John Smith's Journals – The Assimilation Theory ⟣
In his thick notebook with a black leather cover, he titled the largest section:
"Theory of Energetic Assimilation and Emotional Resonance"
He filled it with dozens of diagrams and tiny tables in handwriting so small it was barely readable.The very first paragraph he wrote in clear script:
(Every living being has a fundamental frequency. This frequency is the emotional and structural echo of its existence. And since magic is not mere energy but the echo of emotion and intent, the ability to transfer magic from one body to another requires one of two things: either an essential similarity in frequency, or an artificial device that enforces this similarity by force.)
This sentence was the summary of his entire philosophy.But years later, he discovered it was incomplete.
Attempt to Formulate the Laws of Assimilation
The Law of Energetic Similarity:The assimilator must match a fundamental emotion of the original ability's owner.(For example: if he wished to assimilate an ability steeped in hatred, he must drown himself in absolute hatred.)⬅︎ He failed to apply this law, believing he could imitate emotions without truly immersing himself in them.
The Law of the Stable Vessel:The vessel (the assimilator's body) must be able to receive the resonance without disintegrating.⬅︎ One of his essential problems was that he could never modify his body organically enough to withstand foreign energy.
The Law of Gradual Resonance:Every attempt at assimilation, even if it fails, leaves behind an imperceptible cumulative trace.⬅︎ He hoped that the accumulation of failures would eventually build a foundation for final success.
Details from His Daily Experiments – Selected from His Journals
Day 431(Tried mirror resonance again tonight. This time, I didn't rely on fabricated fear. I brought up a real memory: the death of my old dog when I was ten. I felt something like a sting between my ribs… but it faded quickly. Perhaps I haven't yet reached the peak of emotion.)
Day 465(Fourth attempt with the crystal of emotional residue failed again. The fusion with resonance doesn't work. Maybe I need a living human medium… but where would I get one? I won't accept harming people.)
Day 489(Read about "artificial similarity" in a forgotten manuscript at Jinkle Library. It says forced resonance may be created through external triggers: trauma, acute pain, or sensory deprivation. Should I try self–torture? If it succeeds… will I still be myself?)
Day 490(Did nothing today. Spent hours staring at the lab mirror. Realized I no longer know exactly what I want. Is it the ability itself? Or simply to know if I am truly incapable?)
Day 491(Made my decision. I will try the "Double Emotion Chamber" technique. I will enter it tonight. If it works, everything will change.)
Day 492(Survived. Did not succeed. The emotion slipped away from me and did not hold. No ability. Nothing but cold emptiness. I'll give myself a week of rest.)
Later Note Written Months Afterwards
(Failure, in my view, is not a disgrace, but confirmation of what I have always suspected: there is no way to mimic true emotion, nor to craft a vessel that does not collapse. If I had a longer life… or more money… perhaps I could have discovered the method.)
Thus his notebook remained filled with attempts:
Sketches of strange circuits he tried to design.
Notes on "tainted crystals."
A list of past victims of battles from whom he tried to trace echoes of abilities through their weapon remains.
Dozens of hypotheses about the relationship between magic and intent.
On the Last Night Before the Deadly Invitation Arrived
He sat before his long journals, writing in calmer script than usual:
(Perhaps I will not return… and if I do, these notebooks will stand as witness that I tried. Not out of pride, but because my mind never knew another path but this.)
Though John grew up in a financially stable family and received ordinary parental affection, he was never able to feel a true sense of belonging.His parents, both municipal employees in the city of Jinkle, valued simplicity: traditional meals, quiet conversations, unchanging family routines.
In his earliest childhood, he seemed a calm and content boy. But at age six, when his strange inclination for experiment and doubt appeared, a silent gap began forming between him and his family.
His mother, a kind woman but limited in imagination, would always say:"John… why don't you rest a little? Why all this thinking about strange things?"
His father tried to support his scientific curiosity by providing basic books on chemistry and nature, but could not understand his son's obsession with dark magic.One winter day, when John was twelve, his father asked with quiet concern:"Are these experiments dangerous for you?"John answered with an odd, almost certain look:"Everything alive is dangerous. Even the emptiness we live in is dangerous if we stare into it too long."
From that day, his father stopped asking.
⟢ The First Shock in His Life ⟣
His bond with one of his few friends, Tiran, was more like an attempt to compensate for his emotional void.Tiran was his childhood companion, a shy, kind–hearted boy, sharing small adventures, but the vast gulf between their ambitions gradually drove them apart.
At fourteen, when Tiran lost his father in a tragic accident, John saw for the first time how a person's spirit could shatter before his eyes.He tried to sympathize, to say something to ease the pain… but felt nothing but strange curiosity.
