Chapter 123 - Suffering Stage

As soon as the words left his lips, Harun's right eye quivered and his surroundings spun. It only lasted one second, but that second made him realize that by acknowledging this karma, he opened yet another door to the fate he wished to avoid. Now used to such events, Harun reckoned that instead of trying to escape the inevitable, he should hunt down the truth—a matter for another time. 

"Stand up, I'm your master, not a feudal lord," Harun motioned for Birandar to rise and placed one hand on his forehead. Mnemonics poured out of his Sea of Consciousness, filling Birandar's mind with a new mantra. "This is the foundational technique of our sect: the Toxic Truth Mantra. It will strengthen your resistance and affinity to the poisonous arts. When you reach the sixth layer, I will teach you more methods. Also, after we leave the mine, I will seal your third eye. I give you a temporary pass because we're still in enemy territory. But should you grow too reliant on it, that thing will destroy your foundation. Let's return to the basics first," Harun explained, and saw in Birandar's limpid eye that the boy didn't resent the suppression. On the contrary, he seemed to welcome it. For once, Mukri agreed out of reason and not sycophancy and gave Harun a few nods. IF the sixth layer of the Toxic Truth Mantra seemed like a harsh requirement, with Birandar's innate talent, it couldn't be too problematic. 

Snapping his fingers, Harun created two more lotus thrones, sat on his own, and from his Cosmic Pouch summoned a stash of Obsidian Soul Stones. Seeing his master get to work, Birandar split his attention between comprehending the Toxic Truth Mantra and watching out for any enemy attack. And with his Dual Soul Root backing him, multitasking posed zero trouble. Taking his Minotaur form, Mukri sat next to Birandar, hiding his boredom behind the front of a loyal watchdog. 

Several steps behind them, Harun drained the energies carried by the stones and retreated into his soul. At his back, the invisible Karmic Tree's branches swayed, with millions of white leaves shimmering in a translucent sheen. Each of those leaves carried one of Harun's Karmic Links, a connection to the millions of souls that worshiped him as either Lord Revelation or Lord Birusk. The Birusk group had long found comfort in their faith and wholly surrendered to their Spiritual Lord's guidance and judgment. The rest, however, the crushing majority comprising the Dark Stone Country's millions of citizens and those refugees that, on Harun's command, flooded the state—still carried countless fears. Though they now only had him to rely on, Lord Revelations' miracles couldn't instantly erase their past and fears of the future. And while some could look beyond past sufferings, the fear of the unknown crippled even the bravest. Too much had happened too fast, and the worries they poured into their prayers now became an emotional storm that dragged Harun into a world of sufferings. 

"Lord Revelation, when I was five I broke my right leg and since then became an invalid. My parents didn't give up on me. They convinced me that Heaven wouldn't abandon its children. I believed them and so I toiled, toiled and toiled some more. I did all I could, swallowed my shame and tried so hard to not become a burden. But they lied. Not all of us receive Heaven's favor. Heaven…abandons its children. 

But Lord, I am afraid that this is the only life I will ever get, and that I lived it in vain. Lord, I don't want to die. So long as I breathe, there is hope. Maybe tomorrow someone, something will cure my leg. Maybe I will stumble on an opportunity I can't imagine. Lord, so long as I live, I can hope, hope that a cure to my misery exists out there. So Lord, please save me!" A bony middle-aged man wept before the Revelation statues. His life and woes became an ethereal dagger that joined the Storm of Misery to attack Harun. 

"Lord, when I was seven my parents sold me because they couldn't afford to feed a weak daughter any longer. I drifted between owners until the last pupped me with his child—my life has never been worse. I'm afraid…afraid that his wife will kill me, afraid that my child will grow up oppressed, afraid so afraid, that we will never have a chance to change our fates so Lord…please save us!" Another voice, another dagger, and the girl's experiences expanded the mental storm. 

"Lord Revelation, you come too late. My life is ruined beyond repair, so why are you trying so hard to save this state? This is the day of reckoning. The time all of us become equal…before death's law!" Alone in his Sea of Consciousness, Harun faced a chaotic mass of blue-gray energies. Unfathomable suction force attempted to draw him into that misery storm, and though the Life and Death Stele enabled him to see through the past and present lives of myriad, Harun had to admit that this…was something else entirely. The misery storm exploded into millions of daggers that stabbed Harun, enabling him to live through every bit of the past and present sufferings that weighed on his devotees' hearts. Here, the blade the System held over Harun's life showed its sharpness. The 2,566 scourge points multiplied the Mental Tribulation's might by 257.6, making Harun feel that it wasn't daggers but millions of saws that slowly sliced him up. 

His surroundings became shades of gray. His body was like a paper drawing, torn and reassembled by neurotic brats. But still, Harun held on. Multicolor flames swirled around his form. Purple Essence gushed out, shrouding him in a spiritual armor that suppressed each of those dagger blows. In Harun's Soul, the Embryonic Seed of Grief took shape. But prompted by the endless negative experiences the Mental Storm put him through, that seed m.a.t.u.r.ed at an alarming pace, lifting up Harun's understanding of Grief along the way. Stricken by the worst society had to offer, Harun lowered his eyes and glanced at his bleeding hands. Sovereign Essence dulled the pain, the Internal Flame cleansed it, but even as those millions of anguished experiences turned into simple memories, they left immortal marks in Harun's psyche—making him question many of his past choices and the domino effects they could have on an innocent's life.

Thus, while the Emotion Overload couldn't exceed Harun's soul strength and defenses, it threatened it with something just as deadly: regret. Once Harun failed to justify himself and let Regret settle in, even if he broke through to the suffering stage, his mind might never recover. Worse, even the methods he used on his mortal enemies, such as the Golden Cicada sect and Erdewan clan, now seemed questionable.

With his lips curving into a bitter smile, Harun sat crossed-legged. "Regret. How strange that such a tiny word can throw a man into infinite spirals of self-blame and destruction," he started, passed his hands through his hair and burst into laughter. "It's really unfortunate, and I feel so sorry for you all but…f.u.c.k it. To all the people whose life I've messed with, sorry, better luck next time. To all the people whose life I'm going to f.u.c.k up, sorry, you can't escape. So...just bear with it," Harun declared, summoned an ethereal pipe, lounged in his soul world, and took a puff of some mental weed. 

…

Thus, as Harun crossed his Mental Tribulation by smoking weed, Jiyan condensed her three cores—breaking through to the Tri-Yin-Core stage. The spirals of icy-blue energies surrounding her became a dark-blue akin to Harun's Extreme Yin Essence. The temperature sank to abysmal degrees. A light column shafted through the cavern walls, and the pressure of Jiyan's aura reached such extreme levels that both Birandar and Mukri spun, fixing their eyes on her breakthrough. 

"The house's matron…is the house's matron. The competition won't have it easy. Take this lesson to heart, Birandar boy, and don't let success go to your head. Under the sky of Harun Birusk, this lady here will always be number one," After a rough estimate of Jiyan's current abilities, Mukri said, but didn't see Birandar's eyes contract, as if deep down, he hoped that Jiyan wouldn't be this gifted. A moment of hesitation followed, after which he sighed and returned to his post. 

Meanwhile, the 18 remaining Landgraves, all Sanguine Dolls, gathered around the Abyssal river, lost in an intense debate.