Chapter 149: Awakening

The bright sunlight bathed the beach, with the seawater polishing each grain of sand to a crystalline luster, resembling grains of wheat scattered along the shore.

A few dozen meters away from the beach, a lush bamboo grove was sprouting fresh shoots. Short bamboo shoots broke through the soil, their sharp tips emerging like little heads peeking into the sunlight.

On a winding forest path, a silver-haired boy with a frail figure and sunken eyes walked slowly, carrying a small bamboo basket with great effort. He took a few steps, paused for a rest, and then trudged on again.

Thus, he moved, stopping and starting, taking nearly an hour to traverse less than 200 meters.

By the time he reached the edge of the bamboo grove, he was utterly exhausted. Collapsing to the ground, his forehead was covered in sweat, and the bamboo basket in his hand fell to the ground with a soft thud, startling an elderly woman who had been working in the grove.

The old woman, seeing the boy slumped on the ground, showed a pained expression. She hurriedly put down the half-woven bamboo basket in her hands and ran over.

"Rosha, my child, didn't I tell you to stay at home? Why did you come here again?"

She tried to help the boy up, but despite his frail appearance, he seemed unusually heavy. No matter how much effort she exerted, she couldn't lift him and ended up panting and sitting beside him.

Seeing the beads of sweat on the old woman's forehead, a look of guilt appeared on Rorschach's emaciated face.

"I'm sorry, Mother. It's my fault. I…"

"It's not Rosha's fault. It's just that your mother has grown old and weak," the old woman, Mrs. Elizabeth, said with a kind smile. She caught her breath and gently stroked her son's head, which was already much taller than her own.

"Aren't you hungry? Didn't I leave you some bread and water when I went out this morning?"

"Mother, you haven't had lunch either, so…" Rorschach picked up the fallen basket and placed it in front of Mrs. Elizabeth. "I brought you lunch."

Mrs. Elizabeth opened the lid of the basket to find several pieces of bread and a bottle of water, exactly as she had packed them that morning.

Her eyes turned red, and she affectionately stroked Rorschach's head again. "Silly child, I already ate this morning. You eat a lot; you'll get very hungry if you don't eat."

"Mother, you're working on weaving bamboo baskets. How can you skip lunch? I'm just staying at home, not using much energy, so I'm not that hungry," Rorschach said, his gaze turning to the sea. "When will Father come back?"

"He might be late today. The weather is good for fishing, so he'll stay out longer," Mrs. Elizabeth replied, handing a piece of bread to her son.

"I'm not hungry, Mother. You eat," Rorschach said, shaking his head.

"Silly child, let's eat together. Mother can't eat all this bread by herself."

Mrs. Elizabeth took a bite from one piece of bread and then handed another to Rorschach. His stomach growled loudly at the sight.

Rorschach hesitated, licking his lips, then took the bread and began eating slowly. As he ate, tears suddenly streamed down his face, large drops falling onto the ground and splattering onto the bread in the basket.

Mrs. Elizabeth hurriedly got up, wiping her son's tears and asking with concern, "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Is it those naughty kids from the village again, causing trouble at home?"

She recalled how some of the village children, afraid of Rosha's appearance, not only refused to play with him but would also sneak into their home to create chaos. Her face turned angry at the thought.

"Which kids were it this time? Tell me, and I'll go talk to their parents. Such behavior is unacceptable!"

"It's not that…" Rorschach said, his voice trembling as he hugged his mother tightly, tears continuing to flow.

"I just… missed you, Mother."

Mrs. Elizabeth was momentarily stunned, then smiled warmly, hugging her frail son tightly and kissing his forehead.

"I missed you too, my child, my Rosha."

After a while, Mrs. Elizabeth picked up the basket and smiled at her son. "Let's go. I'll take you home."

"No, Mother. I'll stay here and wait for you. And for Father to come back."

"Alright then. But come sit in the bamboo grove; it's cooler and less sunny there."

