《God of Desire》 Fall Whoosh The air was heavy with dread. The acrid smell of death and burnt corpses lingered, permeating the senses and turning the stomach. Above, the sky burned with a sinister crimson hue, casting an eerie, blood-red light over the desolate landscape. Crackle Crackle Wood snapped and splintered, metal twisted and groaned, and the flesh sizzled and popped in the intense heat. Despair hung thick in the air, a suffocating presence that seeped into every corner of the devastated landscape. It was a desolation so complete, so absolute, that there was only one word to describe it... The end of the world. A figure emerged from the thick veil of smoke and ash. Clad in black armor etched with terrifying patterns. His armor was slick with blood, and black flames follow after him. Creatures, both human and beast, instinctively bowed in his presence, overwhelmed by a primal fear and reverence. His gaze, piercing through the smoke and chaos, settled on a small group of humans. Amidst the devastation, they clung to a fragile semblance of hope, helping each other to stand amidst the rubble. Nearby, another group was moving with grim resolve, forming ranks as if ready to defend against the inevitable. He squinted at the humans, his gaze narrowing with contempt. A disgusted expression twisted his features The earth trembled once more with each of his strides. He opened his mouth, though no sound escaped into the desolate air. Instead, his words bypassed the need for speech, resonating directly within the minds of every living being within his reach. "...How vile, clinging to each other''s backs merely to trample a great foe, yet thou dost stab thine own kin out of avarice. Ye humans are like maggots that perisheth not, even as I... endeavor to exterminate thee. ...Though all races be gone, ye people shall slay thine own kin out... of envy, desire, and pride... Stealing possessions, territories, and lives of others. In the end, ye... humans shall bring about thine own destruction." His words carried an insane amount of killing intent. Several humans dropped lifelessly to the ground, their faces frozen in expressions of sheer horror. "The world hath no need for maggots." As the words reverberated, the air itself seemed to respond, drawing inward toward him in a chilling, unnatural manner. The surrounding atmosphere tightened, compressing under the weight of his presence, making it difficult to breathe. Though the field was engulfed in flames, an eerie chill settled over the survivors. They shivered uncontrollably, their breath visible in the frigid air. The being opened his mouth again, and this time, a sound emerged¡ªa low, guttural command that filled the air. "Fall." ... Sitting listlessly on a chair, Kael stared out the window and muttered, "Wow... I''ll graduate soon." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Kael checked his phone to see how much money he had left in his account. The number on the screen wasn''t as high as he hoped, but it would cover his essentials for the semester if he was careful with his spending. "I could have bought some good food if I hadn''t spent my money on online gambling," Kael muttered to himself. "Should I deposit more money?" He paused, unsure if depositing more money into online gambling was the right choice. "Damn it.." He cursed as he scrolled past another post that read, "99% of gamblers quit before they hit big." Sigh "I don''t even know what to do with my life now..." Kael muttered. He glanced at the time on his phone and realized it was already past 3 AM. "I should sleep..." Then he gently arranged his bed before settling in to sleep. As he lay in his bed, thoughts raced through his mind on how to earn money. "...I wish I were rich," he mumbled softly. ... "..." Chirp Chirp The morning was alive with the cheerful chirping of birds, their melodies weaving through the crisp air as sunlight gently filtered through the leaves of swaying trees. Dew glistened on blades of grass, creating a shimmering carpet that sparkled in the early light. What a perfect day. There''s also a teenager tied up inside a carriage. ''Where the fuck is this... Am I dreaming?'' Struggling against his restraints, Kael attempted to stand, but the ropes bound tightly around his feet and arms. ''I can''t fucking move... Damn it'' He scanned the interior of the carriage and spotted several other unconscious individuals, all tied like him. ''What the fuck is going on...'' Kael thought to himself, panic rising as he realized he couldn''t scream without risking revealing he was conscious again. The situation made his heart race faster. ''Where am I... Who are these people...'' "..." "I need to escape," Kael resolved. He searched for a way to free himself from the tight binds that held him captive. He alternately rubbed both of his arms against the ropes, trying to create enough friction to loosen their tight hold. ''Damn it...'' After a few moments of struggling, his wrists throbbed with pain. His head kept banging against the carriage walls due to the rough, jostling ride. "I''m too tired already," Kael thought wearily. As soon as he said that, the carriage abruptly stopped, and the horses neighed loudly, signaling a change in their journey. The man in the black robe who had been driving the carriage stepped down and moved to the back. Kael held his breath and tried to remain as still as possible, acting unconscious to avoid drawing attention to himself. "Haaa... Why am I even doing this? It''s not like they pay me to do this," the man in the black robe muttered to himself, casting a glance at the bodies in the back of the carriage. "How can I even carry these guys to the base?" his voice tinged with frustration. He moved the bodies two at a time, hoisting one over each shoulder. ''How strong is that guy to carry two people at the same time''. "..." After some