If my body is screaming, then it must be conscious. If it is conscious, then who am I? Is it a fragment of my me, or am I a fragment of it?

“What is an individual, anyways?” The ancient said. “If your body had anything to do with it, then every time you transform, the new body would be a different person entirely. If your soul had anything to do with it, then you without a soul wouldn’t be a person at all. And yet, you are.

Best we can tell, an individual is really just a collection of memories; A stream of consciousness. You have your old memories, and therefore, are the same person as before. Now enough philosophy. We have important matters to attend to.”

The ancient altered their spell once more, and the blood that had coalesced into my old body’s eyes condensed into a crystal, dropping out of its eye socket like a bloody diamond teardrop. The ancient caught it out of the air with one hand, and placed the other hand upon me.

The ancient made a grabbing motion, and in an instant ripped out every ounce of mana I had within me. I dropped to the ground with an intense headache and cold feeling that came along with mana-deficiency, but to a greater degree than I had ever felt expending mana normally. It took everything I had not to pass out, and I was left gasping on the ground before the ancient grabbed my shoulder, hauled me back up to my feet, and forced the crystal into my mouth. “Eat,” he said.

“wha—” I gagged on the crystal, swallowing it as I tried to get out the question in my exhausted state.

“Good. Now, onto the next phase” The ancient said.

“What do I have to do next?” I asked.

“Your body will take over from here. We will handle the rest.”

“Pass out?” I asked, right as the crystal burst within me, churning and dissolving my insides along with itself.

I screamed out in pain as my body began to react with the mana and began to deform. It twisted and bloated, phasing into a mist of mana, then back to flesh, over and over.

The subspace too underwent these changes, the space itself bending and twisting into and through itself as the arrays on the amalagamation’s body somehow were cut off from the flesh and diffused into symbols in the air before fading into the subspace. The amalgamation returned to the center of the box, rapidly rotating as it expanded to twice its previous size.

The subspace blacked out, and so too did I.

* * *

I dreamed once more of the Band of Elven Suns. This time, I was in Johnathan’s basement cellar, hiding with his mother after she carried me away from the fighting. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood, and screams emanated from outside.

Someone tried to open the cellar door, rattling the chains she had used to secure it.

I was about to scream out in horror, but Jonathan’s mother clasped her hand around my mouth before I had the chance.

“Hush, child.” She whispered. “Don’t let them know we’re here.”

The rattling stopped, and thankfully, they did not try to force their way in. A few minutes passed, and then someone else came to the cellar door. This time, rather than trying to open it, they knocked. “It’s me,” he said. Their voice sounded somewhat familiar, though I couldn’t place it.

“Stay here, Sylas.” she whispered.

“Who is that?” I asked.

She ignored me, and went to unlock the cellar door. The visitor came in, removing their hood to reveal the face of an elf.

I screamed out at the sight of him, no longer able to hold in my fear. The elf merely pointed at me, and ordered “be silent.”

I tried to speak out once more, to cry out “why?”, but my will to speak vanished.

Jonathan’s mother bowed deeply and spoke. “Master, what do you plan on doing with him?”

“My explanation is not required, human. I have upheld my end of the bargain to spare and support your family. Our deal is now over. Sleep now, and forget all your dealings with the guild of shadows.” The elf said as he passed her by. As soon as he spoke, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she collapsed asleep.

The elf turned to the cellar door and spoke to someone waiting just outside. “Iteration 513, Matthew. Approach.”

Another elf walked in on his orders. No, not an elf. His ears were slightly rounder, and his skin too pale. A half-elf. His posture was poor, his eyes were glazed over, and he made no movements other than what the elf demanded. His very will was clearly overridden by a misuse of soul magic, and what stood before me was closer to a doll than a man.

“Iteration 513, it is time. Open your subspace.” The elf commanded. The half-elf obliged, opening a portal to a familiar sight. A box the size of a planet, and a mass of screaming humanoids. Two major differences caught my eye, however.

Firstly, the size of my amalgamation was only a hundred meters across when I first saw it within me, doubling during my rank up. The half-elf’s, however, appeared to nearly fill the box it was held in.

Secondly, and more importantly, it was not alone. Separate from the amalgamation were millions of other beings, trapped against and lining the very walls. They were mostly monsters, already dead and rotting for some time. The only exceptions were a few thousand immediately surrounding the floor where the portal was opened. Humans, except for one half-Dryad girl. The villagers. My sister, Difaru. All those who had died in the attack were there, alive once more by the power of the subspace, only to be sacrificed once more.

My eyes went wide as a scream once again failed to escape me. I backpedaled towards the corner of the room, throwing every object I could get my hands on at the elf.

He gave me a confused look, unable to comprehend the futility of my actions, but still annoyed at the attempt. He pointed at me and ordered once more. “Cease your resistance,” he said. I knew in my mind that doing so was a mistake, that I had to fight back or leave. But even so, my will to disobey was overridden.

“Matthew, bring out the items.” The elf demanded. Matthew the half-elf phased out two jars and a jagged, glowing knife, then handed them to the elf. The elf unscrewed the lid of one jar, and a vortex formed from it, pulling an ethereal mass out from me and into the jar before the elf screwed the lid back on. As he did, I felt every semblance of will drain out from me, and I slumped to the floor. The second, empty jar filled at the same moment, making what appeared to be a copy of my soul.

“Iteration 514, Sylas Terrarium. The final iteration, as it turns out. Lucky you, you get to survive all this.” The elf chuckled lightly, placing the jar holding my soul on the floor. “Though, I suppose the words ‘you’ and ‘survive’ are questionable. Not that such things will matter in the long run.”

“It will be some time before this takes effect. In the meantime, it would be inconvenient if someone were to find out what was done today.” The elf said as he opened the jar holding a copy of my soul, guiding it into my body where the original had left.

He then walked over, brandishing the knife. “Fret not. Your death will only be momentary. To spare you the pain, I command thee: forget.” He whispered as he hovered over me, and slowly plunged the dagger into my heart.