Chapter 8: Same Type?

Serapha sat motionless by the fountain in the square, like a sculpture. She scooped up a handful of water and gently wiped her face, as if trying to wash away the fog clouding her mind.

She had intended to lay down the hatred that weighed on her like a thousand-pound burden, to view this world—weathered by centuries of change—with a pure heart, and to begin her life anew.

But just moments ago, a strange force had devoured and controlled her like a ravenous beast. As if enchanted, she had taken a life without conscious intent, and now could recall nothing of how it had happened, as though the entire event was shrouded in amnesia.

Now, terror and guilt wrapped around her tightly, pulling her down like an endless abyss. In her past life, she had burned her enemies like dry grass in wildfire; in this life, there was no hatred left between them.

And yet, that ghostly voice echoed once more:

"Isn't your body feeling so much more free and alive now? Look—though he has reincarnated, he still carried the energy he stole from you long ago. Kingdoms may fall and rise, but a person's nature remains the same. What is there to feel guilty about?"

As she wrestled with her inner turmoil, the crowd suddenly stirred, pulling her out of her thoughts. It turned out that the famous singer Ed was giving a performance in the square today. On stage, bathed in radiant light, his voice and charisma ignited waves of screams and cheers from countless fans.

The world was always like this—some rejoicing, some in sorrow. Just a hundred meters away, a life had been lost at the Colosseum, yet here, the fans remained blissfully unaware, still intoxicated by their adoration, wildly cheering for Ed.

Serapha looked at the dazzling man under the spotlight and could clearly feel it—this man was of the same fire lineage as her. The powerful energy radiating from him burned like a blazing flame, instantly igniting the crowd's passion.

"How interesting..." Serapha murmured to herself, her curiosity toward this man deepening. She couldn't help but wonder, what had brought him down to the human world? Or perhaps... did he have some hidden identity no one knew about?

But what puzzled her most was this: despite his abilities being clearly far inferior to hers, humanity did not treat him as an outcast, did not imprison or exploit him. Instead, they adored him and surrounded him with love and admiration.

Even stranger, he had not made the endless sacrifices she had, yet he still reaped overflowing affection. Why was that? What had earned him such devotion?

A tide of unwillingness surged through Serapha's heart. She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. She had struggled through endless hatred and pain, and every sacrifice she made was met only with betrayal and hurt. Yet this man, using only some trivial talents, effortlessly gained humanity's love.

"Why?" she growled under her breath, her eyes burning with fury and frustration.

That eerie voice whispered again in her ear:

"Because he knows how to please humans. And you... you are far too proud."

Serapha froze, her confusion deepening. Had she truly been wrong all along? She had clung to her inner truth, fighting tirelessly against her fate, only to be met with such cruel injustice.

The cheers of the crowd grew louder and louder. As Serapha gazed at Ed on the stage, the fire of resentment in her eyes gradually gave way to a trace of bewilderment.

She didn't know where to go from here—whether to continue struggling in this painful world, or to follow Ed's example, abandon her pride, and try to adapt to a world she did not understand.