"Cursed thief! It's you! How dare you? Where is your pride as a Celestial?!" Grey screamed in a fury. His voice trembled with resentment and rage.
A small boy, looking about eleven years old, threw himself with clenched fists at the handsome young man whose memories he had just seen.
The blue-eyed boy in the white shirt understood perfectly well where he was. Years of training under the watchful eyes of the village elders had not been in vain. Although Grey could not develop magical abilities due to his injury, the knowledge and experience passed down by the old men were not meant for show.
Even though such information was considered too advanced for a child his age, the elders had poured all their strength into the development of the two twins. Listening to their explanations, the children gained a deep understanding of how the world of the strong worked. The world his sister so fervently strived for, and the world Grey himself was cut off from by the grace of Apollo.
This space was the space of his subconscious. It was called the Sea of the Soul.
Only people who had reached the Celestial stage and above could end up here. It was a privilege reserved for the most powerful people in Eridania.
All of a person's memories, experiences, and emotions accumulated into a limitless sea, forming an ocean of thoughts and feelings. Mortals could not even imagine that such a thing was contained within each of them.
Only a person with a strong mind and cultivation could visualize their own soul to develop spiritual powers. It was the opening of the Sea of Souls that served as the final condition for becoming a Celestial.
When little Grey found himself in this space and realized what it was, all empathy and compassion for his "elder brother" went out the window.
His logic was very simple.
If only Celestials had the privilege of interacting with souls and were capable of seizing another's body, then this youth—or rather, this man—was one of them.
This old monster must have taken advantage of the battle between the villagers and Pompey's group to move into him, suppress his consciousness, and take over his body.
Why would he do this? Grey couldn't understand, but he had his guesses.
Though he was a despised and hated curse in the eyes of society, he was a dangerous entity in the eyes of the world's powerful. If a Celestial could seize this power, he would become mighty overnight.
Would an old monster worry about morality or the fact that he was inhabiting the body of a cripple? Of course not.
With their powerful soul constantly nourishing a child's mangled body, they could come up with hundreds of ways to develop. It was a pity that all those ways shared one ruthless condition.
His death. Final and irrevocable, without any chance to ascend to the realm of the gods for reincarnation. To fully possess his body, the Celestial would swallow the boy's entire existence: his memories, his body and soul, his very essence. All of it would fall under his control.
When little Grey found himself in the dark space and saw the other figure, he realized why the last few days had felt so agonizing.
The powerful soul of the Celestial was suppressing him. It kept him from thinking logically or fighting back.
The irony of the entire situation was that the obsessive pain of losing his family was exactly what prevented little Grey from surrendering to this Celestial's mercy and being swallowed whole.
The intense feelings of loss for those closest to him became his final bastion and last hope. The broad-shouldered bully's attempt to take the bracelet—the only thing left of his family—had served as the trigger for his awakening.
Since then, little Grey had continued to struggle against an invincible enemy. This was his body, his territory. Though the strengths of the two irreconcilable foes were incomparable, Grey continued to hold on stubbornly, repeating three names:
"Casy, Grace, Mama."
Finally, finding himself in this space, little Grey realized that the time for a final attempt had come.
Without a second thought, he launched a desperate attack, hoping to catch his opponent off guard.
Contrary to his expectations, his body was incredibly clumsy. The years of training spent in the village proved useless in this realm.
In his rage, little Grey did not notice that all the memories he had just played back in his head were reflected on the transparent surface of the water beneath his feet, scattering the fog around him.
Meanwhile, the adult Grey was still reeling from the scene he had experienced. Feelings of warmth and comfort from a family dinner mixed with a sense of loss and boundless grief.
Images of the story he had just lived through replayed in his mind. The little girl with white hair, the maid with cat ears, the two unbearable pets, and the goddess-like woman were etched into his soul, leaving an indelible mark.
A part of him perceived them all as kin. The girl's ringing laughter, the maid's contented purring, and the embrace of the celestial beauty—it all belonged to him.
The adult Grey was caught in a trap. Absolute chaos and disorientation reigned in his soul.
Unaware of what was happening, he replayed the scenes he had just experienced over and over again. He imagined joking with little Grace, tenderly pulling Catherine into an embrace.
The transmigrator could not understand what was happening to him right now.
He had no knowledge of such high and subtle matters as the soul. Everything felt natural, as if it were meant to be.
He stood frozen and motionless in the dark space while the scenes he had just experienced played out on the water. He wasn't bothered at all by the little boy's behavior. Wasn't the child just a part of him? A reflection of his own feelings of loss and grief.
But little Grey , forced to witness the thoughts of his enemy firsthand, felt a boiling rage rising within him. His heart overflowed with anger and hatred.
