The Influence part 4 The Spectrum of pain

The room was cold. The kind of cold that didn't just nip the skin but clung to the soul like regret. Sonia sat on the hospital bed, the pale blue walls closing in like ghosts of every fake smile she'd ever endured. Her legs trembled. Not from fear — oh no, she was far too broken for fear — but from emotional whiplash. Every second was a new mood, every memory a dagger dipped in gasoline.

She whispered, voice barely audible, "Well played, Janet…"

She remembered the smile, the sweet words, the subtle backstabbing.

> Sonia: "I trusted you, damn it. You played me like a harp with broken strings. Why?"

Her voice cracked. Her eyes stung.

And in that haze of memory, Janet appeared. Not real — no, this was a hallucination, a phantom stitched from pain and unresolved betrayal.

> Sonia (shaking): "Janet... is being too good... really worth it?"

Janet didn't even look up from her ghostly phone.

> Janet (apathetically): "You're asking me? Figure it out yourself."

That was the switch.

> Sonia: "YOU TWO-FACED BITCH!" she screamed to the empty room, sobbing right after like a thunderstorm collapsing into drizzle. "You're a damn hypocrite..."

Her voice fell into sobs. Deep, hollow sobs that came from the part of the soul you hide behind humor and politeness. Then came the second ghost—James. Cold. Smug. Gaslighting incarnate.

> Sonia: "You think I forgot what you did to me? You made me feel like I was the problem. And they all believed you. You broke me and smiled while I shattered!"

Her hand trembled, mimicking the knife she almost used that day. She almost stabbed him. And everyone said she was crazy.

> Sonia (laughing madly): "I'm not crazy. I'm normal. So normal. Ha… see? So normal..."

But deep down… she knew. She wasn't "normal" by their definition. She was emotionally vivid, intense — and the world hates what it can't categorize.

Reality began to fracture.

She saw her past tormentors around her, standing in the room, not flesh and blood — no, they were dream echoes, fueled by her pain. Their faces twisted with indifference. No empathy. No apology.

> James: "You were too much to handle. It's your fault. You are emotionally unstable. And because of that… you'll always be used."

> Janet (approaching): "Unless… you take control. Influence them before they influence you. Be what they fear. Take the power. Become the player, not the pawn."

Then came the goo. Red and black. Viscous. Alive.

It pulsed with temptation. The power to flip the script. Sonia's hand reached for it—

But just before she could fall…

A pulse of light.

The Creation Stone appeared like a divine firewall, radiating truth.

> Creation Stone: "No, Sonia. This is not the way. Influence without identity is corruption. You must first be whole. Your emotions are your compass, not your chains."

Sonia froze. Her eyes widened. Her hand hovered. She looked back at James and Janet—who were now shifting into ghouls. Skin melting into dark, twisted forms. Faces warped by corruption.

> Ghouls (in unison): "You are ours. The stone can't save you. You are weak. Pathetic. This was inevitable."

The Creation Stone didn't flinch.

> Creation Stone: "Stop living someone else's version of you. You know who you are. Claim it. Be it. No more false masks."

Sonia dropped to her knees. She wept. And this time, not from sorrow — but from release. Decades of betrayal, self-doubt, gaslighting… it all collapsed into a single cry. And in that moment…

She reached for the Stone.

And something ignited.

Chapter: The Emotional Spectrum Awakens

Colors. Not just colors — emotions. Radiant, vivid, alive.

Her eyes glowed:

Green for Determination

Yellow for Joy

Blue for Hope

Red for Righteous Anger

Purple for Wisdom

Orange for Empathy

It all spun around her like a halo of personality — raw and unapologetic.

> Sonia (smiling, standing tall): "My emotions are not a curse. They are my arsenal. I feel deeply, and that makes me strong. I am not afraid anymore."

The ghouls hissed, tried to pull her back in—but they couldn't touch her. Not anymore.

The Creation Stone hummed with approval.

> Creation Stone: "You have been born again. Emotions are not weakness. They are identity. Let the world see you. Let them feel you."

Sonia wiped her tears. Not in shame — but in victory.

> Sonia (smirking): "Thanks. So... uh... what now? Do I get to see where you came from?"

