Power of Runes Chapter 401: Will of the Rune

"No, no, no no.....this can’t be true."

From his lips, Ash forced out those words, his tone ragged and faltering, like every syllable battled through a constriction in his throat.

Harsh and ragged came his breaths, up and down in a chaotic pattern beyond his command, each inhale seeming too faint, as if the atmosphere weighed too much for his chest to handle.

A flurry of recollections flashed before his vision, not in neat order but in jumbled bursts. It felt like he was experiencing his entire existence anew. Snippets from his past life mixed with those from this one, visages flickering in and out haphazardly.

Recollections involving Nancy kept emerging, minor exchanges that had seemed ordinary before now burdened with crushing suspicion.

In that instant, he sensed the desperation of someone on the brink of death, their thoughts clinging fiercely to purpose as all fades into oblivion.

Indeed, he had just endured a rush of every memory from his former life and this one as well, squeezed into one intense wave that overwhelmed his consciousness.

Unbeknownst to Ash, his environment had already melted away like fog dispersing in the breeze. The mirror, the chamber, the psychiatrists' figures—all vanished quietly and effortlessly, as if they had never been real. Bit by bit, the world around him shifted to pure white.

This was a realm of Absolute White.

No edges, no darkness, no orientation existed there. The blankness extended forever, devouring all features that shaped reality, rendering measurements of space irrelevant. It neither radiated light nor sparkled; it just was, immense and detached.

Yet Ash remained oblivious to it all. Gripped by a panic episode, he knelt, hands gripping his torso with vision blurred and lids shut tight, digits digging into his fabric as though to halt his heart's violent throbs.

A subtle quiver ran through his frame, as if warding off an invisible threat, while his upper body heaved with every erratic gasp.

Turmoil reigned in his head, utter disorder. Ideas smashed into each other unfinished, splintering into senseless shards.

Queries arose only to evaporate before gaining shape, spawning mere bewilderment. Suspicion and terror wove inseparably, blurring their borders, and the more he strained to reason, the further his notions fled.

Not even his reflections could coalesce right, and his condition surpassed a typical panic surge. This went beyond mere fright; it struck as if his core identity faced total scrutiny at once, stripping away any firm footing, making his sense of self abruptly shaky.

Amid this ordeal, no path seemed open to regain composure. His respiration stayed erratic, his torso constricted in agony, his form ignoring his efforts to soothe it, regardless of how he willed tranquility or paced his inhales.

Suddenly, in that boundless pale expanse, a tone rich with timeless insight into all cosmic realities boomed across the void. It wasn't booming, but it vibrated from all sides simultaneously, like the blankness had gained speech and the emptiness acquired utterance.

That timbre held a serene command surpassing ages, akin to a divine seer's decree from a deity who had observed myriad fates and psyches shatter beneath their burdens. No fury colored it, no haste, just unyielding assurance that rendered opposition futile.

{Pathetic!!}

The term didn't reach his hearing. It assaulted his psyche directly.

An odd power coursed into Ash, quieting the inner tempest as if a palm had stilled a raging ocean. The uncertainties ripping through him seconds prior vanished cleanly, like they had never been his at all.

"Huff....Huff...Huff..."

Rapidly, his chest heaved, air rasping past his windpipe. Perspiration stuck to his flesh, and his pulse hammered like after endless psychic clashes where survival hung by a thread. His fingers shook faintly until he gradually released his hold on his clothing.

Only once his respiration evened out did he perceive the alteration in his setting. The infinite pure white encircling him, devoid of anything else, stirred discomfort. No shades, no noises, not even a hint of scale. It resembled being trapped within an empty sheet awaiting its initial inscription.

He also dimly recalled the timbre that had yanked him from that odd haze, the very one that had sliced through the choking fog in his brain and hauled him back right before total immersion.

No torrent of inquiries flooded him. They emerged gradually, ponderous and wary, as though dreading the truths they might uncover.

{Illusion? Tsk.}

Ash’s gaze expanded a bit. The reply arrived right away, nearly merging with his musing, offering no space to question its awareness of his mind.

He swiveled his head left and right, examining the void meticulously, actions measured and intent. His stare hunted for the slightest anomaly in the perpetual blankness, a shade, a wave, any sign that might shape the source of the sound.

Yet nothing appeared. No figure. Merely unending white, unaltered and mute, expanding boundlessly in all ways without dimension or limit.

"W-What are you? Or rather, who are you? Are you the one who showed me all those memories that I did not want to see? Are you....what I think you are?"

A rasp lingered in his voice from the prior panic, the phrases grating as they escaped, and parchedness still coated his passage.

He gulped once prior to proceeding, and while uttering, his inflection gradually firmed up.

Within this enigmatic domain where reality seemed illusory, he refused to yield to dread anew. He compelled himself to reason sharply, to probe rather than shatter, since one loss of grip had rattled him sufficiently.

Despite the unfamiliar circumstances, Ash held steady. This poise stemmed not from rune influences. Rather, it arose from the composure of someone who had confronted mortality repeatedly until terror dulled its edge.

Instinctively, his posture aligned, his frame squared as if readying for an unseen confrontation. His vision intensified, resolute and vigilant, holding firm as he anticipated.

{And the same man who collapsed under the weight of his past. Tsk!!! What a fearless man you are.}

"W-What..??"

Confusion etched visibly on Ash, and he stammered the phrase aloud without restraint, his forehead creasing as that remark dug deeper than desired. His chin clenched mildly, not from rage, but unease.

A short hush fell before the timbre resounded again, this pause laden thicker, as if the pale realm itself attended.

{Nothing, I just foresaw past the veil of existence and saw something past the 4th wall.}

A faint quiver hit Ash’s hearing, an eerie chill tracing his vertebrae as if he had caught a taboo whisper. His brain hummed while he zoned briefly, notions dispersing wildly in attempts to seize concepts too grand. No ache accompanied it, yet nor did ease.

Gradually, his sight cleared, the subtle mist dispersing, and he voiced once more, surer now as if anchoring via recurrence.

"W-What are you? Or rather, who are you? Are you the one who showed me all those memories that I did not want to see? Are you....what I think you are?"

The pale domain fell quiet anew.

A hush of subdued comprehension regarding the recent event.

Yet following a short reflection, the timbre addressed him again.

{Indeed, it is I who showed you all those memories that you were hesitating to face. And I am indeed the one you think I am.}

A subtle pressure descended in the pale emptiness, nudging softly at his torso.

{I am the will of the Rune of Truth.}

Like thunder, the timbre rolled through that pale void, though no noise truly stirred the ether.

Rather, the phrases pulsed within him, thrumming along his skeleton and cognition equally. For a moment, Ash glimpsed myriad occurrences unfolding nearby, celestial bodies flaring in muted explosions, realms birthing and decaying to powder, realities emerging and fracturing in perpetual loops, each sight blooming and fading in one exhalation as if chronology had bent.

Words failed Ash. His mouth opened faintly, yet silence prevailed. No vocabulary sufficed to express his intent, but instinctively, a retort rose to his lips.

"You son of b%itch"