“The Pyrotechnics Academy is having a performance tonight at sundown! Purchase your tickets at the bazaar, only 500k Iotas, get them... them...” A young lady, her arms filled with flyers, ceased her shouting when she saw Solera getting dragged through the square.

In fact, nearly everyone present was staring at the spectacle that was Solera. His clothes were in tatters, caked in months worth of mud and grime. The small, bleeding holes left behind by the drainer belt could be clearly seen all over his exposed body. But perhaps with this, he might be seen only as a vagrant with an unstable mind. With the ten masked soldiers escorting him, however, he instantly became the center of attention.

“What did a young boy like him do? He can’t be any older than seventeen!”

“More fodder for the Dome, looks like. Guess I’ll go sign up right now, try getting that free win.”

The whispers of the bystanders found their way into his ears, but he paid them no attention. He also ignored the aching pains coursing through his weakened body. There were still far too many questions in his mind, the most pressing of which was about that strange hallucination.

It was like he had lived another life, one spanning an entire century, far longer than Solera himself could remember living. And yet several memories from that life were clear as day, while the rest were fuzzy, jumbled, incoherent.

The cave-buildings carved out from the mountain itself, the wide mountain steps he was climbing up. He had a vague sense of familiarity with it, as if he had trodden this path many times before. The next building, at the top of this flight of stairs, was Granny Schula’s restaurant with the snake soup he didn’t like.

The building Solera knew he had never seen came into view. He recognized the misshapen pillars and wood roof which merged into a mountain cave. Yet it was not a restaurant, but a bustling appliance store, throwing his mind further into its confusion. Custom cooking pots, humidifiers, even miniature Vigor talismans for farming in the caverns were being sold here. Solera had never seen these strange objects, yet he had, and he could even identify what they were.

The chargelights atop the lampposts on either side of this new flight of steps looked familiar as well. The daughter of a man who lived in those residential caves had been kidnapped, raped, and killed. He had sent the kidnapper to the Dome, but he knew the man had only done the kidnapping on the orders of Madame Snakehead’s son, whose lust was insatiable. Just another injustice, out of his power to make right.

No! Solera screamed in his head. These were not his memories! They were-- they were-- they were Rasmurnov’s!

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. He had Rasmurnov’s memories! But how? He had never known such a thing was possible!

Then again, he was a truly uninformed person, who only understood the depths of his ignorance now that he had come into contact with Rasmurnov’s soul, which had lived an entire century. Even though his recollections of Rasmurnov’s memories and thoughts were obscure and fuzzy, like the clouds which covered the mountain, he knew very clearly that he was outmatched, in terms of both knowledge and wisdom. There could be no contest between a mind which had lived a century and one which had experienced a mere thirteen years of life.

Thirteen years? How old was he now, really? Before he could ponder the question, he pushed it to the back of his mind. This question of the vision was far more important. But when he cross-checked Rasmurnov’s memories for any information, he returned only a blank. But he had only a glimpse into Rasmurnov’s mind, a glimpse which had lasted an instant. Perhaps Rasmurnov would be able to know or deduce from his experience what had caused it, but if he did, Solera could not access the answer.

The flights of steps continued up the entire mountain, disappearing into the spinning vortex itself, but they stopped their ascent when they were a kilometer above the gateway from which Solera had entered and turned onto a path which wound its way around the mountain. His mind whispered to him, telling him the cave complex around the bend led to the dungeons beneath the Dome.

The dungeons! Solera’s stomach churned. Forget these questions about his new memories! What was the Tornado Sect going to do with him.

Images of dissected bodies and jars containing singular body parts sprang to the forefront of his mind, causing him to violently shudder. He couldn’t daydream, not now! He had to escape somehow, or he would face a fate much worse than death!

His body. Solera concentrated on himself, feeling for his strengths. He was incredibly weak, but still much stronger than he had been the last time he had been conscious. His bones had mended themselves, and a pale white hand grew out from the stump of tanned skin Rasmurnov had left behind. His muscles had atrophied, however, and the flow of verdant power within him had only just started replenishing itself.

But the group of masked channelers around him revealed no openings. The two at his side had their hands firmly gripping his shoulders, steering him whichever way he pleased.

A crushing feeling weighed down on Solera’s heart. An indeterminate amount of time had passed, yet his situation remained as hopeless as ever. For a moment, he had thought he could escape, just as he had thought he could defy Rasmurnov. But the only thing he could do, just like before, was maybe kill one man before he was subdued and sent to whatever grisly fate awaited him.

The small cave entrance appeared into view, guarded by another two masked channelers. The tunnel was well lit by chargelights and completely smooth, as if someone had spent years sanding down every rough edge. A metallic sheen glinted off the surface, causing the faint voice in the back of Solera’s mind to speak again, telling him it was reinforced by an antichanneling field.

“Here.”

He was tossed into the first cell that appeared, across from another containing a young man. Solera lay there on the smooth ground, looking for any imperfections in the cell which he could use to escape. But neither his mind nor Rasmurnov’s unconscious could find anything. Resigning himself, he took a seated position. The sound of the two rivulets that were to be his water supply and his toilet was all that accompanied him as he waited for his fate.

“Hey, you.”

Solera opened his eyes and looked at the black-skinned male facing him. He was muscular, with piercing red eyes. Yet when Solera looked upon him, he felt no sense of intimidation. Perhaps he had seen too many monsters to care about a mere human.

“What time of day is it outside?” The youth asked him, getting up to grip the bars of his own prison cell.

Solera blinked, struggling to remember. He had been too preoccupied to pay it any attention.

“Afternoon,” he finally responded after a lengthy educated guess.

The youth sighed, then went down on his knees and began doing push-ups. Solera looked on with disinterest. He was not going to give anyone a fit body to dissect.

