Two Weeks Later...
The hospital doors slid open with a soft hiss as Kaleem stepped out into the sunlight. His tall lean figure stood at the entrance for a moment, taking in the fresh air with a deep breath. Dressed in a clean black coat, he looked refreshed—his golden-red eyes a little dull from rest but sharper than ever.
A cluster of nurses had gathered at the front steps, waving toward him fondly. A few younger ones blushed and giggled, while the older ones brought out handkerchiefs to dab at their eyes.
"Don't forget to visit sometimes, Kaleem!" one called out.
"Make sure you eat well!" said another.
He smiled gently, waving back. During his stay, he had clearly left a mark—not as a mystic, but as a polite and strange person with a comforting presence in their usually grim halls.
[Ping!]
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out and checked the notification:
> [Payment Received]
> [Credit Balance: $2,250,000]
> [Total Account Balance: $2,251,000]
His eyes widened slightly. "Finally," he muttered.
It seemed the Silver Cresh had credited the rewards from the recent incident—including compensation for the second entity's characteristics they had confiscated before. He stared at the phone screen, his thoughts running deep and fast. His gaze sharpened, then dulled again in thought.
Suddenly, the screen changed—a call.
Andrea.
The corners of his eyes softened. He answered.
"Where are you? I'm back from my mission and can come to pick you up," Andrea said, her voice a soft melody that brought calm to his heart.
He hesitated, then chuckled lightly. "No need. I'm visiting a friend's place. You should rest up. You sound tired."
A brief silence. Then, "Okay... Take care," she said before hanging up.
His face fell slightly after the call. He hated lying to her—but Andrea was part of an _official group_, and he wasn't. There were things he couldn't talk with her about as he has a lot of secrets. Pocketing his phone, he looked forward and hailed a cab.
---
During his two-week recovery, Kaleem had used every moment to scour the Mystic Web, diving into research on Mysteries, Mana Application, Evolution, Anchors, and Strange Arts. He discovered something revolutionary.
He saw anchors can be used in certain rituals that can strengthen a person making them cross the attunement levels faster, he even saw some mystics on the web had pioneered methods and rituals to accelerate their evolution by harnessing faith and recognition from mortals though this method is not used purely with theory. It seemed there were multiple roads to strength—and not all required the slow grind of training. There were no hard rules—only warnings. Crises didn't come from advancement alone; they lurked in your body, soul, and even identity.
Kaleem now understood: he had been underutilizing his gifts, which is his knowledge from Earth.
---
The hospital was shared between mystics and ordinary people, but lacked teleportation facilities. After reaching a nearby subway station, he made his way down into the tunnels. The area he stopped at was relatively deserted—an old section decorated with forgotten graffiti.
Facing one of the wall murals, he extended his hand and began to trace a glowing symbol with mana, overlaying it precisely over the graffiti's shape. As he finished, a low hum echoed through the area.
Then—whoosh—he vanished.
His vision adjusted as the spatial force receded, and he found himself in a white room furnished with ornate chairs, sculptures, and a reception desk. The teleportation lobby. It was more luxurious than he remembered.
He walked up to the desk. A thin man in a black vest and glasses looked up from a monitor.
"Welcome. Please provide your dimensional coordinates."
Kaleem nodded.
As He wrote down the required coordinates given to him when he first received the house, then filled in the identification forms. After submitting it, he sat down, glancing at the luxurious paintings and antique vases. Quite the place for simple teleportation.
Ten minutes later, the receptionist returned. "Sir, your gate is ready. The charge is $30,000."
"Thirty?!" Kaleem blinked. "I thought it was just a city hop."
"The distance isn't far, sir," the man said patiently, "but safe gates require stabilization and clean spatial channels—"
Kaleem cut him off with a swipe. He scanned the payment with a wince. The gate powered up as a tear in space appeared in front of him.
He stepped in.
_Flash._
He arrived inside his own apartment.
The gate behind him shimmered, then sealed itself. Kaleem removed his coat and dropped onto the couch with a sigh. His phone buzzed again, and he quickly checked his new account balance.
> [$2,221,000 remaining...]
Then he slept.
---
Eight Hours Later,
He woke up refreshed. In the kitchen, he found instant noodles, eggs, and some leftover vegetables. A quick stir-fry filled his stomach. After cleaning up, he sat down at his desk, logged into the Mystic Web, and began his deep dive.
Areas of Focus:
- Research into Mysteries
- Anchoring and Spirituality
- Evolution of the Three States
- Faith and Methods of Anchoring It
- Interpretation of Strange Arts
- Literary Theory on Mystical Concepts
This wasn't casual browsing anymore. Kaleem was building a foundation—a roadmap for his growth. He was no longer content with being a lucky survivor. He wants to rise and win.
---
Meanwhile…
In a shadow-drenched lair, where the light flickered and insects buzzed incessantly, a group of five cloaked figures gathered. The air was thick with the stench of blood and decomposition. Strange glyphs were etched into the walls, pulsing faintly.
"Have you gathered all the materials?" one of them asked, its voice low and gurgling.
A taller figure responded, "All are living, breathing, and... sustainable. But I suggest we gather more—just in case."
The others nodded.
"The birth of the Mother is finally upon us," hissed another—this one hunched and twitching with barely restrained madness. "We must welcome her well."
Silence followed. No one dared disagree.
The hunchback's face darkened. "The government is onto us. We delay this ritual any further, and we'll be found. The moment the Silver Moon vanishes from the sky... the ritual must begin."
The others nodded solemnly.
All around them, the remains of failed rituals and sacrifices littered the space—an altar stained in blood, jars with floating eyes, and symbols etched in flesh.
The final phase was near.