Chapter 81: “Oblivion” (Part 2)
In the beginning, before I came to a clear understanding of the ability known as “Oblivion,” I imagined it as a power that could shroud or even confuse a person’s senses, conjuring illusions through mere eye contact—like a dramatic standoff in an anime where protagonists flick their hair and things just happen. Just shout “Tsuki Yomi!” and voilà! The enemy crumbles into a heap of confusion, wandering in a mental world dominated by “Oblivion,” where time, space, and quality are mere suggestions—a reality that could play tricks on reality itself.
Once someone gets lost in the illusion, they’re faced with the dark, twisted corners of their psyche—their deepest fears come to life, driving them mad and perhaps even provoking horrendous actions in the real world, like kicking the cat or making odd choices at the grocery store.
Alternatively, I could choose not to send them spiraling into madness, but instead let them see imaginary figures or events that simply don’t exist—all part of an elaborate prank to manipulate their words and actions, allowing me to achieve my dastardly goals.
In my youthful musings, “Oblivion” was essentially the ability to unleash upon others whatever I wanted them to see or feel… that is, until I actually got to use it.
After the Royal City battle, I attained this fabulous ability and discovered it worked much like I had imagined… yet, in a way, it diverged into utterly chaotic territory.
Sure, it could induce hallucinations and throw someone into a haze of confusion. If I made eye contact, I could trigger “Oblivion,” muddling my opponent’s senses—sight, hearing, touch, smell, and even their very consciousness. They’d be ripped from reality, tumbling down into a false dreamscape. If I mastered this, foes would truly experience a nightmare of epic proportions, like meatloaf gone tragically wrong at a family dinner.
However, the execution of this power was far from the ease I envisioned.
You see, the so-called illusions and dreamscapes needed to be “materialized” through my imagination. To induce a “hallucination,” I first had to vividly hash things out in my mind. For instance, if I wanted someone to see a non-existent raven, I had to conjure up every feather on its body. If I wanted it soaring through the sky, I needed to visualize every single action, the flight path, the wing flaps, and even the way the wind tousled its feathers…
The more details I envisioned, the more realistic the “hallucination” would become. Skimp on the details, and there’d be no “materialization” happening—my imagined creations would just flop like a fish out of water.
In simple terms, to wield this power effectively, I didn’t need a massive arsenal of chaotic energy or extraordinary skills—what “Oblivion” demanded was a treasure trove of vibrant imagination and laser-sharp focus.
Because, boy, it could be easily interrupted.
The moment my train of thought derailed, the illusions would twist and shatter like a bad piñata at a children’s party.
Mastering all this wasn’t easy, yet it wasn’t exactly rocket science, either. After all, the mind can be trained, and my imagination was hardly lacking; it was rather extravagant. Ever since I was little, I enjoyed dreaming up all kinds of outlandish ideas.
What I lacked, however, was concentration.
In the early days, I practiced this ability in the forest, training on all sorts of innocent critters—like four-eared rabbits and deer… you know, the usual woodland creatures.
At first, the practice was a blast!
But after a few sessions, when I tried to tap into “Oblivion” for battle scenarios, I stumbled upon the ability’s most terrifying flaw.
I dubbed this flaw my “SAN value.”
Yes, “Oblivion” messes with your SAN value.
I first noticed this while pondering how to maximize the damage an illusion could inflict on my enemies, rendering them utterly impotent. I subconsciously used Teresa and Nero as hypothetical foes, desperately brainstorming what sort of visions I could conjure for such steadfast adversaries to sway their judgment and wobble their resolve.
Since “Oblivion” couldn’t inflict real damage, if used wisely, it could serve as the ultimate support and control move. I was racking my brain for the best application—what did the enemy need to see? What made Teresa tick? What could terrify Nero? How could I strip my foes of their courage, leaving them quivering quagmires of regret?
I have no clue how long I pondered—and I was unaware of how far down the rabbit hole I had spiraled.
When I finally looked up, I was surrounded by shadowy, incomplete figures.
bl**d-soaked Teresa, half-charred and grotesque Nero, decapitated children, a surge of burnt corpses, a shadowy figure clutching a syringe… They stood silently, contorting towards me.
At that moment, my mind went blank.
Then, the illusion shattered, and I was yanked back into reality, dizzy and disoriented, as if a trio of golden bells were ringing in my head. Pain exploded in my temples, and I immediately found myself on the floor, contributing to the “art” by decorating it with my lunch.
For the next half an hour, my limbs turned ice-cold and tingly. That day, I didn’t practice anymore and bolted back home.
Over the next three nights, I was plagued by nightmares.
After that, I vowed never to use “Oblivion” again.
I think I figured it out—why Irush struggled to control her power. Her will could be so easily infiltrated and subjugated by the Abyss, likely due to her youth and weak resolve. However, the nature of “Oblivion” probably played a part in it too.
I pondered the three illusions she’d conjured for me.
Chronologically, the first happened in the Abyss Mud, where she imagined my home.
It was a cozy room, filled with dazzling shelves and warm murals—scenes I had described for her. She wanted to show me those. That little girl still had sunshine dancing in her heart.
The second time, she created an illusion using a raven flying toward the Royal City, finding me just after my battle with the heretics. She said, “I’m about to wake up.”
In that nightmare, crows blotted out the skies, and the moon overhead bled red.
A little girl…
How did she conjure such unsettling imagery?
Her mental state then must have been in turmoil.
By the third illusion, it transformed into a dark, damp, and eerie laboratory—the kind you’d expect from a horror flick, a place that had once caused us harm. She reconstructed everything to craft a spine-chilling corridor, filled with rooms guaranteed to raise goosebumps. Every detail was her imagination at work.
In that long process of visualization, what must Irush’s psyche have looked like?
Perhaps that once sweet, sensible girl had already gone off the deep end.
She really could have just come to find me…
And by the fourth round, targeting those soldiers outside the church…
I had no clue what type of terrifying visions would make them lose it and turn into a bloodbath—like poor saps playing tag and forgetting they had knives. I couldn’t fathom what the soldiers saw; those weren’t images I could concoct, nor were they something a rational human should have been able to envision.
That was the most terrifying, yet also the most effective deployment of “Oblivion.”
But here’s the kicker—if I wanted to wield “Oblivion” that way, I first had to plunge myself into insanity.
That was its essence.
I could pull pranks on others with “Oblivion” and create whimsical dreamscapes straight out of fairy tales. If I imagined a serene dream world with azure skies, fluffy clouds, splendid castles, and endless wheat fields basking in gentle breezes…
If I wanted to create a beautiful paradise, my heart would soar with joy.
But if I aimed to craft an inferno that could terrify my enemies…
Well, I’d have to first step into that hell myself.
I was scared.
Now, amidst a group of Knights and Clergy—not to mention the Frost Order—without resorting to Dead Smoke, Sin Fire, or Chaotic Fire, even though the Frost power was formidable enough to annihilate a three-stage heretic in a snap, what would happen if there were ten of them?
What if the one I just defeated was the weakest?
What if the Jester was stronger than Teresa, or even Nero?
If I went mano a mano with each of them, I might not lose, but in such an intense battle for too long, could I keep my sanity intact?
I had to find a way to suit “Oblivion” to my style.
