“How long are you going to lie there? Aren’t you awake yet?” a voice asked, tinged with displeasure.

Scott groaned as he slowly, begrudgingly, opened his eyes. The sun’s gentle rays assaulted his vision, forcing him to raise a hand to block the light. His vision wavered as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Whose voice was that? And where the hell am I? Scott wondered, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the piercing but warm light. Memories of his encounter with the council flooded back, and his expression darkened.

Those bastards... Rage twisted Scott’s features, an ominous gleam filling his eyes. Suddenly, a voice drifted into his ears.

“Do not soil this place with your needless rage.”

Scott froze, shock flashing across his face. I know that voice, he thought, instinctively lowering his hand. But something felt off. Wait, why don’t I hear the jingle? His eyes fell to his right hand, only to find the chains and pendant missing.

Scott looked up, taking in his surroundings. He stood in a lush field, the grass freshly trimmed, encircled by a pristine lake. Birds sang in the distance, their melodies blending with splashes and giggles. Turning toward the sound, he spotted a wooden platform at the edge of the field. A young boy, with features strikingly similar to his own, sat there with a fishing rod, tossing what looked like bread into the rippling waters.

Scott’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in disbelief. Is this an illusion? He blinked several times, but the scent of freshly cut grass, the warmth on his skin, and the sounds of the lake and the boy’s laughter told him everything was real.

Scott forced himself to stand, his gaze locked on the boy, who hadn’t yet acknowledged his presence. “Can anyone hear me?” Scott called out on the party channel, but only silence greeted his inquiry. He focused on the boy again, his gaze narrowing. Wordlessly, he approached with measured steps, taking in more of the surroundings. The lake seemed to stretch into an endless sea, its splashes and birdsongs growing louder, almost deafening.

As he neared the platform, Scott’s eyes darted between the boy, the vast sea, and the tranquil skies. He paused, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the pristine waters. His hand traced his face, stopping just below his eyes. My eyes are back to normal, he realized, unable to detect the yellow sign or the countless fractures.

“You’ve always been a sound sleeper. That’s a bad habit, you know?” the boy said, tossing another handful of crumbs into the lake. Ripples spread across the surface before the crumbs slowly sank into the depths. A splash followed, but nothing emerged.

“Sit with me. It’s not every day I have company,” the boy invited.

Scott remained motionless, only a couple of feet separating him from the boy. “Who are you, and why do you look like me?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the boy.

“You should sit,” the boy repeated, tossing another set of crumbs into the sea. “It’s not like there’s anything better to do.”

Scott frowned. Something was off—he was certain he’d been caught in some sort of illusion, yet everything his senses told him felt real. But a younger version of himself was speaking to him in a place he’d never been before.

Can this day get any more bizarre? Scott thought as he approached his younger doppelgänger, each step measured. The voidweaver, unfazed, sat beside the boy. “So, are you going to explain why you look like me?”

“That can wait,” the boy said, snapping his fingers. A new fishing pole materialized next to Scott. “Let’s fish first.”

Scott’s frown deepened as he examined the magnificent pole. It gleamed with a polished ebony finish, silver filigree spiraling up the shaft like vines. The reel, crafted from burnished brass, turned with a smooth, almost effortless grace, while the line shimmered like a strand of starlight in the early dawn. He alternated his gaze between the pole and the boy, uncertainty etched on his face.

What the hell is going on? Scott wondered, doubt growing within him. I don’t know if he’s the cause, but I can’t use my powers in this place. Scott sighed, realizing there was nothing he could do. He reached for the fishing rod, and the boy smiled. “Now that’s the spirit,” the boy said, sliding over a bucket of crumbs.

Scott glanced at the ordinary bait, then back at the sea. “What are we even supposed to be fishing for? I haven’t seen anything since I got here.”

“Trust me, this is a good spot. You won’t be disappointed,” the boy replied.

