Ferdinand was a nobleman and, more importantly, the lord of a vast territory. As such, he had a non-negotiable responsibility: to produce an heir, someone who would ensure the continuity of his lineage and, in the future, take his place as the next nobleman of Venhorst .
For such a vast domain, a single heir was a risky bet. The ideal, according to the traditions of the kingdom, would be for Ferdinand to take several wives and father multiple children, each a possible successor. In this implacable logic, the choice between the life of the mother and that of the future heir was simple—a cold calculation that had already decided many destinies.
As a man and as a husband, Ferdinand knew exactly what was expected of him. There would be other chances , other children, as long as Catherine survived to continue producing heirs. However, as a future father, the mere idea of deciding on the death of his own son transformed him, in his own eyes, into a monster.
How could he live with that afterward? How could he look at his own hands without seeing the blood of someone who had never even had a chance to breathe? It was a decision no man should have to face—and yet here he was, his heart at war and his soul in pieces.
The struggle within Fernando has come to an end.
— Even if I hate myself for the rest of my life... I have to do this.
— Son , forgive your father... your incompetent father... who was too weak to protect you...
Fernando's thoughts were like razors against his mind. As he prepared to interrupt the fragile thread of life that pulsed within Catarina, a sharp voice pierced the air, like a cry from the abyss itself. It was anguished, filled with terror, and then with uncontrollable fury.
— Fernando... how... how dare you?!
Catarina's hysterical scream tore through the silence, and tears ran down her pale face in rivers. Her voice, so strained, soon began to grow hoarse, but she did not stop.
— You too, Fernando?! Do you want to take my son away?!
— I won't let you! I won't allow it!
— Everyone else was ripped away from me, and I... I did nothing! Do you have any idea how I felt?! Do you know what I feel right now?!
Her voice echoed through the room like a relentless thunder, reverberating off the stone walls until it sent chills down the maids' spines. In silence, they exchanged glances and, together, knelt down, murmuring desperate prayers to the goddess. They begged for intervention, for a miracle that would prevent the inevitable.
Fernando's heart was beating so hard that it seemed ready to jump out of his throat. His eyes, red and burning, met Catarina's—full of tears, but also of a hatred he had never seen in her.
Her hands were shaking. Catarina, however, continued screaming, each word like a blade.
— I 'll kill you if you dare lay a finger on him!
— I swear... I swear on my soul... I will kill whoever tries to separate me from my son!
— Even if it's you... even if it's you, Fernando... I... I...
Catarina's eyes met his, and in that moment, Fernando saw something beyond pain and hatred. He saw the madness and despair of a mother who had lost too much—and who was now willing to destroy everything to protect the little she still had.
Looking directly into Fernando's eyes, Catarina whispered, her voice breaking:
— If he is not capable of being born... then let me accompany him in death. He is my son. I will raise him, even if it is in another life. I will be there to take care of him. He is my most precious treasure.
For a moment, Fernando did not respond. His eyes, previously consumed by hesitation and the weight of decision, slowly gained a solemn gravity. The tips of his fingers, which had previously guided the matrix of life, ceased their movement. He approached Catarina, sitting down beside her.
Gently, Fernando wrapped his wife in a hug. When their gazes met again, there was no longer a shadow of doubt in his eyes—only deep affection and silent acceptance.
"What kind of man do you think I am?" Fernando murmured , his voice hoarse but firm. "As a father and husband, it is my duty to protect my family. If we are going to die, then we will go together. I will accompany you."
A quiet sadness shone in Catarina's eyes. She knew she couldn't convince him to back down. The decision was now between the two of them—and there was no more room for hesitation.
United, Fernando and Catarina guided their own energy cores to the dantian region , forcing the reversal of the flow of vitality. It was a primitive and brutal form of sacrifice, a forbidden ritual that took their consciousnesses directly to the sea of their souls.
Ferdinand was a nobleman and, more importantly, the lord of a vast territory. As such, he had a non-negotiable responsibility: to produce an heir, someone who would ensure the continuity of his lineage and, in the future, take his place as the next nobleman of Venhorst .
For such a vast domain, a single heir was a risky bet. The ideal, according to the traditions of the kingdom, would be for Ferdinand to take several wives and father multiple children, each a possible successor. In this implacable logic, the choice between the life of the mother and that of the future heir was simple—a cold calculation that had already decided many destinies.
