'I am the embodiment of our greed and our cunning—a fragment of the totality we are. One soul threads through us both, Chayrith. I am you, and you are I—mirrored fragments, incomplete facets of a whole still waiting to be reborn.'
A jolt ran through Chayrith's body like a violent current after the bursting of a dam. His mind blanked as a bright white light exploded within him, and before he could understand what was happening, a torrent of images and unintelligible intonations rattled through his head.
He felt as if some kind of understanding was dangling right before him, yet still out of reach. As the voices grew in volume and intensity, his soul began to flicker in and out of existence.
Like a lamp running out of wick, his visage became fainter and fainter. His eyes felt tired, his eyelids heavy. He wanted to sleep.
To give in to this serene, peaceful quiet.
But just as his vision began to fade, he felt a pair of eyes on him. A gaze that filled him with a sensation he could not comprehend—one that filled him with a heat that warmed him.
No. Not warm, but burning.
A burning that turned into an inferno consuming his mind. It was rage, a pure, unfiltered fury that burned away even his rationality as he looked into those eyes.
The eyes belonged to the old man. Well, calling them "eyes" would be a gross misconception. They were not eyes, for they held no flesh, no physical form.
Within his sockets were universes—nebulae, galaxies, and stars. They seemed to hold the weight of billions of worlds. Gazing at them, one would feel their very soul being crushed beneath that weight.
Though their mind would probably collapse from the sensory overload before the pain even registered.
The old man's eyes were as beautiful as they were terrifying, but Chayrith did not care. Right now, as his soul threatened to fall apart at its very seams, he recognized only one thing within those eyes.
An emotion he couldn't stomach.
Disdain.
The old man stood tall above him, his aura vast and heavy, filled with a pride and arrogance that couldn't be questioned or challenged. And he was looking down on Chayrith with… unconcealed disdain.
Shame and fury twisted within Chayrith's soul like a mass of viscous waste. He wanted to scream. To roar. To defy.
And yet he could only remain unmoving, his entire being unresponsive, as if submitting to the old man's might.
Finally, the old man spoke, his voice sounding as if it came from every direction, echoing even through time.
'All that bravado, all that pride… for what? You are weak—pathetic, even. You do not deserve to share a soul with me, brat. Fade away, just as all nameless trash should. Even if we die because of it, at least I can save us from the disgrace that you are.'
And then, there was silence.
Chayrith's soul shattered into motes of light, leaving behind a small white flame that burned steadily. Seeing this, the old man's expression changed, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips.
'Don't blame me for this, boy. If I don't wake you up, we'll have bigger problems down the line.'
As he watched the white flame sway steadily, he suddenly turned his gaze upward, as if peering through dimensions and spreading his senses through Chayrith's body.
[Outside the Mysterious Space — Chayrith's Room]
Chayrith's eyes snapped open, his green irises darkening slightly as white specks, similar to stars, began to shine within them.
Rina, the maid who had brought him to his bath previously, noticed his eyes were now open. She laid out his robes and was about to speak when Chayrith opened his mouth. But instead of the usual babbles and squeals, an aged voice resounded from his infantile throat.
"Stop."
A wave of power burst forth as the voice echoed. Suddenly the world seemed to gray, the entirety of the Eastern Realm losing its color in the span of a second.
Everything within the realm froze. Every person and animal—even the rivers and lakes—came to an unnatural standstill.
It was as if the entire realm had been put on pause.
[Mysterious Space]
Chayrith—or rather, the old man—closed his eyes as he let out a weary sigh. He pulled his senses from Chayrith's body and reappeared within the space.
When his form fully consolidated, his eyes immediately shut tightly as streaks of grayish-black blood poured from them.
'Damn, that is harder than it looks. Nearly tore my soul apart.'
As the old man observed himself, he saw small, hairline cracks spreading across him like webs. A heaviness pressed down on his soul form, clearly a sign of extreme exhaustion from overusing his power.
Sighing, he turned back to the flame hovering in the air. It had grown significantly in the few seconds he'd been gone; now the white color had taken on a black hue, looking sinister and evil.
The feeling it gave off was inconsistent. One moment it burned as hot as the sun; the next it was as cold as the deepest reaches of space. But he could feel a fierce vitality burning within it—proof that little Chayrith was still alive.
'I know you can hear me, brat. Right now you are undergoing the inheritance left for you. You and I—we are part of something bigger. Fragments of a being that cannot be understood. I'm sure you feel it clearly now. Neither you nor I are the main personality that controls this body. We are merely aspects of it—conduits.'
The old man held out his hand and pulled the flame into his palm, cradling it gently as he moved closer to the sprout.
However, he could not get too close, as it was now shrouded in a gray mist that covered the sprout and hid it from view. But he could vaguely make out its outline.
It was wreathed in what looked to be a blazing flame, a flame so large it threatened to spill out from the confines of the mist. The flame in the old man's hand flickered wildly, as if panicked, drawing his attention.
Chuckling softly, he turned back to the mist and explained, 'Worry not, little one. The sprout is safe. Do you not feel its strength and vitality growing stronger by the second?'
As if on cue, an explosion of vital energy burst forth from within the mist and filled the space. Unflustered, the old man held the flame out to face the brunt of the wave.
Vital energy swept over them in dense waves, entering their souls and filling them with endless energy.
The small flame bounced around excitedly as it began to absorb the energy, as if starved for years. A terrifying suction force erupted from it, forming a massive whirlpool above its head.
Slowly, the flame grew larger until it began to take the form of a young man. He appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen, his skin as dark as night and a silver flame crest glowing brightly on his forehead.
He was divinely handsome—so handsome that if the maids of his manor were to see him, they would cease breathing. Some might even pass away from the sheer allure and beauty of his new form.
His face was sculpted and sharp, carrying an air of youthful arrogance and seductive danger that would ensnare any gender that beheld him.
This new form was molded from the flames baby Chayrith had become—a manifestation of his mental image of himself.
The old man watched with an amused smile, but his expression soon turned strange as the saintly man suddenly disappeared, replaced once more by a small baby.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sudden shift—opting instead to ignore it to preserve what remained of his frayed sanity.
'Alright, brat, listen up. We don't have much time before my technique unravels and I'm forced back into slumber. You need to understand what's happening so we can take the next steps. I'll transfer what I've learned into your mind; make sense of what you can. As for the rest… just wait for me to wake up and we'll go from there.'
A beam of light left the old man's forehead and flew into the newly formed baby Chayrith. As it entered, the old man took a breath as his hunched form shuddered slightly.
With a step, he reappeared on his obsidian throne, his brows relaxing as he slipped into unconsciousness. Just as his mind emptied, one final thought flickered through the darkness.
'Ah, I forgot to mention the main personality. Oh well, he should be waking up soon. A shame I can't see the look on that brat's face when he's forced out. Hahaha… what a shame indeed.'
[@*$EGD]
In a dark expanse, there was nothing.
No light.
No sound.
No life.
Just endless, eternal darkness that swallowed all things. In an unknown region of this darkness, a figure sat silently, unmoving.
Its form was ever-changing, never settling into any one person or thing. It reeked of madness and despair. It wasn't something that should exist. It was… unnatural. Its very presence twisted the air, as if reality itself strained to look away.
It, like the rest of the dimension, was cloaked in inky blackness—a darkness that squirmed and shifted constantly.
Suddenly, an eye appeared where its face should be. As it opened, hundreds of others opened across its body.
Their orange hue carried a horrifying dread and terror, tightening the surrounding darkness even further around its form.
The eyes jerked in different directions before locking onto one point. In unison, they curved in arcs, revealing a sick amusement within them.
"Found you at last, little worm."