Dimensions and the Power of Fantasy

Adam did not explain the Cross of Unlight in too much detail, as he believed Cyril had sufficient understanding of this magical item.

Cyril still wanted to ask how long he could borrow this item, but it seemed Adam had already departed.

"He really comes and goes without a trace."

Sighing, he reached out and grasped the Cross of Unlight. In an instant, a scorching sensation emerged; it felt as if his entire body were being illuminated by a blazing sun, and he felt every single cell in his body rejecting this object.

If he hadn't known that holding the Cross of Unlight would cause some discomfort, and if he hadn't struggled to suppress his instincts, he definitely would have instinctively thrown the thing away the very first second.

This pure and powerful purification was not pleasant. It repelled all extraordinary factors, and Cyril vaguely felt that even an ordinary person without extraordinary powers would be purified into something pure—or perhaps a lunatic or a fanatic—after prolonged contact with the Cross of Unlight.

After curiously examining it for a while, he placed the physically "scalding" cross onto the half-unfolded tablecloth scroll.

The moment it touched the scroll, a layer of clear, bright light bloomed from the mottled, verdigris-covered cross and spread across the tabletop. Then, he saw signs of the pigments on the tablecloth drying out and melting.

It seemed the Cross of Unlight was exceptionally repulsed by certain powers within this scroll.

After waiting a while longer and confirming there were no accidents, he lay back down on the bed. Having tossed and turned for most of the night, he was truly sleepy now.

"A Sequence 8 Listener, most likely a member of the Aurora Order. There isn't a single ordinary gang that can survive in Backlund..."

Muttering a few words to himself, he gradually drifted into a deep sleep amidst the silent night.

At noon the next day, Cyril, awakened by a series of knocks on the door, grabbed his messy hair and pulled the door open.

Outside, Haven, who looked seventy percent like him, stared at him with a suspicious expression: "Just waking up?"

"Did you not sleep at all last night, or did you sneak out?"

Cyril looked back at the wall clock behind him; it was already 11:30... No wonder the knocking had been so urgent.

He rubbed his slightly swollen eyes and said, "I had some insomnia last night. It's been like this for the past two days; it'll be better in a while."

Haven's expression softened, and he gave him a look of deep sympathy:

"It seems this incident finally left you with some psychological trauma. I hope you can keep it up and stop getting into all sorts of trouble for those unreliable hobbies, forcing me to clean up after you in the end."

"By the way, according to Father's request, I will be in charge of your living expenses for the next six months. Hmm, I will ensure you have your regular three meals. As for pocket money, that will depend on your performance."

"Also, Beth will be bringing Little Thomas over this afternoon. You'd better stay home and play with Little Thomas; your mental ages are about the same anyway."

Cyril stared blankly at the chattering Haven. He wondered how someone so young could say such old-fashioned things.

"Alright, alright, I get it. Call me when lunch is ready; I'm going to tidy up."

After hesitating for a long time, he couldn't help but push Haven toward the stairs before heading toward the washroom on the other side.

His twin brother had a tendency to develop into a nagging monk at such a young age.

Before he had taken two steps, Haven called him back: "Wait a second."

"What is it?" Cyril turned back with an expressionless face, only to see Haven handing him a deposit slip.

"This is?"

"Living expenses paid in advance?"

Haven curled his lips: "Didn't you want to borrow money yesterday? This is all the savings I've accumulated. There's 113 pounds in there. If it's not enough, go find a nightclub or bar and sell your body."

Cyril was stunned. He suddenly felt the deposit slip in his hand was a bit hot. With such a specific amount, this was definitely all the savings the guy had accumulated since childhood.

He instinctively wanted to refuse, but seeing Haven's serious expression, he abandoned that thought. This was his brother's concern, so of course, he had to accept it.

He would just find a reason to pay him back later—with interest, of course.

However, thinking that Haven had managed to save over 100 pounds while he only had 10 pounds, he felt a sudden pang of heartache.

