CHAPTER 21: THE HEART’S SHROUD

The ocean beneath Soren’s feet had once again calmed. His eyes reflected the clearness—every thought bubble floating freely in the skies was reflected off its glass-like surface. He looked up at the clear blue sky and smiled. Stillness had been achieved.

“It's so fascinating how this space can even exist…” His thoughts echoed out across the world. Another thought bubble manifested itself, but Soren wasn’t concerned. He simply looked past it all.

To create a Soul Realm, he must look past all three manifested layers of the soul to find his “True Self”. But Myrin had also told him that these layers were not exactly useless either. In fact, a person’s Soul Realm, in a sense, acts as a projection of all three of these layers out into the world. Most magecraft spellforms interact with them in some way, especially magecraft that has to do with the mind. Myrin had also noted how these layers could not only act as a conduit for spellforms, but also a receiver of attacks.

Both him and Myrin were almost certain that the Memory Void Spirit that attacked him utilized these layers to siphon his thoughts, emotions and senses.

“The next layer is the Heart’s Shroud…” He thought. Myrin had warned him the most about this layer. And he fully understood why.

Emotion. The raw, primal feelings that governed a person’s instincts and internal reactions. The Heart’s Shroud was said to hold all desires, fears, joys, sorrows… Every known trauma resided there. And, most importantly, the whispers of the rift also most likely resided there… At least he assumed so.

“Well this should be interesting.” Ironically enough, The Heart’s Shroud also held his fears for The Heart’s Shroud itself. And that fear was growing by the second. He considered turning back now—he had already managed to walk past two of the three layers, and this was just his first try. Turning back now would definitely not be shameful. He could then come back to The Heart’s Shroud when he was more prepared.

He took a deep breath as countless new thought bubbles appeared.

“I cannot run away from my problems forever.” The thought echoed out. Soren knew himself well. If he gave up now, he would continue to make excuses for himself. Besides, how was he going to chase after thrills if he wasn't willing to accept any risks?

Maybe this was an opportunity—at least he wanted to think of it as such. He could finally confront his past—all of it. The good… And the bad.

“Myrin is going to kill me for this…” He knew that there was no turning back. The moment he enters The Heart’s Shroud, he could only leave victorious or dead. But that was a risk he was willing to take. Besides, this wasn’t his first time being careless. Ever since he did that dumb ritual, he’s been a pro at it.

His lips curled up into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready for the next layer. Almost immediately, he felt his feet sinking into the crystal clear sea. In just a few seconds, his entire body had been submerged beneath the deep ocean.

He had finally entered The Heart’s Shroud.

Although it gave him the impression that he was diving underwater, that was not what this layer looked like in the slightest. Instead, he was submerged in a thick, grayish, fog-like substance that shifted around him randomly. He continued to sink ever so slowly, letting gravity take its hold.

At the bottom, he could see a faint light—which he assumed to be his ‘True Self.’ He needed to sift through this endless fog to reach it.

Throughout it all, Soren remembered his time back on Earth. Maybe it was out of instinct—to brace himself for what was about to come. But he felt oddly ready. As ready as a man marching through memory lane, at least.

I wonder what my true self will look like, he thought—unable to hold back his smile. It was hard to know whether he was truly excited or terrified… Or maybe both. He had a few guesses as to what it would look like. Maybe a chess board? This was probably his best guess. He had spent a lot of his life playing that crappy ancient board game. It also could be a blank canvas to represent his fresh start in this world that has always been on his mind? Or maybe, it was something immense, like a giant labyrinth to represent the infinite possibilities that have opened themselves to him? He wasn’t exactly sure, but a lot of these were examples that Myrin had listed—chronicled from books he had read about the subject.

It was important to note that according to Myrin, how one’s true self looked like or represented had an immense effect on how their Soul Realm manifested. For example, Myrin’s ability to read people’s souls was a reflection of his true self. It also heavily focused on tapping into a person’s Echo of Mind to read their thoughts—at least superficially. But the biggest effect had to be in regards to a magi’s Affinities.

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Affinities dictate how one’s anima could be used when casting magecraft, as well as the type of magecraft that could be cast. In the case of Myrin, Soren wasn’t completely sure what all his Affinities were, but he did know he had a healing Affinity that allowed him to be great at casting healing magecraft—it had proved its usefulness countless times during the trip whenever Tyrel came back with light injuries from Spirit Beast attacks. Aside from that, he also speculated that he held an Affinity for dreams or sleep, as Myrin was proficient at casting those kinds of magecraft spells as well.

Soren continued to ponder on what his Affinities will be. Maybe something to do with pattern recognition? He wasn’t exactly sure how it all worked, he just knew that his Affinities were a reflection of the qualities of his true self. These thoughts continued to linger as he sunk deeper and deeper into the murky fog.

