Chapter 39: Echoes of the Absorbed
Domain: SOUL
SOUL ABSORBED: 1
SOUL AUGMENTATION SUCCESSFUL
PHYSICALITY IMPROVED..
YOUR CORE GROWS BOUNDLESS..
A smile crept across his features as the augmentation settled in. It was a success. He now possessed the peak physicality of another human integrated into his own, effectively doubling his strength, endurance, and resilience. His theory had proven correct. All that remained was to probe his new limits, to discover how many more augmentations he could handle before the mental strain became overwhelming. How much could his mind endure without fracturing? He heaved a deep sigh, the weight of the risk pressing on him like an invisible burden. He was gambling with the potential loss of his very self. The mere thought of his consciousness being subjugated by another's, only to dissolve into that foreign identity, sent a chill through him. It was terrifying, a nightmare scenario where he ceased to be Xiall and became something else entirely. But what choice did he have? If he truly wanted to escape this forsaken place alive, he had to push forward. Not a single day of this twisted vacation appealed to him; it was a hellish ordeal he longed to end.
Before diving deeper into further absorptions, though, he had another idea brewing in his mind. Since he now harbored Wolfred's consciousness within him, he could tap into those memories. From what he recalled of Wolfred's life, the man had been a knight in his early thirties, with dark hair that fell in neat, disciplined waves, and eyes of a dull violet hue that spoke of years of weary vigilance. His build was that of a seasoned warrior: tall and solid, not overly bulky like a brute, but lean and efficient, with shoulders broadened from countless hours of training and combat. The stature of a regular knight, honed for agility in armor rather than sheer intimidation. Xiall brought his hands to his chin, fingers steepled in thought as his brain processed the idea at an absurdly accelerated rate. His mind had never felt clearer, sharper, as if the augmentation had cleared away mental fog he hadn't even known was there.
He could absorb the memories of Wolfred's knighthood using his Domain: MEMORY. Or at least skim through them selectively. That way, he could learn far more than just basic swordsmanship or proficiency with other weapons. It could arm him with advanced techniques, strategies for battles to come, giving him an edge in his perilous endeavors. But the risks were immense; he had to weigh them carefully. To extract a specific piece of memory, he'd need to delve into the suppressed consciousness without unleashing the floodgates. If he slipped up, a torrent of foreign memories could overwhelm his own, not to mention the complications if he attempted this with other souls later. He had to find a way to circumvent those dangers. Think, he urged himself mentally. Think. His brain churned through calculations, scenarios branching out like fractals in his heightened awareness.
Then it clicked. He could copy the memories while the souls were still condensed as those floating orbs, before full absorption. In that state, there were no risks of personality bleed or loss of self. But it meant he'd have to touch all fifty remaining orbs to scan them, identifying which ones held memories of knighthood or any battle arts. He couldn't afford to cloud his brain with too many foreign recollections, though; the result could be insanity, a fractured psyche unable to distinguish reality from borrowed lives.
He groaned inwardly, frustration bubbling up. He was boundless in potential, yet still shackled by his mental frailty. Theoretically, his brain power should have doubled with the augmentation, allowing him to process more memories and suppress more souls without breaking. But that was just a hypothesis, one he wasn't entirely sold on. Well, no better way to confirm it than to test the waters, he thought with a mix of resolve and apprehension.
His buttocks were starting to ache from sitting on the hard wooden floor, the rough grain pressing uncomfortably against his skin through his thin clothing. The persistent throb built like a nagging reminder, pulling him back to the physical world after his deep introspection. After what felt like an eternity of silent screaming from his sore muscles, he stood up, stretching his limbs with a soft grunt. His stature was bathed in the moonlight that filtered through the shattered remnants of the chamber's windows, casting ethereal silver glows across the dusty stone floor. He stood like a lone enigma, a philosopher trapped in a ruined plight, his silhouette sharp against the shadows. Yet his mind and body felt detached from the crumbling world around him, focused inward on the theories swirling in his head.
He had another theory, one that had flickered to life earlier before the memory extraction idea took hold. If he had Wolfred within him, then literally, he was Wolfred - yet not quite. That personality dwelt in his mind, subjugated but active, poised to invade if he loosened his mental grip even slightly. The point was, Xiall realized, he could become Wolfred. It was risky, sure; he might get stuck in that form, abandoning his own "godly perfect body" as he wryly thought of it. Nah, he countered in his mind, he just had to retain his core memories as Xiall. Then he could shift back, no big deal. Still, uncertainty clawed at him, a persistent whisper of doubt. If successful, this ability would be a masterpiece of disguise. He could possess half a hundred faces, slipping through dangers undetected. That alone made it worth the try. The more he stalled, the more negativity crept in, eroding his confidence. He shut his eyes, drawing a steadying breath. All he had to do, as he'd deduced, was envision himself not as Xiall but as Wolfred. Then, with a gentle restriction, release the seal on Wolfred's consciousness and memories, embodying that personality while suppressing his own as Xiall. His Domain: MEMORY would play a key role, allowing him to suppress them with a mere thought, casting the identity of Xiall as a mere idea tucked away in his subconscious.
