Chapter 468 (2/2)

“To be eternally defined by your glory, rather than self, is to realize that to all others you are frozen,” The Ghosthound said softly, looking at the ground now. “And that unless your glory has risen even higher… you cannot move forward. You will have lost yourself in your past, and see your sense of self dissipate, like a mirage in the desert.”

Abruptly, the Ghosthound looked up, grinning at them. “Of course, you are also the most powerful people currently, so there are also benefits. But don’t let your power blind you to the dangers of possessing it.”

“You…” Rose said. Then she laughed, shaking her head. “That was an impassioned speech. I’m honestly surprised at you, Randidly. I didn’t know you were the sentimental type.”

Of all reactions, the Ghosthound blushed. The rest of the group laughed somewhat, although it was a muted reaction, as it appeared that some of them hadn’t forgotten of Thea’s continued pain.

Simon couldn’t cry in his Astral form, but if he could have, rivers would have worn wide grooves on his cheeks. His Astral form had kept his senses sharp, so even from this distance, the sobs from Thea were just audible, deep sounds full of anguish. Even hearing them, Simon could feel the edges of himself fraying away somewhat, and that hand around his heart was squeezing so hard that there was nothing but the pounding and the pressure in his chest.

You are…. You are so… Simon wanted to say something, hurl an insult at the Ghosthound in this undetectable Astral form, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Privileged, that’s the word, he finished lamely, scrounging for something more satisfactory, but the more he thought about it, the more furious Simon became. Because the Ghosthound hadn’t started with this, he had worked for it. He had changed himself, over and over again, until he was unrecognizable to those who had known him previously.

The man, no, the force of nature, Simon looked at now, fresh from a victory in the Raid Dungeon, was far from the wounded man that Simon had nursed back to health. And that even proved the Ghosthound’s point, didn’t it? That these powerful individuals were changed so much that their perspectives were far warped from that of the average people.

They could no longer be bothered by the squabbles of those without power. They couldn’t be bothered to stay with Thea and mourn with her, sharing in her pain, even though it was obvious that Chrysanthemum had been a part of their team. They couldn’t-

Simon became too choked up to continue that train of thought, and just clenched his Astral body as hard as he could, causing himself great mental pain, but feeling strangely invigorated by it.

If I… If I could be like you. Simon whispered. If I could push myself that hard, just a bit further… and grasp power in my own hands, I-

Simon paused. Because suddenly, he was struck by a thought. A method to power that others had talked about while he had been monitoring them with his Astral form.

Immediately, he pushed the thought away or tried to. But that part of Simon that revelled in the pain just giggled somewhat, and reached out and latched onto that thought. Part of the path to power… was the willingness to grab it.

The Ghosthound taught him that.

So, without thinking about the consequences, Simon created an Astral Projection next to Thea. She didn’t even look up, so he had time to work, sculpting his body in exacting detail. This new, raw Simon took a sick pleasure in making sure every one of his flaws was displayed in plain view. His thin arms, his pudgy belly, his crooked nose, and his greasy hair.

And when he was done, he walked forward and patted Thea on the back. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for a lot of things. But I have to do this, don’t I? So I don’t… so we don’t….”

She didn’t even answer, she simply continued to cry.

Somewhat expecting this reaction, Simon didn’t become emotional. Something larger than emotions had taken over him. So he simply sighed, and said. “I promise I will protect you, Thea.”

And then Simon reached down and grasped the discarded Regalias.