The Pillar

He gazed at the majestic throne in the distance, his eyes lingering on it for what felt like an eternity. Then, as if summoned by an unseen force, a transformation enveloped him. His attire shifted; he now wore a sleek black frock coat, beneath which lay a double-breasted vest, adorned with a golden pocket watch, complemented by tailored black trousers. In these garments, he appeared more handsome than ever, his elegance radiating like a beacon.

With each step he took toward the majestic throne, an air of authority filled the palace, commanding the very essence of the space around him. As he reached the throne and settled into its embrace, he looked down at the round table before him, perceiving it as one might regard an insignificant insect. In that moment, anyone attempting to meet his gaze would find themselves unable to do so, their heads bowed in reverence.

"I understand now," Arthur mused, crossing his legs as he reclined in the throne. "The thoughts I weave here connect me to this city. What I envision and desire can manifest, just as these garments have materialized." 

Silence enveloped the palace, a stillness so profound that it felt almost sacred. Then, in a surreal twist, a projection materialized before Arthur's eyes, revealing the inn he had recently occupied, every detail vivid and clear.

"As I envisioned, I can interact with the real world," he thought, directing his mind's eye toward the inn, willing himself to see beyond its walls. The scene unfolded before him, the familiar surroundings coming to life. "It seems my vision is limited to about three hundred meters; I cannot see beyond that," he noted, straining to glimpse the distant parts of the isle, only to find his efforts in vain.

Yet, the more he concentrated on specific areas, the more the projection shifted, revealing what he sought. He surveyed the inn's surroundings, the bar empty and silent, the kitchen devoid of life, transforming the once-bustling inn into a ghostly shell. 

After exploring the first floor, his view transitioned to his room, where his physical body lay asleep, peaceful and unaware, as if he were there in spirit as well. 

His gaze lingered on the room until it shifted again to the hallway, where he spotted a man standing outside his door. The figure stood still, as if waiting for something, a sense of foreboding washing over Arthur. In that moment, he felt vulnerable, his body unguarded and exposed. If someone were to burst in with ill intent, it could spell his end.

The thought of danger propelled Arthur to leave the palace. In the blink of an eye, he awoke in his room, staring at the ceiling. He sat up, contemplating his next move: should he confront the unknown or wait to see what unfolded?

Just then, he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway, the sound indicating that the other party was departing. Bewilderment washed over him—hadn't they come for him? Why leave without a word?

He waited until the footsteps faded into silence before cautiously stepping outside to confirm the coast was clear. 

As he stood, a sudden ache pierced through his head, a pain so intense it momentarily disoriented him before it began to subside. Arthur was taken aback; since his last awakening on the isle, he hadn't experienced such a headache. 

Then, clarity struck him. Spiritual energy! he thought, massaging his forehead. "It seems I have exhausted my spiritual energy. It is not infinite; I cannot wield it all the time." He glanced at his hands, realizing the toll his journey had taken. "I must have depleted it in that unknown city. Everything I did there required energy, and my reserves are insufficient. I can't remain there for more than ten minutes, and if I create anything, it cannot last longer than seven."

"I need to find a way to replenish my spiritual energy," he resolved, but first, he had to escape the isle. 

Approaching the door of his room, he grasped the handle and opened it slowly, peering outside to ensure no one lurked in the shadows. 

He glanced left and right down the hallway, confirming it was empty. Stepping out, he surveyed the area near his room, searching for anything amiss, but found nothing. 

Relief washed over him; he wasn't ready to confront anyone until he understood isle more deeply. Satisfied that all was well, he decided to return to his room and rest.

---

Nighttime on isle was a time of revelry, when its residents shed the burdens of their daily labors. The finest inn, where Arthur and Lily resided, became a sanctuary for those seeking solace after a long day.

The bar was alive with laughter and song, patrons reveling in their merriment as if oblivious to the troubles of the world. 

Suddenly, an eerie silence fell over the bar, as if time itself had paused. All eyes turned toward the staircase leading to the second floor. 

Soft footsteps echoed in the stillness, each step resonating like a heartbeat. 

Step! Step! Step!

As the footsteps descended, a young man emerged, clad in a crisp white shirt, a black double-breasted vest, and tailored trousers, standing firm as the crowd watched in rapt attention.

What's wrong with them? Arthur wondered, scanning the bar for an open table but finding none. He decided to use the counter instead.

He walked a few steps and halted before Piro, the bartender. "Can I get a beer, please?" he ordered. "And may I sit here? There's no place else."

"Sure you can," Piro replied, his voice deep and resonant.

As Piro responded, the bar resumed its lively chatter; singers continued their melodies, and conversations flowed once more. 

Arthur took a sip of his beer, only to be met with disappointment. What is this? It tastes like plain water, he thought, frowning. I better do what brought me here. With that, he leaned in, straining to catch snippets of the conversations around him, ready to get information he needed to move with his plans.