Jin walked to the bathroom in silence, each step unhurried, deliberate—like a shadow moving of its own accord. Once inside, he locked the bathroom door behind him with a muted click, and proceeded with the strange, mundane rituals of human necessity.
After completing the most primitive of bodily tasks, he raised his hand—and the black box materialized once more.
As before, it wove itself instantly into reality, as if it had always belonged there. A splinter from a higher truth, simply waiting to be noticed.
Jin stared at it for a long while, unmoving. Then, at last, he sighed—just as characters often did in the novels he had once read.
This moment, indeed, felt like one meant for a sigh. The air itself seemed to demand it.
"Numerical Cube," he murmured, his crimson eyes unchanging, untouched by doubt or emotion.
He did not truly understand what the box was—didn't even know what to call it at first. And so, lacking a name, he had given it one. "Numerical Cube." A title forged from instinct and utility.
It suited its function.
He rotated the cube slowly in his hands, letting his thoughts drift. The memories returned in fragments—like reflections on a dark lake. It was, perhaps, another facet of his innate ability—Mathematician. But he wasn't completely certain. That power was a mystery even to him.
Yet, one thing was clear: the cube was far more than a mere object. It was no ordinary container, but a concept—a structure beyond dimensions, an abstract form veiled in false materiality.
The Numerical Cube did not hold things in the traditional sense. Instead, it reduced all to numbers, to equations, to code—transmuting matter into data and storing it within its boundless self.
That was the function he was most familiar with.
He had gained it only recently, just before his descent into the Human Realm. There had not been enough time to fully grasp the depths of the thing, nor to question why he possessed it in the first place.
Even now, he had no definitive answers.
But theories? He had those.
Jin scratched his head, just as those fictional characters did when tangled in heavy thought. It felt oddly appropriate.
Then, almost too softly to hear, he whispered to himself:
"This artificial soul… it's not perfect."
But nothing ever is. Perfection is a myth—one that crumbles under the weight of scrutiny.
No, his new soul was something else entirely. It was not just flawed—it was wrong. An anomaly in this world. A glitch in a divine system.
He recalled what he had learned in the Forbidden Lands: that all souls, regardless of race or form, were born from a single, unknowable source.
"It might be a living entity… or it might not be alive at all. But whatever it is—it exists."
The Forbidden Land was not always cloaked in silence and death. Once, it was a realm of unparalleled prosperity—renowned across worlds as the cradle of spiritualism. It was said that the very air shimmered with ethereal energy, and the skies sang with unseen forces.
Great Sages, beings of profound wisdom and unfathomable power, once called it home. They were not mere scholars, but seekers of absolute truth—souls who delved into the fabric of existence itself. Their teachings, etched in runes older than any kingdom, still linger amidst the ruin temoles, whispering secrets to those brave—or foolish—enough to listen.
Though the temples now lie shattered, their walls broken and sanctuaries swallowed by time, the knowledge remains. Dormant, but not dead. The echoes of enlightenment still haunt those sacred stones, as if the very land remembers what it once was.
They didn't worshipped any Gods.
They worshipped the source.
The origin of all souls.
And they called it—
***
Inside the mystical library,
Albedo finished his explanation and then fell into silence.
Jay, nervously gazing at his ethereal face, caught a fleeting melody of sorrow, regret, and helplessness dancing within those celestial features.
He knew those feelings all too well—they were the same emotions that haunted his nightmares.
"But it's not time for that," Albedo said, his usual gentle smile returning, resurfacing on that profound, almost divine visage—radiating that otherworldly glow Jay remembered so vividly.
"You came here for answers, didn't you?" he continued, voice smooth as twilight.
"Oh, um... yes."
Jay, forcing himself out of his trance, responded in a faltering tone.
"I-I don't know if I should ask, but... I've heard something strange."
"That humans don't have souls until they Awaken," Albedo said flatly, with unnerving honesty.
Jay was taken aback by his unfiltered response.
He had expected Albedo to hide such truths from him—after all, he was just a helpless boy Albedo had chosen to take. But now that the truth had been spoken aloud, Jay couldn't help but feel a rising wave of panic.
"So it was true... I didn't mishear... But then—how are we even alive without a soul?"
