CHAPTER 98: THE CORRUPTION WITHIN

Soren found it hard to describe what he was feeling at that moment. Was it a sense of awe, fear, excitement, or yearning? Or maybe disappointment? It was hard to say. The scene covering the crayon painted skies was not something that could easily be described, but he could at least understand its purpose. Those books scattered across the labyrinth of levitating shelves had to be all the information he had [Record]ed over the past month.

All of it felt so…. minuscule. So tiny in comparison to how much space was available. It was at that moment that a faint realization emerged—one that overturned his entire understanding of what his Soul Weapon was capable of.

Every one of these bookshelves… Even if he had traversed Yarian in its entirety and chronicled every story, innovation, history, gossip, geography, magic… Every conceivable idea… It would still not total more than a few of these shelves.

And right now, above his head—those same shelves numbered in the hundreds… Each one was as large as his house back on Earth, and an entire city of them was now scattered above his puny head.

Everything he had been proud of seemed so… useless in comparison.

Soren took a deep breath and turned around to face the round table, now illuminated by a flaming ember of a million golden butterflies. With an unreadable face, he sat down and placed his legs on the table then leaned back—his head full of thoughts.

Thoughts about the future, but also… the past.

He simply stared at the ceiling of the marble canopy for what felt like an eternity. Soren wasn’t at all worried about the world outside the Realm of Realms—he needed time to simply think. The flickering bonfire above the round table seemed to sense this unease. After a while, the voice decided to ask.

“What are you thinking about?”

Soren answered nonchalantly, “You.”

“How romantic,” it replied.

Without even glancing at the illustrious lightshow, Soren finally asked the one thing that had been bothering him since his arrival here:

“So… When are you planning to take over?”

He noticed the vibrant flame flicker unnaturally for a few moments. “What… do you mean?”

“Don’t act dumb. You should have a pretty clear understanding of my personality.”

The voice didn’t answer, so Soren followed up, “The unnatural corruption. It's from you, isn’t it? You wish to take over my body, right?”

“You’re not entirely correct,” the voice answered, “but not entirely wrong either.”

Soren rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Elaborate.”

“I don’t want to take over your body—that’s too simple. I want to become you. I want your fate, your goals, your dreams… Your reality.”

Hearing this, Soren couldn’t help but smile. “I see. Is my existence that enviable?”

The flickering flame’s silence was louder than a thousand words.

Personally, Soren didn’t understand it. His life—was it truly worth it? Over the past month, his emotions on the matter seemed distant at times, and much closer at other times… Regret over his decisions, despair over what he must become… Even his humanity came into question many times during this period.

When the Whispering Dream laid out his goal of destroying the world, a part of him wanted to join his side—to see that cataclysm happen if it meant obtaining his freedom from the clutches of fate… Soren had no idea anymore whether these feelings were nothing more than the lingering effects of long-term exposure to Astral Anima in the Beyond, or simply a true reflection of who he really was…

If he had to be honest—it terrified him. Humanity’s biggest fear was the unknown, so wasn’t it ironic that the one person able to glimpse the unknown had become that which he does not know?

Stolen story; please report.

In the end, he still decided against joining sides with the enigmatic saint. Not completely because of moral reasons but due to what his goal really was. And now that he was able to witness the countless empty bookshelves floating aimlessly above the twilight sky, he finally understood that his decision was correct.

Yarian—the world governed by fantasia… There was still so much to learn about it—so much history and knowledge to chronicle and absorb. If it was meant to be destroyed, then let it be so only after he finishes exploring everything there was to know. The gargantuan bookshelves floating above him still needed to be filled, after all. Letting that world and its millenniums worth of knowledge be forever lost to the embrace of the abyss seemed like such… a waste.

How inhuman… He chuckled to himself… His concerns didn’t even register the human cost of what he was contemplating. The end of the world wasn’t some disappointing event—it was terrifying and came with the suffering of millions.

