"Eternity," Myst mumbles as he remains on his sofa with his legs crossed and his gaze looking down on the tea served by Batiste. It has almost gone cold after being untouched for several minutes now. His face is flat and almost unreadable, but a lot of matters have been running into his mind and his question has always been the same. "I have rejected the "Oblivion"... but endless wait tires me."

"Will there be an end?" Myst continues. "Will the promised time come? "Apocalypse" and "Salvation" are just like two sides of a coin." He then lets out a long sigh, as if it was so exhausting to think. "I, no, "we" simply have to wait for the day to come."