When Marcellus conquered his Dream Psyche, merging it with the Marcellus of old, he shed the skin of his former self.
The person he once was, Marcellus the naive youth, Marcellus the hopeful dreamer, and even Marcellus the naive idealist, was left behind in the wake of this transformation.
This, shedding the husk of his past life, was the true power of a Hollowed.
Hollowed have resilient minds, that shed derangements and animalistic quirks and will become resistant to mind tricks.
Hollowed could effortlessly shed off derangements, akin to a snake shedding its skin!
Imagine a Hollowed's inner self, like Marcellus in this instance, as a intricate landscape. On the surface, there exists the conscious mind, but below it lies the Dream Psyche, constrained by past traumas, a convoluted wilderness where derangements and primal instincts find their home. Upon becoming a Hollowed, Marcellus acquired the power to confront these shadowy facets. Much like pruning overgrown vines, he could sever the tendrils of madness and rid himself of their beastly urges, ultimately revealing a more refined and resilient mind in their wake.
Marcellus, having been touched by the dream's aura and power, in the form of a 'boon' that saved him from the brink of death, had also been affected by the diary. He was already grappling with significant mental issues, to the extent that he succumbed to madness during his time on the ship.
In his madness, Marcellus found himself obsessively reading the diary repeatedly.
His deteriorating mental state led him to abandon any attempts to conceal the diary.
In a fit of madness, he even managed to slay a Wereshark, attaining the level of a saintly Tenma.
It was a perilous point in his life, as he was essentially condemned to die either if his madness fully overtook him or if he recklessly challenged someone stronger than himself.
Fortunately, a stroke of luck intervened.
The governor, through Edwin, took the diary from Marcellus, significantly reducing its influence on him and providing a glimmer of hope in his dire situation.
However, this carried a caveat that dampened the good news.
Once a person had been touched by supernatural powers, regardless of the extent, they inevitably descended into madness.
In scenarios where the influence was relatively minor, it could manifest as memory loss, difficulty in concentrating or recalling information, and symptoms of anxiety and depression. For those with weaker minds, it might even lead to hallucinations and delusions.
In the presence of a substantial supernatural influence, the outcomes can be highly unpredictable. Two potential outcomes emerge from this precarious situation. One leads to swift and unequivocal death, while the other results in a transformation so profound that it reshapes you into something entirely unrecognizable.
For Marcellus, it was the former—an encounter with the Dream that bestowed upon him a blessing, albeit tainted.
Unbeknownst to him, he stumbled upon a diary harboring powers of Aspirants and Mystical In nature.
While these forces may not inherently oppose each other, they possessed the unique quality of balance.
This equilibrium, however, did not dispel Marcellus's madness; rather, it perpetuated it. He had been consumed by madness prior to acquiring the diary, and the diary did not reverse this condition. Instead, it maintained him in a state where a process and its reverse occurred in perfect equilibrium, preventing any substantial change from taking place.
With the diary no longer in his possession, this delicate equilibrium was disrupted. As Marcellus lost the diary, his spirituality as a regular human warned him, and the influence over him intensified. He found himself in a constant state of anxiety and depression, occasionally plagued by hallucinations and delusions.
His escalating anxiety compelled him to pursue Aspirant powers as if his very life depended on it, his spirituality warned him. The fear of death loomed over him, and he felt that seeking out mystical powers was his only hope for survival.
One of these hallucinations and delusions took the form of a letter penned to Ayden.
Marcellus composed a heartfelt letter to Ayden, pouring out his thoughts and emotions.
Yet, in reality, Ayden never replied.
It was within these hallucinations that Marcellus conjured an illusory response from Ayden, and these delusions ultimately steered him towards working for Edwin.
As Marcellus embarked on his journey as an Aspirant, the grip of madness that had ensnared him began to loosen its hold. While it didn't entirely dissipate, the symptoms and maladaptive behaviors diminished to a manageable level. An illustrative example was the incident in the yard when he engaged in a confrontation with Finn.
In his delusional state, Marcellus convinced himself that he had exerted brutal dominance over Finn, envisioning the aftermath as something that would leave Finn wounded for weeks, if not months. In reality, Finn did indeed experience defeat, but the extent of it was far less exaggerated than Marcellus had perceived.
The actual fight had been relatively brief.
An average grown adult typically possessed the strength equivalent to that of a third-rate warrior.
However, Finn was anything but average. His Tenma thickness elevated him to the status of a second-rate Warrior, coupled with an intermediate level of fighting skill. When Marcellus took on the challenge to confront him, Marcellus himself had achieved the fighting proficiency of an intermediate fighter and had attained the Tenma level of a sword saint. This gave him a significant advantage in terms of sheer strength and speed during their confrontation.
Hence, the fight had indeed been brief. The notable difference was that after acquiring Aspirant powers, the madness ceased to manifest outwardly, instead remaining confined to the recesses of his mind.
Over time, Marcellus devoted himself to mastering the nuances of 'Flow' and 'armchops,' the two primary sword styles taught in Draewyn.
His unwavering commitment to excellence eventually led him to achieve mastery in both the Water god Style and Sword god Style. Under the guidance of Martia, he would go on to incorporate advanced sword techniques like 'Lightning Draw' and 'Longsword of Absolute Silence' into his formidable repertoire.
However, these accomplishments came later in his journey.
Reflecting on it now, these maladaptive behaviors were glaringly evident. It seemed like everyone was discussing them, and even Livius, who wouldn't meet Marcellus until later on, had already heard about his madness.
