Kapitel 11: Is it wrong to enter limit-off?

(A/N: This chapter is his awakening and try to use your thinking caps, okay?)

I hung upside down, suspended from the ceiling by cold, unyielding chains that bit into my wrists and ankles.

The room reeked of decay and filth; the floor was smeared with unidentifiable muck, and the stench of excrement permeated the air, making each breath a nauseating ordeal. My own blood and bodily fluids trickled down, mingling with the grime, some seeping into my nose, choking me with it's metallic tang.

Across the dimly lit chamber, Phryne loomed over a table cluttered with sinister instruments, her grotesque form illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Her toad-like eyes gleamed with sadistic anticipation, and her wide, lecherous grin revealed teeth that had all kind's of filth in each gap between her teeth.

-I want everything back the way it was.

The thought was a desperate whisper in my mind, a futile plea drowned by the reality of my torment. Each session of torture had been more excruciating than the last, eroding my strength and will.

But there's no point in wanting; I'm merely wasting my time.

Phryne's voice, dripping with mockery, cut through the silence. "Ready for more, You want more, dont you?" She let out a guttural laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

All that I achieved was fake, and I've never really had anything to call my own. Not even my own soul…to be all about my Flesh was the greatest a mistake of my own expressions.

In this rare moment of consciousness, I felt the scorpion embedded in my neck stir, draining a substantial amount of mana, as if sensing the proximity of death.

It was prioritizing its own survival, a parasite clinging to life uncaring if I suffer a critical mind down at a horrible time.

At this rate, I'll barely live and then die in this world, and not know anything…rot be anything…I don't want that.

-I don't want that

-I need to love

-I don't want that

-I need to live

-Eina..

The fragile inner voice within me sparked a flicker of defiance. I focused my waning energy on the scorpion, connecting with it through [All-Flesh]. I could sense its fear of death and its desire to detach from me, perhaps to bond with Phryne instead.

I DON'T WANT THAT.

Driven by a primal fear of losing myself, I began forcing my soul's essence into the scorpion. Apprehension gnawed at me—granting it so much of me could lead to unforeseen consequences—but there was no other choice. Self-preservation was no longer sufficient.

Desperation gave me focus. My body went limp as my consciousness shifted, plunging me into an alien, subconscious realm—a swirling void filled with spectral figures.

These were the remnants of the people I had copied from; that I "loved". Each one appeared as a ghostly vestige, their forms warped by their essence. Among them, Samira's beastly incarnation roared, the skill I got from her, her eyes filled with fury. Just watching her made my resolve weak and quivered at the knees.

She lunged at me, her claws tearing through the air, but before she could strike, other vestiges—Ishtar, Eina, and more—intervened, shielding me from her wrath. Taking the brunt force of it was several vestiges in all different shapes and forms; the ones who did love me.

Inevitably, out of desperation as if mimicking the way she died, a man I faintly recalled, the man who let me through the Gate when I first entered Orario spun his spear and drove it right through her vagina piercing her womb.

The embodiment of Samira soon after curled into a ball weeping. Breaking my heart. I was gasping for breath as the vestiges turnt to me.

Without speaking, they grabbed me, dragging me across a glimmering, white-sandy terrain. I struggled, but their grip was merciless. They hauled me toward a sinkhole, its dark void yawning wide.

"Wait! No!" I screamed, but they forced me in, plunging me into suffocating blackness. My identity splintered under the soul-crushing pressure. I fell deeper, my pain growing unbearable until I landed in a cold, pitch-black lair.

At first, it was like the weight of the subconscious world pressing against my own, but soon, that weight turned into agony. Like invisible hands clawed at me, tearing at my soul like it was made of fragile fabric.

Every thread of my existence felt as though it was being unraveled, exposing raw, vulnerable parts of me to a malicious force that grew stronger the deeper I descended.

The crushing spiritual pressure enveloped me, tightening like a vice around my very being. It felt as though the air itself turned into needles, stabbing into every corner of my mind.

A phantom sensation of my flesh being flayed alive overlapped with the unbearable strain on my soul and put the torture I went through due to Phryne to shame.

This…this is worse than death.

Yet, I did not pass out.

I am not of Flesh, but of spirit.

No escape as my mind is torn.

As the pain intensified, memories clawed their way to the surface—memories I wished I could bury forever.

Samira.

I recalled her face, twisted in fear, her voice trembling as I made that contract with her and if she disobeyed it by telling others that I am her rapist…that I'd punish her.

