The silver seeping out of the gate moved extremely slowly, struggling to converge on Cyril.
It flowed gradually onto his right hand, which was pressed against the gate, then burrowed in bit by bit, merging with his flesh.
At the same time, low, distant Buddhist chants echoed in Cyril's ears. He saw monks gathered around the Buddha, endlessly reciting scriptures.
Buzzz-
A heavy buzzing abruptly rang out, snapping Cyril out of the vision.
The gate formed from gray fog and starlight collapsed completely before him. The gray fog churned violently, scattering countless fragments of starlight.
Specks of deep blue gathered again in Cyril's hand, forming a quietly burning Brilliant Spark.
At the same time, hideous, contorted faces grew across the surface of the violently churning gray fog.
Cyril's gaze sharpened, and he instinctively flashed some distance backward.
The faces formed from gray fog seemed to lack intelligence. They could only roar mindlessly, raising a "tsunami" across the boundless barrier.
Cyril studied them carefully for a while. Only after confirming that the faces growing on the gray fog barrier could not interfere with their surroundings or affect him did he turn his attention back to himself.
He saw that a mercury-colored swastika composed of numerous tiny symbols had appeared in his right palm. It seemed to have grown beneath his skin, already fused with the flesh and spirit there.
Cyril silently gazed at the swastika in his hand. He sensed an aura deeper and more indescribable than those of Adam, the True Creator, or the Primordial Demoness.
This was the aura of the Key of Light!
"Was this giving me a chance, a possibility of truly controlling the Die of Probability?"
As he murmured, his spirituality suddenly stirred. He looked up at the Die of Probability, which had finally stopped on