My feet sank slightly into the ground.
My consciousness now clear, I cautiously opened my eyes.
It was a desert at night.
The unchanging landscape stretched endlessly in every direction.
Somehow, it felt less than real.
It seemed I had successfully entered the spiritual realm.
Observing the flow of magical energy, I sensed no particular issues.
The forbidden spell had activated correctly.
"Hm?"
While observing, I noticed something buried in the nearby sand.
I walked over and pulled it out.
It was a broken wooden staff.
A red gem was set in its tip.
Fine scratches covered it, showing clear signs of wear.
"This is..."
I felt a flicker of surprise.
This was a staff I had used in life.
Back when I was still a novice, learning basic spells, before being called a sage.
I had used it fondly for several years until it broke during training, and I replaced it with a new one.
And yet, that very staff was buried here.
(Why is that?)
Crossing my arms, I pondered the reason.
Considering that this was my spiritual world, the staff was likely a product of memory.
Past recollections, given form and existence.
As I dug through the buried objects in the sand, other familiar items emerged.
Each one was deeply etched in my mind.
(Are memories scattered here in fragments?)
I became certain of one rule.
The spiritual world seemed to be intimately connected to memory.
Though the precise mechanism remained unknown unless analyzed, it certainly appeared to be in such a state.
But why a desert, of all places?
It might be reflecting my mental landscape, but without comparison to others, it was impossible to say for sure.
In the end, the mysteries surrounding the spiritual world only multiplied.
The deeper I delved into speculation, the stranger its properties appeared.
Still, the fine details hardly mattered now.
A far more significant change was occurring within me.
Something I had been aware of from the first stage, yet deliberately avoided confronting.
Trembling, I looked down at my own arms.
There, instead of black bone, were arms covered in skin.
I tentatively touched them with a finger.
My flesh had substance to it, and blood coursed steadily within.
"..."
My mouth was unconsciously repeating the act of breathing.
When I drew my lips together, they met with a soft pressure.
Holding my breath, the sensation of suffocation gradually built.
Next, I placed a hand against my chest.
A slightly quickened heartbeat thudded beneath.
Reaching up to my head, my fingers slipped through strands of hair.
In doing so, I confirmed the presence of my ears and eyes.
Only the robe I wore was the same as always.
I found a hand mirror half-buried in the sand.
If my memory served, it was a luxury item I’d received after saving a certain town.
I snatched up the mirror and checked my reflection.
The face gazing back from the glass was that of the sage who had once defeated the Demon Lord.
My expression was blank, dazed.
Nowhere was there a black-boned undead.
(As I thought, I’ve returned to being human.)
I touched my face.
It wasn’t an illusion; the texture was real.
According to whatever law governed this, my standard form in the spiritual world was apparently that of a human.
However, the magical power and miasma I sensed were identical to what I'd felt when I was the Demon King.
It seemed this was purely a change in appearance.
(To think the day would come when I'd assume this form again...)
I understood this was a phenomenon limited to the spiritual world.
There was no joy in it, nor was there any aversion.
It was an indescribable feeling.
While startled, it wasn't something to dwell on.
I hadn't come here to see a human form.
I had come to eliminate the source of my physical ailment.
According to the Great Spirit, that source should exist within this spiritual world.
Its shape was unknown, but whatever could affect me so profoundly wouldn't blend in with its surroundings.
I assumed it would be something instantly recognizable.
This was a place where my memories were scattered.
I just had to follow my own senses and expose the foreign entity.
It didn't feel like a particularly difficult task.
I began to wander through the spiritual world.
I advanced through the center of a treacherous desert.
Occasionally, I'd find familiar objects and reflect on past events.
Among them were blueprints for things like guns and tanks.
Recent memories seem to be buried as well. I walk while experiencing minor discoveries. The desert stretched on endlessly. The horizon was invisible. It probably expanded for eternity. Or perhaps its edges were connected. Above, a crescent moon was stationed. Yet its position did not change at all. This space always felt like night and never seemed to greet morning. Bathed in moonlight, I moved my legs mindlessly onward, confirming memories buried in the sand before leaving them behind. It was undoubtedly monotonous, but not a situation where one could let their guard down. Forced to walk in solitude, it was a task that rather ground down the spirit. Feeling disheartened, I continued walking anyway. After what felt like several days, I spotted a figure ahead. This was my first encounter with another person in this world. From my position, I could only see their back. Without turning, the figure spoke. "Oh, I didn't expect someone to come all the way out here. What a surprise." The voice was mocking.
It was someone I had no recollection of, not matching any person I knew.
I immediately heightened my alertness, conscious of the staff in my hand as I questioned.
"Who are you?"
Without answering with words, that figure turned toward me.
Smiling faintly as she stood there was a silver-haired woman clad in elegant black attire.