Chapter 503: 503. 500 vs 3
"Your Ghost Spirit?" 500’s wooden voice cracked with slight suprised. His distorted form flickered, eyes widening as the neon-blue number on his forehead pulsed violently. He had made certain— absolutely certain— that no spirit could enter this body while he occupied it. And yet, here she was.
Mana.
Her translucent figure was already pressed close to Tyler’s soul, weaving herself into his essence. She had been waiting, lurking for the single opportunity when 500’s attention wavered. When he was busy clashing with Zuzia, just one second of carelessness was enough. That single instant had given her the chance to slip past his defenses.
"How?" 500 hissed, his disbelief twisting into outrage. "How do you merge with a Ghost Spirit inside the consciousness? If she wished, she could take the body entirely. You shouldn’t even be alive right now." He clicked his wooden tongue, shaking his warped head. "And only now do I see it— you harbor a Nascent Divinity, even without stepping into the Divine Seeker Realm. Truly... a rare genius. Worthy, more than worthy, to be my vessel."
His face, which had nearly solidified into Tyler’s, froze midway. The features warped grotesquely, half Tyler, half puppet, and the sight was hideous.
Mana expanded within Tyler’s Nascent Divinity, her form stabilizing. She appeared as a ghostly adult draped in a white yukata, her long dark hair falling over half her face. Her presence wrapped around Tyler’s soul like an embrace and a prison, binding him in her image.
Tyler felt the shift immediately. His own divinity clenched, reshaping itself to match Mana’s resonance.
"Oh no..." Tyler muttered, his voice already wavering.
"Hahaha!" Mana laughed, her voice echoing across the mindscape. "Mathilda is going to drool for years if she ever finds out you look like this."
Tyler glanced down and cursed. His divinity had changed, reshaped under Mana’s influence. His soul-body now bore Mana’s features — long hair, graceful limbs, the delicate beauty of a woman. He had essentially become a female version of himself.
"Dyamn..." Tyler groaned, his new feminine voice carrying an embarrassing lilt. "The sync went too well..."
500’s scoffed out a laugh, but it cracked like broken wood, strained with irritation. With a wave of his arm, he conjured a new horror: a swarm of tiny wooden dolls. They buzzed out like locusts, their limbs sharpened into blades, their hollow mouths gnashing with jagged teeth. Each doll bore a glowing blue number carved on its forehead.
"This is interesting," 500 said, his distorted smile widening. "We shall see which breaks first."
The dolls swarmed. Their blades tore into the fabric of thought, scraping Tyler’s memories raw. Every strike wasn’t just physical; it shredded at the foundations of his mind — unraveling sensations, erasing connections. Tyler staggered, panic rising as his memories bled. For a heartbeat, he forgot who he was. Faces melted into a soupy blur, names slipped away, and even the thought of resistance grew faint.
"Tyla... pull yourself together!" Mana’s voice thundered through the haze.
"Tyla? Who the heck is Tyla!?" Tyler snapped, his mind jolted back by the absurd nickname. He gritted his teeth and shouted, "Celestial Chess Domain!"
The mindscape trembled. Blue squares spread outward like rippling water, forming an endless chessboard beneath their feet. Each tile glowed with cold azure light, radiating suppression.
"Ice Icicles." Tyler lifted his hand.
In an instant, crystalline spears erupted from the squares, piercing the wooden dolls. The swarm disintegrated, erased by the sheer authority of the domain. The mindscape cleared for a moment, silence rushing back.
500 froze, his warped body twitching. "...Domain."
The puppet’s gaze sharpened, and suddenly his own domain expanded. Threads shimmered into existence, stretching endlessly through the air, attaching themselves to every structure, every detail of Tyler’s consciousness city.
"Let me show you the difference." 500 snapped his fingers.
The threads quivered. One connected to a towering spire of glass and steel — a fragment of Tyler’s imagined city. With a snip of his wooden fingers, the thread severed. The entire building groaned, collapsed in on itself, and crumbled into dust.
Tyler’s heart clenched. He felt the collapse. It wasn’t just a building — it was part of his identity, part of his willpower. Losing pieces of the city meant losing pieces of himself.
"We need to stop him quickly," Mana’s voice echoed, sharp and worried.
Tyler steadied his breathing, forcing his panic down. "Ice Icicles!" he shouted again.
