Was your dream colourful?

Chapter 9| Your fears and Misunderstandings

Part Note:
Video of the fragment of the fifth chapter by А шо?-nim:
https://youtu.be/WSaeV2g4r2s [I managed to find it myself haha]
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The outer me looks at all the shit that is happening here and in the canon, holding a mug of water: *with maximum phlegm for a melancholic sips half* how did this even come to be?..
The inner self screams, clutching at the hair: I did not want so much darkness and agnst! How can I stuff fluff and humor here ?!
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Beta-reading only by me
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If Secretive Plotter held something in his hand, he would drop it. What he saw exceeded all his expectations. On the screen were four scenes of the fog of the past. One ended rather quickly, not allowing to look deeper and see more than a woman and a bloodied corpse of a man. The other two were not. They were much more interesting. And the fourth was a complete surprise.

The breath was ragged. This... Why was there an image of his adult son in the memories of this Incarnation? And what was that context? Place, environment. Unfamiliar, unusual, different. And this young man... God! He pierced his heart with a dagger?! Ahahah. What?!

Just look at his body in reality! The beautiful man no longer looked like a human, not with the horns and scales. And yet, it was just as beautiful, if not more so. A strange feeling that this was how it should be pulsed in his temple.

Is that why the Abyssal Dragon is interested in him? Not a human.

The Outer God's head was spinning.

The child's screen was different. Devastation, horrendous destruction. So familiar, yet completely different at the same time. The destroyed area in the fog of memories was different from what it was in reality. Smoke, screams, but the loudest of all was the roar of the monster. What was this monster? He did not meet this in any Scenario in any of the regressions.
The scene was incredibly detailed. Every rustle, every heavy dying breath.

Fear, pain, the strongest sadness from the unfolding tragedy, even more grief. These feelings came upon the beholder. Unwillingness to believe. The desire to cancel what is happening. It was as if the beams that held the bridge had broken. The mental pain gripping his chest was stronger than the physical pain in his broken arm.

But the memory quickly changed to another battle scene.

A gray-haired boy with red eyes, who was attacked by a black-haired swordsman with the face of a seventeen-year-old youth, caused a storm in the mind of the rememberer. The boy parried the sword attacks with ease.

The swordsman obeyed the order to stop immediately, without delay, after listening to the opponent's comment: "Han still has a lot to learn." The voice and tone were someone else's. Unrelated to the boy in front of them. Soaked in nostalgia.[1]

"Rok S-, no, Cale," the boy quickly corrects himself; old habits are always hard to change, - It was so long ago.[2]

A pleasant feeling spread in my chest, as if I had found something long lost and dear to my heart.

This memory was like a sip of water to the thirsty.[3] A little quenched squeezing sore feeling in the chest.[4] This memory drowned out the sense of loss from the past.

Then a luxurious room appeared, full of the whiteness of marble. A large room, beautiful, like in films about the Middle Ages. In addition to various clothes, there was a book on the bed, you could even read the words on the open pages - the memories were so detailed. Such a memory delighted and terrified. And the words on the pages hurt. There was an altar next to the bed. Three figurines-piggy banks lined up on it, looking like cute pigs. And for some reason, they were the most oppressive feeling. It was too hard. Too painful. Why does he even feel all this? Are all these feelings, the feelings of a red-haired child at that moment in the past? Was his memory so incredible?