Chapter 72: The Seeds of Malice

As the apocalyptic fire washed over his perception, a single, burning question burned in his mind:

’If Nyx designed this total extinction... how did the purple crystal end up on Earth? And who brought my soul from Earth into this broken world to inherit the body of Ren Celestial...?’

The blinding glare of the planetary cataclysm faded into pitch-black darkness.

Before Ren could grasp for answers, the void shifted once again, pulling his consciousness toward a narrow, damp alleyway tucked between crumbling brick tenements. The air was thick with the stench of stagnant water, sour trash, and burning coal.

Ren stood in the mouth of the alley, his spectral body invisible to the world around him.

Across the muddy cobblestones, a frail boy was shoved violently to the ground. A heavy, leather-soled boot slammed into his side, sending him skidding through the filth. A stack of fresh newspapers tumbled from his arms, scattering across the wet stones.

"Hey, trash!" a tall, broad-shouldered teenager barked, stepping over the scattered papers with a sneer. "What the hell do you think you’re doing slinking around our alley? Get out of our way!"

The young boy on the ground—with messy dark hair and hollow, bruised cheeks—frantically scrambled on his knees, his raw, red fingers gathering the damp pages of newsprint before they were ruined by the mud.

"Hahaha! Look at this freak!" another bully jeered, stepping forward to snatch a handful of the papers right out of the boy’s grasp. "He cares more about these worthless rags than his own skin!"

"Please..." the young boy whispered, his voice trembling as he looked up with wide, desperate eyes. "Don’t tear them... Please. If I don’t sell these, the matron can’t buy bread for the little ones..."

The bullies laughed harder, taking turns ripping the newspapers into tiny shreds and tossing them into the damp wind like confetti.

"Oh, you want your papers back?" the lead bully sneered, bringing his boot down heavily onto the young boy’s outspread fingers.

CRUNCH.

The boy gasped, curling into a tight ball on the wet stones without a single cry of defiance, enduring the stomps and kicks that followed until his cheap cotton tunic was soaked in blood and mud.

Observing from the edge of the alley, Ren’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned ghostly white. A cold, suffocating rage surged through his chest as he recognized the young boy’s face.

It was the original owner of his body—the young Ren Celestial.

"Get off him, you bastards!" Ren roared, lunging forward to throw a punch at the lead bully.

His fist passed harmlessly through the teenager’s chest, sweeping through empty air. The bullies didn’t even flinch, continuing their assault until they grew bored, leaving the bleeding boy shivering in the dirt as their mocking laughter faded down the main street.

Ren stood over his younger self, his breath ragged. He knew it was just a lingering echo of memories deeply buried within the vessel’s soul before his transmigration, but witnessing the sheer, relentless cruelty inflicted on an innocent child made his blood boil.

Suddenly, small, hurried footsteps pattered against the wet cobblestones.

"Brother Ren!"

A young girl sprinted into the alley, her eyes wide with frantic concern. She dropped to her knees beside the bloodied boy, her small hands trembling as she reached out to check his wounds.

Ren’s eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance. She had long, silky violet hair with straight bangs framing her petite face, dressed in a patched, dark purple hand-me-down dress. Though her features were young and innocent, her face was unmistakably a younger version of Vora.

"Did those horrible bullies hurt you again, Brother Ren?" Vora whispered, her voice cracking as she gently wiped a streak of mud from his forehead.

Young Ren managed a weak, painful smile, carefully hiding his crushed fingers behind his back as he pulled himself up against the brick wall.

"I’m fine, Vora..." the boy lied quietly, his tone devoid of anger. "I just... lost my footing and fell down the stairs. Don’t worry about it."

Watching the exchange, Ren’s brow furrowed tightly. ’Why didn’t he tell her the truth? Why bear all of it alone?’

As the memory played out, a flood of repressed contextual knowledge surged into Ren’s mind, illuminating the bleak reality of their early lives.

They were orphans raised in a crumbling, underfunded asylum on the outskirts of the lower district. To keep the younger children fed, young Ren and Vora spent eighteen hours a day on the cold streets, hawking cheap newspapers and clearing sewage drains for copper coins.

The orphanage received zero government relief. The royal welfare funds allocated by the Crown were systematically siphoned away by corrupt kingdom ministers—the very same bureaucrats who embezzled millions from public coffers while the lower district starved.

Ren watched in silent horror as rapid memory fragments flashed before his eyes: high-ranking ministers sitting in grand, candlelit manor halls, laughing as they stamped fraudulent ledger books, pocketing the relief money intended for orphanages and medical clinics.

’These were the same corrupt ministers Evelyn later purged during her royal trials...’ Ren realized, his stomach churning with disgust.

The vision shifted rapidly, speeding through years of accumulated bitterness.

