The fifteen birds who survived the first trial of the Lure and Trust Mantra stirred awake from their stupor.
They glanced around, their heads tilting in confusion, sensing something was amiss.
Yet, their instincts fell short of piecing together the truth—the crimson pools scattered across the cave were the grim remnants of their fallen flock, victims of an unlucky fate.
"Worm-worm, tasty worm," the survivors chirped impatiently, their small eyes fixed on the mockingbird, who remained motionless, struggling with his inner conflict.
John stood there, dazed, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.
He had spoken about being cold-hearted and about adapting, but living it was another matter entirely. How could he harden his heart so quickly? Could he ever?
The echoes of the mechanical voice in his head gnawed at him.
Am I just being manipulated emotionally by this so-called God of Machine? Whatever the hell it is? His thoughts churned with growing defiance. I won't live by someone else's playbook—not even a god's.
He muttered under his breath, his resolve taking shape. "Screw this world and its laws. Screw the gods and men. Screw them all. I'll act tough when I need to. I'll become a demon on my terms, not theirs." His gaze hardened as the words from earlier replayed in his mind.
"God of Machine is very unsatisfied with my lowly reaction, huh?" John sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your spell caused this mess, but my reaction is the problem? Bravo. That's one epic cop-out."
He paced a little, shaking his head in disgust. "Discard the lower plane mentality, it says. Oh, sure. Real convenient. What a lame excuse. Strength thrives, weakness perishes—what garbage. My bosses and teachers back on Earth could come up with better lines than that. At least they knew how to talk like humans, not some broken fortune cookie."
John spat bitterly, his rant gaining momentum. "Lower plane mentality, my feathers! So what if I whine? Acting tough won't magically erase all my weaknesses or disadvantages in this cursed world. I'm not a god. I'm a mockingbird, for divine sake!"
He paused, glaring at nothing in particular. "So yeah, I whine. I complain. And I'm going to keep whining about your lame abilities and your annoying voice. Deal with it."
The mechanical voice chimed in, ["God of Machine snorted and said, 'You've got a golden tongue for a bird.'"]
John winced, feathers puffing involuntarily. Yikes, what kind of comment is that? Golden tongue? I'm cringing all over... Fine, talking about mouths—yours stinks!
The birds chirped curiously, bemused by his outburst but quickly distracted.
"Worm-worm, tasty worm?" they asked louder, impatiently hopping in place.
"Oh, my brave recruits," John said, waving a wing dramatically, "just wait a moment, and I'll get to that."
He sighed, shaking off the lingering tension. Alright, enough whining over spilled milk. Time to move on to the next step. And please, no more mishaps. I just hope.
With that resolve, he dove toward the throne, landing deftly on the book that rested there. His talons gripped the cover, and he began to pry it open.
Suddenly, a bluish electric spark leaped from the book, striking him like a coiled viper.
"GAH!" John squawked, feathers ruffling as the jolt coursed through him.
The birds flapped their wings in alarm, chirping in distress. "Alert-alert! Danger-danger!"
But John didn't let go. His claws held firm, and with one final effort, he wrenched the book open.
Two more electric arcs struck him, and a strange, familiar sensation enveloped his body. His avian form shimmered, feathers retracting, bones reshaping as the electricity forced him into the human form he'd been imagining at that moment.
The transformation complete, John groaned, steadying himself.
The birds, however, froze mid-chirp, their beady eyes widening at the tall figure now standing in their midst.
"Monster-monster! Scary-scary! Run-run!" they screeched, taking flight in a flurry of panic.
"Not so fast, my champs," John muttered, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He inhaled deeply and began to sing the Eternal Blissful Song. His voice carried a haunting melody, every note perfectly mimicking their kind.
One by one, the fleeing birds faltered. Wings slowed, eyes glazed, and they dropped like leaves in autumn, landing softly on the cave floor. Within moments, all lay unconscious at his feet.
