"Don't you get it, Jin?" The voice sounded concerned but still whispered to him.
"Don't you understand? How did you never consider using your ability to recover your lost memories?"
Jin narrowed his eyes, but his crimson gaze remained devoid of emotion.
"Someone must be preventing me from doing it."
"You're right. But the question is—who?" Albedo replied, brows furrowed in contemplation.
"Let's find out," Jin said, his voice low yet resolute.
Jin's innate ability, Mathematician, allowed him to perceive all things as numerical values and manipulate them at will—reducing even the abstract into quantifiable logic.
By activating his ability, Jin glimpsed fragments of forgotten memories. That was when he made a harrowing discovery: all recollections of his mother and sister had been deliberately sealed away.
'It has to be that old man,' Jin thought.
"It might me. But now, we need to fix this first," the voice encouraged. Jin never needed the reassurance, but it persisted—as it had for a decade.
And Jin nodded. As he always had. For ten long years. Like a doll possessed by a ghost. Or a puppet eternally enslaved by its puppeteer. He nodded and complied. Like always.
[Mathematician: Memories Sealed × 0]
A long, tremulous breath escaped him, burdened by the weight of a past that eluded his grasp. He slowly closed his eyes.
The voice lingered in the hush between heartbeats, clinging to the fragile hope that the scattered pieces of Jin might soon return.
The familiar darkness behind his eyelids offered no comfort, yet the voice wouldn't allow him to surrender. Somewhere within that void, Jin's lost past waited to be unearthed—fragments poised to fill the hollowness in his mind.
He waited... and kept waiting. But still, no trace of the memories emerged.
Frustration crept in like a slow-acting poison.
"What's going on?" the voice murmured to itself, thoughts ricocheting in all directions. Jin's ability had never taken this long to respond. Previously, manipulating numbers and extracting information came effortlessly.
But now... something was unmistakably different. The seal on his memories remained impenetrable, like an unyielding fortress.
Jin had used Mathematician with surgical precision, deploying every conceivable numerical strategy—and yet the memories remained locked away, as if restrained by an unseen hand.
The voice's confusion deepened, merging with rising anger.
"Damn it!" the voice roared, fury erupting like a volcano.
Jin's thoughts surged, processing at speeds beyond comprehension, pushing the limits of human cognition. Time slowed—no, froze—each second stretching into eternity.
Within that stillness, Jin activated Mathematician again and again and again… until numbers failed to quantify the attempts.
Hundreds turned into thousands, then escalated to millions, billions, trillions—beyond count.
He refined countless equations, dissecting the seal with microscopic precision. But no matter how diligently he tried, the result remained unchanged—absolutely nothing.
Each failure cut deeper than the last. The silence in his mind became suffocating. How could his trusted ability—his unwavering constant—be so utterly ineffective now? It felt as though the cosmos mocked him, turning every calculation into a cruel jest.
'Could it be the Outer Gods?' Jin wondered. 'No... even they couldn't interfere with Mathematician.'
He invoked the ability once more, this time altering his focus. Instead of targeting the memory seal, he recalibrated to dismantle the force resisting him.
"W-What?! This can't be," the voice stammered, trembling with disbelief.
Jin's gaze locked onto what had materialized before him. His heart remained in eerie silence. His thoughts collided, forming infinite conclusions.
What he saw was both shocking and incomprehensible—defying every rule he knew. Yet he remained silent.
The result of his recalculation was unmistakable: the source of the resistance was none other than himself—specifically, a past version of him.
The sight was jarring. Inexplicable. Dripping with dread.
How could this be? What reality had he uncovered?
"You! Why are you stopping yourself?!" the voice screamed in pure rage to the past Jin.
[Mathematician: Complex Calculation]
He began a new operation—calculating the essence of time itself. Using his power to quantify reality, he sought to understand and manipulate temporal dynamics as he did any other variable.
Assessing the durability of barriers was simple—they appeared as values like 3476 or 5678.
But time... time was another beast entirely.
It wasn't governed by a single value but a sprawling, infinite lattice of equations and elusive variables.
He could manipulate the flow of time—accelerate it, decelerate it, or even freeze it—like Albedo had once done.
Jin accomplished this by adjusting numerical values tied to temporal momentum. But delving further—to truly alter the past or gaze into the future—was exponentially more complex.
And yet, Jin had succeeded before. Through rare, excruciating efforts, he'd learned that tampering with time was a perilous endeavor.