He saw young Ren and Vora being chased out of public parks by wealthy merchant children, cursed at as "filthy rat-breed" and "street parasites." He saw them shivering beneath thin blankets through freezing winters, watching other orphans succumb to fever because the local apothecary refused to give them medicine without silver coins.

Then came the final, devastating catalyst.

The vision stabilized around a roaring inferno. High, hungry flames consumed the wooden beams of the orphanage, lighting up the night sky in blood-red hues. Screams echoed from inside the burning structure as the wooden roof collapsed, burying the matron and three young children beneath a mountain of embers.

Standing in the muddy street outside, young Ren and Vora watched the tragedy unfold in horror.

Behind a row of dark carriages parked down the road, two men in official ministerial robes stood watching the fire with cold, indifferent expressions.

"Is the matron dead?" one minister asked calmly, adjusting his silk gloves.

"She won’t survive the night," the other replied with a dry chuckle. "That annoying hag kept sending petitions to the High Magistrate regarding the missing funds. This fire will be ruled an accidental oil lamp spill. Problem solved."

The carriages drove away into the dark, leaving the two homeless children standing before the ashes of their only home.

Young Ren stood frozen, his eyes hollow, empty, and completely dead—a boy whose spirit had been pulverized into submission by endless, relentless misery.

Beside him, Vora’s small frame trembled violently. But her shock did not turn into despair. Her young, tear-stained face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated malice. The faint purple irises of her eyes burned with a terrifying, demonic light as she stared at the ashes.

"I swear it..." Vora whispered, her voice trembling with a chilling, blood-curdling promise that made even the cold wind freeze. "I will make them pay. Every single one of them. The ministers, the nobles, the citizens who laughed at us... I will burn this entire kingdom to the ground and slaughter every last human being on this sickening planet!"

Young Ren didn’t answer. He simply stared into the flames, a hollow shell who had given up on expecting justice from a broken world.

WOOSH!

The burning orphanage dissolved, replaced by the misty banks of a cold, desolate riverbank at twilight.

Young Ren and Vora sat near the water’s edge, broken and shivering.

From the dense fog behind them, a young girl with long violet hair, dressed in an immaculate dark gown, stepped out onto the damp grass. Her countenance was cold, ethereal, and terrifyingly calm.

It was Velista.

"Look at you two," Velista purred, her young voice carrying the weight of an ancient sovereign as she looked down at the two homeless orphans. "Drenched in the filth of humanity, discarded like trash by the very society you bled to serve. Tell me... do you still believe this world is worth saving?"

Vora looked up, her tear-streaked face hardening instantly. "No! Humanity is a disease! They are selfish, greedy, disgusting monsters!"

Velista offered a faint, sinister smile, extending her hand toward the young girl. "Then join me, Vora. Together, we shall cleanse this realm of its rot. We shall bring total extinction to every man, woman, and child, ending their inherent cycle of greed once and for all."

Vora didn’t hesitate. She reached out and grasped Velista’s hand, sealing her allegiance to the dark faction.

Velista then turned her dark purple eyes toward young Ren, who remained seated on the grass, his head lowered. "And what about you, Ren? Will you join us? Will you take up your divine right as my other half and purge this wretched species?"

Young Ren slowly stood up. He looked at Vora, then at Velista, before taking a step backward, away from them both.

"No," young Ren said softly, his voice raspy but firm.

Velista arched an eyebrow. "You still hold pity for those who stomped on you?"

"Humanity is rotten," young Ren stated, his hollow eyes meeting Velista’s gaze directly. "The ministers are corrupt, the nobles are parasites, and the people are indifferent. But bad or good... it is a choice. People choose to be monsters because it’s easy. But as long as there is even a single person who chooses to stay good when they could easily choose to be bad... then humanity is not entirely worthless. I won’t join your massacre, Velista."

Without another word, young Ren turned his back on both of them, walking away alone into the cold twilight fog, leaving a furious Vora and a calculating Velista behind.

WOOSH!

The memory sequence collapsed.

The cold wind of the high-altitude ruins swept over Ren’s face, pulling his consciousness back into reality.

He opened his eyes, finding himself standing once again in the center of the ruined coliseum. His hands were still clutching his temples, his breathing heavy as the flood of ancient memories settled into his consciousness.

Twenty paces ahead of him, Velista stood with her arms folded, a triumphant, mocking smile playing on her lips as she watched him recover.

"Well, Ren?" Velista asked softly, taking a slow, deliberate step forward across the cracked paving stones. "Now that you remember the sheer filth of the species you’ve been protecting... now that you remember how they stomped on you, starved you, and burned your home..."

She extended her pale, elegant hand toward him, her purple eyes glowing with a terrifying, hypnotic light.

"Join me, Ren. Reclaim your place as my other half, and let us bring eternal peace to this world... through total annihilation."