After fully regaining consciousness, Joel thought that resuming routines, training, and daily tasks would be enough to bring everything back to normal at the shelter. But he soon realized that was impossible. The balance he had painstakingly built had been shattered. Liam had already witnessed Adam take control of his body, and the possibility of something like that happening again couldn't be ignored. This wasn't an isolated incident, but a latent threat that would haunt them from now on.

  For that reason, Joel summoned everyone else as soon as he felt well enough. There were no speeches or vague explanations; It was just a brief welcome celebration in which, on pure impulse, he used all his mana to materialize a mountain of sweets for the children at the shelter, who laughed, ran and got all smacked with sweetness, without having any idea that this gesture had a hidden purpose: to give them one last moment of joy before the truth fell on the adults like a ton of bricks.

  In front of Liam, Ariel, and Alicia, Joel was completely honest. He spoke frankly about his power, the unpredictable nature of his magic, and the constant risk of losing control of his body to the consciousnesses that inhabited it. He explained that his mind was no longer entirely his own, that within him coexisted permanent memories of other lives—ordinary men, sages, geniuses, murderers, and monsters alike—all fused into a mass of memories that grew without ceasing.

  The silence that followed his words was so thick that even Nana, present in the room, remained completely silent.

  Ariel was the first to react, bursting into tears, unable to contain herself. Seeing Joel so serene, confessing a burden that seemed inhuman, only made her feel more powerless. She admired him as a hero, and discovering that every day he struggled to maintain his own identity was a blow that completely shattered her.

  Alicia, for her part, didn't cry, but fear was clearly etched in her eyes. She tried to maintain her composure, wondering if one day they would wake up facing a stranger in their mentor's body. The idea terrified her.

  Liam, on the other hand, remained silent the entire time, observing Joel with a mixture of respect and genuine admiration. He had suspected something was amiss with his mentor, but he never imagined the magnitude of the inner turmoil that consumed him. He understood then that anyone else in his place would have gone mad long ago.

  Joel, who rarely displayed emotions beyond calmness or weariness, allowed himself a fraction of humanity in that moment. He didn't try to justify himself or promise that everything would be alright. He simply let Ariel embrace him as her sobs soaked his shirt, and although he didn't shed tears himself, his silence spoke volumes.

  For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to be vulnerable before those who trusted him most. Not as their leader or their teacher, but as a man trapped by a destiny beyond his control. And in that instant, though no one said it aloud, they all understood the same thing: Joel wasn't just the center of the shelter… he was the heart that held that makeshift family together, even as his own heart slowly crumbled.

  From that moment on, Joel redoubled his efforts to build a better future for everyone who depended on him. The incident with Adam had left its mark on him, but it had also pushed him to a new level of pragmatism. If the stability of the shelter and the safety of the children depended on him, then he couldn't simply become a magician like the others: he had to become something more, someone capable of creating miracles.

  With that resolve, Joel vowed to exploit every scrap of knowledge he possessed about Earth. Mathematics, applied science, weaponry, energy theories, engineering principles—anything he could turn to his advantage. Even Adam's ideas—his shadow, his dark stain—became part of the plan. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, Adam had left him with more than just trauma.

  The assassin was, in his own field, a genius. An expert in infiltration, manipulation, and intelligence gathering. Capable of constructing a web of lies so precise that it turned an entire duchy upside down. His methods were brutal, but effective. And although Joel reviled the cruelty with which he reveled in the suffering of others, he couldn't deny the tactical utility of each of his maneuvers.

  Before the possession, the situation in the Duchy of Bresmitz was already a minefield. The Church had expanded its influence with alarming speed, and the Oculus was relentlessly pursuing the one responsible for the massacre at Musall Manor. Every day the refuge remained hidden was a miracle, and every patrol that passed near the woods represented a real risk of discovery.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  But Adam… Adam had been a functional monster. In a matter of days, he diverted all of the Oculus's attention by creating a fictitious organization, "The Spectres," capable of striking at any time and in the most unexpected place. His deception was so convincing that it triggered a massive manhunt in the opposite direction from the refuge.

  And if that weren't enough, he had captured the man who had originally put a price on Joel's head: a member of the Oculus who had sent the adventurers tracking his presence through the woods. That single act not only temporarily halted the pursuit but also granted Nana invaluable access to samples from a genuine dimensional walker.

  If Adam hadn't used his body and face for all of this, Joel would have seriously considered erecting a statue in his honor.