Scott sighed again, shaking his head. Without another word, he dipped his hand into the bucket, only to feel a jolt of surprise. Why are they so cold? The crumbs looked dry and crunchy, yet they emitted a chilling cold. He grabbed a handful of the cold bait, tossing it into the water while lowering his line, mimicking his younger self.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something as mundane as fishing, nor had he ever expected to do something so boring and relaxing again.

A splash echoed, and Scott focused on the sinking bait but saw nothing within the waters.

“It doesn’t look like they took the bait. Don’t be shy—you can toss more in. There’s plenty more where that came from,” the boy said, beaming.

Scott took another handful, tossing it into the water in intermittent bursts. Splashes echoed in tandem with his throws, but no creature emerged from the depths.

He threw the last crumb in his hand into the water, and another splash echoed. This time, however, his rod jerked. Surprise and excitement stirred within the voidweaver as he tightened his grip on the rod, attempting to reel in his catch. He glanced toward the boy, “I got—” Scott paused, realizing the mysterious boy had vanished. What’s more, the grassy field had disappeared too, replaced by a mighty forest with towering trees that seemed to block out the sky.

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This place looks familiar, Scott thought, his gaze shifting back to the waters. Suddenly, a devastating explosion shook the forest and the massive sea surrounding him.

Scott instantly stood up; his grip still firm on the fishing rod. Far in the distance, beyond the endless waters, a mighty figure shrouded in a crimson hue was being assaulted by a relentless barrage of attacks, each one powerful enough to annihilate all existence as he knew it.

This oppressive aura... I know it, Scott’s expression twisted with rage. There were a few things he could never forget, and one of them was the oppressive vibrations etched into his bones by the council. He didn’t fully grasp what was happening, but from the looks of it, the council was jointly attacking the mighty figure.

Each attack seemed to tear space apart, generating colossal tidal waves capable of crushing continents. The shrouded figure, however, fought valiantly, fending off the relentless onslaught, but the combined might of the council was overwhelming. Eventually, they struck down their opponent with a powerful blow, causing the enshrouded figure to explode in a fiery display of power and destruction. The pristine waters turned murky black, and perpetual darkness blighted the skies as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Then, rain descended—darker and more viscous than tar.

Shock twisted Scott’s visage as he instinctively turned toward the forest behind him. It was still there, but now it was surrounded by an endless stretch of murky sea. A familiar place flashed through the voidweaver’s mind. “Godsfall Island,” he muttered in disbelief.

“Are you leaving already? There’s still so much for us to catch.”

Scott snapped his head to the side, and the young boy was there again. He turned toward the forest, but it had returned to the lush field, and even the turbulent skies and seas had reverted to their tranquil forms.

“What was that? There was—”

“Sit,” the boy interrupted, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Let’s fish.”

Scott, barely able to calm his thumping heart, took his seat once more. His left hand rested on his chest, feeling the wild rhythm of his heart—a sensation he had long forgotten.

Scott dipped his hand into the bucket once more, grabbing another handful of crumbs. He scattered them into the sea, each splash drawing his attention, his grip tightening in anticipation.

“They presented you with quite a compelling offer. I’m curious—why didn’t you take it?” the boy suddenly asked.

Scott opened his mouth to respond, but his fishing rod trembled in his hand, pulling his attention back to the water. He stared at the calm surface, but nothing emerged. When he turned back to the boy, he had disappeared again. Instead, a figure loomed over him—a woman, though her facial and body features were indistinct, almost like a shadow staring at him.

Scott frowned, readying himself to stand, but found he couldn’t move. He averted his gaze from the woman, only to find the skies had darkened once more, and the tranquil surroundings had been replaced by turbulent winds and blackened rain.

Scott turned toward the figure once more. She now stood next to the voidweaver, seemingly gazing at the spot where the figure had fallen earlier. Whose memories are these? Scott wondered. He had a hunch, but it seemed impossible. Soon, the sound of sobbing filled his ears, and he subconsciously lowered his gaze to the platform beneath him. Silver teardrops splashed onto the wooden floor before sinking into the sea.