> Creation Stone: "Yes. The realm of Airious awaits. Come, meet your kind — those who rise from ashes."

And she vanished in a beam of multi-colored light.

---

Chapter: The Earthlings & the Knights

She landed amidst Osei Jerry, Yvonne, Kennedy, Charles Oduro — the Earthling champions chosen by the Creation Stone. Their eyes sparkled with their own affinities. Their battles had tested them too.

And towering before them was Kainen, the Airien knight. Stern, wise, and scarred by countless battles.

He turned to Sonia and spoke with the tone of someone who'd lost too many students to the void.

> Kainen: "You've tasted the edge of madness. You've met the ghouls. You've stood at the brink of corruption. Welcome, Sonia. You've earned your place. But this is just the beginning."

She looked around at the others, unsure.

> Osei Jerry (teasing): "So you're the one who talks to ghosts, huh?"

> Yvonne: "We all carry ghosts. Some of us just name them."

Sonia chuckled. For the first time in forever, she didn't feel crazy. She felt seen.

Kainen stepped forward, eyes serious.

> Kainen: "Listen carefully, all of you. The Ghouls aren't just monsters. They are ideologies. They prey on the broken, the lost, the gifted — especially those with emotional depth. They twist truth into poison. And they never stop."

He pointed skyward.

> Kainen: "Airious is at war. And Earth is the next battlefield. You were not chosen to be perfect. You were chosen to rise. Over and over. No matter how broken you feel."

He turned to Sonia again.

> Kainen: "You are the spectrum. Your colors will paint hope on the canvas of despair. Never dim your light."

She nodded. Eyes glowing. Smile trembling.

> Sonia: "I'm ready."

And so it began.

---

The war between corrupted ideology and emotional truth has just found its new champion.

Sonia of the Emotional Spectrum.

Let the cosmos feel her wrath — and her heart.

Meanwhile, the ghouls are plotting to corrupt their next target

I'm the African Combat Arena

The arena above roars with life. Combatants clash. Cheers echo. But beneath it all, in the underground crevices where light fears to linger, a sickly mist slithers through the cracks. Shadows churn, and from them emerge twisted silhouettes — the ghouls. Their flesh warps. Their limbs contort. And with grotesque grace, they reshape themselves into stealthy, humanoid forms — warriors in ninja guise, masked with sinister intent.

Ghoul 1 (voice like broken glass):

"Mmm… fresh souls to corrupt. So ripe. So unaware…"

A hiss of laughter follows. Then silence, as Redan steps forward, mid-low level ghoul but rising fast — smarter, hungrier, deadlier. His eyes glow a sickly blue, scanning the arena's architecture like a chessboard.

Redan (calm, calculated):

"Patience, brethren. The best poison is slipped in the dark — not thrown in the light. We strike when the time bends to our favor."

Ghoul 2 (shifting into a crouch, voice twitchy):

"But why wait? They're distracted, fighting each other. We could feed now..."

Redan (cutting in sharply):

"And waste the real prize? No."

(He paces.)

"We're after specific ones. Not just any soul. The great fighter's son... he's here. Watching. He's close to awakening — but still blind to what he carries."

A ripple of anticipation moves through the group.

Ghoul 3 – Rix (more intelligent, slower tone):

"But… what of the Creation Stone? It lingers in the blood of the chosen. If we make one wrong move…"

(He trails off, eyeing the dark above as if sensing the divine watching.)

"…it could obliterate us."

Redan (grinning with teeth too long):

"The Stone isn't omniscient. It protects the chosen, yes… but what of the others?"

(He tilts his head, voice becoming a whisper that burns.)

"So many warm, forgotten souls. Friends. Fighters. Families. If we lose the main target…"

(He turns slowly to Rix, smirking.)

"…it won't save the rest."

Ghoul 1 (giddy):

"We'll feast regardless."

Redan (final tone, dark):

"Exactly. Let the Stone guard its champion — we'll devour the world around him. When he's alone… grieving… questioning… then he'll fall. They all fall, eventually."

The ghouls begin to vanish into the cracks, taking their ninja forms. Only Redan lingers a moment longer, gazing up at the stadium lights with a smirk like dripping oil.

Redan (to himself):

"Let the games begin…"

To be continued