After the tense conversation between Aeren and Baltazar, everyone fell into uncomfortable silence. The awkwardness hung heavy in the air until Darius broke it with his chilling voice.
"Ellie, you look... different." His cold eyes studied her thoroughly, and he could sense she possessed something that should have been his. Rage simmered within him, but he concealed it while maintaining his piercing stare.
Ellie had been watching Aeren intently before turning to Darius. She recognized the same expression on his face that she'd seen on Aeren's just moments ago, but she didn't smile at Darius. She understood the deeper meaning behind Aeren's frustrations and had pieced together many things, but Darius was easy to read—transparent in his jealousy.
"Yes, brother Darius. Something new has awakened within me and transformed who I am." Ellie responded with an unusually polite and calm tone, one rarely heard from her.
Emperor Baltazar also noticed how dramatically different Ellie appeared from her usual self. He could sense she possessed colors beyond the others and felt relief that at least one of his children hadn't disappointed him like Aeren.
Studying everyone present, Emperor Baltazar spoke with authority. "Let's conclude this meeting and focus on stabilizing your new abilities." He announced this reality because although they all possessed new colors, none had control over them yet. "Important guests arrive next week, so conduct yourselves with dignity and avoid speaking carelessly around them." His eyes fixed on Aeren as he spoke, clearly reminding his son not to appear worthless before the visitors.
Aeren caught his father's signal and understood its meaning, but chose not to argue. Instead, he felt something stirring within him—emotions that appeared and vanished like flickering flames.
Aeren became fascinated by these new sensations he could perceive. When he'd possessed his realm, he had controlled everything absolutely, absorbing others' essence into himself. But now, having lost his Realm, everything was different.
He began sensing things he'd always controlled: nerves, blood flow, instincts, thoughts, memories, heartbeat, bones—all the components within himself. After losing dominion over them, they had discovered their own freedom, traveling throughout his body like liberated prisoners.
This new understanding of internal freedom gave Aeren profound insights into its meaning. He realized that none of them had achieved true freedom—they were all seeking it outside of themselves.
As these realizations flooded through him, Aeren began experiencing every emotion simultaneously. Though he concealed it outwardly, he felt nauseated by the overwhelming sensations.
"YAHHHHKKK..."
Blood erupted from his mouth in violent spasms. He couldn't stop vomiting as he witnessed the cruel irony—these internal components had finally found the freedom they craved, but couldn't recognize they'd lost everything else in the process.
All the fragments of his being were left on the ground, motionless—everything sacrificed along the journey toward true freedom. As Aeren looked at the blood before him, he was overwhelmed by the deep, daunting meaning of what it truly meant to be free.
He recognized the unforgiving nature of true freedom, yet part of him still yearned to live it as they did—even understanding the pain it brought.
The vomiting continued relentlessly for an hour until his brain finally regained control, stabilizing the chaos within his body.
His brain, the ultimate dominator, had also tasted freedom but was intelligent enough never to want escape. Understanding Aeren's thoughts, it needed time to restore order before it would begin influencing his mind with worldly desires.
Aeren felt his self-control slipping away, reverting to the limitations he'd experienced in his first life.
Rising from his seat, he made his way to his chamber. Once there, he went directly to the washroom to cleanse himself of the blood that stained his body.
After spending considerable time washing away the evidence of his transformation, Aeren emerged and sat heavily on his bed, speaking to the empty room.
"I am no longer free. I've returned to my original self—the Aeren who struggled every moment to find freedom and still yearns for it desperately."
His voice cracked with the weight of realization.
"Now I have nothing left to lose. I have nothing... I am nothing... I'm as blind as everyone else now—controlled by desires, emotions, feelings, thoughts, past, future, fate..."
The words flowed like a confession to the darkness.
"I'm dying each moment like every other person dies. My footprints vanish without trace, my past erased by my former self. I can't perceive my future-self's meaning, and the present refuses to stay with me or anyone."
Tears began falling, each drop carrying the weight of his loss.
"Everything that was once mine—my time, my body, my past, my future, my present, my meaning, my very self—is now controlled by forces I once commanded."
"I'm trapped in the same illusion as everyone else, living meaninglessly. Death can pursue and claim me whenever it chooses, yet it hasn't come. Fate has assigned me a role in this world."
His voice broke completely.
"It hurts more than I ever imagined—being controlled again by what I once controlled. What is this pain? I'm feeling emotional anguish..."
Tears streamed down his face as he watched each droplet fall to the ground, seeing even in them the freedom that had been torn from his being.
Exhaustion overwhelmed him. His eyes grew heavy as he fought against sleep, but after struggling futilely, Aeren finally surrendered to unconsciousness on his bed.
Hidden assassins had witnessed Aeren's entire emotional breakdown, hearing every word, but their limited consciousness couldn't grasp the profound meaning behind his suffering. They cared nothing for the philosophy of his words, watching like predators and waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Seeing Aeren's vulnerability, they recognized their chance to strike, but remained patient, waiting for him to fall into deeper sleep.
Hours passed before they finally emerged from the shadows, surrounding his unconscious form.
"Did anyone understand what he was saying to himself?" one assassin whispered, hoping someone had gleaned meaning from Aeren's words that might benefit their own lives.
The others shook their heads—none had comprehended the deeper significance.
"I think he was just rambling nonsense. Let's finish him and be done with it," another suggested before anyone could waste more time on meaningless speculation.
They all nodded in agreement, but as they moved toward Aeren, they noticed a butterfly resting on his head. In the next instant, they collapsed to the ground without ever reaching their target.
Before their minds could process the cause of their sudden collapse, the assassins were pulled into something that transcended mortal comprehension.
They awakened in a realm of absolute emptiness—not merely darkness, but the complete absence of existence itself. Here, in this void between realities, they could see each other as faint outlines against the nothingness, like memories trying to hold their shape in a world that had forgotten them.
This wasn't Aeren's chamber. This wasn't anywhere. They had been torn from the fabric of reality itself and cast into the space where forgotten things go to fade away.
"Where are we?" one assassin called out, spinning in frantic circles, his voice trembling with fear. "Why is it so dark? What is this place?"
The others were just as bewildered, but as they tried to remember why they were there, panic set in. Their memories slipped away—first their purpose, then their mission, and finally even the sense of who they were. Faces, names, intentions—all faded like mist.
One by one, their voices faltered. The urge to speak remained, but the words themselves vanished, draining their last link to who they had been.
Out of the endless silence, a voice resonated—both achingly familiar and chillingly foreign. It echoed everywhere and nowhere at once.
"You were nothing but dreamers. These are the last words you will ever hear, for now you will vanish from existence itself."
A shape emerged from the void—a face bearing Aeren's own features, yet distant and cold like a reflection on black water. The assassins tried to grasp the significance, to think, to understand, but it was already too late.
They did not suffer, nor scream, nor bleed. They simply unraveled, erased thread by thread from the tapestry of being—unseen by fate, unnoticed by the universe itself.
In the end, it was as if they had never existed at all.