God Ash: Remnants of the fallen.

Yet what did he expect from such a wonderful thing that could change the very nature of worlds? He was so baffled at the sight he bore witness to. Like the vast sea of endless stars in the night sky, it was beautiful...

He quickly gathered his thoughts, as this wasn\'t the time to gape with his mouth wide open.

He began the next step, which was trying to extend his soul, and trying to control the mana flow patterns. The endlessly flowing streams of mana were flowing in all directions, creating complex strange patterns that were difficult to discern.

These were the so-called mana flow patterns that controlled the physical realm. It was the threading that wove together the fabrics of space, time, and all other dimensions of existence in the vast infinite universe.

This step was the most difficult. It was like trying to cross a very vast distance. So close, yet the distance was immeasurable.

He tried everything he could think of, but he just couldn\'t do anything. It was like trying to grasp water or air. It was almost impossible, with almost as the keyword...

There was nothing impossible in this world, for those who were capable. It was certainly difficult, but not impossible.

The key to controlling the mana flow patterns was first grasping a hold of the mana itself.

There was only one way to grasp a formless concept, and at the same time, definite. It was to grab a hold of it with something of a similar nature with it. In other words, the soul.

The soul was a very strange thing. It was a sort of borderline between the physical and spiritual. The soul of an individual was a collection of memories and spiritual and mental energy, all compiled into a consciousness that could interact with bother the physical and spiritual planes. It could act as a container for all sorts of energy due to its ethereal nature.

All sorts of energy which included the mysterious and profound mana.

The process was different for every individual, and it was up to the runecrafter, or spell crafter what method they would choose to employ that would work for them. Most of those who attempted runecrafting usually fell short in this area of the process. Most of them even lost their lives for trying too hard to control a power they didn\'t fully understand.

For Cain, this was also very dangerous, as he was walking into uncharted territory without any guidance or assistance. He was risking his life trying to control mana like this, but he had to take the chance.

There was no gain without taking risks. It was go big or go home. He would be able to take a huge step forward in runecraft should he succeed, but should he fail, well... let\'s just say he would get an earful from Ashur in the afterlife.....

The hack was to treat the soul as what it was... A container. It could hold energy and was one of the best containers for mana in the cosmos.

However, in this lay a problem. If he was not careful, he would overdraft on mana, and would rush into his soul at incredible speeds, tearing it apart in a matter of seconds.

He wouldn\'t even know that he was dead, as it would be a very quick, but painful passing. The level of risk was incredibly astonishing, even for someone with as much potential as he had

The way mana behaved was mostly like a fluid. It was always trying to fill cavities or areas of lower mana concentration. It would quickly rush into the soul uncontrollably, once it was opened up to receive mana.

What Cain had to do was to find a way to first grasp control and then gently guide it into his soul. From there, studying the mana flow patterns, and drawing the runes accordingly wouldn\'t be much of a problem with the right amount of talent.

While all these thoughts ran through his head Cain was still trying to wrap his fingers around the mana in his surroundings, but it was still escaping from him. It looked like a futile process, but he didn\'t give up. Perseverance was one of the core tenets of the truly powerful.

Even if he didn\'t want to do it, he would still do it if his strength could benefit from it.

He settled down and took a deep breath, further sinking into the abyss of concentration. He would have to increase his soul awareness. He had to become more conscious of his soul.

Suddenly, it was like he was going back in time rapidly, as scenes of his past began flowing in his field of vision.

From what he had last experienced before he closed his eyes, down to the events leading up to the beginning of the apocalypse, down to the morning before all hell broke loose, down to his slightly messed up childhood about how he had lived his life and evolved into the sociopath he was today, even as far back to when he was born.

All these scenes had played in his head so vividly, making him question what was going on. It then dawned on him. He had truly made contact with his soul.

Although the connection might be a little slow, he had still made progress in such a short time. If that wasn\'t a reason for celebration, then what was?

However, the scenes didn\'t stop there. Instead, right with his mind\'s eye, he began to witness the most bloody, gruesome, and yet majestic battle that had ever graced the entire universe...

Every strike was world-shattering, and the yells of rage and wrath shook the very fabric of reality, even going as far as to cause waves and tsunamis in the spiritual realm. It was fascinating to watch, but most likely a terrifying experience, as there was nothing but space debris millions of light-years away from the epicenter of the clash between two Celestial beings.

One of them was a Golden western style dragon that was the very definition of terrifying glory. He was bathed in a splendid golden glow that seemed to be able to sever reality itself. His right eye glowed a pale white, a pale gloomy sea of white energy being emitted as dense as the fog that covers the sea at dusk, while his left eye was as dark as the darkest recesses of the abyss.

His left eye resembled a black hole that would be able to suck in anything he gazed at, or that gazed at him. It was equally as strange as the other eye.

The golden dragon faced an opponent that was just as powerful as, or even more so. A being of true majesty. A being that made Cain instinctively feel reverence and worship. The heavenly Monarch, Tian was he. He was also the sole greatest enemy of the Golden Dragon, as well as the target of Cain\'s future vengeance.

The fight was world-shattering, but didn\'t last very long in the replay Cain was experiencing. The scenes quickly faded away, as other parts of the Golden Dragon\'s life were witnessed by Cain. It was a weird feeling that he still found strange till now, as the events in the life of Ashur who was thousands of years old flew away like a folded scroll.

The scenes kept changing until they stopped at the period before the beginning of Ashur\'s life. The origin of his soul...

The scene abruptly cut, and Cain was forced back into the present, feeling a bit lightheaded. He realized that his mana was running low, as all the mental activities he had been going through had consumed a lot of his mana.

He broke out of the meditative trance he was in to take a break, as he took some time to process all that he had just experienced. The mana drain was a bit overwhelming, and his MP was already at the bottom of the barrel.

Cain began to question what he truly was after what he had just experienced. According to what he now knew about souls, what he had just experienced was the content memories of his soul. In other words, he and the Golden Dragon, Ashur had the same soul...

At first, Cain didn\'t want to believe it, but then he realized that nothing good would come out of denying the truth, so he just accepted it like a man and got on with his life. There was no other way to go about it without being immature about it. He had better things to focus on.

Putting all that behind him, he drank some mana potions, gradually recovering his mana. After this was done, he quickly sank back into the meditative state, opened the {Eye of Clairvoyance}, and began interacting with the spirit once again.

It was many times easier to get in contact with the spiritual plane, as the initial contact was always the hardest one, with the following attempts becoming easier with each successive try.

He was determined to do it. He would achieve his goals. He found out that he had much greater control over his soul. It was like holding clay in his hands, with full freedom to go wild with his creativity. He was now the potter, and his soul, the vessel...

He waited for a few seconds before starting. It was time to shape his soul...

He extended his soul towards the ever-flowing stream of mana, shaping it to take in as much as it could contain, with no excess whatsoever.

He reached out into it, and the result that he tried to avoid the most, which would lead to his unfortunate demise, happened quicker than he could breathe.

Like scalding, boiling oil, the untamed streams of mana flowed into his soul, threatening to crush and snuff out his very feeble mortal existence from reality, and lead him straight into the land of the dead...