Chapter 12
Dax sat on a desk inside his Isolation Chamber, the quietest place in his entire lab.
Books and notes were scattered before him, but he wasn't reading any of them—he was staring through them.
His mind wouldn't stay still.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt something he had almost forgotten:
uncertainty.
The things he had witnessed earlier… the reactions, the energy, the strange behaviors of this world's essence… none of it aligned with the principles he knew. None of it matched the sciences he had mastered.
He finally understood something he didn't want to accept.
He had no understanding of this world and the force called mana.
Not its nature, not its structure, not its laws.
And worse the body he inhabited had no knowledge of any of it either.
He rested his elbow on the desk and pressed his fingers against his forehead, eyes narrowing in frustration.
Right now, in this world, in this body…
He was nothing more than a newborn.
A new soul thrown into an unfamiliar reality.
Blind.
Ignorant.
Oblivious.
The silence of the chamber made that truth feel even heavier.
Dax closed the book in front of him and exhaled slowly.
He needed answers.
He needed understanding.
But for the moment, all he could do… was sit there and confront the fact that he knew nothing.
He was a reflection of Dax hunger—the truest reflection of the void inside him. His hunger had never been limited to the physical realm; it stretched far beyond flesh and bone.
It gnawed at his mind, clawed at his spirit, whispered through the depths of his soul.
He hungered for understanding. He hungered for evolution. He hungered for truths hidden behind truths.
And yet, no matter how much he consumed—knowledge, experience, power—nothing ever filled him.
His intelligence, sharp as it was, never felt complete. His soul found no rest. His spirit found no balance. There was always more.
There was always someone who understood a little deeper, saw a little farther, grasped a little more than he did.
Dax knew this. He accepted it. And in that acceptance, he found a strange perfection.
Because a man who knows he is lacking will never stop climbing.
A man who knows he is empty will never stop devouring.
A man who knows he is incomplete will never stop evolving.
This was that truth made manifest.
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Dax appeared in Micah's designated chamber without ceremony, his expression unreadable but his purpose clear.
He carried questions—more than he cared to admit—but he swallowed his pride.
A man who sought knowledge, he reminded himself, must first learn to humble himself.
So he did.
Standing before Micah, Dax lowered himself with quiet resolve.
"I request your teachings."
Micah froze.
For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard. This man—this being who commanded impossible machines, who bent reality with casual ease—was asking him for instruction? The shock rooted him in place.
He can do all this… yet he doesn't know the basics of mana? What have I even been doing?
Micah's gaze sharpened. Slowly, he examined Dax with fresh eyes, letting his perception sink deeper than before.
Then he saw it—something he should have noticed long ago. Something he had dismissed as impossible.
Dax had no core.
The realization hit Micah like a cold blade. Every human carried a core. It was fundamental. It was identity. It was the anchor of existence. A coreless human was an anomaly—no, an impossibility.
Yet here Dax stood, performing feats that defied reason.
Is he… a god? Or something beyond?
The memory struck him again—the bow. That strange, alien gesture that made no sense to any culture of this world. He had dismissed it. Ignored it.
But now?
Seeing it with this revelation…Micah understood.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and bowed deeply in return.
"I will teach you," he declared, voice resonant with conviction. "Not only the basics—I will teach you everything you must know about this world and its laws."
His head lowered further.
"I know you did not come to me for mana alone. So, Master… I thank you for granting me the honor of being the one to guide you."
Days passed, and Dax's study of Micah's reconstructed body came to a close.
Every test, every measurement, every reaction only confirmed what he already suspected:
The body was outstanding.
A true masterpiece.
One of his finest creations.
Satisfied, Dax rose from his desk and left the isolation chamber behind. The lab hummed around him—his machines, his systems, his silent kingdom—but even this sanctuary could not hold him forever.
He had learned what he needed to learn here.
It was time to step outside.
Without hesitation, he made his decision.
He would explore this unfamiliar world, piece by piece.
He would learn its laws, its dangers, its hidden frameworks—on his own terms. no.
But first, there was one place he needed to revisit.
The House of Fall.
There was someone he wished to see.