300th Life
Every explosion of Caelrisu's skull was no longer mere death. Each time, something slithered back into her, a black and radiant essence, both foreign and intimate, a refining fire threading through her veins.
When she opened her eyes, the hundred corpses that carpeted the corridor had changed. Some glowed faintly, ethereal and luminous, their cracked skin shimmering as if lit from within. Others were hollow shadows, eyeless and writhing, their mouths murmuring in a chorus both her own and not:
"You're learning… yes… yes… yes…"
Her body throbbed with the alien fire, every vein alive with a sensation that was both agony and revelation. Her own heartbeat felt borrowed, her muscles no longer fully under her command, yet somehow more herself than ever.
***
500th Life
By now, she could feel it even before the countdown began. A sewing noise, something that turned everything into a something more adjustable and suitable.
The corpses had fused into a single, writhing wall, a mass of twitching limbs and convulsing faces. Their many blind eyes blinked open in unison, all fixed on her. Their voices layered atop one another, overlapping hers in a maddening symphony:
"Every burst refines… Every death peels away… You are not breaking, Caelrisu… You are being adjusted."
She clawed at her own face, teeth gnashing, tears streaming. She screamed, begged, and slammed herself against the wall of corpses, trying to flee from the inevitable.
But even as her screams echoed off the endless [Endless Gallery], a bone-deep truth settled in her mind. Every burst, every moment of agony, every shattering of her skull had not destroyed her. It had forged her. Something alien, something demonic, was threading itself into the marrow of her body, refining her into a vessel.
Her own voice finally broke through the cacophony, trembling, desperate:
"Stop… please…"
The wall of corpses only leaned closer, whispering in unison, sharper now, like knives across glass:
"No. Learn. Become. Understand it."
Her scream tore apart her throat as the countdown reached zero. And then her skull burst again, but this time, she did not feel pain. She felt… becoming.
***
703rd Life
Her skull exploded once again, but this time something was different, she remained conscious. Pain coursed through her, yes, but it had become structured, precise, deliberate. Each throb, each splinter of bone, each shiver of flesh was a lesson, an equation etched into her very body.
She watched with wide, horrified eyes as the broken fragments of her head twitched, twining and knitting themselves back together. Wrong, then right, then wrong again, her own reconstruction had become a cruel, hypnotic dance, a mockery of natural order.
Her vision blurred, yet she could see each of her hundreds of corpses frozen in grotesque anticipation. Their twitching faces smiled in unison, a perfect mirror of her own grimacing reflection.
Her voice, ragged and trembling, whispered through clenched teeth:
"…I'm beginning to understand…"
And for the first time, it felt like she was. Every shard of her mind, every drop of her blood, every nerve fiber was being rewritten by the essence. Not destroyed. Not broken. Forged.
Forged to accept the knowledge that 'Her True Self' left behind. And when she does understand and analyze it, she felt like all this would disappear.
The corpses leaned closer, their many eyeless faces pressing in, chanting in perfect synchronicity:
"Yes… understand… become… merge…"
And she burst again.
***
900th Life
By now, her veins no longer carried blood. Instead, something alien coursed through them, threads of light and shadow, weaving together, splitting apart, intertwining, rewriting the very template of her body. Her muscles vibrated with impossible rhythm, her joints flexing in ways that should have shattered them. Every inhale stripped away weakness, every exhale refined her, as if her lungs were being rewritten from the inside out.
The corpses around her no longer twitched in helpless agony, but instead laughed in a beautiful cacophony. Beautiful, grotesque, perfect in their symmetry and imperfection.
Or maybe her mind itself was couldn't differentiate between beauty and horror that even this demonic laughter felt like a lullaby.
The countdown reached its mark. Her skull exploded once more, and she felt the shards of herself fall and fuse, not with pain, but with comprehension. Her mind and body were no longer hers alone; the essence of the knowledge has pretty much changed her through every nerve, every bone, every cell into becoming capable of accepting it.
And from the fragments, a voice, hers, yet not hers, slithered into her consciousness.
"…I accept it."
The corpses of her past selves seemed to laugh happily and in relief, whispering in unison:
"You are becoming. Please release us(yourself) from this torment."
***
She stood at the apex of the endless [Endless Gallery], staring at the writhing mountain of herself. Thousands, no, tens of thousands, of corpses, broken, bleeding, fused in impossible geometries, reached toward the ceiling like a cathedral of flesh. Some wept, voices raw and fractured. Some laughed, hollow, eyeless mouths gaping. Every single one, hers and not hers, stared at her with a devotion that burned through her sanity.
And then, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, her True Self appeared. Platinum hair flowed unnaturally; eyes blind yet piercing. Its smile stretched impossibly wide, sweet and venomous at once. It stepped from the apex of the corpse-mountain, and the very air seemed to bend around it.
"You've learned," it whispered, voice echoing in her skull, vibrating inside her bones.
Caelrisu smiled back, venom and madness dripping from her lips. This time, everything, except her brain, exploded.
And then the transformation began. Slowly, impossibly, her body reformed, not violently, but with a sinister grace.
Her bones knitted themselves into flawless arches, delicate yet unbreakable, as if sculpted by a hand that understood both fragility and strength. Her muscles wove together in precise patterns, taut and fluid, giving her body a lithe elegance that suggested motion even in stillness.
Her skin emerged next, milky-white, translucent in places, showing faint veins glowing with silver and crimson. It was ethereal, radiant, yet unsettlingly perfect, like marble kissed by living light. Shadows seemed to pool just beneath the surface, tracing every curve with a subtle, unnatural shimmer.