As a man and as a husband, Ferdinand knew exactly what was expected of him. There would be other chances , other children, as long as Catherine survived to continue producing heirs. However, as a future father, the mere idea of deciding on the death of his own son transformed him, in his own eyes, into a monster.
How could he live with that afterward? How could he look at his own hands without seeing the blood of someone who had never even had a chance to breathe? It was a decision no man should have to face—and yet here he was, his heart at war and his soul in pieces.
The struggle within Fernando has come to an end.
— Even if I hate myself for the rest of my life... I have to do this.
— Son , forgive your father... your incompetent father... who was too weak to protect you...
Fernando's thoughts were like razors against his mind. As he prepared to interrupt the fragile thread of life that pulsed within Catarina, a sharp voice pierced the air, like a cry from the abyss itself. It was anguished, filled with terror, and then with uncontrollable fury.
— Fernando... how... how dare you?!
Catarina's hysterical scream tore through the silence, and tears ran down her pale face in rivers. Her voice, so strained, soon began to grow hoarse, but she did not stop.
— You too, Fernando?! Do you want to take my son away?!
— I won't let you! I won't allow it!
— Everyone else was ripped away from me, and I... I did nothing! Do you have any idea how I felt?! Do you know what I feel right now?!
Her voice echoed through the room like a relentless thunder, reverberating off the stone walls until it sent chills down the maids' spines. In silence, they exchanged glances and, together, knelt down, murmuring desperate prayers to the goddess. They begged for intervention, for a miracle that would prevent the inevitable.
Fernando's heart was beating so hard that it seemed ready to jump out of his throat. His eyes, red and burning, met Catarina's—full of tears, but also of a hatred he had never seen in her.
Her hands were shaking. Catarina, however, continued screaming, each word like a blade.
— I 'll kill you if you dare lay a finger on him!
— I swear... I swear on my soul... I will kill whoever tries to separate me from my son!
— Even if it's you... even if it's you, Fernando... I... I...
Catarina's eyes met his, and in that moment, Fernando saw something beyond pain and hatred. He saw the madness and despair of a mother who had lost too much—and who was now willing to destroy everything to protect the little she still had.
Looking directly into Fernando's eyes, Catarina whispered, her voice breaking:
— If he is not capable of being born... then let me accompany him in death. He is my son. I will raise him, even if it is in another life. I will be there to take care of him. He is my most precious treasure.
For a moment, Fernando did not respond. His eyes, previously consumed by hesitation and the weight of decision, slowly gained a solemn gravity. The tips of his fingers, which had previously guided the matrix of life, ceased their movement. He approached Catarina, sitting down beside her.
Gently, Fernando wrapped his wife in a hug. When their gazes met again, there was no longer a shadow of doubt in his eyes—only deep affection and silent acceptance.
"What kind of man do you think I am?" Fernando murmured , his voice hoarse but firm. "As a father and husband, it is my duty to protect my family. If we are going to die, then we will go together. I will accompany you."
A quiet sadness shone in Catarina's eyes. She knew she couldn't convince him to back down. The decision was now between the two of them—and there was no more room for hesitation.
United, Fernando and Catarina guided their own energy cores to the dantian region , forcing the reversal of the flow of vitality. It was a primitive and brutal form of sacrifice, a forbidden ritual that took their consciousnesses directly to the sea of their souls.
In an unknown dimension
From within a crimson egg, a figure emerged—its visage identical to John's, but its presence something else entirely. Where the real John emanated a hesitant aura, still bound by mortality, this copy radiated an overwhelming dominance, a transcendent force that seemed capable of bending space itself to its will.
In that dimension, violent changes began to occur. While Ferdinand and Catherine fought desperately in the physical world, John, in his spiritual space, did not remain inert either. Within the sea of his soul, the crimson egg that rested in the center of Catherine's soul somehow merged with the ethereal egg present in John's sea of soul.
In the instant of the fusion, the ghostly baby within John's soul became more solid, almost corporeal. For the first time, its eyelids fluttered open—and from its closed lips, a torrent of unknown words flowed like a cursed chant:
— Omnipotent... hunger... incomplete... feed... life... food... devour... complete... symbiosis... host... weak... weak... subdue... eat... eat...
