Justin felt like he was trapped in a nightmare now that he understood.

The Herald had survived.

Somehow.

But Justin hadn’t.

A piece of the daemon must have broken off, jump started his ruined body and mended his injuries. It likely had intended to use him as a host to finish the mission the Herald had originally been charged with, or simply as a carrier to another more suitable host.

What Justin couldn’t understand was why had he maintained consciousness after it. Not just his body being awake, but the real Justin, the Seventh Heaven leader and C-grade pugilist.

If there was any explanation, he could only think of something to do with the soul, something that Elrissa, despite how ironic it was now to rely on her words, had once said to him.

Unlike in many primitive civilizations, among the scholars of the galaxy the existence of the soul was not held in ambiguity. No, through thousands of years of scientific research and high-end technologies at their disposal, civilizations one after another had long proved the existence of the soul.

They had discovered after countless studies that a major part of the body's functions were tied to some metaphysical process, something that couldn’t be captured or altered by normal means. This was true for all species across the galaxy, guaranteed so long as they were sentient, but true in many other cases as well.

What remained theoretical however, were the exact specifications and behavior of this process.

A few hundred years ago a conclave of psychics had formed the outline of a philosophy on these specifics. Their findings, originally titled simply ‘Dualism’, explained the double-sided perspective of a vital metaphysical component to life and argued that the ineffable, indeterminable part of everyone’s being, was actually the soul split into two parts.

On one hand was the half of the soul as it related to the physical corporeal world. The body, in other words. This was called the Corpus, or body soul. Its function involved regulating all the parts of the body, from the flutter of eyelids down the most minute functions of cells. Minor damage to the body wouldn’t affect it, but major cell death almost always cut off its connection to affected parts or ceased it entirely. As they understood it, this was the cause of the phenomenon known as death.

On the other hand, was the part of the soul that regulated the inanimate portion of the living. Their wandering soul, called the Anima, regulated the functions of the mind. This included ideas, emotions, preferences, and personality. Though as explained to Justin, while the philosophical movement had less concrete explanations about this side of the soul, they understood it as inseparable from the Corpus.

Both were linked, and both needed the other’s presence to function, to regulate the body and mind. They could not exist independently, and in normal circumstances they could not be tampered with.

Though this summarized the total findings of the conclave of psychics, and its information all dated back to some several hundred years ago.

Justin had forgotten just when, despite his memorization of the contents.

Back when Elrissa had explained it, it had sounded like nonsense, but thinking about his current situation, perhaps it could be applied.

If he went off of the dualism philosophy, the Herald’s offshoot, or whatever was crawling around in his brain, had a physical soul and an inanimate soul like everyone else. Dying, or at least being defeated in some capacity must have damaged one of these, likely the body soul. So right after the time of assimilation into his brain, Justin was given a brief moment of control over himself back, before that control began to be stripped from him once again.

Obviously, the Herald’s Corpus held more sway over his body than his own. Or it was more powerful. Whatever the soul-term was for that, Justin didn’t know.

But it was clearly trying to force his own Corpus out of the way, and had succeeded for a little bit before Justin had regained control. Why, he didn’t exactly know, but he could guess.

‘Going off this theory, the parasite in my brain likely inherited the Corpus of the Herald, a body soul much greater than mine, but has its own Anima, which is probably inferior to my own. This causes there to be an imbalance between our positions, and gives me brief gaps to seize control while its Anima tries to catch up. If I’m right, right now there are four souls attached to my body and mind right now, and all want to be in control. The parasite gets its way as long as my body outstrips my mind, and I remain in control as long as my mind has more influence over my body.’

Or perhaps that was just speculation, and the Corpus of the Herald had just temporarily retracted. Either way, he likely had a time limit until the next switch of control, and he couldn’t say for certainty that it wouldn’t be the last.

His brief surfacing from the proverbial mental ocean had been by coincidence, and he couldn’t guarantee he would get a second chance unless he acted soon.

Based on the headache he was starting to feel along with a sickening wriggling feeling from inside, he couldn’t say he had too much longer either.

“Feeling better, Mr. Lone Soldier?”

Suddenly the curtains of the tent swung in, and in walked the flimsy blonde man from earlier. Without his mental fog-of-war, Justin realized just how similar this planet’s natives were to his own race. Huh.

‘The old adage really is true. ‘Skip a stone across the stars and you’ll hit two human planets along the way’.’

“Uh, yeah…thanks for the treatment.”

Justin was sitting on the side of the bed now, so he probably did look pretty good compared to a few minutes ago.

“Oh don’t mention it. Despite all that gore that was on you, you barely had a scratch. Made my assistants wipe the lion’s share of it off your suit, but you’ll probably find some still lying in the cracks sooner or later. Oh well, that’s the quality of work in the military, I tell you.”

“Yeah, ha…”

Justin awkwardly nodded.

“Anyway, it's interesting how you were able to come away from whatever happened here without so much as a nick on your person…but I suppose it's better not to wonder. The Major will be coming in shortly to ask you a few questions, so I’m sure I’ll get filled in after that. Everyone in the camp is dying to hear what you have to say, you know?”

‘What? Why?’

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Really?”

Justin peeked around the tent flap to find the soldier on guard there was actually looking in at him too. Had they not realized that he wasn’t a native? Probably not actually.

Despite how advanced his mechanical suit was for a pre-FTL civilization, he hadn’t had an engineer look at it up close yet and this planet didn’t have Technicals, so there was no reasonable grounds to assume that he was extraterrestrial.

That along with his appearance being so similar to theirs, meant this nation would have to be full the most extreme conspiracy theorists in the galaxy for him to be suspected.