That night came back to me, wickedly, warping and overlapping, breaking and straining my mind till all that was left was pure madness.

Her terror. Her screams. HER madness.

The realization hit me like a hammer: this was the pain I had promised her. This was the torment that drove her insane.

It's all my fault..it was all me…all flesh

The spiritual force seemed to mock me, pulling me apart piece by piece, unraveling me the way Samira's sanity had unraveled.

The pain became a loop, an unending cycle of despair, as if my mind had become trapped in a cage where the same horrors replayed endlessly. My own voice whispered to me saying I deserved all of this whilst simultaneously I began developing a multitude of voices on my head.

It wasn't just phantom pain—it was a baptism of suffering, a brutal spiritual warfare that stripped me bare and bathed me in evil.

The weight of my sins pressed into me like a molten iron casting, branding my soul, leaving cracks that spread with each pulse of that evil.

The deeper I went, the worse it became. My thoughts splintered under the pressure, fragments of who I was scattering like shards of glass.

Till I looked like shattered glass, breaking glass all of this is my new form.

I could feel myself slipping—losing pieces of my identity to the overwhelming force. The pain reached a crescendo, sharp and deafening, as if the universe itself was screaming into my ears.

Then, suddenly, it stopped.

Suddenly, I could not feel my existence anymore, no worth, or pride.

As if…like I became transparent.

My battered, fractured soul drifted downward, and I landed on a black plane. It stretched infinitely in all directions, as if the night sky had been painted onto the ground. But the stars weren't stars.

"There will be no end to your suffering."

In the infinite, there were eyes.

Flickering, countless eyes of varying sizes, each watching me with a hunger that made my stomach churn. The eyes of those I loved.

One pair of eyes stood out among the rest, far larger, their grey glow overwhelming my mind. As they moved closer, I saw it—a towering black scorpion beast. Its massive pincers clicked in anticipation, and its tail, long and jagged, loomed over me like a guillotine.

The spitting image of the cursed tool now vivid before my eyes.

The beast didn't speak. It didn't have to. Its gaze said everything that it needed to say.

It gradually grew smaller, morphing, and before me was my original form. How I looked back on Earth, just a vain, wealthy, high-school girl of average build.

It smiled at my broken-heart as I wore my heart on my sleeve, or in this case my face.

It began, "You're dead and everything is so much worse", and that caused my heart to drop.

-Dead?

As it heard my thoughts it replied, "Yes, you are already dead", it chuckled unaffected by the gravity of our situation. It was so indifferent that one could say the situation was entirely mine as if it is invulnerable to the fate of life.

Death.

"You died in my realm, Fera", it drew closer to me, "when you choose to escape…your punishment…every…moment…since…is borrowed", it's crooked smile distorted and so did it's voice.

It took on a more sinister version of myself and I recalled that too. It's impersonating how I looked back on Earth when I would bully those beneath me.

Those who were poor.

Those who were hungry.

Those who loved me.

All attributes of their identities that I saw as weakness by comparison to the unattainable status of wealth that I was merely born with.

I looked at the cruel face infront of me that did not even look to be staring at me even though it was. It's gaze…was no longer human. My old face. No, that was my true face back on Earth.

I looked at the cruel face in front of me. It didn't even seem to be staring directly at me, yet its gaze pinned me, heavy and sharp as a dagger. The eyes—my old eyes—were devoid of life.

I barely had time to process the horror before it struck me. The blow landed squarely against my ribs, sending a shockwave of pain through my soul. I was thrown backward, weightless for a moment, until my body slammed into the ground with a crunch that echoed in this endless void. My lungs burned, trying to pull in air that didn't exist.

It's stronger than me. Better. Why?

"I desired violently-and I waited for you to come see me. To tell you, you are what you decided to be. You never were accountable. All your memories had holes in them, your heart too. It is because feelings were a punishment. Wrongly avoiding judgement you deserved."

Before I could rise, it was upon me again, closing the distance with an inhuman speed that sent terror racing up my spine. A crushing grip seized my neck and yanked me upward. Its strength was overwhelming—more than I'd ever possessed. It wasn't just that.

This thing fought like Samira, her savage movements woven into its attacks, each strike designed to break me. To remind me of that failure, the rape, which so clearly spoke for all the other mistakes I made for my own vanity.

I felt every ounce of rage she must have carried, every drop of hatred in those blows.

