Yearning...
"Those were... memories?!"
Ian came to his senses. A tiny crack had appeared in his mental state just now; he had failed to maintain a flawless, perfectly rounded state of mind. But he did not think that was a problem. If someone truly never felt their emotions stir, then life would have little flavor indeed.
The Hive Mind's psychic attack had indeed struck with precision. That was the enemy's strength.
But it could not truly make the youth fall. He held fast to his heart and began rejecting these fragments of memory from other souls.
It merely took time.
Light and shadow continued to revolve.
The gathering had ended. Dim light shone over the cramped underground residential district, and at some point, the boy had become an adult. He arrived in an ecosystem filled with frost, with a dim artificial light source hanging overhead.
Even the moon in videos was brighter than that light. He stepped over snow, and the long-compacted frozen ground reflected the light above. Drifting snow dust reflected it too, like stars blown down from the heavens by the wind, circling around him.
But they were not real stars in the end. He had never seen real stars. He had never even seen real snow, never seen truly green grasslands, never seen sea tides crashing against reefs or heard the roar of a sea of leaves churning in the wind. He knew everything, yet had seen nothing.
Ian now understood somewhat. The memories before him ought to have been fragments from the Redwood High Elder of that time. These were fragments that had left a deep imprint during his childhood, even mixed with the memories of others—the Brood was not the Redwood High Elder. Setting aside how many Redwood People the High Elder had devoured after