After what felt like an eternity, light entered Isaiah's view. Since he didn't have physical eyes only his consciousness, the light didn't strain him. Instead, the warm light gently caressed Isaiah's soul, it was composed of hues foreign to him, his mind couldn't process them but still felt soothed.

He could feel himself slowly approaching the light, or maybe the light was approaching him, he couldn't tell. The pull between him and the light increased until, like magnets reaching a certain point, his soul zoomed into the light source instantaneously.

The first sensation he felt in what seemed like eternity, was pain—soul-wrenching pain. He screamed involuntarily, his cries came out gagged as if he was drowning.

After the initial sudden sting of pain, he slowly tried to get used to it, feeling like parts of his very existence were shattered. He focused on his breathing, trying to regulate it. As his mind calmed, he tried to form thoughts.

Thinking was a treacherous process, as if his mind was sunk in a sticky substance. Just as he was worrying about whether the creation of his soul had gone horribly wrong accidentally turning him into an idiot, he came to a realization. "This must be how it feels to think using a normal brain rather than having supercomputers computing each of my thoughts," he mused.

He also realized a large chunk of his knowledge was gone. However, this was a compromise he knowingly had made. He simply couldn't fit the entire library of knowledge he had access to into his new soul. He had carefully selected all relevant information and compressed it as well as he could to craft his current knowledge repository.

"It's abysmal," he collected his thoughts, "but it will have to do." He didn't let his mind linger needlessly any longer, trying to conserve his limited thinking capacity.

He then attempted to move, it was wanky just like the rest of his psychical functions, feeling as though he was trying to control his limbs using strings like a marionette. His limbs hit all over the place, but he was at least able to discern that he was lying on the ground atop a wet thick carpet.

After numerous attempts, he barely managed to roll onto his back, and his eyes abruptly opened to see nothing but a bloody red hue. He tried to clean his eyes using his hands, but it did little good as his hands were also covered in blood.

A smile crept onto his face despite blood leaking through all his orifices, painting an unsettling picture as he took his hand to his mouth and tasted his own blood. "Doesn't taste like human blood," he remarked, "it's quite sweet in comparison."

He slowly got up from the slippery wet ground. Feeling his way around, he managed to find a piece of cloth which he used to wipe his eyes clean, as his eyesight was restored, he was greeted with a rather unique-looking room. He put the cloth which was now painted in red, back on the table as he observed his surroundings.

The room contained all the items you would expect from an average room: a bed, a table, a chair, a tall body mirror, drawers, shelves filled with books, carpet covered in blood - alright, maybe not the last part. However, the contents' shapes were rather unusual; all the furniture was either rectangular or cubic, with sharp edges everywhere. It also reeked of blood, just as its taste, its scents was also overbearingly sweet, even inhaling it hurt his nose.

Isaiah had long understood that his soul creation was a success, which meant he was born anew, from the remnants of his old self. Since he destroyed his old self to create his current soul, he wasn't even the same person anymore, he was a different Isaiah.

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However, he didn't mind his old self perishing; his old self was just a catalyst to aid in creation of his current self all along, it had served its purpose, granting him a soul.

"All that's left is to figure out if my transmigration was successful as well. If it was successful, I can focus on planning my new life in a brand new universe. If not, I have a new two-thousand-year lifespan limit to break the lifespan barrier."

He approached the square window and turned its rectangular knob to open it. A fresh breeze hit his face; he closed his eyes, letting the gentle breeze caress his skin. "Ah, the beauty of flesh," he said in a reminiscing tone. He was most excited about having a flesh body once more; sensations felt by flesh were hard to replicate and often lacked luster. It was something metal could never replace,

A small chuckle escaped his mouth, which progressively turned into a crazed laughter. "Kah Kah Kah Kah! Finally! I got rid of that shitty metallic body." He managed to compose himself after a while; his heart was still beating like a drum, he could feel it thumping in his head, blood rushing through his veins, all over his body — even that was a nostalgic feeling for Isaiah, who had been trapped in a metallic prison of his own creation for so long.

Isaiah took in the view outside his window, bright silver blue sky hugged a large city filled with cubic buildings, looking like a metropolis made of cubes stacked atop of each other. Most of the structures were cold silver in color with various intricate textures adorning their surface. The cubic city clearly adhered to a city planning scheme, as the buildings were orderly arranged. The combination of the color and the shape of the structures came together to give the city a very oppressive feeling. There were many shops and establishments selling various interesting items that caught Isaiah's eye.

Isaiah kept the window open but turned his attention back to his room, walking in front of the tall mirror near his height, he checked out his new body. He now had shoulder-length silver hair with pitch-black eyes, he possessed a muscular and fit form. His new looks would rival his old body, which had gone through many procedures to improve his charm. Apart from a few minor biological differences in muscle forms, this body was pretty much that of an altered human.

Beauty was a convenient tool that Isaiah valued a lot, it was the first impression of you that anyone you met would have, and this body would come in handy in his future plans. But before he could get to planning his future, he had to confirm whether he had actually transmigrated or not.

Earlier, when looking out the window, he noticed he didn't understand the language. While he didn't think he would struggle in learning the local tongue, he would still need some time to be fluent in it.

His gaze wandered around the room, falling upon a sharp object. After he grabbed a hold of it firmly in his hands, he opened his mouth and used it to scratch his inner throat, this would provide him a convenient excuse for his inability to speak the language as he learned it.

Isaiah proceeded to turn the entire room upside down, he didn't spare anything. He separated anything that had letters on them, which might let him familiarize himself with the local tongue, he also separated anything that looked like it might be currency or hold some value. After he was done with his organization, all the shelves and drawers were emptied, their contents were laid on the floor in a systemic manner, lined up one by one, he had also rolled up the bloodied mat and put it aside to be disposed of later.

Squatting down and opening one of the books, he found pages filled with texts and pictures. He couldn't understand the texts at the moment so his attention was on the images, they seemed to depict a wider universe outside this planet filled with celestial bodies and objects. Depicted even larger than the universe itself were eight godly figures, they towered over the universe as if overseeing it. Each figure gave an overbearing feeling, represented by a different color.