Later that night, Daylan conjured ink and paper, jotting down the date, time, will and a note on his mental state. It was the 28th—the final day of the ninth month—and the clock read exactly 23:07.
You are the dimensional seed—the key and will of my desires. This was the will he had imprinted onto it.
For his mental state, he wrote only three words: Lack of Supremacy.
The moment he finished, he held the paper tightly in his hand, the room cloaked in darkness. What he wrote wasn't just a mark of his new self—it was a declaration of his unwavering resolve.
Energy Manifest
Soul Spiral
Daylan imagined the words on the paper as stickers—things that could be peeled away. With his eyes tightly shut, he slowly stripped each line of ink from his mind, one by one.
Not once did he open his eyes to see the paper—he simply kept visualizing, lost in the act of imagination.
He imagined the words merging into a single orb of ink, swirling and suspended in the air. As he reached out to touch it, his fingers bounced off its surface—it was real. It worked.
Spiral Form Deactivate
Daylan opened his eyes and smiled. "It worked."
Daylan wanted to know if the concept of 'darkness' went beyond mere shadows. He had attempted the same technique earlier that day, before visiting his family, but it had failed—Spiral Form only worked on things that could be materialized.
But this time, with more time on his hands, he activated Dark Spiral to see if any form of darkness—even ink—would recognize him as one of its own.
But he wasn't done. With the orb still hovering above him, he needed to test one of the few ideas he had in mind.
He took a deep breath—Dark Spiral
Deactivated
He braced himself, hoping the ink would drop to the floor but it didn't. He glanced at himself and smirked.
Ever since Dark Spiral began evolving, Daylan had noticed a few changes—but he'd never given them much thought. Though the ability granted him clear, daylight-like vision when activated, he'd also realized that even without it, his sight in the dark had become sharper than average.
Watching the orb still hovering above, he realized that he was becoming one with the darkness—with or without his ability activated. And with that, he knew his ultimate plan had a real chance of survival.
What he wanted was similar to forming a black hole on a micro-scale—except this one doesn't crush matter, it stores it.
He wanted to know if he could feed the orb more emotion and darkness—enough to shape it into his own dimension, a space for teleportation and hiding their supplies. If the darkness truly recognized him as one of its own, then he should be able to live within it.
Now that the orb had been fed the keywords—words to give it meaning, will, the recognition of its ruler, and the day it came to life—Daylan was done with the light.
He threw himself onto the bed, hoping to rest for the night and pick things up again in the morning.
Day broke before he even realized it. When he opened his eyes, the orb was still hovering above him. He rose to his feet, stretched his body, and flashed a wide grin—he couldn't wait to brag about his achievement.
He caught the orb in his hand. Surprisingly, the ink didn't stain his palm—instead, the orb absorbed any trace of ink that touched him. Cradling it carefully, he made his way to the living room.
Medora lounged on the sofa, watching with amusement as Daylan walked awkwardly across the room, while Astara busied herself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
"Did you wet the bed or something?"
Daylan paid no mind, forcing on cradling the orb.
"Astara!" She yelled. "I think Daylan wet the bed."
"Seriously?"
Curious, she rushed out to him.
Daylan instantly left the orb to hover over and turned to Astara. "Are you done with breakfast?"
"Did you really wet the bed?"
Daylan gave her a lazy look.
"Yeah. I'm done."
Daylan grinned, placing his hands on his waist. "Then let's finish eating and I'll show you the greatest invention of all time."
Both Medora and Astara shrugged as if they didn't and returned to their respective activities. But Daylan wasn't faced, he continued to wear his smile.
Tsk… these girls can not see greatness.
Before long, Astara served their meals—and she didn't disappoint. Her cooking lessons had clearly paid off. As soon as they finished eating, Daylan took the initiative to begin his explanation.
"I've been thinking—what if we could hide our masks without carrying them around? Like how you two summon your artifacts. But that's not all. I want to create a dimension between reality and space—not just for teleportation, but something far more."
Medora and Astara exchanged confused glances.
"How exactly are you planning to do that?" Medora asked. "I thought your thing was getting stronger in darkness—and the creation stuff… or am I wrong?"
"Not at all. I just want to improve my ability. If it were only for me, I'd take a different approach—since I can merge with darkness, it'd be easy."
He added. "But I want to include external factors, like you two. If I succeed, it won't matter where we are—we could reach the same location within seconds. That would be perfect for our mission."
"And how exactly are you going to do that?"
Daylan smirked. "To make everything external, I figured I'd need something external too—something beyond just me and the shadows. That's why I decided to use black ink."
He pointed at the orb. "What you're looking at is an ink orb—conjured with my ability."
Medora leaned back. "How exactly is that small thing supposed to carry our masks—and the three of us?"
Daylan folded his hands and repeatedly tapped his chin with his finger, his eyes darting toward the floor—deep in thought.
How can I explain without exposing too much?—he snapped the moment he got it.
Daylan smiled. "Think of this as the shell of a dimension…"
He snapped his fingers a few times, searching for the right words. "No, wait—a better way to explain it: it's like a baby in the womb. With enough darkness to feed it, it'll grow into a fully formed, absolute dimension."
"I believe it won't hover around forever," Astara said softly. "But how exactly are you planning to feed it?"
"Right… This is the key and the door. I'm the anchor, and darkness is the foundation," he explained.
"So I'll need your help. I want you both to touch it—often. At least 50 to 100 times a day. I'll be doing the same. Anything dark helps—ink, silence, night. I'd even suggest we keep the house dark at night. It's growing inward, not outward, so don't worry about its size."
Astara's expression darkened. "You want us to touch it so it absorbs our darkest emotions, right?"
Daylan gave an awkward smile. "If you put it that way, I sound like a mad scientist… but yeah, that's exactly it."
"Great. Then before I go along with it, we must make a deal."
Shit. Daylan swallowed nervously and gave a firm nod.
"You must teach me how to prepare every meal in your catalog—for free! And also, no cleaning your room or calling you 'Sire' or whatever that is."
Daylan stood motionless, staring at her lazily.
What goes around comes around, huh? He squinted his eyes. I will get her. Oh yeah, I will."
"What if I refuse?"
"I don't think you would do that—even if you wanted to."
Oh my, I will not forgive this girl—he shook his head.
"Okay, deal." He murmured.
Though one of his dreams was shattered by Astara's deal, his ultimate masterpiece—the dimension—continued to grow, fed by the darkness.
In truth, Daylan had no idea what would happen once the orb had been fed enough—or even how to control it. He'd read something similar in a book back at the library, written by the Blind Prophet, one of the Vital Five. But the work was mostly imaginative, offering little detail—something Daylan understood all too well, for obvious reasons.
Daylan had no choice but to learn on his own—examining the orb, writing down every small detail he noticed, randomly activating his ability around it to observe its reactions, and constantly monitoring its growth. All in the hope of uncovering more about it… and gaining deeper knowledge.
It was the second day of the tenth month, Decembrion. Time was slipping away—they needed to start searching for the Phantoms' hideouts. Daylan believed the orb had been fed enough.
Late at night, with Medora and Astara in their rooms, Daylan stood silently before the orb, studying it with a watchful eye.
Daylan took a deep breath, fear crept in—he didn't want it to be a failure.
Well, I don't think I'll figure anything out unless I try a few ridiculous things to test its limits.
Daylan reached out, extending his hand toward the orb.