In stark contrast to Professor Hector's ink-scented office, this meditation room soaked in mystery seemed like another world.
The monotonous room had no extra furnishings, no fireplace, nor a bookshelf, only a round table made from a single piece of polished obsidian and a few cushions.
The only illumination came from a crystal floating in the air.
The crystal emitted a dark purple glow, akin to the breathing of a living entity, shrouding everything inside in unpredictable shadows.
Sitting cross-legged on the cushion, Professor Arist Thorne kept his eyes tightly shut, inhaling and exhaling in rhythm with the dimming and brightening glow.
With each rhythmic breath, wisps of white vapor drifted from his mouth and nose, merging with the dark purple crystal, and then a purer breath was drawn back into his body.
During this process, his Spirit seemed to transcend, and his corpse ghost-like wrinkled old face gained a touch of rosiness.