  Days passed, and as Joel examined Adam's anecdotes, recounted by Ashoka, he couldn't help but be fascinated. The man had demonstrated his art, geared toward assassination, in a world where mages relied blindly on their magical power. Drugs, gases, booby traps, and psychological methods—all designed to destabilize enemies who had never faced such tactics. It was rational brutality, a science of fear.

  And Joel, listening to every detail in silence, couldn't help but think that he himself had been too… soft. He had squandered the potential of available resources, bound by the moral constraints and magical thinking of this world.

  Earth—the strange world of his memories—was teeming with devices capable of annihilating entire armies without a single spell. Chemical weapons, automated systems, precision technology… the list was endless. He simply needed to bring it to life.

  Joel visited Connor several times in his cell-like room, located deep within the shelter. That place, created specifically by Nana to house the prisoner, also served as a laboratory where visceral experiments were conducted. The atmosphere was oppressive: the air smelled of metal, anesthetic herbs, and dampness, and the light from the electric bulbs strained the eyes of anyone who entered for the first time.

  The once-powerful dimension-walker of the Oculus, who had once been feared and respected throughout the four empires, was reduced to a shadow of his former self. His skin had become pale and partially translucent, the veins marked blue furrows on his arms, and his body showed the aftereffects of the experiments Nana had conducted on him, as well as the half-healed burns and, of course, the absence of his hands. Apparently, Adam had spared no precaution against someone so powerful.

  Despite his condition, Connor remained surprisingly lucid. Whenever Joel visited, he always found him sitting at a table, his gaze lost in one of the educational books Nana allowed him to look through, even though he couldn't understand a word of it. He seemed fascinated by the detailed color pictures, diagrams, and charts.

  The man never resisted anything and never begged. And when Joel asked questions, he answered. That's how they managed to gather invaluable information about the empire's structure, its hierarchies, part of the Oculus's training, the intelligence divisions, and the movements of some armies. Connor, in a calm voice, recounted everything he could still remember clearly. However, as the days passed, it became evident that there were insurmountable limits to what he could reveal.

  As Joel tried to delve into more sensitive topics, the limitations became apparent. There were times when Connor would suddenly stop, as if an invisible force were crushing his skull from within. He babbled incoherent words, breathed with difficulty, and finally fell into absolute silence, with a lost look in his eyes.

  Nana, after several observations, confirmed what they both already suspected: there was some kind of seal or magical interference in his mind. A defense designed to prevent him from revealing classified information.

  “It’s common practice in the intelligence agencies of empires,” Connor explained in one of his most lucid conversations. “They impose mental restrictions on us during training. Special seals that prevent access to certain memories unless specific conditions are met… words, places, emotions. If we try to force it, the pain is unbearable.”

  Joel watched him silently, absorbing the information. A disturbing thought formed in his mind. If empires could manipulate the memories of their agents, could they extend that influence to the rest of the population? Could they use such magic to control the masses, erase dangerous thoughts, or even rewrite history?

  Connor shook his head slowly when Joel posed the question. “No, it’s not possible,” he replied confidently. “Those kinds of seals can’t affect willpower or personality. They only block memories. Besides, the process requires too much time, resources, and the subject’s voluntary cooperation. It’s impossible to apply on a large scale… no empire could afford something like that.”

  On the other hand, Connor was emphatic in his interest and admiration for the technology Joel controlled, recalling the weapons used in the Musall mansion massacre and confessing that the explosion Adam set as a trap nearly killed him. Of course, Joel never revealed the true origin of that technology, but he deemed it appropriate to offer certain incentives to secure the former agent's cooperation. Thus, Connor received a small MP3 player loaded with classical music, along with the promise that, if all went well with Nana's assimilation of the dimensional power, Joel would teach him the language of the books he used to contemplate and would find a solution to his lack of hands.

  Needless to say, the man was completely fascinated by the tiny device and the amazing headphones, which he had to learn to use with Nana's patient help.

  Joel wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing by getting along so easily with someone who, once upon a time, had wanted to capture him and hand him over to the authorities. But somehow, he felt comfortable talking to him. Connor, despite his withered appearance and bloody past, had something Joel couldn't find in anyone else: the ability to speak without filters, without fear, and without judgment.

  In those conversations, surrounded by the stony silence of the shelter, Joel found a strange solace. They could spend hours talking about simple, inconsequential things—the taste of tea, the weather in Myrrial, local customs and the latest fashion trends—over a hot cup of tea, a soda, or even an ice-cold beer. It was like meeting someone new in a bar, or reconnecting with an old friend after many winters.