they vanished instantly. Daylan's triumphant grin faltered, his expression shifting in an instant.
"But I didn't explain anything, did I?"
"Watching you do it gave everything away. It's just like our Worth Artifacts," Medora replied in a dull, unimpressed tone.
"What? How?… I thought your artifacts vanished into thin air."
Astara shook her head in disbelief. "No—why would you think that? You already know the artifact is forged from our worth. It's a part of us—our soul, really. So when we want it to rest, our body naturally absorbs it. Though… sometimes, it chooses to rest on its own."
Daylan slapped his forehead, disappointed.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could have used that logic."
"Hello, Mr. Genius." Medora waved at her, trying to get his attention. "You never asked for help, remember?"
Daylan let out a sigh. "So… you tell me. How exactly is this 'teleportation' supposed to work then?"
"Before we go any further, just remember—you're not alone. I've always had your back.
We could've done this together, with my full support, if you'd just asked. We saw how much you were struggling, but we respected your choices. We've been friends since we were three, Daylan. Take some pride in that—take pride in us."
Daylan glanced at Medora, a smile slowly forming on his face. "Thank you, Dora. I'll make sure to ask next time."
Astara glanced at the two of them, watching their eyes lock. She shook her head, then hurriedly spoke.
"What you've done is similar to something people do with Worth Artifacts—binding and unbinding rituals. They perform a ritual to sever someone's connection with their artifact, then carry out another to force the artifact to recognize them as its new master. It's a dark practice… often involving blood—and chaos."
Daylan nodded as he listened.
"Your orb is like a crafted artifact—your own, in fact—and it shares a few similarities with ours. But there's a key difference: yours doesn't just recognize you. It recognizes anyone you choose. While our artifacts require a ritual before someone else can use them, yours can be used by anyone you permit. That's probably why we're able to hide the masks at will."
Daylan stared at Astara with a smile—he was proud.
"So I think the teleportation will work the same way. You just need to grant us access, and the orb will recognize us as one of its own—on your command."
Something he had struggled to understand was now perfectly explained by people who had only watched him work on it—people with no technical knowledge of what it even was.
Two heads are better than one, huh?—he continued to wear his smile.
He snapped out of his thoughts. "You're probably right, Astara… but I have a feeling it only works if you hold a part of the orb. Without the masks, you won't be able to teleport."
They both gave a firm nod—and before he could react, they vanished. "Huh?" he muttered, staring at the now-empty sofa in confusion. Then, in an instant, they reappeared right where they'd been sitting.
They watched as Daylan stood there, motionless. Medora extended her hand, and her mask vanished. "It's pretty simple," she said. "When I teleported, I was taken to this dark space—it felt like I was standing on the surface of dark water. Then a portal appeared in front of me. I stepped through it… and it brought me straight to my room."
Astara gave him a thumbs-up. "You've done well, Day. Normally, it takes royal blood to pull something like this off—not someone labeled a misfit."
Daylan's expression darkened. "Can't you guys just let me have my moment?" he muttered, gritting his teeth.
"Huh? The princess of over two million citizens just praised your work—and that's your response? If I were still a guard, I'd have you arrested for that kind of attitude."
Daylan gave him a lazy look before taking his seat.
"Anyway, I'm going to the kitchen."
"Huh??! You could've just walked. Why teleport?"
Astara set down the book she'd grabbed during her teleport and turned to Daylan. "By the way, when are we heading out to patrol for the Phantoms' hideouts?"
He smirked. "I think we're ready." His eyes locked with hers. "By the way… did you carry me to my room at dawn?"