"...What do you mean?"
I am you. For a moment, I didn't even process what those words were supposed to mean. Cyrae, however, reacted instantly. She poked me in the back and whispered a reminder:
"Did you forget? She was the one who ran out of that chaotic spatial passage on Earth at the very beginning. If that's what she means, then she must be you from a parallel world!"
Once she put it that way, it clicked immediately. Back then, there hadn't been just one visitor from another world. I'd seen plenty of alternate versions of myself with wildly different personalities—no matter how bizarre or eccentric—so an "otherworld Feliciana" claiming to be from World No. 18 wasn't, by itself, anything shocking.
"But she says she's 'Feliciana'—so why does she look exactly like you?" I whispered back. "That makes no sense at all."
That was the strangest part—the part I couldn't wrap my head around. No matter how many worlds had briefly connected to Earth, nothing like this had ever happened: a version of me from some world turning into Cyra's appearance.
I remembered Reed once proposing a theory: the worlds that randomly connected to Earth were typically "close" parallel universes, meaning their overall development shouldn't differ too drastically.
Yet this "No. 18 Cyra" seemed to break that rule completely. I simply couldn't imagine what tiny divergence could produce an outcome like this. The body created by an Angel Descent Array should be entirely random, so it wasn't like—when our souls were pulled into this world—I'd accidentally been "born into the wrong body" and taken Cyra's place, right?
"I never said I was Feliciana."
To my surprise, upon overhearing my exchange with Cyrae, No. 18 Cyra bluntly shot down all my guesses.
Seeing my stunned expression, she gave a strange, almost eerie smile—like she was about to keep us hanging—and then added:
"The only reason I can remember the past at all is because I accidentally possessed you in the beginning. It gave me a chance to complete the missing part of my soul, so I barely managed to survive. And with that, I recovered most of my sanity and finally understood what state I'm in now."
"Complete... your soul?"
Now it wasn't just me—Cyrae looked just as baffled. The information dump was too much. For No. 18 Cyra to suddenly reveal so many bombshells at once, neither of us could even figure out what she was trying to say.
"So you're saying you—like Feliciana—also inherited an incomplete Water Angel soul?" Cyrae tried to sort it out. "But Feliciana's soul supposedly fused with a human long ago, so it should have been completed. And you just said you aren't Feliciana..."
Cyrae was still convinced No. 18 Cyra had to be another-world "me." After all, the nature of her power matched mine too closely—it seemed like the only plausible explanation.
"So you're not Jasperly after all."
From Cyrae's words, No. 18 Jasperly looked disappointed, as if she'd finally confirmed her own judgment. She shook her head with clear regret.
But she didn't bother explaining Cyrae's confusion any further. Instead, she turned her gaze to me and said, meaningfully:
"Would you let me possess you again? I promised I'd give you an answer. When I'm inside your body, there's a way to show you fragments of my memories directly. So—do you want to know my past? The answers you're looking for may be hidden in there."
"You can do that?"
I froze. I couldn't understand why she wouldn't just say it outright—why go through all these twists and turns?
But after saying that, No. 18 Jasperly didn't wait for permission. She held her hand out, straight toward me.
My scalp prickled instantly, and I hesitated.
I hadn't forgotten: last time, physical contact was what triggered her possession—costing me an entire day of memories and experience. If she was trying the same trick again, how could I not be suspicious?
"A sufficient amount of light-element energy can form a bridge that allows souls to communicate directly. Your entire body is made of light element, but guiding it requires reality-altering power. I need to borrow the 'other half' of the ability you possess in order to carry out memory exchange..."
No. 18 Jasperly didn't seem surprised by my caution, as if she'd expected it. She didn't retract her palm. Instead, she asked again:
"I can only stay alive with your help now. This time I won't take over your body—it's not like last time. So... will you trust me?"
"..."
For some reason, in that moment, a strange sense of trust rose inside me.
And I reached out without hesitation.
The instant our hands touched, everything flashed white. The world around me changed—brightness surged as if someone had suddenly turned on a powerful light, raising the illumination several levels in an instant.
Honestly, the sensation felt oddly familiar.
From experience, I could tell with certainty: I had entered No. 18 Cyra's memories.
But I hadn't expected the experience to feel this real.
I couldn't move freely by my own will inside someone else's memory, yet I could see "myself" stand up from a desk. On the desk, within arm's reach, lay a visor—something that had apparently just been removed from my face.
As the owner of this body looked around, I finally understood: this was a small facility. The room was filled with objects that radiated an intense, high-tech aesthetic—so much so that for a moment I thought I'd returned to Earth.
But when I looked through the room's only window, I saw an unbearably radiant sky outside. Combined with the absurdly high concentration of light-element energy in the air, it was unmistakable—
This place felt like the world during the era when the God of Light was active.
"Why are you still wasting time in this hellhole? Come help me! I just got played by that Liana again!"
Before I could process it, the door behind me was shoved open. A girl who looked very much like Cyrae burst in from outside, complaining nonstop as she grabbed "me" and tried to drag me out.
Her twelve fiery-red wings made her identity obvious at a glance—Michelle.
But given the time period, the one I was seeing had to be ancient-era Michelle.
"In the face of absolute power, schemes and tricks shouldn't matter at all! The only reason I lost is because her time manipulation is completely ridiculous! And Galadra is always taking her side, and even says I'm immature because all I do is read those picture-only books! This time, you have to come with me and help me get my pride back!"
After a few quick questions, it was clear "I" didn't resist Michelle's request. The two of us were about to leave—
When, the next second, two more angels walked in from outside.
"I knew you'd come running for backup the moment you couldn't win," one of them said. "But it's about time. We need to go to the institute. The trial-space construction should be almost finished. What comes next is the real core—we have to keep searching through countless replicated worlds for a way to defeat Beluto."
The two newcomers had the same face as Michelle—though their wings were folded away. From her tone, it was easy to tell: she was the "Liana" Michelle had just complained about.
Why did Liana look like that too?
It was the first time I'd ever seen the true appearance of the legendary previous Wind Angel. But before I could think it through, the other angel—who had hesitated for a while—finally spoke:
"The problem is… are we really going to fight countless battles against our own faces? Don't you think that's strange? In several chaotic situations, I almost attacked the wrong target..."
"What's the big deal?" Michelle cut her off immediately, brash as ever. "When the time comes, we'll just tweak the world settings a little. Worst case, we change the opponent's appearance. Problem solved."
"How can that possibly work?" Liana objected at once. "Wouldn't that weaken the trial's effectiveness? Don't forget why we put so much effort into building trial worlds in the first place."
"I" nodded along with Liana.
That made Michelle even more annoyed. She shot Liana a fierce glare, then stormed off without looking back.
"Galadra, you should've tried harder to talk her down..." Liana muttered, looking troubled.
Then she turned and waved toward "me."
"Gisphrael, let's go."
From the first-person perspective, "I" answered and quickly followed—yet just as we were leaving the room, my gaze flicked to a mirror in the corner.
In the reflection, I saw it clearly:
A face identical to the other Element Angels.
So that was it.
No. 18 Jasperly's true identity was Gisphrael.
The realization hit me like a blow. After that, more memory fragments replayed—some of them showing Gisphrael facing the God of Light, Bruto, alone—
But none of it shocked me more than that first revelation.
"Feliciana? Is that you? …Don't tell me you got possessed again?"
Cyrae's probing voice rang in my ears. The surroundings snapped back to normal, and my mind finally returned to reality.