Ashoka never imagined that the journey into Joel's spiritual world would be so long… or so grueling.

  He had conducted previous experiments with the minds of some of Adam's victims. Those incursions had allowed him to verify that each human mind harbored a unique inner space: symbolic landscapes, impossible architectures, and memories transformed into spiritual matter. Some were simple enclosed gardens; others, labyrinths fragmented by trauma.

  But Joel's case defied all logic. It even surpassed the peculiarity of Nana's mind, whose structure the monk had already deemed extraordinary.

  From the very first step, Ashoka understood that he wasn't traversing an individual mind, but something far vaster. The distances he traveled couldn't be measured in clear terms. Although, if that space had existed in the physical world, he estimated it would have been equivalent to thousands of kilometers. And that was after he had found the center of Joel's mind. That place where the barrier stood, which he himself had modified some time ago.

  Much of his understanding of the human mind and the spiritual world he had acquired after his ascent to nirvana. But nothing prepared him for a mind forged from the memories of hundreds of individuals. Entire lives overlapping, with childhoods, loves, wars, betrayals, different cultures, different languages, all coexisting in the same inner space. There was no precedent for anything like it.

  The only method of orientation Ashoka had was the roots. Countless transparent roots that extended in all directions, crossing the spiritual horizon like filaments of crystal. They seemed infinite, like the representation of an ever-expanding universe.

  Following them, he managed to reach the center. But to find the origin of those memories, the primordial source of that impossible multiplicity, he had to delve into something far more chaotic, into a dimension beyond Joel's spiritual world. A place Ashoka discovered by tracing the origin of some peculiar golden roots. All his instincts told him that they were the true source of all those memories, including his own.

  The new roots weren't as numerous as the old ones, but their presence was commanding. They radiated a soft, warm light and seemed to pierce through invisible dimensions, opening paths that defied conventional geometry. Ashoka had to traverse what could only be described as interdimensional channels: cracks in the fabric of the mind that connected planes that shouldn't normally intersect.

  The surroundings grew increasingly strange, bizarre, and ominous. Yet, he felt no fear. On the contrary, a profound serenity accompanied him with every step. As if this journey were not a pilgrimage. As if he had been destined to travel this path long before meeting Joel.

  The journey was exhausting, and although he lacked a physical body, he began to experience a weariness that was all too real. Time, within certain spaces, distorted brutally, with regions where a single day seemed to stretch into weeks.

  Ashoka lost track of time several times. He traversed desolate wastelands stained a single color, where the horizon was an endless line of gray. He crossed perpetual storms, where the mist mingled with lightning that produced no sound. He walked through petrified forests, through incomplete cities suspended in the air, through fragments of memories that did not belong to a single entity.

  The only constant was the golden roots. Always present and always guiding him. Until they led him to the most disturbing place of all.

  Before him opened a vast white platform, made of a polished stone reminiscent of marble, suspended in what seemed the absolute void of space. There was no ground beyond its limits, no horizon, only infinite darkness.

  Over the exact center of the platform floated an enormous bluish sun. Its size was impossible to calculate, and it seemed both near and far at the same time, as if distance obeyed no known measure. Its light was not scorching; it was cold, almost ethereal, bathing the marble in a spectral glow.

  The sky surrounding the scene was black, deep, and adorned with countless stars that shone with an intensity greater than any night sky Ashoka had ever beheld in his earthly life. It was beautiful and profoundly unsettling.

  However, the most astonishing thing was not in the sky, but on the surface of the platform. Hundreds of crystalline spheres rested there, suspended just a few centimeters above the white marble. Each one emitted a soft white light, as if it held within it a small, motionless flame. And all of them were connected to the ground.

  From the base of each sphere emerged a golden root that descended toward the platform and then into the void, before heading in the direction from which Ashoka had come. Directly toward Joel's spirit world.

  Ashoka didn't hesitate long before approaching the platform. He advanced with slow, almost reverential steps, as if afraid of disturbing that delicate spiritual balance. As he drew nearer, the spectacle unfolding before his eyes became increasingly clear… and disconcerting.

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  Each of the spheres was approximately one meter in diameter. They floated just above the white marble, distributed across the entire surface of the platform. However, the first thing that caught his attention was the absolute lack of order. There was no logical pattern to the distance between them. The spheres seemed to have been placed completely randomly, as if each had found its own place on the platform without obeying any rules.

  Ashoka slowly reached out toward one of the nearest spheres. The instant he drew close enough, a profound sensation coursed through his consciousness. It was an unmistakable presence. Like standing before another mind.

  That intuition led him to an immediate conclusion. The spheres were the origin of the memories that Joel dreamed every month.

  When he finally placed his palm on the crystalline surface, the reaction was instantaneous. A flood of memories burst into his mind, which he easily recognized as belonging to a man unknown to him.

  Ashoka envisioned classrooms filled with students, blackboards covered in equations, nights spent studying under a dim lamp. He felt the satisfaction of solving a complex problem, the weariness of years dedicated to teaching, the quiet routine of a life devoted to knowledge. It was the life of a mathematics professor. A man who had once existed… on Earth.

  Ashoka slowly withdrew his hand, deeply impressed. Fascination began to grow within him as his gaze swept over the countless spheres scattered across the platform. Each one contained a complete story, a distinct life, an existence that had been preserved somehow within Joel's mind.