After a pause, he tucked away Haven's deposit slip, opened his arms toward him, and flashed a big smile:

"Thank you, my dear brother!"

Haven nodded expressionlessly: "Don't forget, you're staying home to keep Little Thomas company today. They should be here soon."

After saying that, he went straight downstairs. His sister and nephew would be arriving soon, and he had to hurry and prepare lunch for everyone.

With their father away, he was the most mature man in the house and had to hold the family together.

Watching Haven's retreating back as he went downstairs, Cyril raised a hand to touch his chest, a smile appearing on his face before he even realized it.

After coming out of the washroom and returning to his room, the first thing Cyril did was go to the desk to check the status of the Cross of Unlight and the tablecloth scroll.

The Cross of Unlight was still glowing, but because it was daytime and the desk was positioned in front of the window, the light wasn't very obvious.

Beside the Cross of Unlight, there were now three light orbs the size of an infant's fist: one silver-white, one eerie green, and one ink-black.

Perhaps because the Cross of Unlight had been continuously exerting its influence, these three powers extracted from the scroll hadn't dissipated; instead, they existed quite stably.

Cyril raised a hand and patted his forehead: "I can't be this careless next time. The power of a Gift will dissipate. I can only say I was lucky this time, otherwise, it would have been a huge loss."

As he spoke, he reached out and grasped the silver-white light orb. Without the slightest obstruction, it merged into his body, as smoothly as if he were reclaiming his own power.

As this energy merged, Cyril felt more knowledge surfacing in his mind—mystical knowledge such as setting up totems, performing rituals, and communicating with the natural environment, as well as practical skills like painting and makeup.

Beyond that, his eyes had also undergone a certain transformation. Previously, his spirit—or rather, his spirituality—could only occasionally sense existences beyond reality, but now, he could see them much more intuitively.

To describe it using the knowledge he had just acquired, his eyes could see through reality, allowing him to perceive through concealment and illusions to a certain extent, and enabling him to see things beyond the physical world.

Beyond that, there was the physical enhancement; he now possessed incredible speed.

"Enhanced speed, seeing the truth, and adding the Apprentice's Door Opening, it seems I'm going further and further down the path of self-preservation and escape."

With a sigh, he lowered his head again to look at the tabletop, where the two masses of eerie green and ink-black light beside the Cross of Unlight were rapidly dissipating under the influence of a highly purifying radiance.

In just a breath or two, the light masses on the table vanished completely, leaving behind only the Cross of Unlight, covered in mottled verdigris, and the tablecloth scroll pressed beneath it, which had turned a dull, murky color and lost its magical effects.

"So, if the power within the scroll isn't transferred to a new vessel immediately after being extracted, does it really just disappear?"

"Does that mean... the Cross of Unlight or Adam's power was helping me maintain it all this time?"

Cyril felt so awkward at that moment he wanted to curl his toes into the floor.

The next second, the Cross of Unlight vanished before his eyes, disappearing without a sound, as if it had never existed at all.

Cyril blinked in a daze, then quickly realized... so, this Cross of Unlight had been a figment of his imagination the whole time?

Though slightly surprised, he didn't dwell on the question for long and reached out to touch the tablecloth scroll.

The moment his hand made contact, the tablecloth, which had appeared relatively intact and new, instantly weathered away, scattering gray dust filled with the scent of decay across the desk and floor.

Cyril looked at the dust scattered on the floor, speechless.

If it was broken, it was broken; wouldn't it have been better if it just disappeared like the Cross of Unlight instead of leaving a mess behind to prove its existence? How annoying; he hated cleaning the room the most.

Shaking his head, he turned around helplessly to go to the washroom and grab a mop and broom to clean up the room.

He froze the moment he stepped into the washroom; the mirror embedded in the wall underwent a peculiar change in his eyes.

He saw a dim, illusory, and unreal path behind the mirror, and deeper within, there were many more such paths, interconnected to form a complex and mysterious Web, as if it were a profound and bizarre world distinct from reality.