Illusion?

Lancelot did not know what exact effect Scarlett Fox's beast soul possessed, but he had a gut feeling—it might be something hard to resist, maybe even beyond his expectations. So, he braced himself for the worst-case scenario.

Meanwhile, Scarlett Fox smiled slyly to herself as a brilliant, devilish idea flashed through her mind.

With a grin tugging at the corners of her beautiful, seductive lips, she whispered under her breath, "You might be strong physically… but I'm sure you're psychologically and emotionally down. You must be heartbroken right now… and I'll make sure to use this advantage to the fullest. Your emotions will be your downfall."

Lancelot saw her lips move, the words barely audible—but he couldn't be bothered to care.

Without hesitation, Leo manifested behind him, and he combined with all his beast soul phantoms, prepping himself for whatever chaos lay ahead. That gnawing feeling in his gut wouldn't go away. A bad premonition loomed—he feared that Scarlett Fox might just be more dangerous than Void.

Scarlett Fox, seeing him combine with all his phantoms, widened her grin. She couldn't help but scoff softly, her voice coated in disdain. "Useless…"

Lancelot twitched at the word, his face laced with confusion. He glanced at her again, searching for clues. But apart from preparing himself fully, there wasn't much else he could think to do.

Then it hit him. His eyes widened in sharp realization.

"There's no way… Are you one of those Soul Affinity Soulers!?" he shouted out, his voice laced with urgency.

Scarlett Fox paused just before combining with her phantom. She heard his accusation, but she neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead, she looked at him and smiled—deviously, ominously, offering no answer. Her silence was louder than any confirmation.

And then it came. She raised her hand slightly, her voice calm yet commanding. "Nine-Tailed Fox Illusion Beast Soul… Phantom Manifest and Combine!"

A flurry of ethereal foxfire danced around her as the illusion beast soul fused into her being, its sinister elegance causing the very air to waver.

Lancelot's heart thumped harder. The sense of danger grew stronger—far stronger than when he fought Void.

He dreaded it. He truly dreaded it. Soul affinity beast souls—just like those with space affinity—were extremely rare, but what made them more terrifying was their deadliness.

A person with a soul affinity beast soul could, under certain conditions, kill a Souler far above their rank. That's how terrifying they were.

But—there's always a but. It was hard. Very hard.

A higher-ranked Souler was stronger, faster, tougher. If the higher-ranked Souler acted swiftly, the fight could be over before it began.

It was rare. Very rare. Almost unheard of.

For a peak Three-Star Souler to be defeated by someone below? It would only happen under very specific, very desperate conditions.

Like if the higher-ranked Souler had just gone through an intense battle.

Like if they were drained of essence. Even then—it wasn't guaranteed.

They could still crush a lower-ranked Souler with physical strength alone. Which made what was happening now all the more unsettling.

Lancelot knew he had to act—fast.

He charged at full speed, the air behind him exploding in ripples from the sheer force.

He needed to finish this quickly.

He had a very, very bad feeling about her beast soul.

But then—

Just as he was about to reach her…

Everything blackened.

"What the hell!?" Lancelot snarled, clenching his fists tightly.

But something felt… wrong.

No—everything felt wrong.

"Scarlett Fox! What did you do to me!?" he roared, but what came out of his mouth was not his voice.

It was a baby's cry. His heart skipped.

His eyes widened.

'What!? I'm… I'm in the body of a baby!?'

Panic gripped him. His thoughts went haywire. Then he heard it—footsteps.

He focused. Listened.

There were two. One—firm, heavy, confident. A man. The other—soft, staggered, sobbing. A woman.

He could hear her weeping.

"Ooh my son… why does the world have to end today… Husband, please, do something…"

The man was clearly frustrated. Her crying was making it hard for him to focus.

He pulled out what looked like a futuristic-looking phone from his suit's pocket and dialed hastily.

"Come upstairs right now! Our house is almost breached. We need to get out. Now!" Whoever he was calling… it was unclear if they answered.

But the man cut the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Seconds passed. No one came. He tried again.

This time, the call didn't go through. A heavy silence followed.

Then, with no other choice, he turned to the woman. "Take the boy. We're getting out of here."

The woman didn't hesitate. She picked up the baby—Lancelot—cradling him in her arms.

Her eyes, full of tears, met the man's. "Dave… do you think they're dead? The ones fighting those… weird beasts!?"

Lancelot's mind reeled.

'Did I just transmigrate… to the past? To the beginning of the apocalypse!?'

'Are they… my real parents?'

He'd never seen his parents. Ever.

He was raised from childhood by one of the top powerhouses of that time. They never told him the truth. They never said he was adopted—not until he came of age.

So hearing the woman's words now, he felt it. He knew it. These two… they were meant to survive. He could sense it. But what he didn't know…

What he couldn't even begin to comprehend…

Was that this wasn't real. He hadn't transmigrated. He was trapped.

This was Scarlett Fox's illusion. A soul illusion that used your deepest, most vulnerable memory to torment you—to break you from the inside out.

If he had known…

If he had even the slightest inkling that it was an illusion…

He could've shattered it instantly.

He was one whole whole realms above Scarlett Fox, after all.

But because he had accepted the illusion as reality…

It would now be incredibly hard for him to break through.