**"W–What the hell is this…?"**
Kalm took a shaky step back, then another, slower one.
His eyes trembled violently at what he saw.
Before him, on the Wall of Calm—the gray wall—an image had appeared.
No, not just an image… a reflection? A manifestation?
A mirage of some kind?
It was a boy — around fifteen years old —
With long, neatly flowing black hair resting on his shoulders, fair skin, and deep, dark eyes.
Eyes calm, devoid of any tension or flicker of anxiety.
Silent, composed.
That boy… was *Kalm*.
Identical in every way.
Except… that strange, unsettling calm that surrounded him like a shroud.
**"Did that feeling of calmness from the wall come from *him*...?
No, wait—why does he look like *me*?
Who is he...?
And how did he end up here…?"**
The gears in Kalm's mind turned rapidly, struggling to reach a conclusion.
He stroked his chin, retracing everything from the beginning —
Trying to focus on even the tiniest details that might've seemed meaningless at first,
And connect them to the larger mystery he hadn't even fully grasped yet.
The living fog…
The way it moved with a will of its own, like a sentient, thinking being.
The four strange walls, each seemingly built not from stone or iron…
But *emotion*.
And now this—
The boy who looked exactly like him,
Standing within the wall.
It was all too intricate, too interconnected.
This couldn't be random. There were roots to this. Deep ones.
Kalm let out a breath and sat on the ground.
He crossed his legs, placed a hand under his chin, and began to think.
Really think.
His mind flooded with possibilities.
So many threads tangled together that the gears of his thoughts began to smoke from the strain.
Minutes passed.
Maybe hours.
But no matter how hard he tried,
He couldn't solve it.
He couldn't figure out the mystery of this place—
Or *anything* else.
**"…Wait. There's still one more thing."**
A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes.
He summoned the golden script:
> Name: Kalm
> World Title: ?????
> Phase:Dormant
The moment his eyes fell on the word *Dormant*,
Kalm's heart nearly stopped.
His expression froze in place.
It was terrifying—
And absurd at the same time.
He swallowed hard and continued reading:
> Commitment: The Sacrificer
> **Essence:** \[1]
> Traits:[The Maker], \[The Cursed], \[I Am the Other 0/8]
> **Marks:** \[Mark of Shadow]
**"Y–You've got to be kidding me…"**
He grabbed his head, barely keeping himself from falling backward.
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs—
Then exhaled with a shaky sigh, trying to calm the storm of thoughts.
In the span of what? Three or four hours?
So many terrifying things had been *added* — and a few *removed*.
First was the *Commitment*.
From the sound of the word alone,
It was definitely *not* a good thing.
Not even remotely.
In fact, it was probably dangerous.
Maybe even a crippling burden.
Then there was a new line:
**Essence.**
He remembered Calystra mentioning that a person, upon awakening, would receive a *spirit essence*.
Some gifted individuals could even possess more than one.
Given the number "1" next to the word,
It looked like Kalm *was* one of those capable of holding more than one essence.
**"…But hold on. I haven't even awakened yet.
So what the hell does this mean?"**
The phase clearly stated *Dormant*.
Which meant his essence *shouldn't* have formed yet.
So how, in the name of all hells—
Did he already have one…?
His mind was already burnt out from trying to process everything at once,
So he decided to take it as a gift from the world.
Maybe it was just a reward for being a good person.
**"Yeah. That's right.
I'm a good guy.
Honest. Loyal.
Not some cowardly, lying street rat from the slums…"**
With that sarcastic thought, Kalm let out a small, hollow breath of relief.
At least *something* hadn't turned out horrible or monstrous or hungry for his blood.
There had to be some good in all of this… right?
He looked up in silence,
First at the Wall of Shadow…
Then to the other walls…
Then finally at the eerie fog that filled the place like a thick, living curtain.
Now that he had a spirit essence…
In that moment, Kalm felt as though he might have an *idea* of where he was.
But it was still just a gut feeling—
A vague instinct.
So before jumping to conclusions,
He decided to investigate what was left.
Kalm's eyes returned once more to the golden script, narrowing in on the Traits section—
What had once been marked with question marks now revealed *three* strange Traits.
Yet, two question marks still remained…
**"Even the number wasn't a coincidence…
What an intricate design, you damn Lost One.
You're really proving yourself to be a legendary being in every sense of the word…"**
Kalm scoffed bitterly in his heart, then focused his gaze on the first listed aspect and read its description:
> **\[The Maker]**: An Traits gifted to a small Lost One.
> Grants the ability to perceive and feel the Threads of Fate—the very foundation of all things.
> Allows the user to alter, shape, or construct any element in ways no one else can.
Kalm's eyes narrowed at the strange description.
It felt bland, almost as if whoever wrote it didn't bother to use their brain…
Didn't care to put in the effort to properly articulate such a grand and dangerous power.
Still—
The text clearly stated that it was "gifted to a small Lost One."
That meant it had been *specifically designed* for him.
For Kalm.
Because he now bore the cursed legacy of the Lost One.
**"Great. Another thing to think about…"**
He muttered with a vacant expression.
But then his eyes returned to the Traits, this time with more thought.
*The Maker.*
It sounded so simple on the surface—
And yet it was incredibly dangerous.
If used properly, Kalm would be able to see the inner composition of weapons and elements.
And if he learned well—
If he pushed himself through trials of learning and failure,
Then maybe… just maybe, he could one day reach a level where he could craft legendary weapons.
Weapons of the **Eighth Stage**.
Or even beyond.
That would be truly incredible…
**"…But what's the point of forging a weapon I can't even use?"**
He scowled and waved a hand through the air in frustration.
Then turned his gaze to the other two Traits.
He read on:
> **\[The Cursed]**:
> The worlds, reality, the void, and even nothingness itself…
> All rejected the Lost One's right to wield a weapon—
> Even his own body rejected it.
> Anything he touches becomes harmless and peaceful, losing all threat and edge.
It was exactly as kalystra had explained.
The Lost One's curse had now been transferred to him.
But… what were the **Void** and the **Nothingness**?
Were they abstract concepts far removed from humanity, used only by the Sovereigns?
Or… were they vile creatures of some kind?
Kalm scratched the back of his head.
Once again, failing to understand the flow of things, he sighed and returned to the matter at hand.
His eyes lit up with a faint glow.
**"Looks like the solution to this whole mess lies in the last strange aspect…"**
He focused in on it to read its description.
But—
> **\[I Am the Other 0/8]**
There was no description.
No explanation.
Not even a single word.
It was completely empty.
Kalm scratched the back of his head in confusion.
**"Haaah! Another mystery then…"**
He sighed, then gave a long, slow glance across the entire golden script—
From the top to the very bottom.
He deliberately avoided reading the description of **The Sacrificer**, his *Commitment*.
Right now, he didn't want to add *more fear* to his mind.
The more he realized the kind of twisted madness that coiled around him like a serpent,
The more fear he'd have to face just to take a single step forward.
And since he *had* to complete this trial if he wanted to return to his world alive—
He decided to ignore some things.
To focus on others.
And prayed from the bottom of his heart that he wouldn't regret such reckless—
And frankly childish—thinking.