John did not understand the language, but each syllable reverberated like a hammer striking his soul. Before he could react, a cord of spiritual energy appeared in the void, connecting him directly to the nascent creature. In a cruel instant, John's life force began to drain, sucked from both his soul and his physical body, which trembled with weakness in the real world.
He knew, with the instinctive clarity of imminent death, that this was the end for him. Desperately, John grabbed the rope, trying to pull it free—but the spiritual bond was like a root embedded in his being, impossible to break.
It was at that very moment that Catherine tried to dive into the sea of her own soul. However, what she found was something unexpected — it was not her inner sea that welcomed her, but rather a strange, vast, and endless ocean.
A liquid horizon stretched in all directions, with no land, no sky, no north or south. Only eternal waters, deep and impenetrable.
Catarina saw something even more unimaginable.
Before her, floating in that horizonless sea of soul, were two babies—identical in appearance but fiercely opposed in presence. They fought each other with a visceral ferocity as primal as the instinct for survival itself. At any other time, such a scene might have been almost adorable. But here, in this dimension saturated with power and despair, it was a dark and brutal sight.
One of the babies was clearly stronger. His presence was filled with an insatiable hunger, draining not only the other baby's life force, but also the very essence of Catarina. It took her a moment to understand—this weak baby, struggling to hold itself together, was her son.
Without hesitation, Catarina stepped forward. She grabbed the soul string connecting the two babies and tried to tear it apart with her own spiritual hands. But the bond was thick, tough as iron forged into the soul, and Catarina was unable to break it.
So she improvised. She created a second soul cord, connecting her spirit directly to her son's soul, sharing the burden of the strain and easing some of the pain. Even though she was weak , she was a mother—and a mother always finds a way to carry the impossible.
When John saw the woman emerge from the sea of his soul, he was confused. Who was she? Why did she seem so familiar and yet so distant? The confusion soon gave way to a flash of happiness, a comforting warmth that he could not explain. But that happiness faded when he realized that even she was powerless against the creature that was attacking them.
Joy was replaced by bitter disappointment—until the moment the woman connected to him with that soul cord. In that instant, John was flooded with a whirlwind of feelings. Through the spiritual link, he could see and feel everything she had experienced in the past few months: the silent agony, the overwhelming fear, the fragile hope that this child might finally be born.
John didn't know her name. He didn't know where she came from or who she was exactly. But deep down, he understood—she was his mother. And here she was, once again sacrificing herself for him, a bastard who hadn't even been born.
A warmth ran through John's ghostly heart, something he had never felt even in his past life. He swore, right then and there, that if he survived, he would be a good son. He wouldn't cause so much trouble. Maybe.
With the connection established, John felt his soul and physical body stop being drained. But the relief was short-lived. Before he could even breathe, he realized that the woman's soul was turning pale and translucent, like a candle melting in the wind. Still, she was smiling—a smile full of love and acceptance, the smile of someone who would do anything for her child.
That smile broke something inside him.
An orphan in his past life, John was not willing to repeat that story in his current life. He would not allow his mother to die because of him. And all because of a parasitic baby, who instead of crying for milk, devoured souls and sucked life forces.
Consumed by rage and despair, John gathered the last of his energy and created three new soulstrings. Two of them connected the crimson baby directly to his mother, while the third connected him to himself.
Suddenly, a rush of crimson energy—thick and pulsing like fresh blood—gushed out from the baby inside the egg. The crimson force filled Catherine's nearly-vanished soul, making it solid and bright again. The same thing happened to John's soul, which, intoxicated by the abundant energy, felt momentarily invincible. Omnipotent.
He laughed inwardly, ecstatic. And, seized by a wild boldness, he tried to draw even more energy from the parasitic baby. But his arrogance was short-lived.
The crimson baby's eyes opened—two bright, deep, indifferent slits—and fixed themselves directly on the mother-child pair.
— Shit ... — John thought, shivering to the core.
Catarina, until then stunned by the fight between the two babies, was overcome by a strange euphoria. The crimson energy ran through every corner of her being, intoxicating her senses and making her feel at the height of power. But this intoxication was soon replaced by pure terror, when the baby inside the egg raised its tiny hand.
With a mere wave, all the soul strings snapped—one by one, like fragile threads cut by invisible blades.
The baby then smiled. An arrogant, mocking smile, like a god watching ants that dared to defy him.
