The Wandering Fairy Chapter 246: Clash of Wills

The Fignt of his Imagination was stunned for a mont. This was not the answer it expected at all.

“Why?” It answered rather casually, but the twinkling in its eyes was unmistakable.

Soren took a step forward, his eyes gazing upon the elegantly formatted ritual circle. The mushrooms were all spaced evenly from each other, allowing for the scattered Philosopher's Soil to enrich the surrounding space.

As the breeze picked up from past the distant tree line, Soren smiled and said, “Your original logic is sound. As I would expect from another version of —even if what you’ve ford is a trap, the reasoning behind each decision still stands.

“Between competing over the ritual or the subspace, I am more confident in participating in the forr. Although your willpower will be far more powerful than mine due to the added corruption, I believe I can still defeat you.”

“How arrogant,” Fignt sighed while holding tightly to its Wind Whistling Leaf. “Then let us stop wasting ti and begin this instant.”

The two versions of Soren both lifted the strange feathers to their lips, ready to let the tunes speak to the surrounding lands. Each held an equal distance from the ritual circle, preparing their minds for what was about to be unleashed.

It didn’t take long for their Soul Realms to encompass the surrounding space. An invisible wind rushed in all directions, shaded in magenta and violet colors with the unmistakable scent of perfu. This was Soren’s Color of Anima. Except, these shades were now twofold—intertwined with slight differences, like two oils mixing in a bottle.

Neither hesitated in their movents. With the vibrant anima flowing in between, the two blew into the feathers, letting the strange tunes echo across the scene. Soren imdiately felt the surrounding wind beginning to stir, as if they were in the eye of a slowly forming vortex.

It was very strange. Even without a proper understanding of music, both Soren and Fignt were able to create a distinct lody. As if the tunes had been etched into the feather’s very existence. Or maybe… this was simply the reply of the world itself.

The lody echoed vibrantly in the air, mixing with Soren’s scented anima in all directions. Even stranger, neither his nor Fignt’s music were distinct—as if both tunes had rged together in a chaotic display of beauty and grace.

Suddenly, Soren noticed the tuning fork at the center of the formation beginning to vibrate erratically. The vibrations were slowly matching the rhythm of the music. Then, each reverberation of the tuning fork amplified the overall tunes, causing the scattered Philosopher’s Soil to reshape itself into a strange circular pattern.

Cymatics?.. Soren murmured to himself. This was a phenona he had learned about many years ago during a physics class. Sand and other grainy objects that interact with vibrations can sotis reshape themselves based on the frequency and amplitude. The sands would settle in the areas of stillness in the vibrations, causing strange yet beautiful patterns to form.

A similar situation was now happening before their very eyes.

And even stranger, these tiny molecules of Philosopher Stone shards were reflecting Soren’s and Fignt’s willpower into the Beyond in nurous ways, slowly forming the desired Pseudo Concept.

Which ans… the strange soil patterns were an imprint of the music’s symbolism all along!

As he continued playing the Wind Whistling Leaf’s tunes, he noticed the Emberbloom Shroom Caps that were placed elegantly atop the Dragonstone Mushrooms began to dance, jumping up and down like loaded springs. The dim light trapped beneath their glassy textures seed to morph as well, as if influenced by the music.

With every new cycle of the rhythm, the light within was growing brighter and brighter. Soren was sure that sooner or later, they may end up exploding from the multiplying forces…

Wait… Multiplying?

The word made him recall sothing rather important.

Resonant multiplicity, harmonic convergence, worldsong embodint… These are Cantor’s Crown’s governing principles…

For a while, Soren had trouble understanding what each of them ant. Although he had a general idea, it was still too difficult to decipher.

When he asked High Mistress Solyara, She simply shrugged and said, “Sotis, actions speak louder than words. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from . If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

At the ti, he wasn’t sure what She had ant. Why would explanations yield no results in this circumstance? And what action would he need to do?

Only now that he was conducting the ritual, did he fully understand the aning behind Her words. Indeed, his current actions and their results have spoken far more than any explanation.