  It was then that he looked up. And what he saw stopped him in his tracks. Above the platform, in the distance, floating in the void, were more spheres. At first he thought they were simply suspended there, frozen in space. But after observing them for a longer moment, he perceived an almost imperceptible movement. Descending very slowly. They glided from the heights of the dark sky toward the platform, like drops of light falling in slow motion from the firmament.

  Ashoka remained for a long time observing that silent phenomenon. The spheres descended with an almost solemn slowness, while the enormous bluish sun bathed everything in its spectral radiance.

  Then, a disturbing idea began to form in his mind. He raised his gaze again to the sky, beyond the distinguishable spheres, and noticed the thousands… no, millions of stars that shone in the infinite blackness.

  And for an instant, the connection became impossible to ignore. Each star. Every single one of them. It seemed to correspond to a sphere. A chilling thought. If that intuition was correct, the number of individuals connected to that place was absolutely inconceivable. An ocean of lives awaiting their turn to descend.

  Ashoka observed one of the spheres floating in the sky, calculating its slow descent. Easily estimating that the interval between each new arrival was approximately one month. Exactly the same interval in which Joel received those dreams.

  The conclusion was as logical as it was terrifying. But then another idea crossed the monk's mind. An idea that compelled him to move again. If that place represented the origin of all those memories… then there must be a particular sphere that he should recognize.

  He began walking among the spheres. There were hundreds on the platform, but surprisingly, it didn't take him long to find the one he was looking for. Because it was completely different. While all the others radiated a soft white light, this sphere remained completely dark. It emitted no glimmer, like a fragment of emptiness trapped in crystal. And yet… It felt profoundly familiar to him.

  Ashoka stopped in front of the sphere and for a long moment simply observed it, feeling a strange pressure within. And when his palm finally touched the sphere's surface, there were no images, no memories. Only emptiness. An absolute silence that stretched as far as perception could reach. But along with that emptiness came a certainty impossible to ignore. A truth that needed no explanation.

  Ashoka slowly withdrew his hand, a faint smile appearing on his serene face. Because in that instant, he realized that this empty sphere… had been his.

  With renewed energy, he quickly abandoned what had once been his prison, pulling his hand away as if he had touched something too cold to bear. The feeling of emptiness still lingered within him, a disquieting impression he didn't wish to explore more than necessary. Without wasting any time, he began to move among the other spheres, touching one after another in search of the memories of someone in particular.

  As he advanced, he began to notice that not all the spheres were exactly the same. Although they all shared that crystalline, perfect surface, their light varied. Some emitted a faint, almost extinguished glow, while others shone with a more marked intensity, as if they contained something more within.

  The difference became evident when he found a sphere whose luminosity clearly surpassed the others surrounding it. The monk stopped before it, extended his hand, and placed his palm upon its surface. Instantly, memories flooded back to him. It wasn't a chaotic avalanche like in other spheres, but this time the images possessed a particular clarity: sword training under the sun, the sound of steel clashing again and again, years of discipline, silence, and determination. The life of a warrior took shape before him, and with it emerged a name that Ashoka knew very well: Hoshinobu, the samurai.

  Ashoka was fully aware of the influence that man had had on Joel. Not only had he been the first to take control of his body, but he had also been the one to guide him on the path of the sword. For a long time, Hoshinobu had represented more than just a memory: he had been a role model, a figure of order and purpose within the chaos that inhabited Joel's mind. Because living with the memories of so many lives was not easy. Too many emotions and experiences had made Joel doubt his own identity more than once.

  However, Hoshinobu's sphere revealed something more. Unlike the others, it contained not only memories. It held a consciousness. Ashoka could feel it clearly: deep, dormant… yet undeniably alive.

  The discovery ignited a spark of hope within him. If Hoshinobu still existed in some form inside that sphere, then perhaps others did as well.

  With renewed determination, the monk continued his search, touching one sphere after another, allowing fragments of unknown lives to briefly cross his mind. As he progressed, he began to notice an even clearer pattern. The vast majority of the spheres contained only memories, pure and frozen in time. But a few were different. They held not only images of the past, but also lingering emotions: pride, pain, ambition, love. Remnants of wills that had once been too strong to disappear completely.

  Among them, he found the sphere of a sculptor obsessed with capturing the beauty of the world in stone. In another, he discovered the mind of a general who had commanded entire armies in a great war. And he also found several belonging to warriors who lost their lives on the battlefield, but whose determination still burned faintly within those crystals.

  Each discovery fueled his hope. But it also increased his anxiety, the fear of not finding what he sought… if it was even there.

  Finally, when only a few spheres remained to be examined, his gaze fell upon one that shone with a very particular intensity. It wasn't the brightest. But its light was deep, steady… and remarkably similar to Hoshinobu's.

  Ashoka slowly approached the sphere. For a moment he hesitated. But in the end, he placed his hand upon its surface.

  And in that instant, he knew. Memories were not the first thing he felt. It was a familiar presence. A mind. A will. An unmistakable consciousness.

  Within that sphere lay what he had been searching for from the beginning. The true purpose of this final journey in Joel's spirit world.

  The undeniable consciousness of Adam.