Pain!
Such pain!
My head hurts so much!
It’s as if my head has been smashed by a colossal hamr, reducing my brain to a scattered ss of pulp.
The shrill ringing in my ears is like sharp nails scratching glass, leaving behind streaks of rusty iron marks, and then these marks transform into a scorching iron rod that pierces through from my nostrils, stirring things up, pulling out stained blood and pale brain matter together.
Agony beyond words!
Shawn feels as though soone has sliced open his stomach, without anesthesia, a slender yet strong hand reaching inside, grabbing his intestines, pulling them apart, then fumbling through other organs, finally grasping an indescribable thing, gently pulsating like a dark, swollen tumor, the hand cautiously holding onto it, as if clutching a heart that has not yet ceased beating.
"Hmm?"
Shawn hears a cold female voice, slightly magnetic.
His senses begin to gradually erge.
His brain is still trembling, as if after extre indolence, his body’s instinct is urging his brain to function, yet inside it feels hollow, brain matter seemingly glued together, consciousness shrouded in chaos, stripped away from this body alongside the scorching iron rod and shrill sounds.
He slls a whiff similar to formaldehyde, as if his whole body has been steeped in formaldehyde, a thick, pungent sll with a hint of decay, the cold tal fra beneath him seems like a mortuary bed, creaking under the strain of his convulsions.
Cold.
Bone-chilling cold.
Shawn feels a thin sheet stained with dried blood and filthy marks covering him like a shroud, as his vision gradually recovers, he sees a cluster of cold glimr in the darkness, reminiscent of a swinging dusty chandelier from bygone mories, slowly coming into shape amid hazy recollections.
A bizarre figure wearing a crow mask, or sothing similar, uncertain if it’s human, is gazing at him solemnly.
"Mutation detected."
"Subject 168 suspected of resurrection."
Accompanied by a indifferent female voice, Shawn feels a slender, ice-cold finger gently stroke his forehead, and suddenly he loses all ability to struggle, his body paralyzed, unable to move, his consciousness left searching for a sliver of self and reason in endless chaos.
He is unable to discern or judge anything, in the jumbled mories, the last ti he felt like this was during a general anesthesia surgery, waking up to a mind muddled, as if wiped of a passage of ti.
Yet thankfully, despite being unable to move, his consciousness retains a flicker of clarity, a weak spark flashing.
His consciousness and mories are in complete disarray.
He suspects his brain was indeed stirred by a rod and directly extracted from his nostril, as a spark shines amid chaotic consciousness, he finally catches a glimpse of sothing.
A woman.
Her face remains unclear, she removes the black crow mask, silver hair cascading down, dazzling, her expression cautious and solemn, white gloves stained with murky blood and gray, placing down the iron rod she’s holding, next to her is a grotesque giant skull, hollow eye sockets still sared with blood and flesh, hunched servilely beside her, observing Shawn’s consciousness, she cautiously says, "Target has been controlled."
"No abnormalities in the Undying Cyst."
"Notify the ntor imdiately."
The numb sensation persists, but his eyes can now move, Shawn wants to open his mouth, but is unable to produce sound, as if his vocal cords were severed, his consciousness still deeply chaotic, two completely different mory sparks flicker in his brain, finally vanishing into oblivion together, leaving only endless pain and chaos.
mories are rging, chaotic, death’s throes, consciousness blurred, retracing a series of scenes.
"Target has resistance to [Undying Touch]."
"Perhaps the power of the Undying Cyst has already taken effect."
"But the target has not transford into a creature of the Undying Sequence," the woman opens Shawn’s eyelids, calmly observing montarily, continues recording, "Extracted brain tissue is beginning to regenerate."
"This is the Extraordinary Traits of the path of Death."
"Has the ntor’s experint succeeded?"
Shawn’s pupils begin to focus, yet he still cannot clearly see the woman’s face, he struggles to turn his head, sees a ghastly dissected corpse, brain removed, organs laid out, a hunched skeleton, surface exceptionally smooth, like a bone specin, sealing these sinister items into jars.
This is a mortuary, surrounded by cold bodies, the scent of preservatives filling his nostrils, making him want to vomit but unable, as if his throat were blocked.
"ntor!"
Shawn dimly hears a sound, then he sees a floating skull, remarkably smooth, pure white as jade, a dazzling ruby embedded in its forehead, hollow eyes staring at him.
"Otherworld Soul?"
"Interesting."
"Have you captured another wandering Otherworld Soul from the Sea of Chaos?"
