After the storm of frustration faded, only silence remained.
Jake's scream had dissolved into the void, leaving him breathing heavily—no air, no lungs, yet the illusion of breath still clung to his fading form.
He finally calmed down.
His thoughts began to settle like dust after an explosion.
Alright… think. The problem isn't the energy itself… it's me.
If my mental energy weakens, my very existence disappears.
He rubbed his temples out of habit—though he had no body to touch.
"So, if I strengthen it," he murmured, "I might be able to resist this void… maybe even become its predator instead of its prey."
Fragments of knowledge flickered inside his mind, whispers from lives half-remembered.
Soul… mental energy… they're the same river split into two streams.
The soul was the root—pure essence, the spark that connected one to existence itself.
The mental energy was the current—the expression of that essence, formed through thought, will, and consciousness.
When the current weakened, the river stagnated… and the soul faded into nothing.
Strengthen one, and the other followed.
Jake sank deeper into thought.
"Then I just need a way to cultivate mental energy," he said quietly. "There must be a technique for it…"
And then—
Flash.
A surge of blurry memories cut through the whiteness like lightning.
A man—or perhaps something beyond man—stood before him. Jake couldn't see the face, only the faint glow of golden eyes hidden beneath a hood.
That voice echoed across eternity:
"Remember this, Jake. The path of the mind is the path of eternity. The technique I gift you—'Ethereal Mind Scripture'—will temper your consciousness and anchor your soul across worlds."
Then another whisper followed, softer but older—
"And this… the 'Life of Memories'. Through it, you shall one day gather every memory you have ever lived, and every life you have ever been."
The vision dissolved like smoke.
Jake blinked—or thought he did—and the void returned, blank and endless.
"Oh… shit," he muttered.
"I only remember one phrase from Life of Memories."
He steadied himself.
"Alright then. Let me focus. Maybe… if I can just trigger it again, I can regain everything."
He closed his non-existent eyes and began to concentrate, pushing every ounce of will into that single, glowing spark within his soul.
Time—whatever that meant here—passed unnoticed. Seconds or centuries, it didn't matter.
Nothing happened.
No voice. No vision. No light.
Jake exhaled softly. "Heh. Figures. Not that easy."
But a faint smile appeared on his face.
"At least now… I know how to fight back."
The white void pulsed faintly around him, almost as if listening.
And Jake Virell sat there in silence, a tiny golden ember of will in an ocean of emptiness—no longer helpless, not yet powerful, but aware.
"Wohoo!" Jake's voice echoed faintly across the void, breaking the endless silence.
"I finally have a mental technique! Alright then… let's start practicing."
He closed his eyes—or rather, focused inward, for he had no eyes here.
The world around him faded into pure stillness, the white emptiness replaced by the quiet rhythm of thought.
From the fragments of memory that still clung to him, the steps of the Ethereal Mind Scripture surfaced once more—
a sequence not of movements, but of awareness.
He began to run the technique, letting his thoughts align with the flow he remembered:
first, stilling the ripples of mind, then binding awareness to essence, and finally letting consciousness circulate freely within the soul.
Time—whatever that meant in this place—flowed differently now.
Moments melted into hours, hours into eternities.
Jake couldn't tell whether he had been sitting for a breath or a millennium.
Then, something stirred within him—
a faint golden flicker that pulsed in sync with his awareness.
He had entered the First Phase: The Reflection of Self.
In this phase, one must gaze inward and perceive their consciousness as it truly is—unfiltered, untamed, and pure.
Jake saw himself not as a body, but as light—a trembling golden spark suspended in the sea of white energy.
Every fear, every doubt he held caused ripples across the light.
But as he steadied his thoughts, the ripples calmed, and the glow became brighter.
The purpose of this phase was simple yet profound—to understand the boundary between thought and existence.
The more he focused, the more control he gained over the shape of his awareness.
Eventually, that faint golden spark stabilized, glowing softly like a small sun against the void.
Jake didn't stop.
He had no plan to pause—not when he finally felt progress.
He moved toward the Second Phase: The Anchor of Mind.
This was far more difficult.
Here, the practitioner had to bind their unstable consciousness to the flow of soul energy, forming a stable current that couldn't be swayed by doubt or external force.
Jake struggled for what felt like countless lifetimes.
Each attempt ended in collapse, his awareness scattering before he could complete the cycle.
But he didn't give up.
He gathered his fading will, started again, and again, and again…
...
...…
...
Eternities later, something within him clicked.
The chaotic current of thought and emotion began to merge into one smooth stream.
The golden spark in his core pulsed with power, surrounded by faint silvery threads that hummed in harmony.
He had finally broken through.
The Second Phase: The Anchor of Mind was achieved.
Now his consciousness was no longer drifting. It had roots—unshakable and calm.
Even the oppressive white energy outside couldn't breach his focus.
Jake exhaled softly, feeling an unusual peace wash through him.
It was as if his emotions had been sifted, purified by the flow of the technique itself.
Maybe it was the practice—or maybe it was the clarity of this new state—but for the first time since awakening, his mind was silent yet alive.
Calm yet sharp.
He didn't open his eyes.
Not yet.
The path wasn't over.
The next phase awaited—something deeper, something greater.
And Jake Virell was ready to walk it.
Jake began to walk forward—each step echoing faintly across the endless white.
His feet didn't touch any ground, yet every stride carried the weight of purpose.
After succeeding in the first two phases, something within him had changed.
The chaos that once clouded his mind was gone, replaced by a quiet certainty.
For the first time since awakening in this void, he believed—truly believed—that he could control it.
With renewed focus, he stopped and raised his gaze.
Before him, space itself shimmered faintly, as if anticipating what came next.
"The Third Phase…" he whispered, feeling the words resonate through his being.
He named it instinctively, guided by intuition rather than memory—
The Mirror of Tranquility.
This phase was different.
If the first had taught him awareness, and the second had given him stability,
then this one demanded transcendence—
to let go of everything, even the sense of self he had just built.
He sat cross-legged, allowing his golden flame to rise behind him.
It flickered softly, its light no longer confined—it merged with the void,
stretching outward like ripples across an endless lake.
The Scripture's rhythm began again.
He synchronized his thoughts with that pulse, allowing awareness to dissolve and reform,
allowing his consciousness to scatter like dust and then gather again, brighter, clearer.
Each cycle felt like peeling away a layer of reality itself.
Stillness is not absence, he recalled from the flash of memory that once showed the Scripture's words.
It is presence unshaken.
Jake's mind quieted until even the concept of thought seemed foreign.
No breath. No sound. No distinction between himself and the space around him.
He was reaching it—the Mirror of Tranquility—
the point where the mind reflects all, yet clings to nothing.
Then—
A low, resonant hum broke through the stillness.
"But… suddenly…"