The very essence of the influence on Marcellus underwent a profound transformation.
It evolved gradually, transitioning from its original state, exhibiting fluctuations in intensity, sometimes surging and at other times receding. Eventually, it reached a pivotal juncture, where it underwent a momentous alteration ceasing to manifest outwardly, instead remaining confined to the recesses of his mind.
In this unique circumstance, the influence introduced by Severin blended with the existing amalgamation, and when a battle unfolded between the current incarnation of Marcellus and his former self, all derangements were purged, consumed by the tumultuous clash within.
In this transformed state, Marcellus now possessed an unclouded recollection of every detail, his memories restored to pristine clarity.
Indeed, even his memories from the Dream were now crystal clear and accessible in his newfound state of clarity.
This was the state of mind Marcellus attained during the battle within Mr. Doan's establishment, a state that brought him to tears.
As his memories surged back, he was struck by a startling revelation – he had been manipulated by a cunning criminal, and even Ralf had succumbed to this sinister influence.
He recalled that Priest Corwin had once mentioned a malevolent figure named Severin!
The urge to flee welled up within him, but he hesitated.
Uncertainty gnawed at him, as he pondered Severin's plans and the instructions he might have given to Ralf. Unlike his own experience with Livius, Severin hadn't overtly manipulated Ralf in his presence. Marcellus couldn't shake the feeling that they were working in concert, and his knowledge of Ralf was limited.
His impression of Ralf was that of a portly, shady womanizer who had a penchant for feigning old age and insisting on respect.
He also realized that he had never seen the rotund man act pious or show any reverence toward the Lord of Storms. It dawned on him that Ralf was not a religious man, and if he were, Marcellus could have wagered that Ralf might still be loyal to the church.
Even as he contemplated the possibility of escape, Marcellus couldn't help but acknowledge that Ralf, though not strong enough to deliver a fatal strike, still wielded enough strength to engage in a protracted and exhausting battle.
Marcellus found himself with little choice but to bide his time, waiting for that elusive opportune moment to present itself.
Unfortunately, when the moment finally arrived, it proved far from ideal — Corwin was essentially comatose!
As the flames from the burning establishment cast an eerie glow on the street, Marcellus's hope waned.
The burnt marks on Corwin's body served as a stark reminder of the dire situation he found themselves in.
Ralf, Severin, and Marcellus observed as Finn and Priest Corwin engaged in an intense staring contest.
"It's you... it's really you," Marcellus heard a familiar voice emerge from the shadows as Ingrid sauntered out.
Without a hint of fear, she sprinted toward the trio comprising Marcellus, Severin, and Ralf. The rotund knight wore a perplexed expression, staring at Ingrid with confusion evident on his face.
Marcellus couldn't help but curse inwardly, his frustration boiling over. Son of a sow! I'm going to throttle that wench!
He wanted nothing more than to confront her actions as he remembered she had drugged him, but something in the urgency of her arrival held him back.
Surprisingly, Severin sported a broad grin as Ingrid approached, enveloping her in a heartfelt embrace as she wept. "You came... it's really you. I never thought you would. Men rarely keep their promises," she managed to say between gasps for breath. "Did you, do it? The fire... the building is on fire, that must mean you did it, right? Tell me, please..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes pleading for confirmation.
Severin's response was measured, nodding with a calm demeanor. "You're absolutely correct. I did it, just as I promised you I would. Let no one claim I am anything but a man of my word."
Relief washed over Ingrid, her legs buckling beneath her. She sank to the ground, a joyous whisper escaping her lips. "Yes, you are my savior, my benefactor. I always knew you would come through, no, I believed you would,"
Her hand found its way to her face, tears tracing silent paths through the soot. "I've dreamed of this day, day after day. I'm a free woman now. I've dreamt of this day for so long," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion.
"Now, I am finally free."
Marcellus's mind, along with the others, raced to comprehend the conversation unfolding before them.
Ingrid's voice perked up again as she whispered, "The papers, the documents..."
"If I don't retrieve those documents, I'll become the property of his next of kin... no, that wretch had no family. He had associates," she continued, the urgency evident in her words. "I may be free, but I still need those documents to truly be a free citizen."
In Anglia, as well as in Draewyn as a whole, it was generally looked down upon to pass slaves as inheritance, so most people refrained from doing so. However, in the event of a master's death, the slave was effectively liberated from their master's control, becoming a genuinely free individual. Nevertheless, a freed slave required specific documents and proof of their master's demise to be recognized as citizens of the Draewyn Empire.
As the majority of slaves typically hailed from other empires or unrecognized territories, the need for proper documentation and recognition as Draewyn Empire citizens became all the more critical for their newfound freedom.
A free person without these documents was essentially a nomad, belonging to no specific place. In essence, the most significant disadvantage was that they couldn't own land or establish a coat of arms, among other limitations.
These limitations remained relatively inconspicuous for the majority of lowborn and peasants.
They could lead their lives without necessarily encountering these restrictions. However, Ingrid found herself in a highly emotional state, craving validation of her newfound freedom.
The ecstasy was overwhelming, and she yearned for physical confirmation.
Doubt had crept in; she hadn't witnessed Severin kill her master, Doan.
Ingrid had endured slavery since she could barely walk, spanning nearly two decades. How could she simply place her trust in this man, when men had lied to her throughout her entire life? She needed to see with her own eyes.
She needed confirmation!