Lynn sank deeper and deeper into the River Styx.
The water around him was grayish white. There was no light and no sound, and no extraordinary power could be gathered within the River Styx. The only thing he could rely on was his physical body.
Countless fragments of memory surged in from every direction and drilled into his mind. Some scenes were clear, while others were blurry.
The clear scenes were memories steeped in obsession.
A mother clutched her dead child and wept, her cries shrill and heart-rending.
A warrior was pierced through the chest by a spear on the battlefield. Even at the brink of death, he still gripped his sword and refused to fall.
An old man sat by the window, watching the sunset outside as he murmured someone's name.
The blurry scenes were forgotten memories.
A childhood playmate whose face could no longer be made out.
A book he had read whose contents he could no longer remember.
A road he had traveled, its scenery now indistinct.
Countless memory fragments churned through his mind like porridge at a rolling boil.
They sought to disrupt his thoughts, destroy his reason, and turn him into a madman who did not even know who he was.
If this continued, the memories from both his lives would be overwhelmed by this vast flood of fragments, and he would become a madman.
He had to save himself!
These memory fragments merged directly into his soul. There was simply no way to forget them.
Since he could not forget them, then he would contain them!
Lynn closed his eyes and opened the Memory Library within his sea of consciousness.
The golden gates swung open, and countless bookshelves flew out, hovering within his sea of consciousness.
The incoming memory fragments were drawn toward the