With a second wave of its tiny hands, the crimson baby threw the mother-son pair out of that infinite soul sea.
Catarina and John disappeared in a burst of crimson light, like two sparks consumed by an ancient bonfire. And then, stillness returned. The endless vastness of the soul sea returned to its state of absolute silence.
Inside the egg, the crimson baby closed its eyes again—but before it did, it dropped an invisible anchor, a silent call meant only for John, to return, alone, to that shoreless ocean.
***
Suddenly, Catarina's body began to burn. Her skin, her flesh, every fiber of her being was enveloped by a crimson flame that burned without consuming, an ancient energy that flowed like a raging river and, at the same time, regenerated. Under Fernando's astonished eyes, Catarina's exhausted body began to restore itself, her pale skin regaining color, her wounds closing as if time were running backwards.
Fernando ceased the process of draining his own core, cutting off the flow of vitality. The maids, kneeling in prayer, fell unconscious as they felt the overwhelming presence of the crimson energy.
Catarina opened her eyes. Her mind was clouded, but her maternal instinct made her move. With Fernando's help, she resumed the birth, now guided by a force that seemed not to be hers alone.
***
Some time later, the room was plunged into an almost unreal silence. Catarina was resting, exhausted, her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, but in her arms, she held the fruit of all that struggle.
The baby cried, a shrill and powerful cry that echoed like a song of victory. His little eyes scanned the room as if searching for something they could not name. Fernando, next to his wife, watched the scene in silence, divided between relief and astonishment.
To John, everything seemed enormous. Every shape, every face, every finger reaching out toward him seemed to belong to giants. Even the woman holding him—his mother—was a colossal protective deity.
It was then that John noticed something strange. A tail. His own tail, waving in the air, moving independently, as if it had a will of its own. He tried awkwardly to grab it with his tiny hands, but the clumsy gesture brought smiles to everyone present. To the adults, it looked like an adorable sight—a cute baby playing with its own tail, like a curious kitten.
Fernando, relieved, smiled for the first time in hours and, clasping his hands in prayer, thanked the goddess for the salvation of his wife and son.
John let out an inward sigh. Still alive. Reincarnated. And this time… with a tail?
***
Geremias remained in Venhorst for a few days, accompanying Ferdinand and Catherine to make sure that everything was going well. Satisfied with both their recovery and the successful birth, he took his leave, as numerous urgent matters awaited him in the capital.
END OF CHAPTER
In an unknown dimension
From within a crimson egg, a figure emerged—its visage identical to John's, but its presence something else entirely. Where the real John emanated a hesitant aura, still bound by mortality, this copy radiated an overwhelming dominance, a transcendent force that seemed capable of bending space itself to its will.
In that dimension, violent changes began to occur. While Ferdinand and Catherine fought desperately in the physical world, John, in his spiritual space, did not remain inert either. Within the sea of his soul, the crimson egg that rested in the center of Catherine's soul somehow merged with the ethereal egg present in John's sea of soul.
In the instant of the fusion, the ghostly baby within John's soul became more solid, almost corporeal. For the first time, its eyelids fluttered open—and from its closed lips, a torrent of unknown words flowed like a cursed chant:
— Omnipotent... hunger... incomplete... feed... life... food... devour... complete... symbiosis... host... weak... weak... subdue... eat... eat...
John did not understand the language, but each syllable reverberated like a hammer striking his soul. Before he could react, a cord of spiritual energy appeared in the void, connecting him directly to the nascent creature. In a cruel instant, John's life force began to drain, sucked from both his soul and his physical body, which trembled with weakness in the real world.
He knew, with the instinctive clarity of imminent death, that this was the end for him. Desperately, John grabbed the rope, trying to pull it free—but the spiritual bond was like a root embedded in his being, impossible to break.
It was at that very moment that Catherine tried to dive into the sea of her own soul. However, what she found was something unexpected — it was not her inner sea that welcomed her, but rather a strange, vast, and endless ocean.
A liquid horizon stretched in all directions, with no land, no sky, no north or south. Only eternal waters, deep and impenetrable.
Catarina saw something even more unimaginable.
Before her, floating in that horizonless sea of soul, were two babies—identical in appearance but fiercely opposed in presence. They fought each other with a visceral ferocity as primal as the instinct for survival itself. At any other time, such a scene might have been almost adorable. But here, in this dimension saturated with power and despair, it was a dark and brutal sight.