He embraced the identity of Wolfred, like merging with his own reflection in a mirror, becoming one with it. Then a wave of calm washed over him, soothing and disorienting all at once. He opened his eyes, and it was like stepping into a new world, viewed through a foreign scope. He felt his hands - rough, callused from years of gripping sword hilts and reins. Oh right, he was a knight, one of the Guardian Supremes of Eden. No - he was Xiall. He corrected himself sharply, alarm flaring. Just how strong was Wolfred's will that his consciousness threatened to subdue Xiall's so quickly? Was it because he was a knight, forged in discipline and resolve? Right now, it felt odd; he was no longer merely seeing memories - he had vivid images of living them, as if they were his own experiences replayed in high definition.
Flashes assaulted him: The grueling training sessions under the scorching sun of Eden's fields, where he'd swung a broadsword until his arms burned, mastering parries and thrusts that could fell an armored foe in seconds. He remembered the day he'd been knighted, kneeling before the high council as the ceremonial blade tapped his shoulders, the weight of oath and duty settling like a mantle. There were battles against encroaching beasts from the wilds, where he'd led a squadron through misty forests, his violet eyes scanning for ambushes, his dark hair matted with sweat under his helm. And the quieter moments: Sharpening his blade by campfire light, sharing stories with comrades about fallen brothers, the camaraderie that bound them tighter than blood. He saw the siege of a rebel outpost, where he'd wielded a halberd with lethal precision, cleaving through defenses in a whirlwind of steel and shouts. Add to that the intimate drills with polearms, learning to pivot and strike in confined spaces, or the archery lessons where he'd honed his aim to pierce a target at fifty paces. These weren't just recollections; they pulsed with emotion, the thrill of victory, the sting of loss.
But then came the more personal ones, unbidden. The intense nights with his wife - nope, nope, Wolfred's wife, not his. I'm sorry, Wolfred, he muttered slowly, his voice a low rumble in the empty chamber. But now he was him, and a pang of pain hit him, realizing she must have died too, twisted into an undead abomination, a walking corpse devoid of the life she'd once held. What was this pain? He hadn't known her, yet it felt like he'd cherished her all his life. Auburn hair that cascaded like autumn leaves, dark eyes warm and inviting, unlike Tiffany's more honey-colored ones with their subtle green hue. Her name was Elara; she had a beautiful smile, a cheery face that lit up rooms, contrasting Tiffany's indifferent demeanor. Though he'd choose Tiffany any day, right now his heart inclined toward Elara, pulled by the borrowed grief. She was gone, wasn't she? A victim of this colossal tragedy, the Condemnation, the Soul Tree - they toyed with lives like pawns on a chessboard.
No. Shake it off, he commanded himself. Don't think like Wolfred. You are Xiall. And probably the reason why the Soul Tree created Eden, toying with people's lives, be it real or an illusion - he was the catalyst for it all. Guilt twisted in his gut, a foreign yet intimate ache.
A single tear slid down his eyelid, cascading in a gentle damp trail down his cheek before landing soundlessly on the stone floor. His reflection stared back from the colored glass in a nearby window, fractured but clear: hair jet black, short and parted neatly; eyes orbs of violet, dull yet piercing; stature taller and broader, shoulders squared with knightly poise; face damp with emotion, a single scar beneath one eye glistening under the tear's trail. So this was Wolfred. He smiled bitterly, the expression pulling at unfamiliar muscles.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, the words hanging in the air like a confession.
Turning away from the glass, he shuttered his eyes - no, shut them tightly, correcting the slip. The least he could do for them was kill that damned Condemnation and give them a proper burial, as they deserved. Honor their memories in death, since life had been so cruelly stolen.
But before that, he released the mental seal on the personality of Xiall, pulling it back to the forefront. He had to stack up what he could, layer abilities and knowledge without losing himself entirely. The shift was jarring, like waking from a vivid dream, but he felt the pieces settling: Wolfred's physical prowess augmented his own, the knightly skills now accessible without full immersion. His body hummed with newfound power, muscles coiling with doubled vitality. Yet the emotional residue lingered, a faint echo of grief that he pushed down, focusing on the practical gains