Milo did not answer. The young man seized his wrist and said to the other:
"I think Brady has been possessed."
"Let me see. Brady, your Spiritual Root is a four, so why has it become a two?
... [No answer] ...
Hmm, so that's how it is.
[He turned to his friend]
I knew those illicit substances didn't suit him.
[He looked back at Milo]
We don't want to ruin the mood. We will deal with you, spirit, after the journey."
"I-I-I d-didn't d-do th-th-that on p-p-purpose... I b-b-beg of y-you... I d-didn't ask for h-h-help u-unless I w-wanted to l-l-live..."
"And do you expect us to let you take our companion? The deal stands until the end of the journey. Get out of him, or we will kill you."
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Brady's problem was a recurring issue in this world known as Possession, where the brain receives other patterns of consciousness. This occurs because neural cells in this world regenerate continuously, causing a person's interests, inclinations, and preferences to shift over time. However, sometimes neurons regenerate all at once. If the condition known as the Theseus limit is met, this regeneration leads to the formation of a strange "consciousness bubble" inside the brain, resembling schizophrenia, accompanied by hearing strange, unreal voices from the person occupying your mind.
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One of the travelers, a man named Valrik who possessed a Spiritual Root numbered three, spoke up. His musculature, carved by a hundred years of experience, was evident as he shouted for all to hear:
"We had better move before the tide starts to rise. It seems we have twenty-five hours of daylight ahead of us."
The travelers began to shoulder their bags and walk into the desert. Its white sands and the terrain inclined upwards, for in reality, this entire desert would be submerged by a tide rising more than five kilometers high on this planet called Terravasta, which means {Vast Earth.} As for the day, it was 36 Terravastan hours, equivalent to 15 Earth days—or 360 Earth hours .. a chronological hell.
Milo jammed his head and right arm into Brady's pack under the gaze of Kris and Cody, and began the march with them, walking ahead of their gossip about him behind his back.
Because the number was large, the group of one hundred illegal immigrants split into smaller clusters comprising friends and acquaintances. Milo and a few others walked alone. Every now and then, small spheres rolled in front of them, resembling shiny metal balls. When they opened, they looked like crabs; these creatures were called Silver Crabs. Everyone tried not to provoke them because, when angered, they launched themselves with their heavy weight and speed capable of destroying stone walls and buildings, not just humans.
After six hours of walking, vegetation finally began to appear. The grass was crimson. Some massive crimson trees were scattered about, looking like omens of doom on the distant hillsides after the massive cloud swallowed everything, hiding the sunlight.
Occasionally, hideous dogs passed by them, resembling deformed humans in the shape of a red dog, as if their fur had been plucked, leaving only long black hair on their heads, with extended jaws and emaciated bodies. They were the size of horses and were named Death Tag.
One of the dogs stopped and stared in Milo's direction—who had drifted off gazing into the creature's human eyes and stopped walking—until someone spoke to him:
"Don't stare at them for too long; it's harmful to your psychological and mental health. Legend says only those whose time of death is approaching can see them."
The scene shifts to a group at the front consisting of three friends with pale pink skin due to the type of food consumed in their homeland. In a fraction of a second, amidst their talk and rosy dreams, an invisible hot thread sliced through the clothes of one of the trio and his outer skin layer.
The victim immediately recoiled to check the wound caused by this thread, which was smaller than the detection threshold of their weak sixth sense.
Suddenly, from between the trunks, a liquid shot out with the speed of a bullet. The three friends sensed it with their sixth sense and dodged it; the injured one jumped away, and the other two spun around. Behind them, a girl walking alone saw the liquid and fell backward to avoid it. Behind her was Milo, who didn't even perceive the object heading toward his head; he only saw the people in front of him dodging in a millisecond, just before a glass bottle hit him from the side, knocking him out of the projectile's path.
No injuries.
The girl with many tattoos on her face approached Milo, whose forehead was scratched by the shattered glass, and who began writhing on the ground clutching his bleeding head.
"Are you okay?
"
Milo replied nervously:
"D-do I l-look l-l-like I'm... o-o-okay?"