Her hair cascaded down in black waves, reaching twice her own size, moving as though it had a will of its own. It glimmered faintly, reflecting the ruined [Endless Gallery] around her, a river of spectral light flowing endlessly.
Her eyes opened last: crimson orbs that burned with everything she had endured, everything she had devoured, and everything she had become. They were alive, knowing, and impossibly deep.
Every part of her, the reborn bones, the flowing hair, the radiant skin, the eyes that held galaxies, was terrifying in its perfection. She was beautiful, yes, but beautiful in a way that made the air itself quiver. Every fragment of her past selves, every scream and whisper, had merged into this haunting elegance.
She was reborn, remade into something the living could call "angelic", and the dead could recognize as their own terror.
And when the final second passed, she whispered, voice slick with blood and power, a smile twitching across her face:
"…I understand it."
Silence followed. But then, faintly at first, she heard it: clapping.
Caelrisu turned. There, standing amidst the quiet ruin of the [Endless Gallery], was her True Self, platinum hair shimmering, blind eyes gleaming, smile impossibly wide.
"Congratulations," it said, voice a mixture of warmth and venom. "On gaining the mythical body, Penumbral Body, also known as the Contradiction Body, Caelrisu."
"Before I kill you, let me ask, why did you do this?" Caelrisu's voice dripped with venom, each word cutting sharper than any blade.
"I am nothing more than a projection," 'Her True Self' replied smoothly, unshaken. "So… you won't even be able to kill me."
Caelrisu's crimson eyes narrowed, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "It would still give me satisfaction."
"Well," the projection purred, "you are right about that."
"Then… explanation."
'Her True Self' tilted her head, platinum hair flowing unnaturally. "Ah yes… yes. You see, the Penumbral Body is one of the few vessels capable of withstanding the knowledge of the Secret Art I bestowed before reaching the level of Throne. There are… numerous other surprises to this body. Enjoy discovering them all. And remember, the Art's name, never reveal it outside. Now my work here is..."
Before she could finish, Caelrisu's fist collided with her jaw, sending her flying three feet across the [Endless Gallery].
Caelrisu leapt forward hammering blow after blow into the projection's face. Her laughter, sharp and unhinged, echoed off the [Endless Gallery] walls.
'Her True Self' countered, firing a blinding beam of light. Caelrisu twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the strike, but the energy struck her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, expecting pain, but none came.
Confusion flashed across both their faces. 'Her True Self' unleashed another beam, another strike, yet Caelrisu moved with unnatural precision, untouchable, analyzing and adapting in a heartbeat.
'Her True Self' lunged with fists and kicks, but her movements slowed, her attacks faltering. Caelrisu's own body refused to let her be hit.
A dark grin split Caelrisu's face, her fangs glinting in the [Endless Gallery]'s dim glow. She lunged, teeth bared, and sank them into the True Self's flesh, tearing and chewing with gleeful malice.
"I wonder… if you can be refined too, by the Secret Art, you oh-so gracefully bestowed," she whispered, voice dripping with exhilaration.
Secret Art, Grafting of Myriad Souls, First Chapter, The Star's Last Sigh Before Drowning.
The projection shuddered, fractured beneath her teeth. Caelrisu's fangs tore again, pulling apart flesh and sinew, swallowing piece by piece.
"Not bad… in fact, quite good," she muttered, savoring the essence. Then, with a predatory gleam, she dug her fangs into the True Self's face, ripping it apart in a symphony of cracking bones and tearing flesh.
'Her True Self' suddenly convulsed, platinum hair thrashing like severed threads of light. The smile, once impossibly wide, sweet and venomous, split apart into something feral, grotesque.
"N O!!! Y o U s A I d I W I l L b E f r e E, □ □ □ ! ! ! ! N o T t h I s p L e a s e N o t t h I S I B e g Y o u n O t T H I S."
The shriek shattered across the [Endless Gallery].
Caelrisu rose crimson-stained, fangs dripping, eyes ablaze with mastery. Her laughter rang through the endless halls like the hymn of something no longer human.
The True Self was gone. And yet, it lived on, fully within her.
Such was the horror and might of the Secret Art: Grafting of a Myriad Souls.
***
Caelrisu's eyes snapped open in the Mirror Lake. The world reflected back at her, calm and silent, yet she herself was irrevocably changed. Her body gleamed with the potential of the same haunting beauty it had assumed in the [Endless Gallery], every curve and line honed, every movement instinctively precise. She flexed her fingers and could feel the refined alignment of bone, muscle, and sinew.
The memories of the torturous Lives, the explosions of her own skull, the writhing mountain of corpses, all remained faintly blurred at the edges. The details of the process were hazy, sealed behind a veil that would only fully lift when she reached the third rank of Verdant Soul.
Yet the knowledge imparted by 'Her True Self', the Secret Art, was perfectly clear.
She also felt something enter within her when she devoured 'Her True Self'. And it seems like it could be summoned anytime.
But decided not to do so at the time, because of her instinctual feeling that it was dangerous at the moment.
She turned her gaze inward, searching her soul. A deep red essence flowed through her veins, vivid as blood.
Her senses moved further inward, exploring the labyrinth of her own being. Then she found it: the Awakened Ability that had crystallized within her, a single word that made her pulse stutter, that made her spine tingle with the thrill of recognition and latent power.
Analyst.