Chapter 321 - Unfurling Past Part Two

Sifiso found himself speechless in front of the strong confusion existing in Fell's word. Those questions from the young cultivator weren't aimed at Sifiso, but were thoughts spoken out loud and directed at himself.

The Old Manager had stood on top of the coliseum for numerous years. Facing hundreds of strange cases that made him understand more facets of life, and the one happening in front of him would forever become to most memorable.

He had seen memory losses and had seen concussions that caused the injured to enter a blank state similar to severe mental retardation. But Fell situation was different; His mind and mental faculties were untouched, but it seemed as though the person standing in front of him was a completely different person.

Seconds quietly passed under the heavy silence basking the scene. Time seemed to come to a stop, as the past seconds turned into minutes, where Fell did nothing but stand without moving.

The passing time caused the strange aura his soul released to turn even more apparent. His second realm soul cultivation base made the air around him warp as though thousands of invisible slow vortex had appeared around him.

His confusion and ephemeral elusiveness were exposed around him as Sifiso's sight of Fell turned even stranger. The next moment, the vortex stopped, and just as the Old Manager thought that the strange event would come to a stop.

They intensified, with the vortexes caused by Fell's soul accelerated, and before Sifiso even had the time to blink. Fell was long gone.

"Crap!?", cursed Sifiso as his neck creaked toward several angles of the large room. But the Old Man found no sign of the young cultivator inside of the large reception hall near the coliseum's entrance.

"How fast did he progress?", he muttered as his fist was clenched tighter around the communication device held in his hands. The physical action caused by his stress reminded him of the object lying in his tensed grasp.

"I need to call Old Moha!", thought the Old Managed as he was stricken by a fit of urgency. No individual could predict Fell's action in the confused state, not even the old man that nearly educated him, but they could still try and find him through the shantytown.

Sifiso hadn't seen any sign of violence coming from Fell. But such a high state of confusion couldn't be left unchecked, as outburstS were always doomed to happen when an individual lost sight of who he was. Especially at such ranks of strength, where the individual stood on a realm beyond mortality.

Sadly, if such a scenario happened, New Casablanca's fate wouldn't have to wait for the beasts to face a fatal calamity. With his current strength, Fell alone was amply sufficient to turn the entire city into a no-mans' land void of any soul.

Thankfully, such scenario was far from being the current case, especially with the lack of anger dwelling in the current Fell. His thoughts were pure, and deep in his mind, he held each life in high esteem.

The act of killing wasn't something that bothered him, but without a reason, or a-sudden- bloodied mental breakdown. There existed absolutely no reason for the young cultivator to make that nightmare a reality.

In fact, Fell didn't leave the coliseum as Sifiso had thought, but was currently in its most sacred places. And as Sifiso made a call to the owner of the bar Pig's Paw, Fell had made its way to the underground arena.

Ol'Moha was currently closing his bar. He had just managed to throw the last hobo out of his boutique, and had prepared himself to close early like the past two days. A shudder traversed his body, as his instinct told him that he was needed something. A puzzling expression flashed on his face, as he had done everything he had to do lately.

"Well… I'll go check on them.", he mumbled as he thought about the central district's civilian that he had helped today.

Ever since Fell had come to his working place to announce the incoming war, he had been making preparation for the accommodation of parts of the citizens of the main district. The act was difficult to pull-off, especially with the fact that the native of the Core had already expanded their land to the maximum of their capacities.

Thankfully, his bright and agile mind had managed to find success in face of the short-timed conditions, and had made preparation for the main district's inhabitant to be placed in the infamous Baby Cemetery. Through such accommodation, there wouldn't exist any of the disrupting events that might happen if the two masses were instantly mixed together.

Through the small contacts that might happen with the kids of the Baby Cemetery. It might later be possible for a true fusion of the two social- and geographical- group of individual.

Those were the thoughts that came to the open minded Ol'Man's mind as he saw the calamity descending on their city. He hadn't seen any monster, but had seen the traumatized faces of a few soldiers. And some were even the fearless gladiator's coming from the Core.

"In the face of a deathly threat, a hobo or a pretty noble boy were in the end two similar chunk of flesh.", he muttered silently as his mind wandered during the way leading to the Baby Cemetery.

Strangely, it was during these times that the man found himself facing questions that he would have never dared thinking. Impossibilities of the past that could now become a reality in front of the imminent calamity.

"Who would have thought…", he whispered under the small smirk hanging in his face.

He couldn't help but ponder about the insane idea of nobles living in the dilapidated houses of the Baby Cemetery, making him think that these Times were the ones truly insane.

Suddenly, the communication device laying his pocket twitched repeatedly, taking him out of his reveries as he responded to the incoming call.

A smile appeared on his face as he recognized the voice on the other end of the line.

"How are you doing, Old Fart?", he exclaimed with a brightened face as he continued walking through the narrow street.

The receding sun in the sky, and the shallow light coming from the neon of the store sign's caused his shivering shadow to follow his every step.

The rhythmic sound of his footsteps slowed as he recognized the man's tone behind the call. The shivering shadow gradually slowed down, then came to a stop as Moha's figure turned into a rigid statue.

"I'm coming.", he dryly said in a neutral tone that didn't manage to hide his emotions.

He turned around, and swiftly departed for the metallic coliseum laying in the corner of his vision. Urgency boosted his speed, as his healthy body began running through the empty paths of the shantytown.

Contrary to the contagious urgency held in Sifiso and Moha's hearts, Fell didn't move from his position ever since he had appeared inside of the underground arena.