Out of nowhere, his descent halted. He was no longer sinking—simply floating within what felt like an infinite corridor of mist and uncertainty.

“So this is where you were, you fucking wastrel.” A cold, husky voice reached out from the depths of the fog. Soren froze.

“George…” A slight tinge of bitterness left his mouth as he said the name.

“You can’t even call me Dad anymore, you spineless bitch?”

Soren stayed silent for a minute and smiled.

“When the fuck will you ever learn, Soren?” The foggy mist shifted and morphed into a silhouetted figure. His details were murky, but it was enough for Soren to know who it was. Soren slightly sunk deeper into the fog as he felt the sole of someone’s shoe pressed on his stomach—his ‘Dad’s.’

“Get the fuck up, you damn coward. Go help your whore of a mother out. Ugh, do I have to deal with this forever? That damn bitch couldn’t help spreading her legs.”

The texture of his boot was as familiar to him as a summer’s day. That intricate pattern of its sole—it might as well have been seared into his memory, imprinted there by years of repetition. How many times has he been under that boot? Far too many to count. The grooves and ridges—they were exactly the same as back then.

A creeping sense of fear was overwhelming him—a sensation he hadn’t felt in years, not since he moved in with his grandparents. And yet, he couldn’t help but smile. Was it just a mask to appear strong? Or maybe he was truly happy to see his piece of shit dad again—nostalgic for the past.

He didn’t know.

But what he did know was that the weight of that boot—he could finally push against it now.

“Calling my mom a whore… Aren’t you just jealous she found another man more handsome than you? I mean, let’s be real here—if you compare my looks to yours…”

“What?!” The fog stirred with every decibel of his roar.

Soren could feel his stomach churn, and not from being stomped-on this time, either. His breath hitched, and his chest tightened as if the endless fog was suffocating him. The anger, the helplessness…

The fear… It was all returning to him little by little.

That boot which had controlled his life was truly real. He could feel the anger behind its colossal pressure. And yet, it felt oddly satisfying to make that fucker mad. He couldn’t help but want to do it more.

“I called you ugly, dumbass. Why do I have to explain it to you like you’re a toddler? You are ugly, I am handsome. Therefore, it must mean the man my mom slept with was better looking than you. And probably smarter too now that I think about it…”

“You fucking waste of space! How dare you talk back to me?! Do you know how much I’ve spent on you?! If it weren’t for me, your whore of a mother would be out on the streets!”

Soren yawned. He reached out for the boot pressing on his stomach and shoved it away. “Spare me your bullshit, George. I don’t have time for it.

“Guess what? Your ‘son’ made it to another world! Do you hear that? Another world! While you rot in prison like the complete waste of oxygen you are, I somehow gained enough freedom to travel to another dimension. Like seriously, what the fuck?! This world I'm in is called Yarian and it's truly massive! Magic exists here too!”

Truthfully, it wasn’t like he chose to be transmigrated, and there were many mysteries behind it that he didn’t fully understand yet. But none of these facts mattered—he just wanted to piss off George. He laughed hysterically as the fog shifted more and more.

“There’s so many interesting locations in this world. Apparently, up in the far north is a colossal mountain named Tolarion that stretches into space! Creatures named Asterix live there—giant goats made from star light that are extremely rare! They can even teleport!

“And don’t even get me started on the Runic Mountains! Dragons, George, dragons! They live there! Myrin, a friend I made recently who is also more handsome than you, said there was a massive one living atop a Vyakist Temple for all to see. His name is Nelxrayda, The Dreamfire Lord!

“And that’s not all! To the far west, a desert made of black sand called The Endless Moor exists! It's populated by giants called the Aretores and demonic shadow creatures!”

By now, Soren could feel the fog slowly wrapping itself around him—trying to strangle him. Myrin had warned him about this—the more he indulged in satisfying his emotions, the faster he would drown. But at that moment, none of it mattered. Whether it was an illusion or not, this was his final chance to settle things with this asshole.

“So I hope you keep this in mind while you rot in prison, and maybe later in hell. The son you despise so much is truly living his best life, haha! I get to finally explore my desires—the thrills I’ve always wanted to embark on!

I must thank you. In a twisted way, maybe none of this would have happened if you weren’t such a piece of shit.” He lifted both arms and aimed them at the colossal fog-made figure.

“Hopefully for the last time—go fuck yourself,” Soren spat, thrusting both middle fingers at George.

He might have been sinking deeper and deeper into the grayish white fog, but his satisfaction on the other hand—it might as well have reached the glistening Silver-Eyed Moon.