John exhaled, his grin fading as he surveyed the scene. Well, that worked. At least no one exploded this time… His thoughts lingered on the song he had just sung. Of course, the song has nothing to do with the God of Machine. Finally, a top-notch, authentic skill I can call my own.
He stretched his newly-formed human body, joints cracking audibly as he flexed his muscles.
Reaching into the throne's crevices, he pulled out a simple set of clothes and dressed swiftly. The motion felt almost ceremonial, as if reclaiming a piece of himself lost to his bird form.
Satisfied, John turned back to the book he had left open.
As he moved to close it, a sudden force pulled at the air around him, like a vortex. The pools of blood scattered across the cave floor began to swirl toward the book, drawn into the pages as if devoured.
He staggered back, wide-eyed. What the—?!
The torrent of blood streamed into the first page, soaking it entirely. Yet, instead of becoming an illegible mess, the blood morphed into intricate, alien script, filling the top quarter of the page. The remaining portion of the page stayed eerily blank.
Within moments, the bloody chaos of the cave was gone, leaving the floor pristine.
John stood in stunned silence, clutching the book. Slowly, realization dawned. So this is how it works. The secret of the diary reveals itself through... sacrifice. His grip tightened on the book, his earlier guilt now mixed with a grim understanding.
"Good," he muttered, his voice low and resolute. "At least my worry for those birds wasn't entirely in vain. I've dyed the first page with their blood. Now I know how to unlock the secrets of this diary."
He walked toward the unconscious flock, studying them carefully. Reaching down, he plucked a single extended hair from the first bird—a parrot. The hair shimmered faintly, the merlot-red tip oozing with an ink-like substance.
John steadied his hand and began drawing the Mark of Deception over the parrot's feathers. The movements came instinctively as if the knowledge was embedded in his muscles.
The mark glowed faintly as the feather absorbed the ink-like substance, sealing the mark perfectly.
John stepped back, exhaling in relief. "It worked. That went smoother than I imagined. Thank goodness for this human form. Drawing the Mark of Deception with my beak would've been... next to impossible."
He glanced at the other birds. Fourteen still remained.
One down. Let's hope nothing else goes wrong, he thought.
Biting his tongue, John let a drop of blood fall onto the freshly drawn mark on the parrot. The crimson droplet sizzled faintly as it touched the symbol, and the mark began to hum with a low vibration, resonating like a tuning fork struck by unseen hands.
John watched, his breath held, as the parrot underwent a transformation. Its feathers shimmered with a faint glow, and its eyes sparked with newfound brilliance, the dull haze of its earlier state replaced by sharp intelligence and an aura of strength.
The familiar mechanical voice chimed in his mind.
["God Of Machine Congratulates You On Your First Beast Recruit!"]
["You've unlocked a Herding Space as a surprise reward. Its size depends on your luck."]
Before John could process the information, a strange sensation churned in his belly. He doubled over slightly, gripping his stomach as an instinctive force overtook him. His mouth opened wide, and he began to inhale deeply, though it felt far from voluntary.
The air around him swirled, and with it came an invisible energy—thick, potent, and vibrant. It rushed toward him, spiraling inward as he devoured it.
The churning in his belly eventually subsided, but the energy continued to converge. He felt it rise, traveling upward and pooling at a point on his forehead.
His eyes shut tightly, and in the darkness behind his lids, a vision unfolded.
A void stretched endlessly before him, but from its center, a radiant sun emerged, illuminating the emptiness. Beneath it, land began to take shape, forming from nothingness.
The process halted when the landmass spanned 100 square feet. As John instinctively continued to draw in energy, the barren land shifted. A banyan tree sprouted at its center, its roots digging into the earth as its branches expanded skyward. Grasses grew around the tree, carpeting the small island with verdant life.
Beyond the land, only emptiness and the sun's light remained, creating an almost surreal, otherworldly pocket of existence.
What in the hell is this place? John thought, his mind reeling from the sight of the levitating landmass.
The familiar mechanical voice chimed once more.
