Psychic Parasite

Chapter 110: The Pitcher
3:00 PM, seated inside an auditorium, Jyorta fell silent, dozing off. On the screen above the dais was an educational film being played; the film consisted of a team of soldiers, Warriors and Espers fighting against a higher Tiered opponent, the steps they took to ensure their survival and victory.

Even though the contents and the tactics used in it were informative, Jyorta was distracted. The blue soul in him was constantly disturbed, the source that caused the scene being vague.

Closing his eyes, Jyorta focused his senses on his blue soul, intending to see if any of the creepy-haired man’s arrangements had surfaced. Unfortunately, nothing of the sort happened.

’The way Laila looked spoke volumes about the danger I sensed. Even though the sense of danger had vanished within a couple of minutes, its effects still linger, making my blue soul distressed.’

Jyorta craned his neck, glancing around him, noticing the unfamiliar faces. Most of them had focused their gazes towards the screen playing the educational video, their interests captured. Some of them spoke in hushed voices, revelling in conspiracy theories.

Time passed in such a fashion; despite looking distressed, the feeling unabating for the time being, the blue soul continued in its task, making the false persona. It was mostly completed by now.

Having extracted numerous memory fragments from its reserves of two lives, the blue soul coagulated them before it. The Soul Cornea had become thin, like a strand of hair, piercing through each memory fragment, destroying the memory inside it when it turned ink-black.

The remainder of the white layer was picked up by a soul tendril, converged upon by numerous soul tendrils, compressing and shaping it, forming a hexagon. Finished with the process, a soul tendril took the white hexagon and piled it around a corner, placed beside numerous similar looking ones.

In the centre was a face mask, its size similar to the blue face, looking transparent. It was the husk of the previous Jyorta’s soul, the remainder after its soul core had been removed. It had been flattened and moulded until its present state, having been infused with a lot of soul energy.

A soul tendril connected with his Brain Crystal, siphoning the energy, transferring it to the blue soul, converging it towards another soul tendril. The soul tendril flashed above the face mask, slapping its surface, infusing the energy into it, refining it.

As the energy washed over it, the face mask turned a bid rigid, looking substantial. The soul tendrils weaved through it like a needle, correcting its shape, mending the other regions, using the energy as the sewing thread, making it sturdy.

They formed impressions and depressions along its surface, making it identical to the blue face, even creating the section that resembled the eyes.

From his previous experiences with the false persona, Jyorta had concluded three major points to be noted of.

One, false personas weren’t like his persona—everlasting. They would dissipate over time, negated by his soul after prolonged use. After all, the personalities imbued in the false persona weren’t his mainstream characteristic traits; continuous use might even severely affect his persona, hence inciting a natural rejection from the soul.

Two, false personas weren’t capable of masking his persona completely. They could only affect based on the personalities they carry with them and depending on the situations they were built for. If the personalities in it weren’t something that could be used in a situation, then the main persona emerged without disturbance, overriding the false persona.

Three, false personas weren’t sturdy. Meaning, if Jyorta experienced overwhelming emotions, they were like a battering ram that smashed against the false persona, shattering it. The false persona was like a boat floating on a still lake, with the lake pertaining to the main persona. When the boat was damaged, it sunk into the lake, disappearing amidst its depths, assimilated into the mix.

Therefore, in order to make up for the weakness, Jyorta personally designed his false persona in the shape of a face mask, condensing its structure, concentrating it. Thankfully, the presence of the blue face served to further help him in this regard. Now, he no longer needed the false persona to wrap around the blue soul, which was growing in size day by day.

The face mask was transparent, with minute patches of the white hexagon covering it, affixed by the energy in the soul, using it like threads to stitch the two. It was a daunting process, the small size of each white hexagon requiring them to be processed, overlaid, and attached manually.

It was a tiresome process, requiring strenuous amounts of energy. Thankfully, he had sufficient reserves in his Brain Crystal, for the moment. Moreover, thanks to the Trait of Efficiency, his development was quite fast as compared to his peers.

In the entrance of the Head Office Building, a middle-aged man who was aging on the older side stood erect, situated at the forefront of the defensive barriers. He had been standing still for hours together, showing no signs of movements unless necessary, the only case being to issue orders.

”Good work,” A voice resounded in his ears, looking pleasant, containing an unfathomable amount of depth. ”The problems have been resolved for now. Wait for a complete report from Central Command.”