"It's not that humans weren't given souls," Albedo replied calmly. "Rather, their souls exist in another plane of existence... a different world. Still tethered to their vessel—but not wholly within it. And even if it's lost, the body does not simply cease. Life and soul... are not the same."
"Wh-what? Another world? What does that even mean?"
Albedo brought a delicate finger to his lips, thoughtful.
"If you wish to understand... I'll have to tell you a story."
"A story...?"
"Yes. A story."
He drifted into the shelves for a moment, alone amidst the vast ocean of books, and returned carrying a modest, leather-bound volume—clearly a storybook.
Approaching Jay, he snapped his fingers.
In an instant, two inviting chairs with floppy cushions appeared before them, along with a tea table bearing a porcelain teapot, steaming cups, and a tray of freshly baked cookies.
Albedo took his seat first, gesturing for Jay to sit. Then, with elegant precision, he lifted the teacup, inhaled the gentle aroma, and took a slow, deliberate sip.
Jay followed his lead. As he held the cup, he braced himself, remembering the bitterness of the coffee he'd once tasted—how much he'd hated it.
But to his surprise, not only did the tea smell divine, it tasted exquisite—warm, floral, and comforting.
Albedo savored the tea with small, refined sips.
Jay, by contrast, downed his in just a few gulps, scalding his tongue in the process.
"Would you like another cup?" Albedo asked with a soft chuckle.
"Oh, no-no, I'm fine. My tongue's already half-burned," Jay replied, embarrassed.
Albedo chuckled quietly, then opened the book. Its pages revealed pictures above the text—like an illustrated storybook meant for children.
'I'm not that uneducated... you didn't need to bring me a picture book,' Jay thought, mildly offended.
But Albedo paid no mind to his expression and began to read.
The pages turned slowly, each unfolding a part of a forgotten tale.
A story buried beneath history, concealed from the world of men.
A story of the hidden truth behind human existence.
And so began an ancient tale, long lost to memory—
A tale of souls, of worlds beyond,
And the delicate, invisible thread that binds them all.
The Story Begins
Long before the calamity struck,
Long before the world was split,
Long before the humans lost—
There was a kingdom of magical wonders.
The humans who lived were true and pure,
Their powers vast, their spirits sure.
They flew the skies, roamed the land,
Spoke with Spirits, danced with sand.
They sang to oceans, played with flame—
The world itself had known their name.
With them lived creatures wise and bright,
Of magic deep and radiant light.
Together they thrived, both beast and kin,
Helping each other, free of sin.
Among the humans were sages great,
Who studied the truths of death and fate.
They learned of Gods, their birth and fall,
Their silence, song, and ancient call.
Humans had souls that touched the sky,
And dared to dream of rising high—
To seize the heavens, claim the thrones,
To shape the stars with flesh and bones.
But then a war—beyond all men—
A war of Gods began again.
Many fell and many rose,
Some sought mortals to oppose.
The cunning ones among mankind
Shook divine hands with hopes aligned.
In dreams of power, they took the deal—
To stand as Gods, with hearts of steel.
Among them walked a poet free,
A sage of thought and melody.
He followed his brother into flame,
Knowing well the cost, the shame.
They betrayed the God they had once served,
And called down wrath they well deserved.
The skies grew dark, the stars stood still—
Heaven prepared to break their will.
Then came the Goddess, crowned in fire,
Her rage the storm, her wrath entire.
The sages once of dream and light,
Now waited trembling for the night.
But one still fought, denied the chain,
Refused to bow, defied the pain.
He swayed his kin with cunning tongue,
And fooled the Goddess, fierce and young.
They fled their doom—but not unscarred.
The world was broken, peace was marred.
The Goddess cursed all humankind,
Stole their souls and trapped their powers.
In a hidden world, beneath her Eye,
She locked the souls, and watched them cry.
She spilled corruption into grace,
Twisting beasts that once embraced.
The friends of man became his bane,
The world grew dark with endless rain.
Magic spoiled, and light undone—
It marked the fall of everyone.
Until the poet—once so wild—
Who once sought freedom as a child,
Built the cages with his hands,
To bind the chaos with sacred bands.
He who sang of skies unbarred,
Now forged the locks and stood as guard.
And as for men—what could remain?
But silence, sorrow... and endless pain.