The cats were reluctant to sail on an Incanok ship because the bitterly cold winds and gloomy skies of the country were unbearable. But no one could say whether this unpleasant gloom came from something "something" that floated on an impassable peak, or something that seeped out of the biting desert to the north. What is certain, however, is that in that distant land there will always be a feeling of being in outer space—or the junction of some abyss and the world of order—which is not a feeling that cats like, and in this respect they are more sensitive than humans.

The Cat Chief also told me that if I was going to take the plunge and go out to sea in the dark galleys of the Incanoks, it would be best to act as soon as possible, for they would be gone tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Not only that, but he also suggested that I might as well use less modest means when necessary—such as infiltrating their ships, and that it would not be wise to speak directly to the descendants of the Dream Gods and even their noble ancestors and the Xuanyang Daoists until it was clear whether they were friends or foes.

In the evening, I entered a tavern as discreetly as I could, and unsurprisingly found the Incanoks here. They seldom converse with anyone else in these old seaside taverns, but gather in groups in secluded corners, singing tunes that have echoed in some strange land, or reciting long legends to each other in a strange tone unlike any other dialect of the Land of Dreams—but to my ears they are strange tunes and obscure melodies.

On November 30th, as the first light of the morning dawned in Selephas, I quietly followed the group of Incanoks aboard their ship across time and space. It was a very well-crafted and lovely sea-going ship, with a solid teak hull and ebony fittings and floral panes made of gold, while silk and velvet tapestries hung from the cabins where the traveller lodged. Before they could spot me, I hid in a secluded corner of the cabin and concealed myself with the concealment spell of refraction.

There were two people walking not far away, but luckily they didn't notice it - after all, I couldn't get rid of the real feeling of contact with this body that I couldn't tell if it was made of matter or spirit. Then, when I felt the vibration of the ship's hull, I knew that it was the sailors from Incanok who had anchored and set sail, so I scattered a few wisps of thought and cautiously made my way down the empty passage—I don't know if they had a way of probing their senses, and if they did, then I had to try to avoid attracting their attention.

Soon, as my mind approached a lone Incanok, I received a negative answer, and I confidently searched all corners of the ship. On the table top of a relatively spacious room, I found a detailed chart that roughly determined the location of Incanok - which meant that I could go there if necessary. Then I realized the need to do so: the voyage took almost a month. I can't be on this ship, unprepared, facing the Tyndalus Hounds. That's stupid.

So I slipped out while the stern was empty, and took one last look to the south—the eternal walls, bronze statues, and golden minarets of Selephais slowly sinking into the distance under the rising sun, and the snow-covered spires of Aphrovan Peak growing smaller. A familiar, brightly coloured sailboat seems to have just set sail and is slowly heading towards the border between the sea and the sky of the Serenalia.

Then, I took a deep breath and bravely spread out my extradimensional perspective, aiming towards the coordinates of the Incanok continent. In the higher dimensions, all the familiar revealed their inner and outer details, and in the almost endless flood of information, I vaguely filtered out a wide, gloomy sea, and to the east of the sea was a series of great gray peaks, the tops of all of which were hidden in the low clouds that seemed to stand still forever.

But the sea is not my destination. I shifted my perspective a little – in an instinctive rather than rational way – to focus on the ancient city of the same name as the mainland. Bulbous domes and marvelous minarets rise sparsely and strangely above the piers and walls, all of which are of a delicate black color, decorated with cartouches and arabesques made of gold.

As the perspective "zoomed in"—and though the space and time gaps seemed to have lost their meaning, my mortal mind could not perfectly carry this ability—my mind penetrated into the streets of the city, and was surprised to find that even the crooked, narrow paths were neatly laid with onyx tiles. I chose a remote corner with little track, and then I activated my ability and jumped out.

Once again, I felt something like a clear, viscous liquid—a strange illusion that space-time itself had created in my mind, much stronger than the short jumps in the towers of Serranian and the docks of Selephas. But it doesn't seem to take a lot of brute force to break it, and if I think about it, this unpredictable space-time existence that seems to have poured me into concrete can be torn apart at any moment.

Then, as I had done, I made a hole in the membrane of space-time—perhaps the radical physicists were right, at least quite partially—and unsurprisingly traveled through it, into a realm beyond time familiar to humanity.

Extradimensional information was far beyond the capacity of my human senses, but in my best efforts to "translate"—perhaps more appropriately "filter," I "saw" the things that were famous in science fiction—hypercubes, Klein bottles, Calabi-chu worms, and ......

"Ahh

Tyndaros Hound...... I screamed, in the dark alley.

They are skinny and...... All around it were the walls of the building, which were made of black stone bricks, and there was not even a small ventilation window in sight.

All the evils in the universe are concentrated in their bodies...... The top of the building is built into a dome structure that gradually expands and then shrinks into a spire, and the gloomy sky is cut into eerie geometric shapes.

Then again, do they have bodies - I only looked at them for a moment.

I'm not sure.