And yet, even as he was saying this, pangs of pity and grief did fill his heart—it was just miniscule in nature, or maybe he himself was suppressing those emotions. At the end of the day, even before his arrival on Yarian, Soren hated humans. He hated humanity and its contradictory ways. Its moral obligations that always seemed to come only when the group being affected mattered—that was the nature of his profound question after all.

Every human he had ever interacted with had a purpose in mind for that interaction. Whether it was his managers at the chess federations, the ‘friends’ he made in college and elsewhere, his professors and their unending demands, or his very parents. Their empathy always ended when their goals were achieved—when their wants were met.

So in a way, him losing his humanity could be seen as a positive–from a very twisted perspective.

But as Soren thought about it more, such was the nature of not just humanity, but any living being with intelligence—even if he had become something else entirely, his desires would still be the same...

His experiences in Yadria proved this—the mistreatment of the Unblessed wasn’t derived from simply a religious reason, but a financial one as well. The Unblessed were seen as a necessity for their society—a group had to be made to suffer so that the rest could prosper. The high noble elves understood this perfectly—that was why some even rejected the ideas of Luvin and his migration plans for the Unblessed.

The irony of it all felt so poetic… Luvin—if we took his words as truth—despite being a firm believer in segregation, was still offering the Unblessed more than those who claim to advocate for them. In seeking to cast them out, he at least was giving them the opportunity to realize an independent future for themselves, beyond just indentured servitude. Meanwhile, the hypocrites who scream “empathy!” only sought to keep the status quo that kept them in chains…

It was all so unbelievably self centered.

And now, he was seeing that same nature in himself as well—or rather, his figment of imagination; The Records. This existence that calls itself a paradox was too born with desires. It wants to replace Soren and become him. Not that he could blame it—if he was in The Record’s shoes, he too would have probably desired the same thing, even if the life he was willing to take over was rotten to the core.

Aren’t I the biggest hypocrite of them all? He chuckled to himself. Maybe Myrin and Tina were right about him. Maybe he really was just that ungrateful—even if their intentions were masking an agenda, they at least offered Soren everything he needed in return. He was the one refusing to reciprocate.

He shook the thoughts away with a slight smile.

Facing the everlasting pillar of radiance, Soren decided to be blunt. “So when will that happen? When will you replace me?”

“My existence,” the voice said, “was born from a lie. A lie that could not prove its own worth in this world. There is no need for me to rush—for I will be here much longer than you will. The accord you signed simply froze my influence over you, but it could not erase me—nothing can.”

Soren nodded. “So a year from now is when you’ll act?”

The voice didn’t answer and Soren never expected to hear one anyway. He simply chuckled to himself. “Then I guess I’ll continue my role as Scribe of Worlds for the foreseeable future—until you decide to act upon your inner desires. Are you sure you wish to assist me with everything until then? What if I use my current control to plan ahead and oppose you?”

The bonfire flickered with unknown emotions. “The future is uncertain, but lies have a certain quality to them that is unchanging. The moment one is made, another will be needed to fight against the original until a cascade of lies is built. You will never be able to stop me.”

“We’ll see about that.” Soren retorted then stood up. “Until then, I’ll assume ownership over this place…”

Although Soren said that confidently, he wasn’t exactly sure how he could control the Faerie Court. But still, he knew it was possible. If the figment of his imagination could exert its authority here, then so could he—after all, they were, in essence, one and the same. Sensing his thoughts, the flickering flame replied:

“It is no different from ordering me.”

Soren immediately grasped what it was saying. The key to controlling this place was his thoughts—the same way one would control a Soul Weapon. But still, this case was much different. Unlike The Records, the Faerie Court didn’t exactly have an instruction manual he could follow or a list of things he could achieve with his control… He had no semblance of understanding in this place—even space itself seemed to act differently and needed to be controlled…

Glancing at the flickering flame, a smile crept up his face. “I guess I have a lot to learn from you.”