That afternoon, representatives from Aerdel Hospital arrived.
In my room, I sat at the edge of the bed, my hand extended forward.
The woman in front of me, dressed in a doctor's white robe, checked my pulse. She used several medical instruments to monitor my condition.
As I had expected, everything was fine.
There were no issues with my health.
"Yep, everything is normal. You may resume your activities."
The woman smiled, then placed her medical tools back into a brown wooden case.
Beside me, Rio Edion nodded in relief.
"That's good."
He said.
I simply smiled.
...
Because of that, my activities gradually returned to normal. I resumed copying the holy scriptures. In my spare time, I listened to sermons from other priests.
Bram was the most prominent.
Many worshippers idolized him. He possessed deep knowledge of divinity and righteousness. His speech was gentle, and every word seemed carefully chosen and refined to sound pure and carry a special meaning.
"We are the servants of the all-knowing God in this world. Our duty is to bring light into the darkness, whether in the world or in the hearts of humankind~"
"There are many brothers and sisters out there who may not be as fortunate as we are. Those who have never found the path to God… Don't you feel compassion for them?~"
As I sat among the congregation, watching Bram deliver his sermon, I realized I was unlike those who came here solely to listen. I had deliberately chosen a quiet spot.
I was thinking.
What kind of plot should I integrate into my shadow body?
I had quickly discovered my current weakness. The mystical power of "Author" was useless in battle. In fact, it might as well be considered trash in that regard.
Regardless, to survive out there and to find answers, combat power was essential. That was the gap in my abilities right now.
I had a rough idea for a new plot—one that could grant my shadow body combat power... But integration would take time.
As I pondered, I didn't realize the sermon had ended.
The congregation simultaneously placed a hand over their chests before bowing slightly.
Following their actions, my gaze drifted toward the church walls.
There were many murals carved into them. They depicted pieces of the salvation story—the all-knowing god, Mystara, saving humankind.
A thought entered my mind.
Miracle Temple...
Could I gain a special power there?
According to the attendants who maintained the place, I could obtain great power if I restored the Miracle Temple.
I had a basic understanding of the Imaginer Path. At the very least, the knowledge passed down by Earl Arthur Von Hume to his children. That would be useful…
My thoughts became clearer.
An idea pierced through the chaos in my mind.
...
Night fell.
I opened my eyes and found myself amidst ruins.
This time, I stood facing a half-destroyed gate.
Two stone pillars stood on either side. The right pillar was taller than the left, but both bore the same ancient carvings. They were connected.
At that moment, I heard a greeting that sent a chill down my spine.
"Welcome, Master."
The voice was hoarse and hollow. I never quite got used to it.
I turned to see a hooded figure holding an orange lantern, standing beside the crumbling structure.
I observed them for a few seconds before asking.
"What should I call you?"
Until now, I had never known who they really were. At the very least, I wanted to know more than just "Servant."
The figure walked forward—toward the Gate, to be precise. They raised the lantern, causing shadows to ripple once again.
"Lord Mirageon used to call me Heimdall."
They stood before the Gate, lifting the lantern higher above their head.
For a moment, the hood shifted slightly, revealing the lower half of their form. The figure—who called himself Heimdall—had no physical legs. They seemed to be floating.
"Alright, Heimdall. Tell me what I need to do to rebuild this gate… as my first step."
I stepped closer, placing my hand against the stone pillar.
It was rough. Every carving was etched deeply, giving it a unique depth and a rippling texture on its surface.
"Blueprint."
Heimdall spoke.
I furrowed my brow… Then I remembered. Last time, Heimdall also insisted that the Temple I saw when wearing the mask was the Blueprint for this Temple.
But last time, I wore it for less than five minutes before a stabbing pain overwhelmed me. I couldn't endure it for long.
I touched the bone mask, the one with the triangular symbol containing a single eye.
Glancing at Heimdall, I saw no change in his demeanor.
Alright…
I lifted the mask to my face.
In the blink of an eye, my surroundings shifted.
The hall I now stood in was grand and ancient, filled with a subtle sense of intrigue in the air...
How should I describe it...
It was new.
The first thing that filled my vision was the gate in front of me.
It was a massive stone gate adorned with ancient carvings I couldn't understand.
It stood over twenty meters tall and nearly ten meters wide.
Standing beside it was a wise and handsome man with a distinctive mustache, curled upward. His appearance exuded nobility, and the blue lantern in his hand shone brightly. His smile was warm.
"Heimdall, right?"
I knew the person before me represented the hooded figure from the ruins. Perhaps this was Heimdall's true form before the Miracle Temple was destroyed for unknown reasons.
And sure enough, my guess was confirmed with a nod.
I tilted my head upward slightly, studying every detail of the gate.
Then, I realized...
This isn't about details...
That gate—NO. More precisely, the entire Temple itself—seemed to be calling me. Pulling at my curiosity, urging me to touch it and feel its rough surface…
I stepped forward, each stride slow and rhythmic.
My hand extended, and my fingertips grazed the gate's surface.
For a brief moment, my mind seemed to hum…
A swirling mist surged into my thoughts.
A memory surfaced before my eyes, materializing as a vivid recollection.
I saw myself at the age of seven or younger.
Sitting on his lap.
The air around me felt... different.
"The Imaginer Path is one of the eight mystical paths in our world. Those who master this path possess extraordinary abilities related to imagination and creation. Simply put, this path allows us to manifest imagination into reality."
His lips parted, speaking in a soft voice. The knowledge flowed into my ears without resistance...
My younger self looked up, gazing at that familiar face.
His subtle smile…
His sharp features…
His neatly combed black hair…
And his striking red eyes…
All of it held a mysterious depth…
Of all the people I had back then, only two made my heart feel warm—Eloise Fiore Hume and Arthur Von Hume...
One was a caring older sister who saw me as family and stood by me whenever I was in trouble...
The other was the first person to smile at me… The first to show me how vast the world truly was.
My younger self sat on his lap, listening intently.
My father, Arthur Hume, stroked my hair.
"Can I create anything I want?"
My younger self asked innocently.
My father smiled and even chuckled softly.
"In theory... Yes."
The atmosphere was so calm, and the warmth he radiated was something I deeply missed...
"Imaginer is not just about imagination... It's about how we control and reshape reality as we see fit… It's not about desire or fantasy, but about perceiving the world through a different lens… And that is our family's pride."
This scene—this conversation—was a real memory, replayed like a theater performance.
And now, a realization crystallized in my mind.
The Imaginer Path intertwines imagination and creative manifestation…
Creation, as Eloise demonstrated...
Reality manipulation, proven by the mystical power of "Author"...
The embodiment of imagination's grandeur, as seen in the Miracle Temple...
They all interlace to form the foundation of this path—Imaginer...