My Skills Have No Limits : Transmigirated In A Novel as An Extra Chapter 42: Signs Of A Human Mind

The desk trembled slightly under the impact, and Aziel instinctively leaned back, taking in the sight.

"This," the man said, his tone quivering between excitent and exhaustion, "is a weapon I have forged over months of sleepless nights, endless failures, and... far too many sacrifices. You see this?"

He pointed toward the flask, eyes gleaming with feverish pride.

"This right here, this is everything your kind, you Plasma beings, have ever lacked. A perfect offense, and an even better defense. No longer will energy be wasted on those pathetic, unstable conduits you depend on."

He laughed softly, the sound brittle and uneven.

"Once I unveil this to the Plasma Society, they’ll have no choice but to acknowledge . To worship ! I’ll be hailed as one of the greatest Forbidden Souls to ever crawl into this cursed dinsion. Do you understand what this ans? With this,"

He shook the flask gently, the liquid swirling like molten light.

"Plasmas could descend upon the human realm and conquer, reshape it altogether, without ever spending a single drop of their own energy, without losing a single one of their kind."

His grin widened, sharp and trembling, as if he were balancing on the thin edge between brilliance and madness.

"They’ll see... they’ll all see. The world will rember who stood at the precipice of creation and jumped instead of stepping back."

He shoved the rising smoke aside with one hand, the grayish haze spilling right into Aziel’s face, though clearly not out of malice—just reckless, frantic energy that had no direction to go.

Aziel blinked, coughed once, and fixed him with a flat stare.

"Bruh... what the fuck are you going on about? Didn’t you just react two highly corrosive and unstable elents? Stop that bullshit, please—I’ll die of cringe before your ’invention’ kills ."

The man holding the flask froze mid-motion, eyes widening as though he’d just discovered a diamond gleaming in the dirt.

His jaw dropped, the flask trembling slightly in his grasp.

"W-what?... How did you figure that out? I—I thought I’d done enough to fool you all for another year! No—wait, not even that—how the hell do you even know what I just did? The elents, the reaction, the instability—how?"

Aziel grinned wryly, clearly deciding to play along.

"Nah, bruh, you’re fucked up now. Consider yourself as good as dead for trying to fool us. I’m gonna go and tell the upper echelon about this whole stunt. Now that I think about it... those long-ass pages I read weren’t just for decoration, huh?"

The man blinked twice—his confusion and surprise almost comical.

"Whaaat? You can understand those books? Let’s be real, there’s no way you can do that. No way in any realm."

His voice lowered, the manic edge softening into sothing oddly sincere.

"I don’t even care much about dying anymore... but at least spit the truth, will you?"

Aziel let out a short breath, half a laugh.

"Man, it’s not that hard," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"You people keep repeating the sa structure in every damn formula, just switch a few symbols around and act like it’s a breakthrough. Anyone with half a brain and enough coffee could piece it together."

He said it offhandedly, like he’d done it a hundred tis before.

Like soone who’d stayed up late nights staring at glowing screens and research papers, not soone from a world that shouldn’t even know this science existed.

The man froze. His fingers twitched slightly against the flask.

That tone—coffee, formula—none of those words belonged here.

Not to this dinsion.

His mind went still, and in the silence between heartbeats, realization hit him like a cold wave.

He’s human.

The thought burned behind his eyes, sharp and undeniable. He didn’t say it aloud—didn’t even let it touch his tongue.

Instead, he asked abruptly, voice cutting through the silence.

"Do ya know how to write?"

Aziel blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. But before he could form a reply, the man moved quickly, like his thoughts were sprinting ahead of his body.

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled sothing out from the inside of his coat—a crumpled, yellowed page, edges singed as though it had survived a fire.

He placed it gently on the desk, flattening it with his palm.

Aziel leaned in, sitting on a nearby chair, eyes narrowing as he studied the paper.

Then, without breaking eye contact, the man slipped his other hand into a different pocket.

His movents were oddly smooth this ti, almost theatrical, as sothing long and thin began to erge—tallic, sleek, and cold under the dim light.

Aziel’s eyes flicked to it instantly.

A pen.

The man jotted sothing down on the paper, his pen moving swiftly, lines flowing like a rhythm only he could hear.

Then he leaned forward, close enough for Aziel to see what he had written, before sliding the page toward him.

You know, when that flask exploded, I almost said — ’Boom goes the dynamite.’ But... that phrase wouldn’t an anything to a Plasma, would it?

Aziel blinked once. Then a small, involuntary laugh slipped out — short, quiet, but genuine. He knew that reference.

The kind of dumb human humor that didn’t belong here.

He took the paper and pen, wrote sothing in return, and passed it back.

The man’s eyes glimred faintly as he read, but said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Aziel, anwhile, had already pieced together what he was trying to do.

’He’s testing .’

But what puzzled him more was why the man insisted on conversing through writing instead of simply speaking.

The next line appeared on the paper a mont later — his handwriting sharp and deliberate.

You ever seen smoke form a perfect ring before? I used to watch people do that... sowhere far away.

Aziel stared for a second, then his lips twitched faintly. A flicker of recognition crossed his face.

’Yeah... in bars, don’t they?’

He thought to himself, almost amused by how casually that mory ca back.

The man didn’t pause.

He wrote again, this ti slower, more carefully, as if choosing each word mattered.

Sotis I still find myself thinking of heat in Fahrenheit. Don’t you?

Aziel’s brows lifted slightly. That one wasn’t casual.

The man had deliberately chosen the word Fahrenheit instead of Celsius — a unit no Plasma should even know.

It wasn’t a question anymore.

It was a confirmation disguised as one.

Aziel said nothing this ti. He just watched him continue, waiting for the next move.

The pen pressed against the paper again, each stroke heavier than before.

When the man finally pushed the paper back, there was a pause — longer than any before.

Do you feel comfortable in your body?

Aziel read it slowly, his heartbeat steady, expression unreadable.

’So... he’s finally reaching his judgnt,’ he thought, eyes narrowing slightly.

’But still playing risky, huh?’

He followed the flow of the ga and tilted his head to the side.

A silent gesture of denial.

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