Al awoke to the sound of whimpering, realizing he was back in his bed. A Crying whimpering came from his parents' bedroom.

"Mom, is everything okay?" Al called out. With cautious steps, he made his way to his parent's room, where the crying gradually intensified into sobbing. Overcoming his hesitation, he pushed open the door, only to be greeted by his mother lying on a bed, her legs open, while a doctor performed an operation.

Al rushed to his mother's side, "Mom, what's wrong? What's going on?" Linda smiled at him before saying, "They said it's a boy. We have a son, John!" Despite her pallid complexion, her eyes conveyed immense love.

Confusion clouded Al's mind as he shook his head. "John? I'm not Dad. I'm your son. It's me, Alexander, Mom."

She closed her eyes and clasped his hands tightly. "Please take care of our baby boy, John." Before he could respond, the doctor sighed and informed him that she had passed away.

Al's gaze shifted to his now unresponsive mother, her lifeless form casting him into a sea of despair. Suddenly, the cries of a newborn interrupted his grief-stricken state.

He turned to find the doctor handing him a baby he was holding. Glancing at the mirror, he caught sight of his reflection before it shattered into pieces, causing him to drop the baby. He was holding himself.

This time, Al sat up in a different bed, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. He struggled to regulate his breath. Pausing momentarily, he surveyed his surroundings—the red silky sheets and his bandaged hands. The smell of lavender.

Thoughts raced through his mind as he contemplated, "Is this also a dream? No, the pain feels too real. What happened? All I remember..."

Attempting to rise from the bed, he quickly fell on the hard rock floor, unable to put any weight on his left foot.

Al looked up and glanced around the mostly empty room, except for a drawer on each side of the bed. In front of the bed, there was a giant banner with 24 red hexagons on the wall. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the hexagons formed a leaf shape, with five near the stem glowing red.

Crawling on the floor, he examined the room, causing a few of his puncture wounds to open, "Aaagghh, definitely real. This pain, yup, this is real." he groaned, struggling to reach the other side of the bed.

With a lot of effort, he opened the drawers of both cabinets, only to find them empty. Glancing around once more, he pondered, "There are no windows in this room. How strange. is this a prison?"

With that thought in mind, he crawled like a slug toward the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. He was three feet away from the door when it suddenly swung open, striking him in the face and rendering him unconscious.

A young blonde lady with glasses stood there, shrieking at the gruesome scene. The room was drenched in blood. It appeared like a violent attack. Her shock intensified when she noticed her patient lying in a pool of blood at her feet.

***

Once again, Al woke up and attempted to sit up, but the lady promptly yelled, "Stop! You'll open up your wounds again. I just finished patching you up. You almost died, you know."

Reluctantly, Al laid back down, remembering how he ended up in such awful shape. Respectfully, Al asked, "Is he alright? I came here with a person named Cesar. Where is he?"

The lady's annoyance subsided slightly as she replied, "Don't worry about him. He's fine. You should worry about yourself more." She began to change the bandages on his hands.

Al felt surprised, though he didn't show it. Not so respectfully as before, he responded, "I got you taking care of me. I think I'll be fine."

She frowned and gently squeezed his hand, which had been burned by acid. The pain was excruciating, causing his entire body to tense up. Despite the intense agony, he refrained from screaming or shouting, but his breath came in ragged gasps, and he was drenched in sweat.

Undeterred, she continued to wrap his hands while Al, now in a state of slow recovery, observed her.

Looking at her apologetically, he said, "I'm sorry I was rude. Thank you for helping me. I'm Alexander Adamos, but everyone calls me Al. What's your name?"

She turned away, frowning, before replying, "My name is Myra Davis. I'm a personal student of the recognized disciple, The Great Orchid. He entrusted your care to me after saving your life personally."

Al's mind began piecing together the events, and a smile formed on his face as he looked at Myra.

"It's nice to meet you, Myra. Again, thank you for taking care of me. Is there any way I can speak to your teacher? I was instructed to come here by a man named Godfrey. They call him Supreme Immortal King Godfrey," Al explained, in hopes she would recognize the name.

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Myra was inwardly shocked when Al mentioned a high-profile Immortal within the Supreme Leaf. With a serious tone, she replied, "So the Immortal Godfrey is your teacher, huh? An Immortal as a teacher for someone barely awakening their Will is unheard of. However, word of how you and your friend killed a Hybrid as powerful as a Mortal cultivator in the Mental Domain, so I guess it makes sense."

Al was taken aback by Myra's unexpected chattiness. He paused momentarily to process the information before responding, "What do you mean by the mental domain? And really, are they actually immortal? It's not just a title?"

Myra remained quiet and finished changing the bandages, then asked, "So you're telling me you don't know about the Mortal and Immortal Chasms and their Domains, yet you managed to kill a Hybrid? Could you two even see it?"

