The scene shifted again, and this time, Ash found himself standing within a boundless white space, one that stretched endlessly in all directions, where there was no ground beneath his feet nor a sky above his head.
A short distance away, he noticed a another version of himself sitting quietly with his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, as if trying to protect something fragile inside.
In front of him, a screen floated gently in the air, quietly playing something that Ash couldn't quite see clearly from where he stood, though in his heart, he already had a sense of what it would be, and that alone made his steps slow.
When he finally came close enough, he saw the images on the screen, and as he had expected, they were his memories.
The ones that belonged to Ash Burn, the Earthling.
A long, tired sigh slipped from his lips.
He knew exactly what was happening. He didn't need anyone to explain it to him. He didn't need anyone to confirm it.
He understood everything, not through logic or facts, but because something inside him just knew. His instincts were telling him the truth in a way that words never could.
This wasn't something random or meaningless.
Dark Ash had forced these memories into him. It was like being pushed underwater and told to breathe.
If Ash wanted to wake up, if he wanted to open his eyes in the real world again, he had no option but to face these memories.
They were a part of him now, and running away from them wouldn't change that.
Ash looked again at the boy that looked just like him, who sat with his knees pulled close to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them.
The boy's eyes were wide and empty as he stared at the flickering screen in front of him, lost in whatever was playing there.
He knew these were only memories and that the boy would not be able to see him, no matter how close he came or how long he stayed. So he walked over and sat down beside him.
He did not say a word or try to make contact. Instead, he shared the silence and the heavy feeling that had been waiting too long to be faced.
His gaze returned to the screen where his memories continued to unfold, showing fragments of life filled with pain, choices, and emotions he could no longer ignore.
A thought slowly rose inside him, calm and steady like a gentle wave that could not be stopped.
I guess it's time. I've been hiding from this part of me for too long. I keep acting like it never happened, like it doesn't matter anymore. But the truth is, I can't move forward if I keep running away. If I really want to grow... I have to stop turning my back on where I came from.
***
Meanwhile, somewhere in the world of Akumia…
"What did you just say?" A cold voice echoed through the vast, dark throne room, so sharp and emotionless that it could slice through steel.
Yet beneath that calm surface was a venomous fury, one that seeped into the walls and made even the shadows tremble.
The demon who had come to report the news began to shake uncontrollably, his trembling limbs betraying the deep fear that had settled in his bones.
His voice quivered with every word, and even breathing seemed difficult under the crushing weight of the presence before him.
"M-M-My Prince… all the demons who were sent to infiltrate the academy… they have disappeared without a trace. W-We believe that every last one of them has been killed."
The moment those words left his mouth, the air inside the throne room turned deathly cold, like winter had descended all at once.
The walls groaned softly, and the floor beneath his feet gave off a low, eerie rumble, as if the castle itself feared the one who sat on the throne.
"They all died," the voice spoke again, now slower, more focused, with a chilling calm that only made the rage behind it more terrifying, "and you are telling me this now… two entire months later?"
There was no anger in the tone but that lack of emotion was what made it even more dangerous.
It was not a question that allowed excuses, nor one that welcomed explanations. It was a statement layered with silent fury, one that demanded only truth.
"M-My Prince," the demon stuttered again, doing his best to speak clearly while his mind screamed for escape.
"We… we are only allowed to make contact once every two months unless something urgent or extremely important happens. That is the standing order. However, it has already been a full week since the assigned contact date passed, and despite repeated attempts to reach them… no one is responding from the academy side. It is as if they all vanished at once."
He tried to continue, to explain further, but his voice never got the chance to finish the sentence.
His body suddenly began to melt, like wax exposed to unbearable heat, his flesh and bones dissolving into the floor in an instant.
His death was quick, silent, and absolute, leaving behind nothing but a dark stain and an even darker silence.
The entire scene was horrifying in a way that words struggled to describe, a death so clean and quiet that it made the silence afterward feel unbearable.
"It seems... a variable has appeared," came a sultry, feminine voice from the shadows of the room, breaking the silence with a slow, deliberate rhythm that hinted at amusement, curiosity, and danger all at once.
Hearing that voice, Orien, the first son of the Demon King, lifted his gaze and turned toward the direction it came from.
A female demon emerged from the darkness, walking gracefully into the flickering candlelight, and her presence demanded attention.
Her skin was pale as snow, smooth and flawless, almost glowing under the dim light, and her hair was long and black, flowing behind her like liquid silk with a gentle shimmer that made it seem alive.
Her eyes were deep crimson, sharp yet alluring, with heart-shaped pupils that seemed to pull you in and trap you in their gaze.
She had the kind of figure that legends were written about, with every curve and contour perfectly shaped, her body a flawless combination of seduction and strength.
She was the kind of woman who could bring empires to ruin with a single smile.
Her robe was long and elegant from behind, flowing like royalty's cloak, but the front was dangerously revealing.