Its fist drove into my stomach, and I choked on nonexistent air, my vision blurring as my soul shuddered under the assault. Memories flickered at the edges of my mind—Samira's eyes, wide and unseeing. I ruined her. This was her rage, her vengeance. I deserved this.

"Pathetic," the voice snarled, low and venomous. It tossed me aside like garbage. My body crumpled to the ground, but before I could steady myself, another kick sent me sprawling. "Samira will never reincarnate in this world. This world is just as real as your old one. It is not a depiction of your imagination, vermin. The people you hurt are real."

Pain exploded across my chest. Every movement was precise, relentless, and explosive.

"You made your choice, do you regret it?" It slapped me trying to keep me awake, trying to ensure my soul did not shatter, trying to ensure I heard the words that I needed to hear.

I had no power here—none of the skills, the memories, the cheats that had carried me this far.

I was stripped bare, reduced to nothing but the grotesque appearance I had gained after Phryne. My arms trembled as I tried to push myself up, my fingers clawing at the cold, featureless ground.

I-I can't…the words barely escaped my lips before its foot slammed down on my chest, pinning me. My vision went dark for a moment, and I felt my soul splinter under the pressure.

"You came into this world the best," it said, its tone mocking. "Just as you came into the last. The best. Gifted everything. Yet here you are, the same. What difference did it make, Fera? What have you done with it? What have you sinned for? What are you even alive for?"

-What have I done?

As if hearing my thoughts, it taught me, "You are what you surrender too, your weakness, that part of you that has not been trained", it gave voice to my glaring weakness of being untaught or properly raised to learn the basics.

Its hand wrapped around my throat, lifting me effortlessly. My legs dangled uselessly as I clawed at its arm, gasping for release. But no matter how much I fought, its grip didn't falter.

My feelings screamed at me to deny its words, but they went deep into my core, undeniable.

"You've risked nothing," it hissed, tightening its grip. "You've never risked anything. You've skated through life, taking, stealing, surviving. But surviving isn't living. Look at you."

It shook me, and I felt like my very soul was being ripped apart.

"Say it!" it snarled, its voice like shards of glass piercing through me. "What's holding you back?"

"I…" The word was barely a breath, drowned in the crushing weight of its presence.

"What's holding you back?" it roared again, shaking me harder. On the verge of just snapping my neck without showing mercy.

And then, the truth came out, ragged and raw from the depths of my heart: "I wanted them to love me."

My confession echoed in the suffocating void, leaving me trembling.

"Love you?" it mocked, its laughter cold and razor-sharp. "All this time, you've wanted someone to hold you, to fix you, to erase the solitude. That's why your cheats are what they are. They're not cheats—they're desperation. You don't want freedom. You want to belong."

Its laughter grew louder, each note heavier than the last, pushing me further into despair.

"You're pathetic," it said, its tone cutting. "A dirty, shriveled, anemic thing yearning for mommy's love, daddy's approval, a family's warmth. With all your so-called power, you're still that worthless child. An untaught brat."

It dropped me, and I collapsed onto the cold, empty ground, unable to move. I curled into a fetal position involuntarily due to the pains.

It loomed above me, sneering down. "But we'll fix that," it said, its voice a cruel promise. "We'll cut that part out of you like a cancer. And then, Fera, you'll finally be who you were meant to be."

Its hand pressed me, pressing down on my shoulder. "You are not the person you thought you were. In a world of suffering—you must exist. To feel anything, makes you unhinged. To be seen feeling anything makes you vulnerable. Do you understand? So, what's it going to be?"

The decision weighed heavily in my soul as the last remaining fragility began to leak out of me. I understood exactly what it asked of me.

To love myself.

A drop of white liquid-looking dust permeated from my eyes and it's colorful appearance went down my cheek falling on to the white sand.

The manifestation of my fragility seeped out of me.

It reminded me one last time to awaken my identity, "Even a worm will turn", retaliation for perseveration. Against the world. To fight.

All that was left was the singular desire to do what was necessary.

I could barely speak, my voice a hollow whisper. "I don't care anymore. Use it all. Kill them all."

The vestige, the spitting image of my past life with black eyes and grueling distinctions insinuating it's true form began it's laughter which echoed in the void, sharp and cruel.

"That's what I love to hear."

(A/N: I will introduce all the power the scorpion had stored up form the party next chapter. Also, he will enter limit-off and enter his spiritual form. It's gonna be a 1v1 against Phryne. Time for his awakening)