One of the babies was clearly stronger. His presence was filled with an insatiable hunger, draining not only the other baby's life force, but also the very essence of Catarina. It took her a moment to understand—this weak baby, struggling to hold itself together, was her son.
Without hesitation, Catarina stepped forward. She grabbed the soul string connecting the two babies and tried to tear it apart with her own spiritual hands. But the bond was thick, tough as iron forged into the soul, and Catarina was unable to break it.
So she improvised. She created a second soul cord, connecting her spirit directly to her son's soul, sharing the burden of the strain and easing some of the pain. Even though she was weak , she was a mother—and a mother always finds a way to carry the impossible.
When John saw the woman emerge from the sea of his soul, he was confused. Who was she? Why did she seem so familiar and yet so distant? The confusion soon gave way to a flash of happiness, a comforting warmth that he could not explain. But that happiness faded when he realized that even she was powerless against the creature that was attacking them.
Joy was replaced by bitter disappointment—until the moment the woman connected to him with that soul cord. In that instant, John was flooded with a whirlwind of feelings. Through the spiritual link, he could see and feel everything she had experienced in the past few months: the silent agony, the overwhelming fear, the fragile hope that this child might finally be born.
John didn't know her name. He didn't know where she came from or who she was exactly. But deep down, he understood—she was his mother. And here she was, once again sacrificing herself for him, a bastard who hadn't even been born.
A warmth ran through John's ghostly heart, something he had never felt even in his past life. He swore, right then and there, that if he survived, he would be a good son. He wouldn't cause so much trouble. Maybe.
With the connection established, John felt his soul and physical body stop being drained. But the relief was short-lived. Before he could even breathe, he realized that the woman's soul was turning pale and translucent, like a candle melting in the wind. Still, she was smiling—a smile full of love and acceptance, the smile of someone who would do anything for her child.
That smile broke something inside him.
An orphan in his past life, John was not willing to repeat that story in his current life. He would not allow his mother to die because of him. And all because of a parasitic baby, who instead of crying for milk, devoured souls and sucked life forces.
Consumed by rage and despair, John gathered the last of his energy and created three new soulstrings. Two of them connected the crimson baby directly to his mother, while the third connected him to himself.
Suddenly, a rush of crimson energy—thick and pulsing like fresh blood—gushed out from the baby inside the egg. The crimson force filled Catherine's nearly-vanished soul, making it solid and bright again. The same thing happened to John's soul, which, intoxicated by the abundant energy, felt momentarily invincible. Omnipotent.
He laughed inwardly, ecstatic. And, seized by a wild boldness, he tried to draw even more energy from the parasitic baby. But his arrogance was short-lived.
The crimson baby's eyes opened—two bright, deep, indifferent slits—and fixed themselves directly on the mother-child pair.
— Shit ... — John thought, shivering to the core.
Catarina, until then stunned by the fight between the two babies, was overcome by a strange euphoria. The crimson energy ran through every corner of her being, intoxicating her senses and making her feel at the height of power. But this intoxication was soon replaced by pure terror, when the baby inside the egg raised its tiny hand.
With a mere wave, all the soul strings snapped—one by one, like fragile threads cut by invisible blades.
The baby then smiled. An arrogant, mocking smile, like a god watching ants that dared to defy him.
With a second wave of its tiny hands, the crimson baby threw the mother-son pair out of that infinite soul sea.
Catarina and John disappeared in a burst of crimson light, like two sparks consumed by an ancient bonfire. And then, stillness returned. The endless vastness of the soul sea returned to its state of absolute silence.
Inside the egg, the crimson baby closed its eyes again—but before it did, it dropped an invisible anchor, a silent call meant only for John, to return, alone, to that shoreless ocean.
***
Suddenly, Catarina's body began to burn. Her skin, her flesh, every fiber of her being was enveloped by a crimson flame that burned without consuming, an ancient energy that flowed like a raging river and, at the same time, regenerated. Under Fernando's astonished eyes, Catarina's exhausted body began to restore itself, her pale skin regaining color, her wounds closing as if time were running backwards.
Fernando ceased the process of draining his own core, cutting off the flow of vitality. The maids, kneeling in prayer, fell unconscious as they felt the overwhelming presence of the crimson energy.