"Okay, Mother. I'd like to learn how to weave baskets."

"Alright. I'll teach you. It's simple; you just weave it like this…"

Outside the grove, a man in a black suit silently observed the scene, a hesitant expression on his face.

Should I really shatter this boy's cherished memories? Even if it's just a dream deep within his subconscious.

For this boy, these are undoubtedly his most precious moments.

What's more, the man felt that Rorschach might already know he was in a dream.

As night fell, the sky above the sea was dotted with rare stars.

In a secluded corner away from the village, a lone wooden house glowed faintly with candlelight.

He suddenly spoke.

Beside him, there was nothing but emptiness; apart from the wooden hut behind him, no other human traces could be seen.

Yet, Rorschach still spoke.

No one responded to his words. Clenching his fists, Rorschach's eyes began to glow with a faint crimson hue.

Faintly, a latent power stirred, trying to break through the frail shell of his body and burst forth.

Power.

If he could harness the strength of this body, he could change the course of this tragic ending.

Even though Rorschach knew this was a false dream world, he still wanted to change it.

Because of the lingering guilt and yearning buried deep in his heart.

However, an invisible chaos began to converge, sealing his body and firmly locking that power deep within him. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring it forth.

Only a few seconds of exertion left him dizzy.

His overburdened muscles and overly robust bones made his body completely unbalanced.

It was as if a child learning to walk had been forcibly strapped with a divine weapon weighing hundreds of pounds.

The weapon was mighty, but to an undeveloped child, it was merely a burden, a hindrance.

Yet there was still a chance to control this divine weapon in a short amount of time.

That was to devour every living thing around him—consume their flesh and blood and turn them into nourishment for his growth.

"What are you hesitating for? Eat the other villagers in the village, eat all the food stored in their homes, and you'll be free from the torment of your eating disorder. You'll gain enough strength."

A figure of Tianzheng appeared, standing silently on the muddy path not far away.

"With power, you could take a risk and set sail with your mother. If you're lucky, you might make it to the nearest port of Marus. There, a doctor could cure the cold that has afflicted her."

Tianzheng gazed at the struggling youth before him, feeling an indescribable pang in his heart.

Having narrowly escaped being counterattacked by Rorschach in the previous layer of the dream, he had used his ability to manipulate the dream to alter the rules of this second layer.

The rule was to limit Rorschach's strength, confining it to the level of his memories in the dream.

For instance, now.

Nine-year-old Rorschach, physically frail and suffering from an eating disorder, was at his weakest.

But Tianzheng, who had set this rule, also faced restrictions.

He couldn't use all his strength to deal with Rorschach.

He could only provoke his emotions to force his rationality to collapse.

Using past regrets or crafting certain environments, though the latter was less effective on someone with Rorschach's determined mindset.

For he already knew he was in a dream.

Thus, Tianzheng could only find Rorschach's weaknesses, stimulate his emotions, and cause a mental collapse in this dream world, creating an opportunity to extract the secrets he was unwilling to reveal.

Secrets such as whether the death of the Rozwald family had anything to do with him.

"Boom."

The storm intensified, with thunder rumbling across the sky.

The boy's thin, emaciated figure stood amidst the storm, appearing increasingly fragile.

The blood-red threads in his eyes thickened, and the aura emanating from him grew fiercer and more violent.

"What are you hesitating for? Your mother is running out of time. Devour them—devour them all, and you might regain a sliver of strength. You might change the past."

As Tianzheng's voice fell, shadows of villagers appeared around Rorschach.

He saw the frightened, distant looks of the children who didn't understand him.

The pity in some villagers' eyes.

And the indifference and numbness in others.

"Don't hesitate. You know well this is only your dream. Even if you devour them, you're only consuming shadows of memories."

The voice of the black horse came from all directions, echoing in Rorschach's ears.

"Shut up."

"I won't eat people—not even in a dream world."

The boy raised his head abruptly, revealing blood-red eyes.