The floating skull assembles itself a body, stripping away flesh, forming a clean, orderly skeleton, cold finger bones landing on Shawn’s forehead, seemingly conversing with so presence, a cold voice states, "A very clean Otherworld soul."
"Just a bit of chaotic consciousness."
"Very good."
Consciousness is subrged in darkness.
Uncertain how long has passed, Shawn’s eyelids flickers, yet he doesn’t open his eyes, rembering what he previously saw, all too physically ’mind-blowing’ for him.
But he doesn’t seem quite so afraid.
"You’re awake."
"No need to feign, I can detect your superficial thoughts," that cold female voice sounds by his ear.
She re-donned the crow mask, coldly remarks, "No need to lie."
"Nor to tell where you hail from."
"Otherworld soul."
"I have no interest in your past, you should recall so events before your death."
"After all, death is the most unforgettable mory!"
"I’m giving you fifteen minutes to calm down, then I’ll tell you so things you need to know."
"As for what happens next, destiny will make arrangents for you."
The footsteps gradually faded away.
Shawn slowly opened his eyes and struggled to prop himself up. The pungent sll of preservatives made him vomit, cloudy black clots, mixed with what seed like fragnts of viscera, causing his heartbeat to montarily stop, then start again slowly.
On the edge of the rusty, spotted iron bedfra was a pool of still-wet blood, where pieces of what looked like visceral fragnts could be seen, as if sothing had been removed from inside his body.
Broken mories began to rge.
He realized he had transmigrated because ’death is the most unforgettable mory.’
Although his consciousness was currently a bit muddled, he still rembered the mont of death from previous overwork.
The current body was clearly much younger, and this place was a mortuary, surrounded by cold bodies, with a skeleton in the corner that looked like a specin.
Alive.
Just motionless for now.
There was a stitched wound on his abdon, crudely done, at most on a trainee’s level from a doctor’s perspective.
On the right was a mummy wrapped entirely in grey-white bandages, whose brain and viscera had been removed.
What happened?
Shawn’s consciousness searched for a breakthrough in the chaotic mories, but he had no clue, only knowing he transmigrated and possibly resurrected since sparks of mory were flashing, with two entirely different mory images rging.
More chaotic mories drifted in the void, cold and lonely, drifting in nothingness for who knows how many years.
"Ti’s up."
A cold set of footsteps sounded again, the floor was smooth, and the woman wearing a raven mask reappeared. She should be very young, it seed, as she cautiously watched Shawn in front of her and slowly spoke, "You should have rembered so things."
"For example, death."
Clang.
A glint of cold light appeared.
A sharp ritual dagger appeared in front of Shawn, causing him to instinctively distance himself a bit. The woman with the raven mask placed the dagger before Shawn, saying coldly, "You’re not the first Otherworld soul to co to this world."
"Obviously."
"So of you are not suited for survival in this mad world."
"So people went mad from the start."
"If you wish to return to the embrace of [death],"
"use this ritual dagger to pierce your heart, and you can regain rest."
Shawn knitted his brows, looking at the dagger, then at the woman.
He tried to rationally analyze everything he saw, but his brain still throbbed with pain, almost unable to make any judgnt, even feeling a crazy urge compelling him to grasp the dagger.
The dagger was calling to him, as if it had a mind of its own.
Perhaps it was alive too.
"Good."
"You still want to live. That’s a good thing." The woman retrieved the dagger, turned, and said, "Co with ."
"I will take you to et soone."
"He is also an Otherworld soul resurrected from death."
Could it be that he wasn’t the only one who transmigrated?
Shawn’s heart was full of doubts. He glanced at the mortuary and unhesitatingly followed the woman’s footsteps.
He had already died once.
The mory of death was so unforgettable, sustaining him in this icy mortuary as he searched for self from the broken sparks of mory, looking for traces of the past.
"Your mories are chaotic."
"That’s normal because any ans of rebirth will lose a part of the mory."
"As long as you rember who you are."
The woman suddenly stopped, calmly gazing at the ’resurrected one’ before her, slowly said, "Do you rember who you are?"
"Shawn!" Shawn blurted out instinctively.
Completely unable to resist.
His ability to speak seed to have fully recovered, and after vomiting that filthy clot, even his breathing beca a bit lighter.
But still, there was a slight stabbing pain in the chest.
"Good."
"Rember who you are, never lose yourself," the woman said calmly as she turned.
A dazzling halo appeared.
The woman with long silver hair pushed open the door to the mortuary.
......
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