”Yes, Ancestor.” Cosmi Tumbler kneeled, finally relaxing his tensed nerves, an expression of relief plastered on his face. Seeing his actions, all the ground staff heaved a sigh of relief, looking at the faces of each other. They had prepared themselves for their demise, even leaving behind a will, secured within a sealed room inside the Head Office Building.

Soon, Madam Mary flew out from the Red Building, followed by Madam Mila, and Madam Rizenne. As they approached the Head Office Building, Madam Mary glanced at the middle-aged man standing at the forefront, nodding at him.

She brushed past him, heading inside the building, seemingly intent to prepare something, her actions bolstered by a sense of urgency. Madam Mila followed suit, her expression one of a frown, her body rigid, carried along by her psychic energy.

Madam Rizenne landed beside Cosmi Tumbler, almost tumbling the moment her feet touched the ground. She immediately filled him on the details concerning the 8-centimetre tall figure.

”I watched Ancestor Light in action,” Cosmi Tumbler said, ”He condensed numerous spears, with each of them being at least 10 kilometres long and hurled them towards the south-east. Probably anyone who had gazed up in the period would have borne witness to the spectacle.”

”We’ll have to wait until we are briefed about the situation by the Ancestors.” Madam Rizenne waved her hands, encapsulating the entire military academy in her domain, inspecting the conditions of everyone present.

Her gaze lingered on Rakh Veera for a second, looking at his figure having made a full recovery. A smile formed on her lips, her expression of pride unmasked. She then turned around, looking at the ground staff, ”Everyone related with the Medical Corps, assemble before me.”

Hearing her words, the ground staff forming the defensive lines broke free, assembling before her, looking battle-ready. Madam Rizenne inspected their conditions once, feeling their brimming vitality and energy levels.

She looked around, making a mental count, pointing at twenty among the assembled ones, ”The rest of you are ought to stay here, lest something happens to the students.”

”Yes!” They echoed back, returning to their prior positions. Twenty Ground Controllers remained in assembly, headed by Madam Rizenne.

She took off to the skies, beckoning for them to follow her. They increased their altitude, going beyond the tall buildings that made the boundary of the military academy, crossing over, glancing around at the sprawling cityscape.

”Numerous researchers have been injured, suffering from life-threatening injuries. Most of them have lost control. Our task is to heal the ones still alive, teetering on the border between sanity and losing control.” She said, moving towards Sector 3 where the research facilities were concentrated the highest.

Along the way, as they passed through Sector 2, they came across a circle, spanning a kilometre in radius, the magenta walls forming the perimeter, the height similar to the rest of the walls. The twenty Ground Controllers paused in shock, feeling their balance crumble, turning unstable.

Noticing their behaviour, Madam Rizenne craned her vision in the direction they pointed towards. As she had been listening to the commands originating from Central Command, she hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings.

Now, after being pointed, she directed her gaze, rooting to the spot, feeling scared beyond belief. The magenta wall forming the perimeter around the circle was 200 metres in height; peaking above it was the stem of a monstrous plant, spanning almost 60 metres in radius.

It cast a shadow on the ground, spanning more than a kilometre long. More than half its body peaked out, wobbling amidst the wind, looking slightly unstable, its stem seemingly incapable of supporting its weight.

The top of the plant had a massive pitcher, its size dwarfing the wall, looking like a freak of nature. A massive sphere composed of flesh and blood, condensed under tremendous pressure, radiating out a suffocating aura floated towards it, carried by a psychic arm, the wavelength of which was familiar to every Ground Controller and Sky Controller in Marble City.

The psychic arm carried the sphere, gently hovering it next to the pitcher, waiting for its lid to open. Soon, large vines, with each spanning 10 metres in radius emerged out, coiling around the sphere, wrapping it up into a cocoon.

The cocoon was then gently taken inside the pitcher, creating sloshing sounds, the presence of a fluid apparent. The lid of the pitcher gently closed, its actions slow. Soon, all signs of activity stopped as a streak of magenta appeared, whispering something in the ears of Madam Rizenne.

Her forehead was drenched in sweat as Madam Rizenne turned to look back, gazing at the twenty Ground controllers watching the scene with their mouths agape, ”We have to get going. Keep this strictly under wraps, an order of Ancestor Marble.”

”Yes!” They performed a salute and followed Madam Rizenne, heading towards Sector 3, ready to act at a moment’s notice.