It left little covered, yet everything it hid only made the imagination burn brighter. The cloth seemed to have been crafted not just to clothe her, but to tease the very idea of restraint.
Hearing those words, Orien immediately summoned one of his demons and asked carefully, "Have you found any information about the boy... Ash Burn?"
"Yes, My Prince," the demon replied instantly, stepping forward with respectful haste.
He held out a small, worn book and passed it carefully to Orien.
Orien took the book, his gaze unreadable. The female demon—Lilith—glided closer without hesitation, leaning down beside him so that her chest pressed firmly against his head.
She clearly had no concern for space or modesty, and Orien didn't seem to mind her boldness at all. Instead, they both began to read through the pages together, their eyes scanning the notes in silence.
"Orphan… awakened… Mage class…" Orien murmured under his breath as he flipped the pages slowly. "And what's this? He left the academy…"
Lilith tilted her head and asked with mild surprise, "Didn't you once say he had a Dual Class?"
"That's what Zerak reported to me," Orien replied without lifting his eyes from the book.
"Where is Zerak now?" she asked with a curious tone, though her expression hinted she already suspected the answer.
"Dead," Orien answered simply, his voice calm but final.
Lilith, who was known across the demon world as one of the Seven Overlord Demons—specifically the Sin of Lust—let out a slow sigh.
"I see. Then," Orien said after a pause, "Call the Visionary."
That name carried weight.
The Visionary wasn't just any demon. He was a rarity among rarities, born once in a trillion, a demon with the unique ability to peer into the tangled threads of fate and glimpse fragments of the future.
In every generation, only one such demon appeared, and their value was beyond measure.
Within a minute, the Visionary arrived in the throne room, stepping forward with composed steps.
Though he was young in appearance, wearing neat robes and thin glasses.
His presence was calm, but beneath it was the unmistakable feeling that he knew far more than he ever let on.
"My Prince, did you summon me?" the Visionary asked politely, his voice soft and sweet like that of a child, but with a sharp undertone, like someone who saw through illusions and lies alike.
Orien gave him a steady look and handed him the book. "Tell me if this person… Ash Burn… has the potential to become a variable in the future."
The moment he heard that, the Visionary's face went pale. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead as the smile vanished from his lips.
He looked shaken for the first time.
"My Prince," he said, his voice strained, "the threads of fate are in chaos. Someone… or something… has deeply disturbed them. If I try to divine anything now, I might suffer a backlash."
"I know," Orien said, his tone patient yet firm. "You've said before that fate has been tampered with. But you still haven't discovered who did it, correct?"
"Yes," the Visionary admitted quietly.
"Then try again. Focus only on this person. If the backlash is too much and your body suffers, I will personally give you an Elixir to restore you. You have my word. So don't worry."
The Visionary gave a shaky breath but nodded, comforted by the assurance. He looked down at the book once more, memorizing the name—Ash Burn. Then he closed his eyes, placed both hands together, and began channeling his power.
The throne room grew silent.
A few seconds passed, and then blood began to drip from his ears. Then from his eyes. Then from every one of his seven orifices. But he didn't stop. His entire focus, his full spiritual force, was locked onto a single name.
Ash Burn.
And then he realized something terrifying.
With a trembling voice, barely more than a whisper, he muttered in shock, "The name Ash Burn… it does not exist. This person does not exist… not in any of the timelines. Not past, not future, not even in the alternate branches. There is nothing."
"There is no....Ash Burn."
He started to shake violently. The backlash hit him like a divine hammer. Moments later, he coughed out a huge mouthful of blood and collapsed to the floor, falling unconscious, his body dangerously close to death.
Seeing him in that condition, Lilith raised her hand and calmly ordered, "Take him away. Give him one of the highest-grade healing Elixirs we have."
A few demons immediately rushed forward and carefully carried the limp body of the Visionary out of the chamber.
Then, out of nowhere, a low chuckle echoed through the room.
"Hehe… heheh… eheh… hahaha… ahahaha…" Orien's laughter grew louder, like someone who had just stumbled upon a mystery far more fascinating than he expected. His smile widened into a wicked grin.
"Ash Burn," he said the name slowly, as if savoring each syllable. "He is the one. The one who slipped through our grasp. A true variable that was never part of our calculations."
Lilith's lips curved into a seductive smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "So he's the one," she whispered. "The piece we didn't see on the board."
Orien leaned back on his throne, fingers steepled, grin never fading.
"Find out where he is. If he cannot be located directly, then keep watching the Academy from a distance. Didn't the information mention that he left to search for something? I want to know what he's after."
Lilith walked closer to him, her movements smooth and sultry. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips with a teasing smile.
"As you wish… my demon king," she whispered before turning away, her laughter echoing softly as she vanished into the shadows.
***
A/N: So, you wanna know how Ash faced his memories? 🤔 Wanna find out what's buried deep inside? Well, I'm not spilling it here just yet. 😏 I'm saving it for when Ash heals Elysia—it's gonna be the perfect moment to reveal all that. 💫✨