["Congratulations Are In Order! You've Gained a Spatial Beast Space with a Landmass of 100 Square Feet."]
["Congratulations for Successfully Integrating the Laws and Energy (Ki) of This World With Your Body."]
John opened his eyes, breathing heavily as the vision faded. His body still tingled with residual energy, but he felt... stronger. A part of him instinctively understood the connection between this new space and himself—it was his, a realm tied directly to his being.
"This world keeps getting crazier," John muttered, glancing back at the parrot, now perched calmly, awaiting his next command. "Come here."
The parrot, as if understanding his intention, chirped happily and flapped its wings, landing neatly on his palm.
"Now the problem is… how do I put this little thing into that space?" John mused aloud, scratching his head. "Let's start with something simple—like imagination."
Closing his eyes, he focused on the strange space he had just seen and pictured the parrot entering it.
A moment later, the parrot vanished from his palm.
"It works! Yes, simplicity always works," he said, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.
But his celebration was short-lived. With a sudden poof, the parrot reappeared on his palm, chirping as if nothing had happened.
"Shit! It's happening again!" John groaned, waving his hand slightly as if to shake off the parrot. "How do I do this? How do I do this?"
He muttered a string of nonsensical syllables before blurting out, "Ahju—Ahju, Ahjussi! Damn it. Master, are you there? Help me with this little surprise of yours!"
He glanced at the chirping parrot and sighed. "By the way, your little surprise got me twice. It's refreshing and thrilling—and the credit's all yours."
The parrot tilted its head as if amused by his frustration, while John sighed again, preparing himself to solve the riddle of his newfound power.
["God Of Machine says there is no problem with the gift. You should focus more on your beast instead."]
"No problem with the gift? Oh, really? So, what's the problem, then?"
["God Of Machine says that's for your puny brain to figure out. He's too busy for this nonsense. Oh, and he yawns... then takes a nap."]
"Busy? Taking a nap? Sure, sounds legit. Guess even gods need their beauty sleep, huh?" John quipped, shaking his head.
He paused for effect, glancing up as if addressing the heavens. "Honestly, you're not that different from us mere mortals—wait, scratch that—us birds. Maybe next time, throw in some celestial snoring. Really commit to the role."
The annoying mechanical voice remained silent.
"Whatever. Who cares if you sleep or not? I've got bigger problems—like herding these birds and figuring out what's wrong with my Beast Space." He sighed, tossing the parrot into the air. It flapped a few times before perching back on his head like a smug crown.
With a resigned shrug, John plucked another feather, this time from a sparrow, and began drawing the Mark of Deception. The process went smoothly.
After spitting his blood over the mark, the sparrow sat up, chirping enthusiastically at him.
Just like the parrot, the sparrow underwent the same transformation, its eyes glowing with newfound intelligence. Meanwhile, John felt the now-familiar churn of energy in his core.
He sank back onto the throne, closing his eyes as he instinctively began devouring the surrounding energy. Each contract reinforced his strength, the energy swirling through him like a rushing tide.
One by one, he repeated the process with the remaining birds. Each time, the Mark of Deception was a success, and each bird became bound to him.
After every contract, John cultivated instinctively, drawing in energy until he felt a tangible increase in his power.
When he finally opened his eyes, fifteen birds stood in a neat line before him—five woodpeckers, five parrots, and five sparrows.
"Lucky or not, I've got fifteen now," he muttered, eying the flock. His gaze settled on the woodpeckers, who peered back at him with sharp, eager expressions.
"Alright, let's see if we can figure out this Beast Space thing," he said, rising to his feet.
He reached out, touching each bird in turn while focusing on the strange space in his mind. One by one, the birds vanished, only to reappear moments later, popping back into existence with little fanfare.
"A dumb problem, huh? Sure, I'll solve it on my own." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he tilted his head skyward, addressing the divine silence. He knew, somehow, that his words reached the so-called god's lofty ears.
With a sharp grin, he added, "Alright then, let's begin the experiment."