Thousands of icy needles rained down, stabbing into 500’s distorted figure. The shards punctured his puppet flesh, shattering and embedding into him. Yet, he didn’t groan, didn’t even blink.
The puppet only kept walking forward, as if the attack had been nothing more than a breeze.
"How can we stop that?" Tyler muttered, his frustration breaking through.
Mana sighed. "If only we could conjure weapons like him. That would even the field."
"...A weapon." Tyler looked down at his own hand — slender, delicate, but glowing faintly with divinity. His new form was strange, but beautiful, undeniably stable. Maybe... just maybe, that could be an advantage.
He closed his eyes, focusing. He pictured the dagger he had once used to kill the Clown. He pictured every detail — the weight, the edge, the dark stains still on its blade. He poured all his intent into it, reaching for something beyond.
The air flickered. His hand burned.
And then... nothing.
The space remained empty.
"As I told you..." 500’s voice dripped with mocking satisfaction. His distorted face stretched into something cruel. "It only works for me."
"..." Tyler was in deep thought.
"Now, as long as I destroy this half-baked Nascent Divinity..." 500’s distorted face twisted into a sneer as he conjured the same massive scythe once again. Its blade gleamed like a crescent of night, sharp enough to slice through thought and soul.
Tyler’s divinity form stood still, his gaze steady. "Hmmmm... it almost worked," he muttered, his tone thoughtful rather than fearful. His forehead began to glow, and in that light the numeric sigil of 500 itself shimmered.
500 paused, then laughed mockingly. "You dare use my numeric? You think you can wield my technique against me? Fool. That is nothing more than an easier path for you to become me! You’re practically begging to be devoured!"
Yet Tyler only smirked. Behind him, the space inside his consciousness rippled. A giant copper pot appeared, twice his size, without any mysterious runes, it looked like a normal copper pot from the mortal world.
"Hmmm?" 500 narrowed his warped distorted eyes. "What is this now?"
He slashed with the scythe, a blow that could bisect mountains. Tyler didn’t resist— he leapt backward and vanished into the copper pot. The blade connected, but the vessel did not so much as scratch. The clang echoed like metal striking eternity.
500 tilted his head, curiosity mixing with irritation. "Interesting. Something even my scythe cannot cut... What kind of material defies this sharpness. No matter. As I said before, it is easier to control you than destroy you. After that, I will search your memories to find out what is this copper pot is."
From his fingers spread countless threads of pale light, snaking into the copper pot like puppet strings. They pierced through the divine shell, wrapping around Tyler’s Nascent Divinity. Slowly, painfully, it was dragged out, thrashing in resistance. 500 clenched his fist, and Tyler’s soul-form screamed before exploding into fragments.
500 exhaled in satisfaction. "Too easy..." He glanced down at his hands, waiting for them to morph into Tyler’s likeness. But nothing changed. His hands remained his own, jagged, wooden and cracked. A rare expression of confusion flickered across his face.
"...Why?"
---
Outside, in the physical battlefield, Zuzia was still locked in combat against Tyler’s possessed body. Yet she suddenly noticed something off. The expression on her opponent’s face shifted —confused, distant, as if his attention had slipped.
Her instincts screamed. Now.
Zuzia slammed her massive tail against the earth. The ground trembled, veins of fire splitting open. A geyser of molten lava erupted beneath 500, engulfing him in searing heat. The shockwave hurled his body high into the air, his skin blistering, the wooden texture cracking and burning. He roared in pain.
---
Meanwhile, inside Tyler’s consciousness, the copper pot shook a little. From its mouth crawled another Tyler, still in his female form, her long hair trailing like strands of moonlight.
500’s distorted grin widened, sharp and mocking. "Did you split your divinity? Foolish trick. I’ll end this quickly." His threads whipped forward, binding the new Tyler with ruthless precision. In an instant, the form unraveled, dissolving like smoke on the wind.
But before he could even inhale, the copper pot shook again and a hand gripped the edge from within. Another Tyler emerged, crawling out with steady determination.
500’s sneer faltered. His threads lashed once more, slicing this version into ribbons. Dead.
Another figure rose. Again, he destroyed it, his threads cutting with brutal efficiency. Yet the cycle didn’t stop. Each time he struck one down, another hand gripped the edge the of the pot within.
500’s body stiffened, a crack of unease forming in his voice. "What... in the hell is happening?"