After my discussion with Alastor and Mo, I found myself wandering the gardens of the Mount Hua sect, an island of serenity perched high above the world. The gentle rustling of wind through the ancient trees carried whispers of legends, a fitting backdrop for the company I now kept. The three girls who had accompanied me decided to linger for a few days, their laughter and presence a soothing counterpoint to the turbulence in my mind.
In the quiet of dusk, I called her. "Luna," I said, and she appeared as if stepping out from the folds of the twilight itself. Her form was diminutive—no more than a child of five—and yet the ageless depth of her galaxy-like eyes, swirling with constellations, spoke of ancient wisdom and untold power.
Her gaze met mine, calm and unyielding. "So?" I prompted, though I suspected the answer.
She tilted her head, as if considering the gravity of her words. "It's as you thought. The memories… they only surface when he wills them to."
I exhaled slowly, the weight of her confirmation settling over me. This wasn't an unexpected revelation, but it carried implications that dug deeper than I cared to admit. The truth was both sharp and intricate, like a blade forged with too much care to be dismissed easily.
The metamorphosis of my mind—that was the reason my training with Art had propelled me to such dizzying heights. My mana rank had remained largely unchanged, but my ability to fight, to survive, had been refined to its absolute peak, an edge so sharp it could cut through the very fabric of certainty.
Yet neither Luna nor I could remember this transformation clearly. Those memories had been touched, molded, and hidden by Art's hand.
The thought gnawed at the edges of my mind, much like a rat in the pantry of an otherwise orderly kitchen. The doubts were small at first but persistent, and in time, they grew into something I could no longer ignore. That was why I'd asked Luna to jot down the reasons for my rapid strength growth, a list that we could later compare. I needed proof—evidence that my suspicions weren't mere shadows in the fog.
Luna's presence steadied me. Despite her youthful form, she was a qilin—a mythical creature whose very essence was woven from the threads of the cosmos. Even for Art, twisting her memories would have been no trivial feat. Yet he had succeeded, and this alone spoke volumes about his capabilities.
"It proves two things," I murmured, more to myself than to Luna. "First, Art is still manipulating our memories. And second… he actually cares for me."
Luna's expression remained unreadable, her galaxy eyes gleaming faintly in the dimming light. I continued, almost bitterly, "Why else would he ensure I remembered that method? To help the girls grow stronger, to stabilize their souls after I anchored them to mine." I looked away, my voice trailing off.
Her words stung with their quiet truth, but I pressed on. "And the time axis?" I asked, watching her carefully. "He's the one who twisted it, isn't he?"
Luna nodded, the faintest sigh escaping her. "It wasn't Alyssara."
Of course, it wasn't Alyssara. That had been my suspicion all along. While she might have the power to shift time itself, she lacked both the reason and the opportunity. Art, on the other hand, had every reason to weave his enigmatic designs across the threads of time.
Still, the revelation left me with more questions than answers. What were Art's limits in his current form? If he could manifest himself in a metaphysical state, to such devastating effect, how far could his power truly stretch? And perhaps more importantly, what stopped him from going further?
I stared into the horizon, the stars beginning to pierce the darkening sky like tiny pinpricks of light. The vastness of it all seemed to mirror the questions swirling in my mind—answers hidden among constellations only partially glimpsed.
For now, I could only wonder. But I knew one thing with unsettling clarity: Art was far from done with me, and whatever game he was playing, I was only beginning to grasp the rules.
"You shouldn't worry so much about him, Arthur," Luna said softly, her galaxy-like eyes reflecting a serene understanding far beyond her youthful appearance. "Whatever his reasons for manipulating your memories, it seems to be for your benefit."
I regarded her for a moment, the faint flicker of doubt still gnawing at the edges of my mind. Then I closed my eyes, letting the weight of her words settle. "No, I get it," I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. "It's because of what I felt during the mind metamorphosis—death, despair. It wasn't something you forget, not entirely."