Catarina opened her eyes. Her mind was clouded, but her maternal instinct made her move. With Fernando's help, she resumed the birth, now guided by a force that seemed not to be hers alone.
***
Some time later, the room was plunged into an almost unreal silence. Catarina was resting, exhausted, her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, but in her arms, she held the fruit of all that struggle.
The baby cried, a shrill and powerful cry that echoed like a song of victory. His little eyes scanned the room as if searching for something they could not name. Fernando, next to his wife, watched the scene in silence, divided between relief and astonishment.
To John, everything seemed enormous. Every shape, every face, every finger reaching out toward him seemed to belong to giants. Even the woman holding him—his mother—was a colossal protective deity.
It was then that John noticed something strange. A tail. His own tail, waving in the air, moving independently, as if it had a will of its own. He tried awkwardly to grab it with his tiny hands, but the clumsy gesture brought smiles to everyone present. To the adults, it looked like an adorable sight—a cute baby playing with its own tail, like a curious kitten.
Fernando, relieved, smiled for the first time in hours and, clasping his hands in prayer, thanked the goddess for the salvation of his wife and son.
John let out an inward sigh. Still alive. Reincarnated. And this time… with a tail?
Ferdinand was a nobleman and, more importantly, the lord of a vast territory. As such, he had a non-negotiable responsibility: to produce an heir, someone who would ensure the continuity of his lineage and, in the future, take his place as the next nobleman of Venhorst .
For such a vast domain, a single heir was a risky bet. The ideal, according to the traditions of the kingdom, would be for Ferdinand to take several wives and father multiple children, each a possible successor. In this implacable logic, the choice between the life of the mother and that of the future heir was simple—a cold calculation that had already decided many destinies.
As a man and as a husband, Ferdinand knew exactly what was expected of him. There would be other chances , other children, as long as Catherine survived to continue producing heirs. However, as a future father, the mere idea of deciding on the death of his own son transformed him, in his own eyes, into a monster.
How could he live with that afterward? How could he look at his own hands without seeing the blood of someone who had never even had a chance to breathe? It was a decision no man should have to face—and yet here he was, his heart at war and his soul in pieces.
The struggle within Fernando has come to an end.
— Even if I hate myself for the rest of my life... I have to do this.
— Son , forgive your father... your incompetent father... who was too weak to protect you...
Fernando's thoughts were like razors against his mind. As he prepared to interrupt the fragile thread of life that pulsed within Catarina, a sharp voice pierced the air, like a cry from the abyss itself. It was anguished, filled with terror, and then with uncontrollable fury.
— Fernando... how... how dare you?!
Catarina's hysterical scream tore through the silence, and tears ran down her pale face in rivers. Her voice, so strained, soon began to grow hoarse, but she did not stop.
— You too, Fernando?! Do you want to take my son away?!
— I won't let you! I won't allow it!
— Everyone else was ripped away from me, and I... I did nothing! Do you have any idea how I felt?! Do you know what I feel right now?!
Her voice echoed through the room like a relentless thunder, reverberating off the stone walls until it sent chills down the maids' spines. In silence, they exchanged glances and, together, knelt down, murmuring desperate prayers to the goddess. They begged for intervention, for a miracle that would prevent the inevitable.
Fernando's heart was beating so hard that it seemed ready to jump out of his throat. His eyes, red and burning, met Catarina's—full of tears, but also of a hatred he had never seen in her.
Her hands were shaking. Catarina, however, continued screaming, each word like a blade.
— I 'll kill you if you dare lay a finger on him!
— I swear... I swear on my soul... I will kill whoever tries to separate me from my son!
— Even if it's you... even if it's you, Fernando... I... I...
Catarina's eyes met his, and in that moment, Fernando saw something beyond pain and hatred. He saw the madness and despair of a mother who had lost too much—and who was now willing to destroy everything to protect the little she still had.
Looking directly into Fernando's eyes, Catarina whispered, her voice breaking:
— If he is not capable of being born... then let me accompany him in death. He is my son. I will raise him, even if it is in another life. I will be there to take care of him. He is my most precious treasure.
For a moment, Fernando did not respond. His eyes, previously consumed by hesitation and the weight of decision, slowly gained a solemn gravity. The tips of his fingers, which had previously guided the matrix of life, ceased their movement. He approached Catarina, sitting down beside her.
