I See You

"Miss, this is bad. I may have made a misjudgment..." Ed burst through the wooden door without bothering to knock and stammered at Alice.

"What's gotten you so flustered?" Alice was patiently wiping her longsword, speaking without even looking up.

"He—the ritual—might not have been from the Descent School at all. It might have been from the Marking School!"

"What do you mean?"

"If it had been a Descent School ritual, the aura should have dissipated quickly. Only Marking School rituals can slow the dissipation of an aura."

"So..." Alice vaguely guessed what he meant. She sprang to her feet, the longsword in her hand flashing with silver light.

"It's very likely... Young Mas—" Seeing Alice's icy gaze, Ed wisely swallowed the word "master" and said vaguely, "Master Sart just performed an Identification Ritual on him. He may still be in danger... The Rat-Faced Cult may still be watching him."

Alice strode out the door, grabbed the shield leaning beside it, and shoved the obstructing Ed aside. Only then did she shout, "So where is he now?"

"I heard he went back with Master Sart," Ed shouted, hurrying after her.

Naturally, Aaron knew nothing of what was happening outside, but he had noticed the changes as well.

In his vision, the blocks of color silently receded. The outlines of all things emerged, and everything returned to normal, even becoming somewhat clearer than before.

Because of that, he clearly saw pale yellow fur growing on the old man's face. His already slightly hunched body had bent over further, faintly taking on the characteristics of a rat.

So this was a Rat-Face?

Aaron was not panicked. He even studied the old man with some curiosity.

After all, Sart had solemnly emphasized that the Enlightenment Ritual was an illusion produced when the soul communicated with traces of supernatural aura.

Since it was an illusion, then theoretically, as long as he did not believe in it, it could not hurt him. Aaron had that much common sense.

But as the old man changed, the surrounding environment also shifted without him realizing it.

It was clearly still the same place, yet for some reason, an inexplicable fear lingered in Aaron's heart.

Faintly, he seemed to see countless pairs of eyes studying him from the darkness.

The dim yellow firelight froze in midair, casting a pitifully small amount of light.

The flames that had once symbolized light did not bring Aaron hope. Instead, they cast the wooden handle's shadow onto the floor. At a glance, it looked like a withered black hand tightly clutching a dying flame.

Aaron did not know whether it was an illusion, but he seemed to hear those inexplicable whispers again.

If that were all, it would only make Aaron somewhat uncomfortable. After all, he had begun by being locked in a little dark room and forced to watch mysterious illusions for who knew how long. Those spinning coins and low murmurs had been far more despairing than this scene.

Thinking back on it now, Aaron vaguely felt that the illusion from the beginning might have been some kind of supernatural phenomenon. That would explain why his head hurt whenever he tried to listen closely to those whispers.

His brain had instinctively rejected information beyond the range of mortal understanding.

So, had some curious foolhardy idiot actually started trying to come into contact with supernatural knowledge long ago?

Aaron's heart jolted, and lingering fear rose within him.

Sart had explained the consequences of failing to receive supernatural information very clearly. At best, it would only cause a splitting headache; at worst, one could die on the spot or turn into some grotesque monster.

Besides, he had not yet undergone the Enlightenment Ritual back then. He had not been communicating with an aura left behind after a supernatural phenomenon—he had personally experienced a supernatural event directly!

That was like walking through a battlefield filled with flying arrows without wearing armor, then returning almost completely unscathed.

At that thought, the corner of Aaron's mouth twitched.

The original owner of this body had never encountered a supernatural event in his life, yet Aaron had run into one right at the beginning.

Just then, Aaron suddenly heard a low laugh. He instinctively looked up and saw the old man casually toss aside his wooden staff and shift his posture.

His body grew ever thinner, but the shadow beneath his feet expanded more and more.

Under the firelight, the old man's shadow seemed to become a massive black rat. Faintly, Aaron heard the squeaking of a rat.

"This immersion is pretty strong. I'm starting to get scared," Aaron muttered sarcastically.

Since Sart said it was an illusion, he could just treat it like watching VR...

Wait, hold on—why was this guy coming over?!

Aaron's state was strange. On one hand, he seemed to be inside the scene, yet on the other, he could clearly feel that he was merely watching a fixed image. There was still an indescribable distance between him and the image, or perhaps some kind of barrier.

And now, not only had the old man begun moving, he was even walking toward Aaron step by step.

Was this... fake?

Why was the image moving?

Aaron swallowed, beginning to panic.

But despite his unease, he was still curious about what would happen next.

Before he could think any further, the old man had already reached the edge of the "image" and silently stared at Aaron.

The shadow beneath his feet spiraled upward, covering the entire image in the blink of an eye.

Aaron's senses had not been wrong. There truly was an invisible barrier between the image and him.

But in the next instant, the shadows surged. Accompanied by a sound like shattering glass, a crack seemed to form in the invisible barrier.

A vast amount of shadow poured through that unseen crack, gathering and condensing before Aaron until it finally formed a black sphere the size of a human head.

Hey, this didn't seem fake, did it?

"Aaron, I finally found you..." The sphere's voice resembled the shrill screeching of a rat, sounding exceptionally piercing.

"Who are you?"

"Me? You don't know me, but I know you. Old Albert wanted to preserve the spark, but unfortunately, he seemed not to realize that rats are everywhere." The shadow let out a chilling low laugh.

"You're a Rat-Face?" Aaron had already suspected as much.

"Rather, we are Rat-Faces... I see you, Aaron. I know you, Aaron..." The shadow whispered, and the sphere invisibly swelled a little larger.

Every word felt like sandpaper scraping directly across Aaron's eardrums, and a dull, inexplicable pain spread through his entire body.

The pain urged Aaron to scream and vent it, but in the realm of the soul, "screaming" was not even an option. He could only futilely transmit his agony outward.

And the shadow caught it. It cried smugly, "Last time, someone ruined my Descent Ritual. But this time, no one can save you. Give up, Aaron..."

The indescribable pain gradually blurred Aaron's consciousness. Yet while the pain was driving him mad, it was also struggling to keep him awake.

The pain was so real that he could not help but begin to wonder...

Was this an illusion? Or was it real?

At the same time, Sart watched the azure light gradually dim, replaced by endlessly churning black shadows.

He could only watch helplessly as the shadows slowly devoured Aaron.

No matter how many times Sart added Spirit Powder, he ultimately failed to suppress the darkness.

His heart slowly sank. That meant the aura of the Heretical Cult had begun contaminating Aaron's soul.

Even if Aaron could awaken from this Enlightenment Ritual, he would most likely become a follower of the Heretical Cult!

But the next second, he saw a spinning Two-Colored Gold Coin and countless rays of light pouring from it.

He clearly sensed that it was not light, but the manifestation of fate!

Had the powerful figure behind Aaron made a move?