After conducting a series of experiments, Fullen confirmed his initial hypothesis.
When other objects passed through the paper bearing the drawn Door, the spiritual energy consumed was indeed greater than when his own body passed through.
With more precise testing, he discovered something further:for objects of the same weight, clothing required less spiritual energy to pass through than other items.
He tested again, this time comparing objects and clothing of the same volume.The result was unchanged.
Fullen then confirmed another point—objects that had long been in close contact with him required less spiritual energy to pass through than unfamiliar objects, even if those objects were inorganic.
As for passing another person's body through a Door, he had not dared to test it, but instinctively felt that the consumption would be even higher.
From these simple experiments, Fullen drew a conclusion:
The Apprentice Pathway consumes less spirituality when transporting things closely related to oneself, and more when dealing with unfamiliar targets.
Although "Open the Door" had no inherent offensive power, nothing prevented Fullen from developing it into one.
The most important tool for this lay in an item passed down within his family.
After searching the house for some time, Fullen found a dagger.
Its hilt was black, oval in shape, clearly designed to minimize volume.The blade emitted a chilling sheen—enough to tell at a glance that this was no mere ornament.
According to family records, the dagger had been forged by an Artisan using meteor iron and several extraordinary materials.It possessed no Beyonder abilities, but its blade was exceptionally hard and terrifyingly sharp, requiring no maintenance.
Even now, it was as sharp as the day it had been forged.
This dagger was the only object in Fullen's family that could barely be classified as an extraordinary offensive item.
When Fullen was young, he often saw his father, Martin Freeman, holding it absent-mindedly.
After Fullen grew older, that habit quietly passed on to him.
Placing the dagger into its sheath, Fullen slid it—sheath and all—into the inner layer of his close-fitting clothes, feeling the cold seep against his skin.
Fortunately, although current fashion favored tight clothing, Fullen preferred looser garments.The dagger did not protrude at all.
After repeatedly enveloping the dagger with his spirituality, Fullen suddenly felt as if his head were being struck again and again by a massive hammer.
Voices echoed in his ears—he couldn't tell where they came from.
When ignored, they sounded like faint whispers, like mosquitoes buzzing just out of reach, irritating enough to draw attention.
But once he focused on them, the whispers turned into roaring chaos, as if something was trying to force unbearable truths into his mind.
It felt like thousands of needles stabbing into his skull.
The sensation reminded Fullen of staying awake for three days and nights, gaming without rest—only to be forced into class afterward, dizzy and nauseous, while the teacher's gaze prevented him from sleeping.
The lack of relief drove him to the brink of madness.
Suppressing the urge to lose control, Fullen stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.
Somehow, he assumed a meditation posture, slowly reining in his thoughts.
At some point, he lost consciousness.
The next morning, Fullen woke up groggily.
His clothes were a mess.
Fortunately, even in his delirium the night before, he had firmly sheathed the dagger. Otherwise, it might have killed him in his sleep.
Even so, the dagger had pressed painfully against him all night.
After placing it on the desk, Fullen rubbed the red, bruised mark on his abdomen and etched this lesson firmly into his mind:
Never fully exhaust your spirituality—especially before potion digestion stabilizes.
After washing his face and brushing his teeth, Fullen sat down at the desk again.
A beautiful calendar lay there.
July 6th was circled.
He was certain he hadn't marked it himself.
For a moment, he couldn't understand what the circle meant.
After thinking briefly, Fullen stood up.
"I need to check tomorrow's astrological signs."
If his guess was correct, then it was fortunate that his transmigration had happened yesterday.
If it had been today… he might already be dead.
Opening the hidden mechanism beneath the study's ordinary surface, Fullen revealed a secret bookshelf filled with neatly arranged volumes—enough to fill three or four shelves.
After some thought, he took a book from the upper left corner.
It was a black notebook, handwritten, the script elegant and steady.
Opening the flyleaf, Fullen saw the title and dedication:
Martin Abraham's Astrological DiaryA gift for my dearest son, Fullen.
Warmth rose unbidden in his chest.
Memories surfaced—father and son, bound by a quiet, steadfast affection.
Martin Freeman had been a lawyer by profession, an amateur author with a scholarly temperament.And the child he raised had once dreamed of dragging the Abraham Family out of the abyss and restoring its former glory—becoming as powerful as their ancestor, Bethel Abraham.
As a child, Fullen often begged his father to tell him stories of the Abraham Family's brilliance during the Fourth Epoch.
Martin did not want his son to experience the suffering he himself endured after becoming a Beyonder.Yet he still tried his best to shield Fullen from predictable dangers—especially the annual Full Moon.
For the sake of his child's naive dream, Martin abandoned his perfunctory approach to being an Astrologer.
He began observing celestial phenomena every night and studying astrological texts obsessively.
But fatherly love meant little in the mysterious world.
After calculating the Full Moons for several years, Martin—having fully digested the Astrologer potion—turned his attention to the Blood Moon.
After deducing the Blood Moon's dates and recording them all in the notebook's final pages—
Tragedy struck.
On a silent night, Martin strangled himself.
There was no doubt this was connected to an Outer Deity.
The Blood Moon originated from the Primordial Moon.
Fullen dared not recall anything more.
Merely thinking about Her invited corruption.Hatred would only render his father's sacrifice meaningless.
Left alone, raised solely by his father, Fullen sank into despair—torn between gratitude and self-loathing—eventually becoming the recluse he was now, isolated from the world for four or five years.
He did not truly empathize with his past self.
But he mourned the destruction of something beautiful.
And so, he could only focus on surviving—never daring to complain,never daring to imagine.