Even now, as the last echoes of the Astral Realm vacated your mind, the dying echoes of the machine spirits form still washes over you. Practically thrumming in mana, swooning and flowing throughout your self, and integrating itself to you like spray painted paint. Odd enough, you don't feel so different right now.
Before long, you progressively feel less and less drained from the intensive burn of your astral sensing, but you never really had a chance as the denizens of this place had already figured your awakening. They are perhaps reverant of you, obviously in some sort of awe that you are not quite sure about. They quickly take you out of the room (Despite the protests of your dizzied head.) and through the almost bare and spartan halls of this temple. it spiraled on for a small amount of time before you ended it up in the central "lobby" of the building, where an altar, aspected to a tradition or another. Behind the altar is a larger specimen, wearing much more grandiose, red robes.
For a few moments, the person simply stares, and then he speaks.
"You have been used, lead and then re-made.
I do not expect you to toil like the mice, nor to be a rat who eats the mice, just as your "Spirit" has."
she spat the word out with disgust.
"My master bids me release you, and I will. But the question to you is, will you thank my god? Come to their domain, haunt their halls and spit on its Domain in the centerpiece of its power to converse with it? Or will you run away?"
A.Go to the Spirits domain.
B.Leave.
C.Wait, I have questions!