That dark abyss, that fleeting moment where everything unraveled, had been the crucible of my growth. And Art—the original owner of this body—had known that. He had experienced it and ensured I would as well.
From what I could piece together, Art was a regressor, someone who had walked this path before, looped through time like a weaver endlessly threading the same tapestry. The enormity of that realization was a boulder on my shoulders, but it was the shadowy unknowns that troubled me more. If Art had once held such overwhelming strength, why was I here, fumbling in a body he must have mastered? What role was I supposed to play in this grand game?
That, I supposed, was a question only the future could answer.
For now, I had simpler, sharper goals. I needed to get stronger—far stronger. And there was still the matter of the Tower of Alchemy, that monolith of secrets demanding my attention.
Turning on my heel, I walked back into the building. The magnetic door slid open smoothly, a low hiss punctuating the quiet resolve of my thoughts. The glow of the corridor lights bathed the room in a soft amber hue, and the faint hum of modern machinery thrummed beneath my feet.
"Arthur," came a soft voice, pulling me from my musings.
I glanced up to see Seraphina approaching, her presence calm but commanding. There was a grace to her now that hadn't been there before, an undeniable power that shimmered beneath the surface like a blade honed to perfection. She was stronger—much stronger. She was near the Wall now, that elusive threshold where strength ceased to be linear and became something transcendent.
It was the result of the mind metamorphosis.
Not just for her, either. Rachel and Cecilia had undergone it as well. The three of them now stood as giants among their peers, second only to Lucifer and Ren in sheer capability. It was astonishing, really, how far they'd come.
But even as I admired their growth, another thought wormed its way into my mind. 'Should I do this for Jin too?'
The question was a difficult one, layered with complications. Anchoring someone's soul to mine required two things: a mind metamorphosis and a strong emotional connection—a bond so unbreakable that one would willingly die for the other.
And Jin? Jin and I weren't quite there yet.
My lips tightened as another thought surfaced, darker and far less palatable. 'There is a way for him to grow stronger, of course. But it's… a malicious method.' The idea lingered, unspoken but heavy, as if daring me to entertain it further.
I didn't have time to dwell on it. Seraphina stepped closer, her presence warm and grounding, and without a word, she wrapped her arms around me in a gentle hug. I felt the strength in her embrace, the quiet reassurance that despite everything, I wasn't carrying this weight alone.
For a moment, I let myself lean into it, let her steady presence anchor me. There were battles to fight, mysteries to unravel, and choices to make—but for now, there was this fleeting moment of peace.
And perhaps, just for a moment, that was enough.
"Are you leaving now?" Seraphina's voice cut through the stillness, calm yet laced with an unspoken plea. Her ice-blue eyes met mine, their usual stoic clarity now tinged with something softer, something fragile. For all her composure, the cracks were showing.
"I am," I replied, letting the words settle between us like the falling of an iron gate. My gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before I leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to her forehead. "Scale the Wall by the time I return, Sera."
Her lips parted, and her voice, steady as stone, carried a resolve that matched the glint in her eyes. "I will."
There was no hesitation in her words, no wavering. Seraphina Zenith didn't make promises lightly. And yet, before the weight of our exchange could settle fully, another voice broke through.
"We'll do our best too," Rachel said as she stepped forward, her presence a burst of vitality in the subdued atmosphere. Her warmth was infectious, her arms wrapping around me without hesitation.
Cecilia followed, a teasing smirk dancing on her lips, though her embrace was no less heartfelt. "After all, you did this for us," she added, her voice soft but edged with her usual playful charm.
I stood there for a moment, holding all three of them close, their strength and resolve mingling with my own. There were no words for what we'd endured together, no simple explanation for what we had become. The despair, the feeling of death that had once clawed at me in the depths of the mind metamorphosis—it was all worth it. For them, it was worth it.
I pulled back, my eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "I'll be back," I said simply, the promise unspoken but understood.
It was time for the Tower of Alchemy.