"How dare this old bastard lay claim to what is most precious?" the boy's inner voice screamed. "Wasn't he one of the enemies who took my family away from me?"
Every scene where the adult Grey imagined himself as part of that family... HIS FAMILY... triggered a new wave of loathing in the child.
"How dare he imagine holding her like that?" little Grey shrieked mentally, watching as the adult man tenderly and sensually pulled his mother into an embrace.
The boy's feelings grew increasingly violent and hateful.
In his imagination, dark images were born of how he would torture this man who wanted to seize his body.
He envisioned sophisticated torture, long and agonizing suffering prepared for the one who dared to encroach upon his memories and feelings. He recalled every lesson from Grandpa Jack on how to make an enemy beg for death.
All these horrific scenes, born of little Grey 's rage and pain, were reflected on the water's surface, mixing with the idyllic pictures of family happiness envisioned by the adult Grey .
The dark space filled with contradictory images: tenderness and cruelty, love and hatred intertwined in a bizarre pattern on the water, reflecting the internal conflict of two people named Grey , who by the will of fate shared a single body.
In the depths of the subconscious, where reality wove together with illusion, little Grey finally reached the adult, overcoming the distance separating him from the vile Celestial through sheer force of will.
His small fists, clenched until the knuckles turned white, were filled with all the fury and hatred accumulated during his forced helplessness.
"DIE! DIE! DIE!"
With a scream that echoed through the void of their shared mind, he threw himself upon the adult Grey .
At the moment of impact, the water beneath the boy's feet surged upward, bolstered by his iron will and desperate urge to survive. His unwavering belief channeled the flow behind the strike, forging the water into a potent weapon of the soul.
The emotions and feelings raging in the child's heart gave the torrent a dangerous, jagged edge, further heightening the power of the attack.
This blow, amplified by the rushing water, struck directly into the center of the adult's soul, whose consciousness was still wandering the labyrinth of false memories and borrowed emotions.
The effect was instantaneous and crushing.
Adult Grey felt a wave of unbearable spiritual agony ripple through his entire being. It felt as if a white-hot blade had been driven into the very core of his existence and slowly twisted.
Little Grey 's lack of experience was compensated for by his understanding of the mechanics of soul combat and the transmigrator's total ignorance, making the attack unexpectedly effective.
Adult Grey 's consciousness began to blur like a watercolor painting caught in a downpour. His ego dissolved into a chaos of conflicting emotions and memories. The boundaries of his "self" grew increasingly indistinct.
He felt his connection to his own identity slipping away.
Adult Grey 's instincts finally awakened, screaming desperately of danger. But it was already too late.
Little Grey , driven by righteous fury and a thirst for justice, had already penetrated deep into the structure of their shared mind. His soul rapidly seized control of the neural pathways, redirecting information flows and rewriting thought patterns.
In a desperate, instinctive attempt to preserve himself, the adult Grey tried to concentrate on his own goals and memories. He tried to summon images of his past, his dreams, and his aspirations. But these images slipped away, becoming foggier and more indistinct with every passing second.
Little Grey , by contrast, grew increasingly more skilled. His mind, bolstered by a deep connection to this body and these memories, was like a ruthless tide sweeping away everything in its path.
He methodically seized control over every sector of their shared mind, forcing out the alien presence.
A soul battle was exactly like that.
It unfolded in a dimension inaccessible to physical perception. There were no strikes or blocks in the conventional sense. Instead, two consciousnesses fought on the level of emotion, will, and belief. Every memory became a weapon; every feeling turned into a shield or a sword.
Adult Grey , unfamiliar with such concepts, found himself at a distinct disadvantage.
He did not know the rules of engagement. He had no understanding of how to defend himself or attack within the Sea of the Soul. His attempts at resistance were like the helpless flailing of a drowning man.
Adult Grey 's consciousness faded like a candle flickering in a gale. His thoughts, his feelings, his very essence dissolved into the torrent of another's will. The last sparks of self-awareness snuffed out one by one, yielding to little Grey .
The battle ended before it truly had a chance to begin.
Only one figure remained in the Sea of the Soul, one single identity—little Grey .
Having secured a decisive victory, the boy felt an incomparable exhaustion. It was a weariness of the soul, one that had desperately resisted invasion.
If one were to think about it, how could a cripple like him use the power of the soul at all? Theoretically, a person without cultivation is incapable of interacting with such sublime concepts. To even try was like trying to scoop up water with a thin twig: useless, unthinkable, impossible!
But Grey didn't think about that.
A sense of powerlessness washed over him, but he welcomed the feeling with open arms.
The battle was over. Finally!
He had achieved the impossible—throwing off the shackles of the vile Celestial and seizing mastery over his own body.
No matter how vast the disparity in power had been, in the end, it was he who had the last laugh.
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Well, here we are at the next denouement of the plot...
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