These chains bound themselves around Anthony's physical form, burrowing deeper than any microscope or modern technology could ever detect. They sealed away the overwhelming power his body now contained—power capable of catastrophic destruction.
Even in its restrained state, the surrounding space warped and fractured, revealing glimpses of the true void beyond reality. Yet, despite the void's annihilating force, it could not touch Anthony's body. That alone was enough to show the terrifying potential of his newly evolved form.
The true void, if ever it breached the universe's spatial barrier, could devour all existence down to its final particle—yet even that unstoppable force failed to affect him. A silent testament to the unimaginable power that now lay dormant within Anthony's sealed body…
Now, all of Anthony's immense power was sealed away—bound tightly by the white energy chains forged by the mysterious sphere. Along with his strength, countless other abilities—his regeneration, resilience, and more—were locked as well, reducing his godlike body that he had just gained to that of a slightly stronger-than-average human that he was.
Yet, even as his body quieted, deeper transformations were taking place within his mind. His consciousness roared like a storm, crackling with thunder that echoed through the vast realm of his inner world.
This realm—an endless ocean of mist and white energy—stretched in every direction. At its centre hovered the radiant white sphere, unchanged and flawless, just as it had been when it first appeared in Anthony's room and entered through his brow to reshape him entirely.
Despite the monumental changes it had wrought, the sphere showed no signs of exhaustion. Its light remained calm and pure—untouched.
Then, without warning, it flared brilliantly. The ocean of mist rippled as multiple magical seals appeared one after another, locking onto the sphere as if enclosing it within layers of protection.
When the brightness dimmed, the white sphere was now surrounded by an additional energy barrier—still, silent, and impenetrable.
True to its final declaration, the system had indeed fallen into slumber, awaiting the day Anthony's soul would fully awaken…
Meanwhile, a few minutes earlier…
The front door of the house opened, and Amelia stepped inside, her arms full—bags stuffed with vegetables and groceries dangling from her hands.
She slipped off her shoes, traded them for slippers, and started toward the kitchen. As she passed the staircase, she paused for a moment, her gaze drifting upward. A thought of Anthony crossed her mind—along with the argument that had taken place between him and his father earlier.
Anthony had said he understood that his father only wanted the best for him—that sometimes words just slipped out in the heat of the moment. But Amelia knew better. She knew those words, even if spoken carelessly, still carried weight—and they had hurt him more than he let on.
She considered going upstairs to check on him but stopped herself, deciding she'd do it after she finished preparing dinner.
With that, she turned toward the kitchen—a neat, modern space with a small island layout. Everything inside looked spotless and new, as if it had all been bought just a few days ago.
One could easily tell how well cared-for the kitchen was. Amelia glanced around, admiring the spotless counters and gleaming appliances, before smiling proudly to herself.
"You've done a good job keeping your sacred place clean, Amelia," she said aloud with a little puff of pride.
She had every reason to be proud—after all, she was a professional chef. Cleanliness wasn't just a habit for her; it was a rule. And she took exceptional care of her kitchen, treating it like her personal temple.
After admiring the pristine space for a few more moments, she finally turned her attention to cooking.
About ten minutes in, the sound of the front door opening and closing reached her, followed by a familiar voice calling out, "I'm home!"
Hearing this, Amelia smiled to herself. Marcus—Anthony's father—was back from work.
"Okay! Take a rest in the living room for a moment, have some water, and freshen up. Dinner'll be ready soon!" she called out while continuing to stir the pot with focused precision.
Marcus, slipping out of his shoes and into his house slippers, shouted back, "Alright—but be quick, I'm starving today!"
He chuckled to himself, grabbed a glass of water from the table in the living room, and then headed toward their room to take a shower.
Half an hour passed in comfortable routine. Amelia was in the kitchen, arranging plates with care, putting the finishing touches on a dinner that looked like something out of a high-end restaurant. Meanwhile, Marcus lounged in the living room, half-watching TV.
"And done!" Amelia said proudly, looking at her masterpiece. "Another perfect dinner."
She called out, "Marcus, can you help me set the dishes on the dining table, please?"
"Sure," he replied, turning off the TV and walking into the kitchen.
Before he could say more, Amelia handed him a tray and said quickly, "You take care of that. I'll go call Anthony, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, she wiped her hands on a towel and walked out of the kitchen.
As she made her way upstairs, she could hear Marcus sighing softly downstairs—his usual, playful grumble whenever she put him to work. She couldn't help but chuckle.
Reaching the door to Anthony's room, she raised her hand and knocked gently.
After knocking on the door, Amelia called out softly, "Anthony?"
She waited for him to answer, completely unaware of the extraordinary—and dangerously powerful—phenomenon unfolding inside her son's room. The air within that space was thick with energy beyond comprehension, an event so monumental it could change their lives forever… yet she stood outside, blissfully unaware.
A few seconds passed, but no reply came from within. Not even the faintest sound of movement or activity emerged from inside. The silence felt somewhat unusual, though not entirely alarming.
She knocked again, this time louder. "Anthony! Anthony, come out and have dinner!"
Her voice carried through the house—so loud that Marcus, downstairs setting the dishes on the table, could clearly hear her. He raised an eyebrow but chose to ignore it, assuming she was just nagging their son again.