If anything, they were more willing to suspect he was a covert operative from another country. Which indeed, was the common consensus among the battalion. Though which powerhouse had sent their agent here, and what he had to do with the odd-looking corpse in the center of their camp had yet to be agreed upon.

“Oh yeah. And by the way, this area’s been declared a government blacksite on account of the special circumstances. So if you know what’s good for you, it’d be best to have tight lips in the future. If you’re from somewhere else though…let’s just say I’d try to make a good impression during your next meeting with the Major. He’s a bit irritable today.”

“...I see. Thanks.”

“Yeah don’t mention it.”

The doctor shot him a finger gun with his unoccupied hand not holding his tablet and left the tent after checking Justin’s vitals once more.

Shortly thereafter, the Major entered alongside a younger officer who Justin recognized as his attendant from before.

“Don’t get up, stay right there.”

The Major held up his hand, motioning for Justin to stay put.

“What’s your name, soldier? Or would you prefer operative?”

The man beneath the bosom-shaped helmet stared evenly into Justin’s eyes, searching for some kind of tell. Justin was lost for words.

What did these natives want? Sure they were military, but had his suit evoked that much suspicion? No, he supposed it was the fact that he was probably their best lead on whatever the corpse was outside. The doctor had offhandedly called it a ‘mutant beast’, though Justin supposed that native colloquialism wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Close the tent, Captain.”

The man at his side went over to shut the tent’s flap. Now no one was looking in.

“Where are you from?”

“Where do you think I’m from?”

The Major scowled. Slowly he walked closer to Justin.

“You want to play games with me, son? Is that it? Fine, let’s play games.”

WIthout breaking eye contact, he outstretched a hand and was silently given a scalpel from the medical tray by his attendant.

“Let’s see just how long it takes for you to talk now.”

Justin’s expression hardened as he prepared to be tortured. Normally it would be laughable, the intelligence capabilities of a primitive civilization. But if his system stats were right, and he was now starting to believe they were, the interface he was looking at was no longer his own stats but the parasite’s. Its low health could pose an issue here.

“Try me.”

Still, it was always better to put up a front than capitulate. Justin was no virgin to being tortured.

“Oh, a tough one? Now I know for sure you’re not one of ours!”

The Major shouted, enunciating his statement by diving the scalpel into Justin’s leg.

CLANG!

“What?”

The man retracted the small knife, looking at its condition closely. Not only had it been ineffectual, but the knife tip had completely splayed in all directions like a banana peel.

“Captain…”

“Of course.”

The Major reached out again for another scalpel, apparently the tent was full of them, and this time pushed Justin against the cot. Justin, surprising himself and the two men, let it happen, more curious to see where this was going.

“Let’s see how confident you are when I stick it here…”

The Major’s tone dripped with sadism as he found a gash in the armor. Behind it, Justin’s skin was pristine and untouched, though if the lighting in the tent had been better than either of the two men might have seen that it was slightly tinted green.

“Hah!”

The scalpel was stuck in, and quickly, the battalion’s commander found his instrument of pain was lodged stuck.

“What?”

‘What?’

Justin looked down too, oddly enough he hadn’t felt the puncture in his quad, though he had clearly seen the small blade go in.

‘Wait a second…System!’

[Status Effects: N/A]

[Health: 10 / 10]

Not only was he not bleeding, but his health hadn’t decreased a bit! Either of the categories that would have told him beyond a doubt that he had sustained an injury both came up as normal. Along with that, he was continuing not to feel any sort of pain from the puncture.

The Major quickly found another chink in his armor and attempted a puncture there, but again, there was no change. The instrument got lodged again.

Justin looked at the man, then back at his system window, then at him again.

““What’s going on?””

The Major furrowed his brow.

With an outstretched hand he took another blade and this time cut a straight deep line into a part of Justin’s exposed flesh.

‘Man it seems like there are a lot of scalpels in here.’

This time, nothing was lodged, but all three men in the tent were even more confused.

Rather than opening up and pouring out blood, Justin’s wound had instead…unraveled. A sickly yellow gelatinous substance was exposed to the air, along with an unpleasantly sweet smell.

“What the fuck is that?”

“I-I think he’s sick, Major!”

The attendant responded. Judging from the color of his face he clearly was about to puke.

“Explain yourself, soldier! What the hell is–”

All of a sudden a gray line came out of nowhere, passing by Justin’s vision and making him blink.

“What did you say?”

Justin asked, opening his eyes. The Major had got cut off midway through his speech but…

‘He’s gone?’

He had collapsed. Justin had blinked and the Major had fallen into a pool of blood beside the cot. Looking closer, a hole no bigger than one’s finger was burrowed into his temple, yet there was no exit wound.

‘A sniper? No. It’s not from a gun.’

Justin looked down the bed at his wounded foot, and was horrified to find something had emerged from the gelatinous membrane.

A thin grayish green tentacle, ending in a puckered hole surrounded by razor-thin small teeth, was suspended in the air and pointing toward the remaining man in the tent.

‘It’s just like the Herald’s.’

Justin could’ve recognized it anywhere after that fight. The thing that had emerged from him looked exactly like the thousands of tentacles the Scourge had used in their battle, and now one was coming from him.

It dawned on him what the implications of his early theory were.

‘If more like these are in my body, then that means the Herald’s Corpus really is active and modifying my body to hold its soul when it couldn't compete with my mind. But that was then, if it gets this advantage, it will only be another step before it can completely transform my Anima. My thoughts will be overridden, there won’t be a Justin left anymore.’

Justin looked direly at the Captain, who was cowering in the corner of the tent. Something was beginning to break inside Justin’s mind, and it wasn’t the work of the parasite. He knew what it was, and knew he had to do something about it immediately.

Justin turned, speaking to the young captain with cold resolve.

“Do you want to live, or join him?”