Following the invitation of Suiming and approval from Josh , Acryl stepped onto the deck of messanger’s aircraft.

…

Acryl finds it difficult to open his mouth and talk about the lingering nightmare of his delusion. With one head turn or blink, the ceiling reflects the strange , familiar yet unseen silver 'bones'. The once-familiar plains and forests of Euth now feel like an unknown land due to this darn delusion.

Acryl has never looked at the place he was borned so well , the steel and metal limbs that holds the transparent leaves of the dome that touches the blue comes in his eyes. Its dead spider alike lefeless cold structure makes him want to sketch it down as if that would make the dome more lively.

He wonders where the hell Suiming is as the pencil’s tip leaves marks and lines on the not-so-smooth paper.

‘‘I met Canvas.’’

Acryl’s neck cracks as he turns to where the words came from, letting the air comb through his grey hair and his braid twirl.

The light from that metallic portal illuminates Suimin’s face and frosts a reflection on his mococle while Suiming is trying to fit the scythe through the portal.

‘‘Where were you this whole afternoon?’’ Acryl asks.

‘‘Would you belive me if i said that i was unconcious?’’

The illusion kicks in again with a distant feeling from reality , Acryl snaps his pencil in half as the ‘bones’ grows out of the soil. The illusions are similar to the ones Acryl has seen before in the strange space , when two being stared at him that almost killed him. Calling the illusion ‘bones’ isn’t that precise , it is more like….some kind of dead root that tried to reach for sunlight. Acryl’s vision closes by his lead-dense eyelid and the curtain of unconciousness.

‘‘Acryl are you alright?’’

‘‘Acryl?’’ Suiming asks while holding Acryl’s shoulder.

‘‘Darn it! Acryl , can you hear me?’’

As Suiming’s hand slowly moves to the ground, the emotionless mirror that Suiming summoned reflects his sweating face and Acryl covered in the unseenable silver plants.

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The scent from an Unknown Existence? Why hasn’t i noticed before?How isn’t he dead yet? Questions bombarded Suiming’s head as the sweat drops rolls down from his forehead like countdown.

Suiming's power cannot help in this situation. He is like a dentist trying to treat a heart attack in an old man.

The silver plants do not reflect in Suiming's pupils and his mind cannot comprehend the existence of the silver thing on Acryl.

The clock in his heart stopped ticking for a second , waiting for the gavel of his toughts to give the judgement of his guesses.

Silver root on Acryl and the silver branches in Suiming’s body… They have the same origin ; Suiming connects the puzzle of his toughts. What if , just a hypostesis , the root and branches are connected? The gavel of his ideas drops down , giving Suiming its judgement.

If they are connected , can i transport it into me?

Suiming’s eyes opens wide , the keylock iris of his shrinks down to its size as if it is the one who was thinking. He is shocked yet exited , but what if the reality didn’t work as he wanted to? He just can’t leave Acryl like that.

The emontionless branches are like bamboos after rain , rushing away from the earthly surface and peaks to the sky , almost touching the blue. The silver thing that seems alive intertwines with the invisible mass on Acryl. Suiming can’t describe this feeling , but he can feel how the unworldly thing that is grown from his body connects with the thing on Acryl.

…

Acryl’s mind is an unmixed dought of confision and blurness , he slowly opens his eyes and stares directly into the warm ceiling light. He tries to bend his back , cracking of his spine quietly trancends. The white reflection covers Acryl’s face , the cheap light of his teacher’s studion blasts onto the white sheet behind the still life objects.

Acryl looks down to his sketchbook that torn by the never stopping river of time and constant open-closing.

He shufftles through the rough papers of sketchbook and feels the texture of the paper. Most pages aren’t snow white , but filled with doodles , sketches and drawing of peoples and scenes. The rewind did put a smile on his face.

Then he stops on a page with notation.

‘‘Leave Euth , come back when you meet him again.’’

Just as he reads the words , knocks and sound of bumping , scratching the window shoots into his ear. The outside of house isn’t the familiar streets of Grand dome , not even the ilussions he has been seeing for the past few days. Acryl would hope that outside is filled with hounds , at least his heart would stay on the ground. But no , there isn’t a single thing outside the window , as if the nothingness is hitting the window ， blasting , screaming to get inside.

Only darkness , emptyness that denies any hope or expectation of his sanity. Something , anything is fine , even the Existences are fine!

Aritists can stand being unknown , but can’t stand the nilhility.

Acryl doens’t know how long he has been here , seconds feels like hours , hours shrinks down to minutes. He is free to move , the noises are not getting quieter , like the waves of the earthly tides of oceans , slowly moving , claping by the beat of nature.

He is expecting something to break the nothingness and nilhility of the outside. A voice tells him to be that something , to twist the doorknob and go outside , take a look and uncover the mysteries ,to clear the confusion and fear in his heart.