After their brief encounter, Lyne spoke little, listening closely to Sightless as he shared the poems born from his [Divine Vision]. One poem lingered in her mind—the one about the mountain too tall to see.
"That mountain, tall yes, impossible to climb?
No, it is certainly possible, the peak as any peak
Only requires an unmoved will,
such as the mountain itself."
—Sightless, the poet
Her fascination with the Illusionary World grew—not just for the realm itself, but for the man who perceived it so clearly.
As they crossed the colorless plains, Lyne glanced sideways.
"Sightless… shall we enter the Illusionary World now?"
He kept walking, voice steady.
"What rush is there to step into truth?"
She bit her lip.
"The blank world is silent, but your poems make it roar. I want to see what you see."
He paused, then nodded.
"Very well. There is something I must witness."
She studied his face—expressionless, cold as stone. Yet beside him, she felt a quiet warmth, like a lone candle flickering in a ruined temple.
[Divine Vision] activated.
[Preparing for Transmigration.]
[Transmigration complete.]
[Welcome, Sightless the Poet, to the Illusionary World.]