From the very beginning, Soren and Fignt were never playing any tunes. The Wind Whistling Leaves were simply a dium to call upon the Fantasia of the world. They were listeners… Scribes of lodies and rhythms—witnesses to this realm's history and beauty.

Embodints of the worldsong…

When harmonies converge, beauty erges. And from that beauty, the song divides and redoubles…

This is the essence of Cantor’s Crown… The true aning behind its three governing principles!

The sudden enlightennt caused his movents to shift. Rather than walk slowly in a circle around the formation, a strange emotion began to fill his stomach, urging him to move in a more dramatic way. It was as if his animal instincts had been activated, or a ghostly spirit had possessed him, ordering his body like a puppet.

Despite this, Soren felt no discomfort. In fact, his newly discovered dance only felt natural, as if he had just learned how to walk again. An image of the harmonic patterns erged in his mind, soothing him better than any ditation thod.

This is the Pseudo Concept… The thought erged and was instantly validated by the projections displayed above. The Beyond had reflected his willpower perfectly, creating the desired concept.

After witnessing this, another epiphany ford in his mind. Soren realized that a Soul Alchemy ritual wasn’t just a tool forging Soul Weapons. It was in actuality, a thod that allows the Phantasm to peer deeply into the Abstract Runes they were rging with…

The ritual was nothing more than a guide—an instruction manual into discovering the truth behind the concepts you were attempting to encompass. And the Pseudo Concept was simply a reflection of that understanding.

If the Phantasm didn’t truly grasp the aning behind that Abstract Rune’s existence, then they would never be able to create the desired Pseudo Concept.

As he glanced at the strange harmonic symbol forming in the Beyond, a sudden flash of pride washed over his face. Indeed, this Pseudo Concept was a reflection of his understanding. He was on the path of fully grasping everything Cantor’s Crown stood for.

However, he noticed sothing else beside it.

Another Pseudo Concept!

His eyes narrowed in horror as he turned toward Fignt. He was also conducting the sa strange rhythmic dance as he was. The two of them circled evenly around the ritual formation, each moving with equal grace and fluidity. If anyone else had been witnessing this, they would no doubt assu the pair were professional entertainers attempting a new performance.

So he had figured it out as well… Soren couldn’t help but smile nervously. As expected of my doppelganger.

Indeed, from the very beginning, Soren was aware just how asinine this contest was. His advantages were essentially nonexistent. Everything he possessed—whether it be knowledge or skills—Fignt possessed it as well.

This was nothing more than a clash of wills. One that favored the fake over the real…. It was as if fate was telling him to give up—to let go of the burden he has been desperately trying to get rid of.

If Fignt wins and takes over his fate, he will be free from its control forever. Was that not what he had always desired?..

I refuse… The thought erged on its own, surprising even himself.

Did he truly still desire to shoulder that burden? To walk that uncertain path?...

Soren wasn’t sure. But there was nothing he hated more than losing in a ga. Even if his opponent was simply a better version of himself. Even if winning held no glory…

At that mont, there was no excuse or reason that could force him to give up.

How thrilling… The flas of madness within his eyes spiraled like raging tornados, threatening to drown him in misery.

Winning this contest will an embracing a legion of new hardships.

But then again… When has my life ever been free of such things?

Embracing my insanity was already the first step on this path, was it not? How can I give up now without reaping any benefits for my suffering? This was completely unacceptable to him.

For an instant, the urge to laugh at his own absurdity almost shattered his focus—and the ritual with it. As he glanced up at the slowly forming Pseudo Concepts, Soren couldn’t help but smile.

Just as he expected, Fignt was already pulling ahead. His anima—swollen by months of accumulated corruption—was far more powerful than his. The mont his Pseudo Concept crystalizes, the rules of the ga will imdiately drag Soren to his death.

With these thoughts floating in his mind, Soren glanced at his opponent one last ti and flashed a wry grin.

It seems I’ll have to see if my hypothesis is correct…