“Where do you come from?” The boy asked as he seamlessly transitioned to clap push-ups.

“... Eden.” Solera saw no point in lying, so he told the truth.

“Ah, me too. Name’s Katzchen, by the way.” Two lies, the voice whispered. Solera’s eyes instantly narrowed, before closing completely. Who was this guy, a plant the Tornado Sect had set to get information from him?

“Prince… King Reginald is a good man.” The boy said. Not a lie. Solera’s eyes blinked open again to see the boy’s red eyes staring intently at him.

The two of them said nothing for a while, just staring at each other.

“What is the date?” Solera finally broke the silence.

“October of year 8023.” The boy answered. “Afternoon on the fifth, apparently.”

October… He had spent nine months knocked out by the demonic pill Rasmurnov had forced down his throat. Solera looked down at his hands. He was fourteen now, a half year away from turning fifteen.

Nine months! How many battles had been waged, how many people he knew had died in that time period?

“What’s the state of the war?” Solera blurted out. Whether this kid was lying, or a plant or whatever, he didn’t care! He wanted an answer!

Katzchen began to practice his punches, powerful punches which drew force from every part of his body, from his feet up to his shoulders. “I’ve been in here for two weeks, so I wouldn’t know. The guards feed me a lot of bullshit, though.”

“Tell me everything.” Solera snapped. Katzchen raised an eyebrow, then sat down.

“Civil war has broken out in the Verdant Empire. Lord Azurejade is blocking armies from the Floating Mountains and the Chechewa Prefecture from invading Eden’s north.

The information sent Solera reeling. The behemoth of the north, the Verdant Empire, also wished to attack Eden? Just what had his country done to earn the wrath of every single one of its neighbors?

Lord Azurejade, fighting off invading armies in the Azurejade Lakes? Solera had long known about the Lakes, which directly bordered Eden’s north. The Lakes were less than a hundred kilometers from the Grove, and occupied a landmass over half the size of Eden itself. If the armies broke through… Sweat beaded off Solera’s head. He had long expected to die a horrible death. But here was his father and home at stake!

“The United Duchies remains at Klora, unable to break Eden’s defensive line. The two sects have pushed past the Bamboo Tower, which still stands but is impotent, and are laying waste to Eden’s countryside.”

“Katzchen, you’re behind the news!” The sounds of laughing echoed off the stone walls. Two masked guards walked up to their cells, one of them jutting his chin out at Katzchen.

“Let me update you, my friend the rat. Your king’s new monster army deserted this very morning. Gone. Left a giant hole in your southern defensive line. I guess that’s another three cities getting burned to the ground right now, heh.”

“Bullshit, as usual.” Katzchen cracked his knuckles. “It’s time for my daily stroll, I think.”

But it wasn’t bullshit, the voice told Solera. The guard was telling the truth: the monsters really had deserted.

Of course they had, Solera realized bitterly. They were monsters, unwilling to die for a human struggle. All it took was for a single Seraph to be intimidated by the endless hordes of enemies they were faced with, and an entire monster army would desert along with it. This was the price of not having summoners dominate all the new monsters they were bringing in: they could not stop monsters from disobeying commands. Reginald, Skadi’s desperate actions of madly summoning in Sky spirits had backfired.

The door to his cell clanked as it opened, bringing his thoughts back to reality. He looked up at the two guards, whose faces were covered with smooth gray masks. Just two? Maybe he could do something, then.

“He just got here two minutes ago!” Katzchen shouted. “Is this another stupid prank or something?”

“No, he’s just much more import-” Solera’s overpowered palm smashed into the guard’s cheek, sending him reeling. Before the other one could react, he had pushed him into the two rivulets. Solera slammed the door shut and turned to run.

CRACKLE!

A tremor ran through Solera’s body, and he fell to the ground, totally immobilized. Rasmurnov stood several meters away, next to another middle-aged man with long gray hair.

“You gave him the gray pill, as ordered?” The middle-aged man said, his voice rich and strong. Across from Solera, Katzchen’s eyes widened.

“I did, Patriarch,” Rasmurnov spoke calmly. “I put on the drainer ropes just before.”

“Very good. You are dismissed.” The Patriarch walked up to Solera. Solera’s mind was frantically racing. The Patriarch? The Patriarch of the Tornado Sect? What was someone like that doing here?

BLAM! BLAM!

The sounds of sizzling flesh assaulted Solera’s nostrils. One of the guards fell to the floor next to Solera, his body reduced almost completely to charcoal.

Still completely immobilized, Solera was hoisted up over the Patriarch’s shoulders and carried away from the cells. The Patriarch blasted the wall with a bolt of light, causing a hidden door to swing open. Inside, Solera could see a faint altar, above which was a massive spherical rift, nearly a third of a meter in diameter. A gaseous cloud of gray power surrounded the sphere of distorted space, moving and coiling around like a living thing.

Realization dawned on Solera as the door behind him quietly closed, bringing with it a sense of absolute terror.

He was going to be possessed!

“NO! NO!” He screamed as he regained control of his limbs. He kicked and thrashed, but the Patriarch’s grip was like iron. He was thrown onto the altar and strapped down, preventing any further movement.

“STOP! ANYTHING BUT THAT!” Solera screamed.

A blast of gray light shot into the cloud, which at once coalesced into what could only be described as a claw, descending down upon the altar.

Apparently I made a mistake long ago while calculating distances. Lol, whoops. Eden is actually 4k km across, The surface area of the Southern Continent is actually 600m km^2, the prison camp was actually 200 km, the planet is a sphere of radius 100k km, etc. Fixes will be made... later. Thanks so much to Arkus for pointing out the sheer absurdity to me (although to be fair, this is a xianxia-style universe...)