That night, he wrote in his notebook:(Today I saw Tiran collapse. I did not feel sadness. I wished I could make my brain bleed grief… but my heart remained silent. What flaw in me makes me like this?)
This incident deepened his conviction that he was emotionally incomplete, and that emotion was something he could never truly possess. And so he began to chase the idea of "assimilation," as though merging the energies of others could patch the void within him.
⟢ Fragments of His Daily Life Before the Invitation ⟣
At sixteen, John tried joining a group of independent researchers in Jinkle. They expelled him within a week after noticing his obsession with unethical experiments.
He spent the next three years working secretly in his basement.
He had no close friends, except for an old woman who occasionally brought him food. Even that relationship was no more than a paid service.
In long nights, he read about the legends of the Eastern Continent, which claimed that emotions could be crystallized, turning into an inexhaustible source of power.
⟢ From His Reflection Notebook – Weeks Before the Invitation ⟣
"I do not hate people… but I do not love them either. Their presence confuses me. Only alone do I understand right and wrong within myself. Perhaps this won't make me happy… but it is what I am."
"If my mother asked whether I love her, I would say yes, but I don't think the feeling is the same as others'."
"I envy those who cry sincerely. I envy those who rejoice at something simple. And so… perhaps what I seek is not an ability to heal my physical weakness, but one that can rescue the emptiness of my heart."
⟢ On the Night the Invitation Arrived ⟣
He sat at his narrow desk, surrounded by open books on every table and shelf, papers covered in tangled handwriting and cryptic equations. Glass vials were scattered about, some still emitting faint smoke or the remnants of acrid odors.
That night, he was exhausted from yet another failed experiment: trying to merge the element of sulfur with human blood particles. The attempt ended with a small explosion that scorched the ends of his coat. Looking at himself in the mirror, seeing his tired eyes and soot–stained cheeks, he smiled coldly.
"Even hell itself would laugh at me if it saw me like this."
And before extinguishing the candle, he noticed a letter on the table that hadn't been there before.A letter sealed with a mark he didn't recognize.He felt strange, but his heart did not quicken as others' would in such a moment. On the contrary, he took it calmly, sat on his wooden chair, and opened it slowly as if opening a new book.
The words he read did not shock him.
"To those who seek beyond the limits of humankind.We offer you the chance to participate in a trial faced only by the few.A trial to decide whether you are merely a passing mind… or one destined to leave an indelible mark."
There was a clear condition:
Danger was certain.
Survival not guaranteed.
The reward: what no mind could imagine.
His Reaction
He did not close the letter immediately.He set it on the table, took a black pen, and began to jot down:
"A trial? They must have been watching me. Who cares about a man wasting his time in a basement lab?"
But he felt no dread.Instead, something closer to curiosity.As if the letter were a natural extension of what he had been doing for years.
He wasn't simply chasing money, nor even power. He sought a new truth, a domain no one had tried before. The invitation was not a chain to him, but another doorway—perhaps the last laboratory he would ever need.
He raised the letter again, read it twice, then wrote beneath it in his notebook:
"If what awaits me is an end, it will not be worse than this life that resembles a windowless laboratory."
Then he smiled briefly—the smile of a man who knows the road ahead will consume him, and yet steps onto it willingly.
Preparation for Departure
In the following days, he told no one. He had no one to tell.His parents had died years ago, his school friends long gone. The only world he knew was his lab, his books, and his experiments.
He gathered what he thought he would need:
A few small tools that could be hidden.
Vials with remnants of chemicals from his experiments.
His notebook, filled with observations, which he never left behind.
Ironically, he knew most of these things would be useless in the "place" he was being taken to. And yet, he carried them as if they were talismans, the last fragments of his identity.
Hours Before Leaving
On the final night before he was summoned, he lit every candle in his laboratory. He sat in the center, surrounded by his papers and books, as if holding a small funeral for his mind.
He wrote on a new sheet:
"If I return, it will be with knowledge beyond human limits. And if I do not, that means my body has become material for another grand experiment—one I cannot document."
Then he stopped, rested his head in his hand, and closed his eyes.He was not afraid. He was not excited.He was calm, as though his entire life had led him to this one moment.
⟢ The Invitation as an Inner Transformation ⟣
In truth, the invitation was not just a letter to John Smith.It was a mirror.In it, he saw himself as he was: a mind that knew no stopping, even if the price was his life.
And as the night ended, he felt that his past life, with all its failures and sorrows, had been nothing but a brief prelude to this step.
And so, when he finally took the letter and left his laboratory, he did not look back.He did not bid farewell to his books or his experiments.Because, in his depths, he knew that he himself was the final experiment.