Chapter 395: Finally 1%...

Eventually, 687 years passed by in the Soul Space...From the start till now, around 1687 years has passed since Ash began his comprehension, the passage of time becoming something he barely noticed as his existence revolved around the endless pursuit of understanding Runes.

While in the outside world, more than a year has passed.

Throughout these years, Ash continued his usual cycle of Rune comprehension, repeating the same process day after day with unwavering focus.

Sometimes he was not able to enter the flow state, his thoughts drifting or his concentration falling short despite his efforts, and sometimes he was not even aware when he fell into that state, losing himself completely as his mind moved instinctively through patterns and meanings.

But after years of doing a single task repeatedly, it becomes a habit, something the body and mind begin to follow naturally without conscious effort.

The discipline and repetition had shaped Ash into someone who could continue even without motivation, simply because stopping no longer felt natural to him.

But this time it was not some unexpected situation that woke Ash from his state, nor was it Eric who woke Ash, whose occasional interruptions had once grounded him back into awareness.

Instead, as soon as he gained consciousness after another attempt, his mind buzzed, a strange sensation spreading through his thoughts as if something deep within him had shifted or reached a new threshold.

Inside the Soul library, 260 golden books were neatly placed along the bookshelves, their presence radiating a faint glow that reflected his progress and countless hours of comprehension.

Each book stood as proof of his understanding, representing a Glyph he had successfully grasped and preserved within his soul.

Although Ash was still 100 glyphs away from comprehending 1 Runic symbol, but that didn’t matter right now, because he could clearly feel that this milestone held a far greater significance than a single runic symbol.

Because.....his Total Rune Comprehension has finally reached 1%

Rune of Space - 0.000000772% (0/25,920 glyph)

Rune of Truth - 1.0036% (260/25,920 glyph)

Rune of Balance - 0.000000386% (0/25,920 glyph)

But Ash did not have time to notice it clearly, his mind only registered that he had reached 1% of total comprehension, because his mind buzzed and trembled with a sudden and overwhelming intensity that left him unable to focus on anything else.

The realization barely surfaced within his thoughts before it was drowned beneath the violent tremor shaking his consciousness, making it difficult for him to grasp the significance of what had just happened.

And as if that was not enough, fragments of memories buried deep within Ash began to surge forward, as if a crack had formed in the dam that restrained them, allowing suppressed emotions and long forgotten moments to spill out all at once.

Suddenly, his surroundings changed, and he found himself standing in a totally unfamiliar and strangely familiar place that made his chest feel heavy with an unexplainable sense of nostalgia.

With confusion written across his face, he slowly looked around, trying to understand what exactly was happening and why he had been brought here without any warning or transition.

His surroundings were filled with the usual crowd rush. People were dressed in attire that was quite old fashioned compared to what he had grown used to in his current life.

Cars running on fuel moved across the roads, releasing faint smoke along with the familiar mechanical rumble of engines, while high rise buildings stood tall in the distance, forming a skyline that once used to feel completely normal to him.

In his surroundings, there was not a massive crowd, but it was crowded enough to create a constant movement of people walking past each other, accompanied by distant honking sounds and the low chatter of daily life.

Street vendors were opening their shops while some had already begun selling their goods, calling out to attract early customers who passed by without slowing down.

At one corner, he could see a bakery shop with fresh bread and sweets neatly displayed behind a slightly fogged glass counter, the faint aroma of baked dough and sugar lingering in the air.

On the other side, he could see a vendor selling vegetables, carefully arranging fresh produce in organized piles while occasionally adjusting the weighing scale beside him and brushing away dust from the wooden cart.

The entire scene was painfully familiar, and with his memories resurfacing so vividly, it did not take much time for Ash to remember where he was and what this place meant to him.

Why am I here..?

Ash panicked slightly as his thoughts began to lose their usual calm structure. He quickly looked at his body and hands. They looked exactly like before, but they felt hollow and unreal, almost like they were formed from a faint illusion rather than actual flesh and bone.

To experiment a little and confirm his suspicion, Ash stood directly in front of a person walking toward him. Instead of stumbling into him, the person simply passed through Ash’s body as if he was nothing more than air, continuing to walk forward without even the slightest reaction, completely unaware of Ash’s presence.

What the hell is happening? Wasn’t I comprehending the Runes? Why am I even here? Back in my previous world....??

Ash had a scowl on his face right now, and it was rare for him to show emotions so openly after everything he had gone through. This situation was stirring something far deeper than confusion. It was pulling at memories and emotions he had buried under layers of time, experiences, and deliberate indifference, making his chest tighten as fragments of his past threatened to surface all at once.

-THAWAAKK!!!!!

Just then, the loud sound of something or someone colliding echoed throughout the surroundings, sharp enough to cut through the noise of the busy street.

Ash’s focus instantly shifted as his gaze locked onto a 7 year old boy with black hair, a sickly build, and old, worn out clothes. The boy was sitting on the ground with his bum against the floor, right in front of a dustbin that had been knocked over and now lay sprawled out beside him.

All the trash had scattered across the surroundings, spreading in messy piles along the pavement and road, but that kid did not even register it, nor did he apologize to the owner of the shop whose dustbin it was. His entire attention seemed locked onto something else, something far more terrifying than the mess he had created.

Rather, that kid hurriedly scrambled to his feet with trembling movements and broke into a desperate sprint, almost stumbling as he tried to regain balance before pushing himself forward with all the strength his fragile body could muster.