Al smiled, appreciating her curiosity, and recounted the events in detail. He explained how Cesar couldn't see the creature and how he had to stab it to give him an idea of where it was. In the end, Cesar was able to land the final blow.

After intently listening to Al, she started to treat his foot and firmly said, "You have no consideration for your body. People like us have to deal with the consequences of people like you. You survived by mere luck. If a stranger hadn't stowed away in your vehicle, you would be dead."

Al's anger flared, and he shouted, "Shut the hell up! What do you know?"

Myra spitefully pressed on his foot once, making Al instinctively kick her hands away with his other foot. Before he could apologize, she swiftly jabbed her fingers into the side of his left trap. Before he knew it, darkness engulfed him once again.

***

He didn't experience any strange dreams this time, but he could hear someone whispering in his ear, although he couldn't comprehend the words. The whispers alternated between distant screaming, making it impossible for him to understand.

When he woke again, he opened his eyes, feeling surprisingly clear-headed.

He realized it wasn't a dream and reminded himself of where he was and his purpose for being there. He acknowledged Myra's words. He had become increasingly reckless.

He rested in bed for hours and noticed a vase of crystal-clear water by his side. Drinking from it seemed to ease his relaxation. His bandages and wraps had been changed, and he felt clean as if he had been bathed.

The door to the room swung open was more, Myra had returned, though she tried not to show it, she felt a hint of remorse for her previous behavior.

She swiftly told Al, "With the miracle my teacher performed and your healing progress, you'll be out of here in about seven days." After that, she walked toward the door but turned back to say one last thing, "Also, Al, seriously, take better care of your body. I got you a breathing manual for healing at the cellular level. I'm sure you'll find a way to repay me."

She tossed him a scroll before adding, "My teacher mentioned that your friend Cesar wishes you to hurry."

Surprised, Al shouted, "Wait, you saw Cesar? How is he? Where is he?" Myra was already halfway out the door but quickly replied, "Don't worry about him. He's fine. Just focus on your recovery."

With that, she closed the door, leaving Al alone. Frowning at her sudden departure, he reached for the scroll she had given him. After inspecting it, he placed it on top of the drawer without opening it.

He then took out the metal medallion with the blue pearl Godfrey had given him. Lost in thought, he examined his injuries and realized that "The Great Orchid" had truly performed a miracle. His foot had no hole, his forearms were healing, and his skin was regenerating.

As time passed, Al's stomach growled, and he searched the room for something to eat, but it was empty. Determined, he limped towards the door, still unable to put much pressure on his left foot.

Despite his healing, he couldn't ignore that he had not eaten in what felt like days. He attempted to open the door. However, it didn't budge, not even an inch. Confused, he whispered to himself, "She opened it without a key. It has no lock. Am I going crazy?"

He tried everything to move the door, pushing and shoving with all his might until he was sweat-drenched. It remained stiff as if he were pushing against a solid wall.

Exhausted and starving, he returned to bed, falling asleep with a growling stomach, unable to remember the last time he had gone so long without food.

Al had slept for a little and was awoken by his stomach, which was louder than before. Sitting on the bed, he had begun to despise the room he had been confined to.

He squeezed his hands, expecting the burning pain, but to his surprise, it was gone. Making a fist no longer brought pain. He took a deep breath, looked at his hands, and unwrapped them.

As he unwrapped his left hand, he couldn't believe his eyes. His skin had fully grown back, albeit slightly darker than the rest of his arm. He cautiously tested his fist without the wraps, feeling the newfound sensitivity of his regenerated skin.

He rewrapped his hands halfway to his elbows and checked his ribs, which had also healed. Satisfied with his progress, he turned his attention to his foot, which only had a slight ache remaining. He unwrapped his foot, revealing significant healing with only small scars remaining.

Though it was still too early to put full weight on it, he no longer limped while walking.

Turning to the scroll Myra had given him, he considered whether it held any helpful information. However, he quickly abandoned that idea, realizing it wouldn't be useful in his current situation.

Myra had been absent for a while, and Al had not eaten since leaving the Inn. He had to make another attempt at opening the door. This time, he was going to be ramming into it. He exerted all his strength, but the door remained unyielding. Frustrated, his stomach felt as if it were eating itself, and he stood before the door, feeling helpless.

At that moment, a single thought consumed his mind. He paused, and his pupils dilated. Determined, he moved back to the bed, then suddenly stopped.

A spark of inspiration ignited within him. He thought, "It has to break eventually. It's just a door, even if it seems impossible." Refusing to suffer from hunger any longer, he returned to the door, motivating himself, "Visualize yourself going right through it. You can do this."

Without hesitation, Al started sprinting toward the door. He put all his force into ramming the door, determined to break through.

As he anticipated smashing, the door suddenly opened from the other side. Unfortunately, he had already picked up too much momentum and couldn't stop.