Carelessness invited catastrophe. Freezing time was manageable. But to dive deeper demanded precision—lest reality unravel.
"Now... who is this version of me that sealed away my memories?" Jin questioned, amplifying his ability and probing deeper into the layered strata of time.
And what he saw…
He saw a younger version of himself—no older than five or six—trapped within a mansion consumed by flames. The inferno raged around the child, shadows dancing on scorched walls.
The young Jin looked disoriented—fragile and utterly alone. Beside him lay a still, lifeless woman—her presence haunting in its silence.
The scene radiated sorrow, dread, and finality.
Jin felt his breath hitch. For a moment, his hollowed heart stirred.
What was that?
'Something... unfamiliar.'
That moment had been buried—concealed behind the seal. And now, it had revealed itself as the true origin of his darkness.
Before he could comprehend more, another force yanked him away from the vision. Narrowing his eyes, he recognized it. This time, the resistance emanated from a future version of himself.
"What the hell is going on? Why are they stopping you from uncovering your own past?!"
[Mathematician: Emotions × 0]
The foreign emotional surge dissipated abruptly. Jin clasped his hands, closed his eyes, and silenced his thoughts.
[Mathematician: Innate World, Blank Page]
When Jin opened his eyes, his surroundings had changed completely. He now stood in his innate world—a domain unique to every awakened individual.
For Jin, it was a pure white void, infinite in scope. A blank page. But it wasn't just emptiness—it was latent potential incarnate, where abstract formulas and numerical truth awaited manifestation. The stillness wasn't absence; it was the embodiment of calculation.
"So this is what an innate world looks like?" a voice echoed across the white plane.
Jin turned, expressionless.
"How did you get here?" he asked.
It was Albedo, standing beside him, eyes scanning the boundless white.
"What the...!?"
"I don't remember inviting you," Jin stated.
"Oh, since you decided to come alone, I figured I'd tag along," Albedo replied with a shrug.
"You did, huh? But how?"
[Mathematician: Information Calculation]
Jin's ability scanned Albedo, revealing something extraordinary—a dragon heart.
'No wonder he could enter this space,' Jin thought, his gaze hardening.
"What an incredible power... How did he even obtain a dragon heart?" The voice wondered.
"So, you figured it out."
"You already knew I would."
"Of course. I can see through time just fine," Albedo said with a soft smile.
Jin didn't voice it, but he knew—Albedo was more adept at time manipulation than he was.
"Why tell me all this? Are you trying to manipulate me?"
"No. I just want you to understand the truth. I know what it feels like."
Jin stared into Albedo's lime-green eyes. They were serene—but behind that calm shimmered a quiet sorrow. Jin recognized it. That grief mirrored his own. Their pains were different, yet familiar. They understood each other without needing to say it aloud.
"So... what will you do now?" Albedo asked.
"Nothing special," Jin replied with a composed breath. "If I'm not strong enough on my own… I'll simply create a new me."
"A new what?" Albedo asked, genuinely astonished. For someone who could see the future, surprises were rare—but this place had disrupted his foresight. His recent encounter with Jasmine had shaken him, and now this...
[Mathematician: Number Copy]
[Mathematician: Number Rewrite]
Using Number Copy, Jin duplicated himself—or rather, the numerical structure that made up his being. Then, with Number Rewrite, he altered that structure, producing two flawless versions of himself.
"Incredible," Albedo murmured. "They're not clones… they're perfect copies. Equal in every way. This is beyond extraordinary."
"Hehehe, that's nothing," the voice chuckled proudly, for no apparent reason.
"Yes. They're exactly like me. No deviation whatsoever." Jin ignored the annoying laughter.
"How did you even do that?" Albedo leaned in. "It's like printing a perfect replica of an original book—with a printing machine."
"Printing...? What?" the voice asked in confusion. Unfortunately, Jin was the only one who could hear it—and he didn't seem particularly interested. At least, not for now.
"Oh, right. You're not very familiar with modern tech, are you?"
"Well... I was in the Forbidden Land," Jin shrugged. "But that's not important right now."
His gaze locked onto the horizon, where the veil of silence was slowly torn apart.
There—emerging from the distortion—came a figure, human in shape, yet draped in an aura of something other.
It moved with an eerie stillness, each step echoing like a whisper from the white void.
The voice's anticipation swelled, like a storm on the verge of breaking.
Something was coming.
And it was not meant to be seen.