If one was observant enough, they could clearly see that there was a deep rooted fear in the eyes of that kid who was running, a fear that came from familiarity rather than surprise, as if this was not the first time he had found himself in such a situation.

Ash’s vision snapped toward a distance, where he could see 7-8 boys of the same age as the previous kid but with much bigger build, running with anger filled faces and loud, aggressive shouts that blended with the surrounding street noise but carried clear hostility in their tone.

It did not take a genius to realize that the kid was running from that gang of boys, whose expressions carried a mix of irritation, amusement, and cruel excitement, as if they were chasing him not out of necessity but out of habit.

Seeing the scene unfold before him, Ash’s expression darkened because he recognized the scene instantly. How could he ever forget his own past with his perfect memory, especially moments that had carved deep marks into his mind and emotions, no matter how hard he had tried to bury them.

But he was really not too keen on seeing, or rather facing, his past. There was a reason these memories never surfaced in his mind, a reason why he had locked them away with deliberate effort, and he DEFINETLY was not ready to face his past again, not when he had spent so long building walls strong enough to keep those memories contained.

"BREAK THE ILLUISON!!!!!"

Ash shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice filled with anger that he rarely allowed himself to show, echoing through the surroundings that continued to ignore his presence as if he did not exist there at all.

"WHO IS IT? WHO IS INTERFERING?? COME FORWARD??"

Ash was literally raging, his emotions spilling out as he struggled against the helplessness that was creeping into his chest. He did not want to witness his past. He did not want to face that again, because even though Ash had grown bigger and stronger, those memories carried wounds that strength alone could not erase. He did not want to face his younger self, even if he convinced himself that he was strong enough to not let any of these memories affect his mental state.

But was that really the truth?

Ash tried everything.

He tried to kill those gang of kids, imagining countless ways to erase them from existence, but his abilities were not manifesting, nor was he able to interact with anyone or anything.

His attacks passed through them like empty air, leaving him standing there, forced to watch events unfold exactly as they once had.

Frustrated and suffocated by the helplessness clawing at his mind, he literally tried to leave the place, forcing himself to move far away from the current location, desperate to escape the memories before they could continue any further.

But, as if mocking him, the moment that thought formed clearly in his mind, his surroundings changed once again, shifting with unnatural smoothness that carried him deeper into memories he had tried so hard to forget.

Now, he was in a closed alley, with walls on three sides and a small enough space where kids could crowd easily, the narrow passage trapping sound and movement inside like a cage.

"Take this you bitch!!"

"Look at this coward running even before we could ask him to do our chores."

"Sniff....sniff....snifff..."

There, Ash saw that the gang of boys were punching, kicking, and beating the hell out of that black haired kid, their movements reckless and unrestrained, fueled by a cruel excitement that only grew stronger with every strike they landed.

The person they were attacking was curled like a snail, with his hands wrapped tightly around his head while continuously crying and sniffing, his small body trembling with every impact.

The posture looked disturbingly natural, as if he had repeated it countless times before, as if he was just too used to taking a beating and had learned that protecting his head was the only way to survive.

"Why are you not shouting, fu@ker? That fucking bitch won’t come to save your ass now."

"Yeah, at the orphanage, he is always hiding under her skirt and acting high and mighty. If not for the head of the orphanage favouring that bitch, we would have made her suffer too. He thinks she can protect him forever."

"Strike him hard!! Make him remember this time."

"Beat him!! I am so frustrated by this fucker. He always walks around with her like a fucking duck, acting like he is untouchable."

Just then, a boy who was standing by the side, watching with calculating eyes rather than blind rage, spoke up, "Hey, guys, I have an idea. Stretch his legs. We are going to have fun....."

Hearing his words, everyone smiled cruelly, their expressions twisting with anticipation, as if they had just been handed a new toy to break.

A sadistic satisfaction bloomed in their eyes, making their laughter sound sharper and more disturbing within the enclosed alley.

Ash, who was witnessing this scene for the first time through a third person perspective, just stood there looking at the scene unfold emotionlessly, his gaze steady, as if he had already accepted that this memory would continue no matter what he felt or thought.

He saw how the body stubbornly refused to move an inch, muscles tightening in silent resistance, but against numbers, even he was powerless. The kid’s small frame trembled as instinct screamed at him to fight or flee, yet experience had taught him that both choices only made the beating worse.

They stretched his legs apart, some held his hands tightly against the ground, some pinned his legs to stop him from kicking back, some covered his mouth to suppress his cries, and that boy who had given that idea stepped forward and kicked him in the middle with deliberate force, making sure the blow landed exactly where it would hurt the most.

Ash watched all that with cold eyes, his expression remaining unchanged as if he was observing a stranger rather than reliving a moment carved into his own history.

A muffled scream tore through the cornered alleyway, the sound vibrating weakly against the walls before fading into the noise of the distant street.

No person came to help that kid, no one came to punish those boys, and the world outside continued moving as if nothing had happened in that hidden corner.

They kicked him a few more times, beat him for another few minutes, their breathing growing heavier as their anger slowly burned out.

After satisfying themselves, they left that black haired kid lying there, cleaning the surroundings of any visible evidence by pushing trash back into place and brushing away marks from the ground before casually leaving the scene, laughing and talking as if they had simply finished a normal afternoon activity.

A/N: Ash parents died when he was 5 years old. I have updated it a very long time ago. Though it might appear 10 if you are not reading on NovelFire.