There wasn't really anything grand to do at the sect. While night hunts happened frequently and there was certainly lots of missions to go around, that wasn't something Ira was interested in. As much as it pained him, his cultivation was too low for him to take on the kind of monsters that roamed this world. There was a reason most plants were so bloodthirsty, after all.

And sure, he could enhance this body until he was as strong as a god. No problem, this world would accept it and he'd be able to kill his way through it.

He just didn't feel like it.

It would be boring, to just become so strong that nothing would be able to touch him. Trampling over things and crushing them under his boot was all well and good, but occasionally he liked there to be a sense of danger, no matter how manufactured it might be.

This was all a very complicated way of saying that he just didn't feel like being super strong right now.

Maybe some other time.

For now, he was perfectly content living in domestic bliss (that was the correct description, right?) with Xiao Wei. He didn't need to go on grand adventures, or fight impossible beasts, or battle other cultivators. He had just as much fun here, with Xiao Wei by his side.

They spent the time going on dates by the waterfall, the mountain-side, the gardens. The sect was gigantic and owned the whole mountain; there were plenty of picturesque places ideal for romantic dates. And they were romantic, even Ira could tell that. They ate delicious pastries as they watched the sunset, drank wine on the rooftops like delinquents. The time flowed by and Ira had fun. Far too much fun to worry about other things.

Like what his Host was up to.

...He maybe should have worried a little about it, at least. Now he just felt blindsided, like he‘d been stabbed in the back.

He couldn't quite remember what his Host's missions was, and he didn't care to go searching for that information. What use was it to him? He had a limited ability to help his Host—he wasn't supposed to help them at all. He was only physically present by possessing a mob character's body in order to constantly remind his Hosts that he existed and was watching. Oh, sure, he dressed it up in pretty words when justifying his presence to the Hosts in question but in reality, it was simple.

The Hosts he got were abusive dickheads that had been horrible to their prior Systems and he was physically there to see how different their behavior was when he was more akin to a human, and not just a body-less voice in their head. He then reported their every infraction to his Boss, while he made certain to be as unhelpful as possible so the Host would know the pain of completely disregarding and disrespecting their Systems.

They couldn't remember their prior missions or Systems, of course. But Ira screwed them over and made certain they were appropriately punished and then they'd be given a second chance at this transmigration business.

And if they screwed up again, they got booted from the program (like the assholes they were).

Taking a deep breath to release some of his sudden rage, Ira watched soundlessly as his Host successfully threw the scrolls down the cliff and completed her mission. The colorful words (had his boss changed the font again?) Mission Success flared across his vision like a thorn in his eye and he twitched, scowling.

It was always annoying, when his Hosts managed to succeed at their missions. He preferred it when they didn't, when he could just cart them off to someone else and wash his hands off them. Having to put up with them on yet another mission... fuck, he just wanted to retire already.

"Are you alright?" Xiao Wei asked, putting his hand on Ira's shoulder and petting it softly.

Ira sighed, and shook his head. "We won't be able to get married," he said, an annoyed frown on his face.

Xiao Wei's breath hitched and Ira glanced at him—Xiao Wei's eyes were wide, and his hand tightened on Ira's shoulder. "You're leaving," Xiao Wei said, and it wasn't a question.

Ira nodded.

Xiao Wei's lip wobbled. Ira had never seen person's lip wobble before. Before he knew it, he hugged the other man tightly. He stuffed his face into Xiao Wei's shoulder and breathed in his scent—flowers and one of those pastries that Ira utterly adored. He closed his eyes, letting his senses become entangled in Xiao Wei.

They went to watch the sunset again.

While Ira waited for his time to run out, he watch the sun grow orange and pink and purple and red. He watched the sun paint the landscape below them, watched the paint bleed into the clouds until the stars were gone and the moon was hidden. His hand stayed connected to Xiao Wei and he put his head on Xiao Wei's shoulder and rested.

Waited. Counted the seconds as they ticked by, as his connection to this body was cut, one thread at a time. Could he stay longer? Maybe?

But what would be the point?

He had a new mission to go to, with the same Host. He knew nothing about her, had on purpose forgotten about her. Xiao Wei would be in the next world, too. So he would just... let the time passed, go to this new world, and see what happens. It might be fun.

It might be more fun then here.

"I'll see you soon," Ira said, as the last few threads tying his soul to this body began to disconnect.

Xiao Wei nodded, pressing his lips to Ira's hair. "Yes," he agreed, "it won't be long at all."

Ira smiled, curling deeper into that warmth, feeling his chest glowing from within. It wouldn't be long. There was a new world waiting for him, and a version of Xiao Wei was already there. All he had to do was get there.

End of Arc 8.

FantasyDeath

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A/N: This chapter is half the usual length because I just can't do this right now. I was literally on the edge of crying the whole time because I don't want to write this. (maybe i'll fix it when i feel better, maybe i won't. i dont care right now.)

Effective immediately, I'm putting IWL on hiatus until 2021 is over. The reason is simple—I hate writing this novel. Whenever I sit down to write it, there's a pressure in my chest I absolutely abhor. I leave writing it until the last possible moment because there is nothing in me that wants to touch it, which means that by the time it's finally done and I can post it, it's 3 am on a Monday and I want to cry.

It sucks.

I don't want to hate writing this novel. I've put 4 years into this, almost 170k words, and we're now officially halfway through all the arcs. I will finish this. I won't allow it to just... sit, literally half-finished (well, the first draft, anyway).

But if I don't take a break, if I don't get away from it, I will delete every word of this thing I've ever written and watch it go poof.

I really need a break from this one. And I need it to be longer than a month because I've done that before and it... didn't change anything. I need to get away and not think about it and not think about the readers and your wishes, and the comments—both good and bad. I need the pressure in my chest to be gone.

So I'm taking a break. I won't touch this thing until 2021 is over and done with and I'll take the time to write the novels I'm actually excited about. (Perhaps I'll post some AUs on Patreon, but I utterly refuse to look at the canon-verse right now. Hell, I probably should write AUs, just to get some different feelings associated with the characters, at least. but right now i can't look at it without wanting to cry.)

By the way, I don't care if that whole announcement was TMI and I vomited my feelings all over you and you're uncomfortable now. I deleted my whole wattpad account, so when I say I'll delete/discontinue this thing if I must so my mental health will improve, I'm not kidding.

Also, money genuinely makes me feel much better, because it's a worry that constantly haunts me. So joining me on Patreon does make a gigantic difference to my peace of mind, in case you've ever wondered.

Thank you for your support. I hope you'll continue to support me in 2022, as well as my other stories. <(_ _)>

/Dez