Gently, Fernando wrapped his wife in a hug. When their gazes met again, there was no longer a shadow of doubt in his eyes—only deep affection and silent acceptance.
"What kind of man do you think I am?" Fernando murmured , his voice hoarse but firm. "As a father and husband, it is my duty to protect my family. If we are going to die, then we will go together. I will accompany you."
A quiet sadness shone in Catarina's eyes. She knew she couldn't convince him to back down. The decision was now between the two of them—and there was no more room for hesitation.
United, Fernando and Catarina guided their own energy cores to the dantian region , forcing the reversal of the flow of vitality. It was a primitive and brutal form of sacrifice, a forbidden ritual that took their consciousnesses directly to the sea of their souls.
In an unknown dimension
From within a crimson egg, a figure emerged—its visage identical to John's, but its presence something else entirely. Where the real John emanated a hesitant aura, still bound by mortality, this copy radiated an overwhelming dominance, a transcendent force that seemed capable of bending space itself to its will.
In that dimension, violent changes began to occur. While Ferdinand and Catherine fought desperately in the physical world, John, in his spiritual space, did not remain inert either. Within the sea of his soul, the crimson egg that rested in the center of Catherine's soul somehow merged with the ethereal egg present in John's sea of soul.
In the instant of the fusion, the ghostly baby within John's soul became more solid, almost corporeal. For the first time, its eyelids fluttered open—and from its closed lips, a torrent of unknown words flowed like a cursed chant:
— Omnipotent... hunger... incomplete... feed... life... food... devour... complete... symbiosis... host... weak... weak... subdue... eat... eat...
John did not understand the language, but each syllable reverberated like a hammer striking his soul. Before he could react, a cord of spiritual energy appeared in the void, connecting him directly to the nascent creature. In a cruel instant, John's life force began to drain, sucked from both his soul and his physical body, which trembled with weakness in the real world.
He knew, with the instinctive clarity of imminent death, that this was the end for him. Desperately, John grabbed the rope, trying to pull it free—but the spiritual bond was like a root embedded in his being, impossible to break.
It was at that very moment that Catherine tried to dive into the sea of her own soul. However, what she found was something unexpected — it was not her inner sea that welcomed her, but rather a strange, vast, and endless ocean.
A liquid horizon stretched in all directions, with no land, no sky, no north or south. Only eternal waters, deep and impenetrable.
Catarina saw something even more unimaginable.
Before her, floating in that horizonless sea of soul, were two babies—identical in appearance but fiercely opposed in presence. They fought each other with a visceral ferocity as primal as the instinct for survival itself. At any other time, such a scene might have been almost adorable. But here, in this dimension saturated with power and despair, it was a dark and brutal sight.
One of the babies was clearly stronger. His presence was filled with an insatiable hunger, draining not only the other baby's life force, but also the very essence of Catarina. It took her a moment to understand—this weak baby, struggling to hold itself together, was her son.
Without hesitation, Catarina stepped forward. She grabbed the soul string connecting the two babies and tried to tear it apart with her own spiritual hands. But the bond was thick, tough as iron forged into the soul, and Catarina was unable to break it.
So she improvised. She created a second soul cord, connecting her spirit directly to her son's soul, sharing the burden of the strain and easing some of the pain. Even though she was weak , she was a mother—and a mother always finds a way to carry the impossible.
When John saw the woman emerge from the sea of his soul, he was confused. Who was she? Why did she seem so familiar and yet so distant? The confusion soon gave way to a flash of happiness, a comforting warmth that he could not explain. But that happiness faded when he realized that even she was powerless against the creature that was attacking them.
Joy was replaced by bitter disappointment—until the moment the woman connected to him with that soul cord. In that instant, John was flooded with a whirlwind of feelings. Through the spiritual link, he could see and feel everything she had experienced in the past few months: the silent agony, the overwhelming fear, the fragile hope that this child might finally be born.
John didn't know her name. He didn't know where she came from or who she was exactly. But deep down, he understood—she was his mother. And here she was, once again sacrificing herself for him, a bastard who hadn't even been born.
A warmth ran through John's ghostly heart, something he had never felt even in his past life. He swore, right then and there, that if he survived, he would be a good son. He wouldn't cause so much trouble. Maybe.