"Why are you annoyed? I saved your life. That thing would have finished you off, haha."
Kris spoke up:
"He has been possessed; that's why his reaction, accent, and behavior are strange."
The girl continued:
"Luckily, my friend Marcile is a healer."
The scene returns to the front to reveal creatures resembling humans but with a curvature in their spines, capable of producing sharp webs that heat up to melt metal upon touch, and a supernatural ability for Transcendence, producing acid from nothing and controlling it. They were named Incendia, derived from "incendiary."
They numbered about fifty. Their value was high in the Transcendermarket. The creatures launched an attack on those present; some dodged, while others intercepted. For those who seemed unable to avoid it, Valrik intervened, diverting the path of the projectiles with his wind, saying:
"As the Ninth said, the first to die is a son of a bitch."
Valrik raised his hand in the shape of a gun and began the hunt. Controlling the wind, he compressed a small mass of air with his aura and fired it along with his aura like a bullet that exploded inside the body. The entry wound was the size of a bullet, but the exit was like a cannonball strike. He downed large numbers of them alone, but they managed to hit him with some acid. After dodging his shots, they began attacking other travelers to distract him, as he could not stop them all at once.
Another traveler intervened using a flammable liquid, like molten lava, that stuck to the skin to burn it, resembling a napalm weapon.
Several types of attacks rained down on the Incendia creatures from each person, some of which looked like internationally banned weapons.
The battle was almost decided in favor of the humans.
One of the travelers said:
"Why didn't they do this when we were on the ship?"
Marcile, possessor of Spiritual Root 6, was a former noble making his way to the continent of Lina after disputes with other nobles in his home continent, Vaska. Marcile was tall, black-skinned, with prominent muscles, and a serious look on his face that gave him the aura of a formidable man.
Milo said:
"I am o-o-okay... I am o-o-okay... Get away from me, you Black..."
He tried to stand up and run, clutching his bloody head.
Brady's friends grabbed him:
"Your end has come."
Marcile came over and began stripping off Milo's clothes.
"No, no, l-l-leave me... get away from me... Waaah... g-g-get him away from me!"
Marcile placed his massive hand quietly on Milo's chest and closed his eyes as if using his aura to scan the body from the inside.
"Don't touch me, you Black... take your f-f-filthy hand off...
[Crying]
Help!"
Marcile spoke to the two friends in his deep voice and serious tone:
"This is a Level 6 Possession, meaning the body's owner is effectively dead and cannot be brought back. Nothing remains of him except some cells responsible for basic memory. He has lost the processing unit and a large part of the main memory responsible for his identity. This crying, racist girl has occupied his body...
What did you two do to reach this state?"
Kris spoke:
"We took some drugs last night, and he was complaining of a headache."
"So, you two killed him."
"No, we didn't know, and he took them of his own free will; we didn't force him."
"Luckily for you, the law hasn't settled these possession cases yet. By the way, it's not just his mind that is damaged; some of his internal organs seem damaged as well, and he is infected with a tapeworm."
Marcile spoke to Milo:
"You racist, do you feel any pain in your internal organs?"
"Yes, but it was stronger when I w-w-woke up."
"What is your name?"
"Milo."
Marcile turned to Kris and Cody and said:
"I wanted the interrogation with him to last longer. Some doctors are trying to map his small fantasy world called 'Planet Earth' and its cultures. It seems that many similar cases share the same consensus about this imaginary world called Earth, which is strange for these psychotic cases where every experience is supposed to be private and unique. Your friend here still needs treatment for his organs damaged by that crap you used. Wait until you reach safety in Madlina."
"Thank you for taking a look."
Marcile raised his hand in farewell and turned to go behind Milo.
Milo thought to himself:
Marcile spun around and powerfully drove a punch into Milo's back. It penetrated his back violently until his entrails exited from his stomach. Then he grabbed them and pulled everything out through the back, amidst Milo's eyes rolling back, his body trembling rigid in place, and letting out the slow death rattle of someone dying from pain, until his eyes glazed over, staring into nowhere from the shock.
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"The character pics are down in the comments."