Chapter 395
Each step he took left behind Theo, Aldraya, and the horrifying information he had just heard, as though he could abandon that burden in the shadows.
Yet the true weight only settled deeper inside his mind.
His exhaustion with the entire concept of reincarnation had reached its peak, boiling into a bitter and forceful rejection.
The thought that the noble soul of Myra Astrielle could reside within Erietta—the source of his deepest childhood wounds—felt like an insult to his own suffering.
Likewise, the belief that he himself was the vessel of a heroic king now felt like the cruelest cosmic joke.
As he continued striding quickly along the deserted path, Ilux responded to Xavier's outburst within his consciousness.
His reply was no longer a cold rebuttal, but a firm declaration filled with disgust.
With conviction born from his own pain, he insisted that Myra could not possibly live within Erietta's body.
Impossible.
Nor was it conceivable that someone as powerful as Myra would desperately search for Xavier's soul across worlds, only to be reborn as a cruel girl in an orphanage.
To Ilux, all of this was nothing but an absurd construction without logic.
He labeled it a hallucination.
A fantasy created by Xavier's longing for his deceased wife, a void he tried to fill by finding similarities everywhere.
It was mere coincidence that Erietta shared certain traits with Myra.
Nothing more.
Accumulated fatigue and hatred drove Ilux to refuse seeing beyond that.
He was sick of grand narratives about destiny, eternal souls, and love transcending time.
Those narratives only blurred a simple reality.
That he had been tormented by someone named Erietta, and now a voice in his head demanded he save his tormentor for the sake of ancient love.
Thus, with a firmness bordering on childish desperation, Ilux decided to sever it.
Deep within his heart, he voiced total rejection.
He declared that he would no longer listen to a single word from that voice.
And in his darkest, most irritated thought, he gave it a harsh and humiliating label.
Schizo.
Xavier—the Hero King, the noble soul who had guided him through life-and-death battles—was, in his eyes, nothing more than a symptom, the severest mental disorder residing in his head.
"Ilux—enough! Watch your words. This is my final warning."
Hiiiih!!
"If you continue walking with a tongue that sharp and eyes this blind, you will not merely face trouble. You will summon a disaster far greater than you can imagine."
The outburst did not arrive as sound, but as a wave of pure pressure crashing through every corner of Ilux's mind.
Xavier no longer spoke with sentences, but with a surge of will—deep, cold, and threatening anger.
It was the reaction of a soul that had long chosen wisdom, patience, even apology, but had now reached the highest threshold of insult.
The label "schizo" had struck something sacred, something central to the dignity and authority he had carried for thousands of years.
Xavier's response was fierce, powerful, and thunderous within their inner dimension.
He no longer advised or pleaded.
This was a final warning—an ultimatum delivered with such force that Ilux's vision flickered, as though even the physical world trembled.
The message was singular and clear.
Guard every word, whether spoken aloud or thought in silence.
Because denial, rejection, and insult toward the essence they shared carried consequences.
'This is not an ordinary fluctuation.'
As Xavier's fury filled every inch of his inner space, something physical and tangible began to occur.
The five elemental pillars within Ilux—blazing fire, flowing water, steadfast earth, free air, and unifying cosmic energy—along with his sharp Perception Alteration ability, suddenly suffered severe disruption.
It was not mere fading control, but systemic malfunction, as though each power rebelled against its own master.
Flames flickered erratically at his fingertips before dying into cold smoke.
Water that once flowed smoothly through his veins now felt frozen and clogged.
Earth lost its protective solidity and became mere heaviness.
Air resisted entering his lungs with ease.
Cosmic energy spun wildly like a compass stripped of its poles.
The chaos intensified because Ilux refused to apologize.
His stubborn rejection acted as fuel for the disturbance.
Each element seemed to feel the insult directed at the companion soul and answered with its own rebellion.
The internal tremor peaked at a critical point.
The circulation of energy from his Lu Core—the most fundamental source of his elemental power—collapsed instantly.
A process that usually ran smoothly like precision gears turned into chaotic collisions of energy at his center.
It happened simultaneously—or perhaps as a direct result of—Xavier's final, authoritative roar.
'The ceiling of my room looks dull, plain, and silent. Not like my head.'
Without wasting another second amid the turmoil of elements and perception, Ilux chose escape.
He did not respond to Xavier's ultimatum or fury, silencing it through decisive action.
His steps quickened, though each one felt unstable due to the distortion of spatial perception.
The familiar dormitory corridors appeared tilted and oddly spaced, yet he kept moving, driven by a singular desire to reach what he considered his only refuge.
At last, he arrived at the special dormitory for male students.
The door, usually opened calmly, felt heavy in his grasp, but he pushed through.
The warm, still air inside contrasted with the chaos within him, yet it offered no comfort.
He continued until reaching his room.
Once the key turned and the door opened, he stepped directly into his narrow, simple personal space.
Without removing his shoes or even his jacket, Ilux collapsed onto the bed.
His weight fell heavily, causing the mattress springs to creak in protest.
He did not care.
His eyes—still filled with flashes of strange light and perceptual distortion—stared straight at the plain white ceiling.
His gaze was empty, not observing cracks or patterns, but piercing through it as if searching for nothingness beyond.
'There is only me and this ceiling.'
The silence arrived like a blessing after a storm.
For a moment—brief yet precious—there was no voice.
No anxious chatter from Xavier, no rumble of anger, no rebellion from the elements, and even his perceptual distortions seemed to soften into a faint background hiss.
Within that vacuum of sound and calm, Ilux lay motionless, letting his exhausted body sink into the mattress.
His vision, once flickering and chaotic, slowly found focus on a single point that demanded nothing.
The ceiling of his room.
Under the dim room light—or perhaps moonlight slipping through the curtain's gap—the plain, smooth surface of the ceiling suddenly revealed its own quiet beauty.
To be continued…