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The further Yuki flew, the quieter the world became.
Not in silence—but in absence.
Even the wind, which once howled and sung through the branches, now hushed, as though holding its breath. The trees here were gnarled with silver-veined bark, their leaves translucent and glowing faintly with bioluminescence. The sky overhead had dimmed, yet the forest below shimmered with its own unnatural twilight. He had crossed into a deeper fold of the spirit-drenched domain—an unmarked border, but no less real.
> **Area Identified: Shroudveil Hollow – Inner Spirit Territory**
> **Environmental Effect: Soul Density Exceeds Standard Threshold**
> **Warning: Mental Projections, Soul Constructs, and Memory Phantoms Active**
The air was thick, and not in the physical sense. It pressed inward on his thoughts, testing the seams of his identity.
*He had entered the domain of the spirit mind.*
For a while, nothing attacked. Yuki glided in eerie calm, his wings barely disturbing the haze. It was peaceful. Tranquil.
Until… it wasn't.
A flicker ahead. A golden shimmer. He followed it, driven not by instinct, but an *urge*—a soft compulsion that did not feel wholly his own. It floated like a mote of memory, vanishing just before he reached it… only to reappear again.
He followed.
Again.
And again.
Until the world shifted.
Suddenly, he was not in the spirit forest.
He was in a burning city.
Buildings collapsed in waves of heat. People screamed. Shadows loomed, twisted and broken, their eyes hollow and reaching toward him.
A human hand gripped his own.
He was not Yuki the dragon.
He was… *himself*.
A face in a crowd. A boy. Human. Terrified.
"*Run,*" someone shouted.
Then a beam of crimson light consumed everything.
Yuki jerked, breath caught in his throat. His claws dug into the bark of a tree he didn't remember landing on. Smoke rose from his scales—he had instinctively ignited **Flame Clad** just to shield himself.
It was an illusion. A memory. A *projection* from the past.
But it felt too real.
> **You have resisted: Mental Collapse**
> **Analysis Complete: Soul Instability Detected**
> **Compensating with Instinctual Skill Formation…**
>
> **New Skill Acquired: \[Mindforge Core] (Unique)**
>
> **Effect**: Your mind is shielded within a pseudo-core formed by a condensed soul anchor. Grants passive resistance to illusions, fear, and memory-based attacks.
> **Bonus**: Can project fragments of will to influence spirit constructs or soul beasts.
Yuki exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his nostrils.
His heart beat faster than he expected. Not from physical exertion, but from the aftershock of reliving a moment he'd long buried—one from his *previous life*.
The forest was testing more than his strength. It was reaching into his essence.
He could feel **Mindforge Core** already knitting itself around his soulspace, a firm, stabilizing presence at the center of his awareness. It brought a new layer of clarity. The fog of the forest couldn't drown his thoughts anymore.
Still, he was not alone.
From a branch above, something small and luminous watched him. A creature the size of a cat, with feathered ears, translucent wings, and mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold. Its tail flicked curiously as it hovered just out of reach.
Yuki blinked.
It didn't run.
It simply tilted its head.
> **Entity Identified: Unknown Spiritling (Classification Pending)**
> **Status: Non-Hostile. Curious Observer.**
>
> *Note: Presence appears linked to Greater Spirit Nexus Core.*
The spiritling chirped—a sound like wind chimes—and then fluttered away into the mist.
Yuki hesitated only a moment before following.
He didn't know why… but he felt certain this creature was connected to *her*. To Sylvaeria.
The deeper he went, the stranger the world became. Flowers whispered ancient languages. Shadows mimicked forgotten faces. His reflection in still ponds would blink *after* he looked away.
And through it all, the spiritling guided him, floating just out of reach.
Another test was coming.
But this time, he would not face it with claws alone.
Now, his **mind** was sharpened.
His **soul** was anchored.
And the veil between what he *was*, and what he could *become*, was growing thin.
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