He silently stood in the center of the sandy area, his confused state seemed to have calmed down under the intense, focused state he had entered when he basked in the ambient atmosphere of the arena.

His soul turned into hundreds of small threads that searched every crook and nanny of the sand-floored arena.

It was at this time that the young cultivator came to inadvertently learn one of the new capacities of his soul. And as he scoped the rough texture of every grain of sand with his soul.

He came to learn- or feel- hundreds of information hidden in them. As too even if time flowed in one sense, everything that happened in the world would forever be hidden in the matter.

He couldn't exactly explain the strange act, but in a rough manner, it was as though his soul was capable of visualizing parts of the history contained in the large arena.

Smells, noises, flashes of images, and pain, lots of pain flooded his mind as a metallic- bloodied- odor flooded his mind.

Thousands of image flooded his mind, filling the absurd void existing in his soul. The moment the images of the past appeared, the confusion of his consciousness and soul eased as his mind was immediately attracted to the surrounding's past in the same way a magnet would do to its counterpart.

The paradoxical cooling effect produced by the flash of past's bribes made the young cultivator escape the confusing effect.

But that wasn't the only effect that pushed Fell to continue scribbling through the history of the arena and was specifically due to the fact that he had caught sign of a familiar figure through the images of the pasts. And that was the Old Manager he had met earlier, Sifiso.

"If I can find Sifiso, It might be possible for me to learn more about myself through this arena!", he muttered softly in a stroke of clarity.

After that thought began a patient search through every grain of sand in the arena, every small broken nail and teeth that had mixed been grounded with the sand through the many years of usage.

The arena had existed for as much as long as the times where the Core of New Casablanca had been turned into a shantytown. The disappearance of any ruler, or ruling measure, meant that the town was left to its own legislation.

Sadly, the habitant of New Casablanca had chosen complete lawlessness and freedom of action; and obviously freedom of robbing your neighbor. In the middle of a nature-law driven society, the strong were soon venerated, and the insurgence of Gladiator's Heaven rose in popularity inide the cradle of anarchy that the most centered part of New Casablanca had turned into.

The authorities, and noble clans that had escaped in these years, had began the project of blocking the hoodlum-like Core's progress with the emergence of the Factory District. Forever forcing the Core to remain block from the outside world.

This part of the city might have been blocked from the rest of the world, but the world had nonetheless decided to drip its grey claw in the puddle of muddy water. Turning into a playground for the underground society of New Casablanca.

The danger of living through the streets of the violent city had raised the popularity of the Gladiator's Heaven to the peak. Gaze at the abyss for too long, and you become the abyss.

Violence had now begun a casual entertainment that could be enjoyed by any citizen of the Core. Yet in a strange way, it was only through an organized violence, that everything could seem normal.

Fell soon came to guess those facts as he gazed a the near infinite amount of information hidden in every particle of matter existing in the arena. Sadly, even if he felt himself approaching the knowledge he had lost.

He came to a massive hurdle, and although he could sense that somewhere hidden around him existed bribes of his passage.

The area surrounding the arena had existed for far too long, and contained a concentrated amount of history that made his small passage feel like a few drops hidden into an ocean composed of pieces of information about the past.

"Even If I meditate here, I doubt that It'll amount to any proactive result…", he muttered slowly as he felt himself little compared to the endless of time. He came to understand that his processing level was far too low, and that his soul cultivation was too lacking for what he wanted to produce.

The youth's face twitched, as he could sense that tears were appearing everywhere in his stretched soul energy.

"But yet… I want to know!", his eyes turned resolute as he decisively sat down on the rough sand laying everywhere in the underground arena.

His thought focused on his soul palace as his vision was absorbed in the purple-red static hole in his mind. A minute crimson-purple colored dot appeared on the surface of his skin- near his eyebrows- as his mind connected with the ego body laying still inside of his Soul Palace.

His soul sense was strengthened the moment he began focused on controlling his ego body. And the ego body's translucent body seamlessly warped and reappeared in front of the small island where a small sapling could be seen glowing with vitality.

It echoed and pulsated in rhythm, growing at the same time the massive Soul Palace was expanding in the void. And before long, Fell sat on the island and fully connected with the special sapling.

The action was executed in less than a fraction of a second, and just as Fell connected his mind to his ego body, he retracted the stretched soul sense he was using to scrounge through the underground arena's past. The next moment, a booming silent wave spread in the underground arena, and a massive phantom tree appeared behind Fell.

The vibrant green leaves pulsed with life, and began moving as though a small wind had infused life force in every blade-shaped leaflet. That small windy movement expended past Fell's surroundings and into the vast space that surrounded the sand-floored arena he sat on.

Before long, the influx of information that had stopped resumed at a rate faster than he had ever achieved. Hundreds of images, smells, and sensations appeared in his mind. His face warped as the tremendous pain that accompanied the absorption of information came from small tears that appeared on his ego body.

The ripping noise coming from the damage of his soul was accompanied by roars of the public. Cry and outbursts were coming from the thousands upon thousands of individual that had sit on these chairs.

Finally, hidden among the sea of information appeared an image that causes him to immediately stop the action he had begun.

He retracted the tree back to his soul, and gazed at the image that had just appeared in his mind.

A black-haired youth, barely old enough to hold a candle in front of the strong gladiator.

Yet on his face stood a defiant- near arrogant- smile that constantly hanged on his lips.

He wasn't taunting his opponents, but was directing his mockery toward the destiny he had finally caught a grasp on.