"Get out of here. Get off this island. Get out of my dream."

"No matter who you are!"

With the boy's roar, the shadows of the villagers disintegrated one by one.

The storm stopped, and the weather cleared.

But the boy's face showed no joy.

Because in the small seaside wooden hut, a kind elderly woman was no longer there.

The black horse silently watched all this unfold on the lonely island in the sea.

He saw the boy collapse, trying to end his own life with a harpoon.

He saw the diminutive old John, for the first time, lose his temper and harshly scold his son.

He saw the boy struggling under the weight of his heavy body, picking up shells step by step on the beach.

Every step left him gasping for air.

He saw the boy suppress his shyness, trading strung-together shells with village women for a few pieces of black bread.

The dreamlike illusions of the island shifted continuously.

Finally, it turned to an evening at twilight.

The black horse saw a pirate ship gradually dock on the island's shore.

And at that moment, the boy picking up shells by the sea was on the brink of madness.

Breathing heavily, the boy hurried home.

The black horse appeared near the seaside wooden hut.

The village began to glow with the flicker of flames, accompanied by the cries of women, the angry shouts of men, and the screams of children—sounds piercing the night like the wails of cuckoos.

"Look, Captain Jericho, this place is so poor. We shouldn't have listened to that idiot Ilya. Why should we hand over half of the loot and supplies we rob to him for nothing? We could have taken it all."

A pirate grumbled in discontent.

"Idiot! We just need a bit of his protection. With him covering for us, we can easily enter the Kingdom of Lubnilu. Plundering these remote sea islands and small villages may yield less than usual, but it's safer."

"Hey, Captain, there's a wooden hut over there with an old man inside. Almost missed him in the dark. Let me handle him."

"Hahaha, no need. I'll deal with this old man myself."

Jericho took a torch from his subordinate and, with a sinister smile, approached the wooden hut.

He lit the wooden door with the torch.

Gradually, flames engulfed the entire hut.

The old man inside was trapped by the rising fire, unable to escape.

Thick smoke billowed, bringing tears to the old man's eyes.

The pirates laughed uproariously, finding it all hilarious.

Jericho saw the old man run into a room within the hut and grab something from the bed, holding it tightly as he curled up.

"What did he grab? Could it be something valuable?"

When the flames consumed the hut, Jericho entered and turned over the old man's corpse.

He found the old man clutching a piece of black bread tightly in his hands.

Jericho's expression was complicated.

He spat on the old man's face. "A pauper! Thinking of his lousy black bread even in death. Pathetic!"

In the distance, a shadow emerged, gradually approaching.

It was a silver-haired boy, as skeletal as a specter.

As the boy drew closer, an unimaginable burst of violent energy emanated from his frail body.

The sky and earth were gradually enveloped in a crimson hue.

"Are you satisfied?"

The boy walked step by step, extending his skeletal hand to grab Jericho's head.

In the pirate captain's terrified gaze, he lifted him off the ground.

The boy's mouth opened wide, growing larger and darker, like an abyss.

He threw Jericho into his mouth, the pirate captain's face contorted with fear as he disappeared piece by piece into the darkness.

"Are you… satisfied?"

The boy's figure swelled rapidly, growing taller and more imposing.

Blue scales emerged across his skin.

Fiery antlers sprouted from his forehead, and a tail covered in bone spikes dragged on the ground.

"What's happening? He broke free from the dream's restrictions. How is that possible? Unless he has power surpassing mine in the real world, or his mental strength is far beyond mine."

A profound sense of unease surged within the black horse.

"Boom."

Thunder rumbled across the sky.

A torrent of blood-red waves erupted from Rorschach's body, engulfing everything.

The entire island, the sea, everything turned blood red.

A deep, overwhelming force burst forth, transforming into a black and crimson orb of energy that expanded in all directions.

The black horse's eyes widened.

"This is… the Conqueror's Haki!"

(End of Chapter)

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