With the connection established, John felt his soul and physical body stop being drained. But the relief was short-lived. Before he could even breathe, he realized that the woman's soul was turning pale and translucent, like a candle melting in the wind. Still, she was smiling—a smile full of love and acceptance, the smile of someone who would do anything for her child.
That smile broke something inside him.
An orphan in his past life, John was not willing to repeat that story in his current life. He would not allow his mother to die because of him. And all because of a parasitic baby, who instead of crying for milk, devoured souls and sucked life forces.
Consumed by rage and despair, John gathered the last of his energy and created three new soulstrings. Two of them connected the crimson baby directly to his mother, while the third connected him to himself.
Suddenly, a rush of crimson energy—thick and pulsing like fresh blood—gushed out from the baby inside the egg. The crimson force filled Catherine's nearly-vanished soul, making it solid and bright again. The same thing happened to John's soul, which, intoxicated by the abundant energy, felt momentarily invincible. Omnipotent.
He laughed inwardly, ecstatic. And, seized by a wild boldness, he tried to draw even more energy from the parasitic baby. But his arrogance was short-lived.
The crimson baby's eyes opened—two bright, deep, indifferent slits—and fixed themselves directly on the mother-child pair.
— Shit ... — John thought, shivering to the core.
Catarina, until then stunned by the fight between the two babies, was overcome by a strange euphoria. The crimson energy ran through every corner of her being, intoxicating her senses and making her feel at the height of power. But this intoxication was soon replaced by pure terror, when the baby inside the egg raised its tiny hand.
With a mere wave, all the soul strings snapped—one by one, like fragile threads cut by invisible blades.
The baby then smiled. An arrogant, mocking smile, like a god watching ants that dared to defy him.
With a second wave of its tiny hands, the crimson baby threw the mother-son pair out of that infinite soul sea.
Catarina and John disappeared in a burst of crimson light, like two sparks consumed by an ancient bonfire. And then, stillness returned. The endless vastness of the soul sea returned to its state of absolute silence.
Inside the egg, the crimson baby closed its eyes again—but before it did, it dropped an invisible anchor, a silent call meant only for John, to return, alone, to that shoreless ocean.
***
Suddenly, Catarina's body began to burn. Her skin, her flesh, every fiber of her being was enveloped by a crimson flame that burned without consuming, an ancient energy that flowed like a raging river and, at the same time, regenerated. Under Fernando's astonished eyes, Catarina's exhausted body began to restore itself, her pale skin regaining color, her wounds closing as if time were running backwards.
Fernando ceased the process of draining his own core, cutting off the flow of vitality. The maids, kneeling in prayer, fell unconscious as they felt the overwhelming presence of the crimson energy.
Catarina opened her eyes. Her mind was clouded, but her maternal instinct made her move. With Fernando's help, she resumed the birth, now guided by a force that seemed not to be hers alone.
***
Some time later, the room was plunged into an almost unreal silence. Catarina was resting, exhausted, her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, but in her arms, she held the fruit of all that struggle.
The baby cried, a shrill and powerful cry that echoed like a song of victory. His little eyes scanned the room as if searching for something they could not name. Fernando, next to his wife, watched the scene in silence, divided between relief and astonishment.
To John, everything seemed enormous. Every shape, every face, every finger reaching out toward him seemed to belong to giants. Even the woman holding him—his mother—was a colossal protective deity.
It was then that John noticed something strange. A tail. His own tail, waving in the air, moving independently, as if it had a will of its own. He tried awkwardly to grab it with his tiny hands, but the clumsy gesture brought smiles to everyone present. To the adults, it looked like an adorable sight—a cute baby playing with its own tail, like a curious kitten.
Fernando, relieved, smiled for the first time in hours and, clasping his hands in prayer, thanked the goddess for the salvation of his wife and son.
John let out an inward sigh. Still alive. Reincarnated. And this time… with a tail?
***
Geremias remained in Venhorst for a few days, accompanying Ferdinand and Catherine to make sure that everything was going well. Satisfied with both their recovery and the successful birth, he took his leave, as numerous urgent matters awaited him in the capital.
END OF CHAPTER
Geremias remained in Venhorst for a few days, accompanying Ferdinand and Catherine to make sure that everything was going well. Satisfied with both their recovery and the successful birth, he took his leave, as numerous urgent matters awaited him in the capital.
END OF CHAPTER