Chapter 3 - Ashen Spirits and Lost Memories

Jhon stumbled through the Graymarch Borderlands, his lungs burning as Liora's relentless pace dragged him deeper into the wilds. The storm had broken, leaving a sodden mist that clung to twisted trees—remnants of elven spirit groves clashing with jagged human outposts. Every few steps, his body betrayed him: aura surged unbidden, cracking boulders; faint mana wisps ignited puddles into steam; and spirit essence whispered like static in his veins. This isn't power, he thought, it's a glitchy video game character on cheat mode. ��Liora glanced back, her half-elven ears twitching at distant howls. "Quiet your resonance. You're drawing every beast from here to the Mortislands." She sheathed her spirit blade, its wind essence fading to a soft glow. As a product of mixed blood—human tenacity and elven spirit affinity—she navigated these lands with ease, but Jhon's presence was a beacon. "The Order's scouts will track that chaos signature. Explain yourself before I leave you for them."Jhon wiped mud from his face, collapsing against a mossy ruin. "Okay, truth? I died. New York, building fire—smoke everywhere, then blackout. Woke up as this." He gestured at his lithe, scarred body, Rai'on's vessel. "No manual, no tutorial. And apparently, your world thinks I'm public enemy number one."Liora's eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, the air thickened. Gray wisps coalesced around Jhon—Ashen Spirits, ethereal remnants of the Sundering, their forms like swirling ash and forgotten faces. They swirled protectively, repelling probing spirit senses from afar. Liora froze. "Impossible. Ashen Spirits shun the living, especially traitors like Rai'on. Yet they guard you?" ��One spirit brushed Jhon's temple, and pain lanced through his skull. The world dissolved into visions—not his, but Rai'on's fragmented memories. Towering Ethereal Bridges crumbling under siege, gods clashing in aura storms that rent the sky. Rai'on—no, the original—standing amid the chaos, hand outstretched not in betrayal, but desperation, channeling a forbidden fusion of aura, mana, and spirit essence to seal something vast and shadowy. "Not the destroyer," a voice echoed in his mind, feminine and chained—Seris the Sealed One, the goddess imprisoned within. "You wear his skin, mortal soul. But his truth was twisted by victors." ��Jhon gasped, clutching his head as the vision faded. The spirits dissipated, leaving Liora staring. "What did you see? Your aura spiked like an archon's awakening!""Uh... fireworks? Bad trip?" Jhon lied, heart pounding. Goddess inside me? This isekai's escalating too fast. But the comedic mask slipped when a spirit echo lingered, manifesting as a harmless gray orb that bobbed after him like a lost puppy. Liora snorted despite herself. "Even spirits mock you now. Fine—truce holds till we reach the Broken Sect ruins. They hoard Sundering lore. Maybe answers for your 'glitch.'"They pressed on, the orb trailing comically, bumping into branches and startling wildlife. Jhon tried meditating as per half-remembered cultivation novels—circulating aura through meridians—but it backfired, launching him into a thorn bush. "Ow! Body, we're a team!" Liora stifled a laugh, her guard lowering a fraction. "Rai'on the terror, felled by foliage. The prophecies lied."Deeper in the borderlands, racial tensions simmered. A draconian patrol eyed them warily—scales smoldering with innate mana-fire—while distant elven songs wove protective spirit veils. Humans bartered relics in shanties, their aura trinkets glowing faintly. Jhon absorbed it all, the outsider's perspective sharpening. World's a powder keg. Aura sects vs. mana circles, spirits caught in between. And me? The match.Night fell as they crested a ridge overlooking the Broken Sect Sanctuary—crumbling pagodas overgrown with ash-vines, aura scars etched into stone from a long-ago cataclysm. Liora whispered, "This place fell experimenting with hybrid essences—banned after the gods shattered. Tread carefully; guardians remain."But as they approached, Jhon's core thrummed. The gray orb pulsed, drawing ethereal eyes from the ruins. Seris's voice murmured again: "The first seal weakens. Seek the Key within." Jhon tripped over a root—pure clumsiness—tumbling into the sanctuary wards. Alarms blared, spectral warriors manifesting. Liora drew her blade. "Great. Your 'weakness' just woke the dead."Chaos erupted anew, Jhon's erratic powers clashing with ancient defenses in bursts of light and shadow. Amid the frenzy, he glimpsed a carved mural: Rai'on—not destroying, but saving the bridges, betrayed by allies. Misunderstood from the start. As Liora fought beside him, their alliance forged in fire and farce, Jhon realized Eryndor's truths ran deeper than any sect's lies. But survival came first—one flailing aura blast at a