It is done. The first contract in service of Juru, the harbinger. A simple extraction operation, aided and completed with the aid of our current form. There is little to be said of the mission itself, so perhaps we shall write on other happenings instead. We have become acquainted with two others. A local specimen with the name of Tanaka, and a surface-dweller bearing the name Albert. Tanaka does not interest us, however, the metal giant is a wholly different endeavor. He must possess an astounding amount of information on the world beyond the walls, as such, great care must be made to make him more receptive to our words. Together, we may yet unravel the secrets of this fascinating location we find ourselves within. He may yet perhaps know how to read the surface-dweller's journal.

Yet,

We must admit, his self-inflicted wounds may prove to be a challenging obstacle to overcome in the quest for knowledge. Communication over written text is both inefficient as well as prone to error, and as such, we must take effort to prevent such a debacle from happening. Luckily, with consultation with the spirits, we have devised a new contraption. We have decided to name it the hand. A simple mana-device mounted on the inside of a helmet, intended to make the wearer more submissive and open to instructions. Unfortunately, brain damage may be a possible unintended side-effect were the helm ever to be removed. An unfortunate yet worthy sacrifice. Perhaps this may help us in our quest to extract the knowledge from the iron giant.

Below are ineligible scribbles written in divine text and a few illustrations of the helmet of the deep soul.

"I miss the days when stars were saintly"
"They sang to me in ways innately"

I ran out ideas on what to write, so, if anybody's ever going to read this, tough luck. My head is just full of all sorts of shit, and I can't find myself the willpower to concentrate. And god, god, the itch is getting nigh unbearable. I've taken a dose of Xufilerium in the morning, but I just can't seem to get the damn itch to go away, no matter how much I take. I knew what I was getting into when I took the first dose, but, this shit is going to drive me mad sooner than later. That and I can't stop thinking about, well, everything. I keep wondering, did I do the right thing? Is Orthi selling me shit, or does he truly have the best intentions in mind? And even if he does, how does that make him any better than the council? Both just want one thing - control. Can't live your own damn life without some otherworldly abomination peering at you down through the ceiling. Didn't pray today? Tough luck, eternal torment! I mean, what the hell. 

No, truthfully, I don't have the right to feel sorry for myself. I got myself into this shit myself, I'll have to deal with it myself. Just... I wish there could've been another way, a way without Charles getting killed annihilated. Orthi's keen on not telling me what happened to him, but, I'm fairly certain I've got a good idea. Honestly, sometimes I wonder, was he better off getting obliterated? I mean, hell, he's left the accursed loop of pain and torment. But, at the same time, he's gone. Gone as can be. No longer with us. God, I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, I have enough on my plate as is.

Well, not like I have much time to dwell on it anyways. Orthi's got another job in store for me tomorrow. Better get some sleep.