Scott frowned, noticing tiny serpentine creatures writhing within the teardrops. He looked back at the woman, and her form was now covered in hundreds of fissures, as if she were on the verge of exploding. Scott tried to move again, but his body remained rooted to the sturdy wood. The blinding light around him intensified, forcing him to shield his eyes. Then, an explosion followed.

“You’re on a roll. You’re pretty good at this,” the young boy’s voice echoed once more.

Scott opened his eyes, his breathing heavy and labored. Cold sweat covered his forehead, and he took deep breaths to calm his trembling nerves. He attempted to stand and found no restrictive force holding him back.

“You realize your decision was foolish, right?” the boy began. “A life of opulence and peace was laid out before you, but you gave it up.” He paused, turning toward Scott. “Why?” he asked, his voice piercing through Scott’s heart.

The voidweaver met the boy’s curious gaze. “I don’t want anything from those egotistical bastards,” Scott declared.

“Oh, so it’s a matter of pride,” the young boy cackled, throwing his head back with laughter. “How foolish,” he said with a smile. “You gave up—”

“What purpose does my existence serve if anyone can trample on my pride?” Scott interjected. “I’m not delusional enough to think I can fight those gods right now—maybe that day will never come,” Scott paused, his eyes burning with venomous fury. “But over my dead body will I lay down like a dog and do as they please. I’m never going to give those bastards the satisfaction of knowing I could be tamed or pacified. They might disregard—hell, consider my existence inconsequential, but a day will come when those arrogant sons of bitches will realize how wrong they were. That much I promise you.” Scott's voice was filled with conviction.

He wasn’t one to readily share his feelings, but he needed to vent, especially after the incident with the council. All he remembered was the torturous pain of being summoned; he hadn’t been privy to any of the discussions or revelations made. While the offer might have been tempting to others, he had no intention of ever accepting it. The fact that they roped his companions into the offer also displeased him. After all, who was he to make a decision that could impact their lives forever? Unlike the gods, he had no such arrogance.

The young boy smiled mysteriously and nodded. “So, that’s your ambition. Foolish, but admirable nonetheless,” he said, turning back toward the waters.

“Who are you?” Scott asked after a moment of silence.

“I don’t even recall my name anymore,” the young boy began, his tone bored. “But they used to call me the Mad God.”

Chills ran down Scott’s spine as his eyes widened in shock. Suddenly, he recalled Arseni’s statement about the rumors surrounding Godsfall Island. “A god met its end in this place,” he whispered, his shock palpable.

"Oh, so that's what you saw," the boy said, excitement flickering across his adolescent face. "What else did you see? Tell me," he urged impatiently.

Scott took a deep breath to steady himself, then recounted the scene he had witnessed: how the gods relentlessly attacked the figure until they succeeded in bringing it down. The young boy laughed, shaking his head ruefully as Scott continued, describing the mysterious woman with the serpentine creatures in her tears and how she seemed to detonate herself afterward. Contrary to Scott's expectations, the boy sighed, a hint of sadness clouding his expression.

"Siburu did something foolish after all," the boy whispered.

This time, Scott's jaw dropped, his mind racing with questions. Siburu was a name he had only discovered by chance; he never expected the Mad God to mention the name of the Authority of Envy.

Scott's younger doppelgänger noticed his reaction and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Scott interrupted. "What's your relationship with me? Why do you look like my younger self?" he asked.

The boy chuckled. "I have no control over how you perceive me," he explained. "Everything you see here is subjective to how your mind chooses to interpret it. The fact that I appear as a younger version of yourself simply means that your mind believes this is the best representation of my presence without causing a collapse."

Scott's thoughts churned. It was entirely possible that the entity before him was so far beyond his mortal comprehension that his mind had to create an avatar of his younger self to prevent a breakdown.

"As for your other question," the boy continued, setting his fishing rod aside, "you are one of several incarnations of mine. Amusing, isn't it?"