Adam nimbly scaled the towering wall of a valley, then entered a naturally formed cave. This was his humble abode on this strange, mysterious island.

"Oh, by the way, did I tell you? That there's no one on this island except for me?" Adam muttered under his breath.

To whom he was speaking… remained unknown.

"Right, I probably must have already told you," he mumbled as he entered the cave. "Anyway, welcome to my humble abode."

The cave was simple, yet very unsettling in its simplicity.

In one corner, a crude fire pit of blackened stones occupied the space. They carried the faint scent of smoke and char. Opposite it, a rough mattress of dried seaweed was spread across the cold floor.

"That's my bed," Adam pointed with a finger. "It's very… cushiony? Hmm…"

He stroked his charred chin. "Cushiony? I wonder if that's a word. But you get what I'm trying to convey, yes?"

Adam looked over his shoulder, as if talking to someone. But of course, no one was there.

He smiled. "Yes, of course, you get it."

The walls of the cave were a deep coral-red, and their uneven surfaces were etched with strange symbols. The ominous thing about it was… these symbols looked as though they had been carved directly by a finger!

The grooves on the characters were raw and jagged, as if born from obsession rather than design.

"Those are runes, by the way," Adam said casually.

He walked up to the make-shift fire pit and set aside the bag of gathered food. Then, he retrieved a handful of mushrooms and a small fish.

He arranged the mushrooms on the flat stones near the embers, letting the residual heat warm them. Then, he skewered the fish with a sharpened coral shard and held it over the newly kindled fire… lit by mundane means.

"Ah, that's right," he mumbled, his smile widening. "I can't use spells anymore…"

As soon as sorrow consumed him, he raised his head and laughed.

He laughed and laughed and laughed.

Adam's spirit sea was in such ruin that even drawing out the smallest thread of spiritual energy brought him immense pain. Without it, he was unable to weave spell models, and without spell models, he was unable to cast magic.

Even the weakest of Rank 1 spells, the kind that required no physical or material components by a powerful Magus, still demanded at least a spark of spiritual energy to ignite the flow of mana.

Lacking that spark, he was unable to wield even the simplest of spells.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he mumbled, a bitter smile finding its way to his scarred lips.

As he slowly descended into the pits of despair, he displayed a brilliant smile. "A Magus who can't use magic? Is he even a Magus? Hahaha, of course not… of course not… I'm not a Magus. I'm just… no one."

As silence descended over the cave, only the crackle of the fire and the faint sizzle of fish and mushrooms broke the stillness. The flames illuminated Adam's scarred and grotesque visage, casting his lonely shadow on the walls.

"Ah, right! The walls!" Adam sat up straight, suddenly excited. He popped a mushroom inside his mouth, then pointed at the mysterious symbols etched on the walls.

Those strange characters were drawn from ink that was a deep crimson, deeper than the color of the walls. And these characters were etched all across the cave, even on the ground and ceiling.

This was Adam's work… his obsession… carved into the stone since he had claimed this place as his refuge.

He waved his hand and said casually, "That's not ink. It's my blood. Trust me, it is. How else am I supposed to write them down? I don't have ink. I don't have… anything… or anyone…"

Adam's shoulders slouched once again, depression engulfing him. But soon enough, he smiled brightly.

"Those black flames… they melted my earrings," he said, his voice slowly turning cold as he recalled the person who burned him alive.

He brushed his finger against his ear and continued, "The storage artifact melted into my skin, and everything inside… gone forever. So much wine… wasted."

He took a bite of the seared fish, then turned his attention to the runes.

"Anyway, as I was saying. I carved these runes with my fingers, using my blood as ink. I'm not crazy or anything, I just didn't have any other options. If I'm hearing those annoying voices, I might as well make good use of them, don't you think?"

No one answered.

Because no one was there.

The lonelier he felt, the sadder he became.

And the sadder he was, the brighter he smiled.

"Trust me, I'm not mad," he whispered. "It's just…"

His smile turned even wider, twisting his hideous face into an ominous visage.

"It's just what?"

Adam froze. He quickly rose to his feet, looking around in terror. He felt like he had just heard someone. But he was always hearing someone. He couldn't tell.

"Did you hear it too?" He whispered.

But no answer came.

He took another bite of the fish, looking around the cave with vigilance. Then, he slowly sat down. He shook his head, mumbling, "Ah, what was I saying? I've been having some memory problems lately..."

"Right!" he sat upright and glanced at the runes. He displayed a sincere smile and said:

"This… this is my boat in the sea of madness! Beautiful, isn't it?"

The flaw of the Faceless Mask was the whispers of the Laughing God. The wearer of the mask would be tormented by the ceaseless ravings. However, these weren't mere incoherent mutterings meant to simply drive the wearer insane. No, it was far from the truth.

If one listened closely enough, they would hear great arcane truths!

In these past months, Adam had found two ways to counter—to some extent—the flaw of the Faceless Mask.

The Eternal Soul Lotus had buried itself deep inside his spirit sea, silently mending his broken soul, after all. So he had to come up with his own methods to suppress the ravings.

The first were the runes that he had carved on the walls. If he focused hard enough, he would unravel arcane knowledge that was cryptic, yet deeply philosophical. These voices spoke in a tongue older than rune language itself.

It was a language that seemed to predate even the foundations of rune magic!

When Adam focused intently on those cryptic voices, he found that the ravings weren't nearly as unbearable. If anything, they were very enlightening. To capture and decipher them, he began carving the symbols onto the cave walls to better understand the ancient language.

"Jotun," he murmured. "Giantkin developed rune magic, and Jotun was the language of the giants."

He ate another piece of sizzling mushroom, then continued, "Makes sense, I suppose. The Laughing God was descended from the giants. But then… why was he called a God? I thought only Aesir claimed the title of God. Strange… so very strange…"

And the second method to counter the flaw of the mask…

Adam's lips curled into a faint, almost triumphant smile. "It is to talk to myself. If I focus on my own words, then I can drown out the ravings! Very clever, yes? Hahaha!"

His laughter soon faded, but his smile turned even more brilliant.

He lowered his head, then softly said:

"And it helps with the loneliness, too…"

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