time, the man in the black robe lifted Kael from the carriage and carried him away. ''Where is he taking me... Damn it,'' Kael thought anxiously as he was carried away, his mind racing with fear. ''This man is at least 2 meters tall,'' He noted, ''His body is massive, even covered by that giant robe.'' ''I''ll die if I fight a guy like him...'' Ba-dump Ba-dump Kael was held high off the ground, his heart pounding rapidly with the fear of being discovered as conscious. Kael was slung over the shoulder of this giant, and with each step the man took, Kael bounced uncomfortably. The constant rough motion caused the giant''s shoulder to hit near his groin area repeatedly. To make matters worse, the giant wasn''t even holding Kael securely, adding to his discomfort and fear of falling. "Ugh, I feel sick..." Kael thought, his stomach churning. After a few minutes of suffering, Kael found himself shaded by a huge shadow, signaling that they had arrived somewhere. ''Is this... a cave?'' ''I can see the entrance from here,'' Kael thought, his anxiety rising. ''The light from the entrance is getting smaller as we go... we''re getting deeper.'' ''A pretty normal cave... no lights, no people, but this smell... rotten bodies.'' ''I''ve never seen an actual cave before, but I think this looks normal,'' Kael thought, trying to steady his nerves. ''There''s nothing suspicious about it at first glance, but as you go deeper, the smell of rot intensifies.'' ''This man is so big that with every step he takes, small debris falls from the cave walls.'' They finally reached their destination, and the big man suddenly threw Kael onto a pile of bones. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his body, and he struggled to stay still. ''It hurts!'' He thought, enduring the pain. Then, beneath the pile of bones, a circular pattern began to reveal itself. The intricate design started to move and light up slowly, casting an eerie glow that danced across the cave walls. ''What is this... I have a bad feeling about this,'' Kael thought, anxiety spiking as the glowing pattern grew more intense. "But I can''t move because of these ropes, and the man is still watching us." The light grew brighter, and soon an uncomfortable sensation washed over Kael, making him feel as though his very essence was being pulled toward the glowing pattern. Wooom~ The pattern''s glow intensified until it became blinding, and then, with a sudden surge, it swallowed them whole. "..." Their bodies lay motionless on the ground, the circular pattern still visible beneath them but no longer glowing. The once pulsating light had faded, leaving only the eerie markings on the cave floor. Kael struggled to assess his surroundings, his vision blurred and his body aching. "This place... is different," Kael thought, his eyes slowly adjusting. "There are torches, and it seems more neat and organized." Then, footsteps could be heard in the distance. "Hey! They''re already here, come and get them!" a voice called out, echoing through the cavernous chamber. "Why are there so many of them today? Is something special happening?" another voice queried. "They say it''s a full moon tonight, that''s why we need them more than usual." Then they reached Kael and the other body lying nearby. Then, they lifted Kael and the other person from the floor, each person carefully carrying one body away from the cave chamber. "...Why is this guy so heavy? Fuck," one of them muttered, struggling under the weight as he carried Kael''s unconscious body. "That''s a good sign. The heavier they are, the more blood they have in their bodies¡ªperfect for sacrifice," another voice remarked, sending a chill down Kael''s spine as he remained unconscious. ''Sacrifice!?'' Blood Tap... Tap... Tap... Step by step, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the cave. They reached the prison cells. The captors placed Kael and the other body inside, the heavy clank of the cell door shutting echoed ominously in the dimly lit chamber. ''This smell of iron... No... blood?'' Once the captors left, Kael cautiously shifted, trying to move without drawing attention. He looked around, taking in the surroundings of the dimly lit cell. The metallic smell of blood lingered in the air, mixing with the musty scent of the damp stone walls. ''The cells beside us have other prisoners like us... The only weird thing is that everyone is unconscious,'' He observed, feeling a chill of unease. ''Could it be the smell? Is that why those guys wore masks?'' He wondered if the odor was more than just unpleasant, possibly something dangerous that kept everyone else subdued. ''There are at least five people per cell, all unconscious. Their body build is similar to mine, probably around 15 to 19 years old,'' He noted. The uniformity of their ages and physical conditions suggested they were all chosen for a specific reason. Kael began to twist and pull at the ropes binding him, desperately trying to free himself. He moved slowly and carefully, hoping the noise wouldn''t attract attention while he worked to loosen the restraints. After a few hours of struggling, Kael''s efforts to free himself were interrupted as the captors returned. He watched anxiously as they began taking the bodies out of the cells, moving the unconscious prisoners one by one. ''Damn it... I don''t have any energy left,'' Kael muttered to himself, feeling the weakness in his limbs. ''My body is shaking from lack of food. I guess I''ll get killed like this... What a nightmare.'' Soon, the men in black cloaks adorned with strange patterns came for him and everyone else in his prisoner. He felt their cold, rough hands lift him, his body too weak to resist as they carried him away alongside the other prisoners. Along the way, no one spoke. It was eerily quiet, with not even a cough to break the silence. The only sounds were the shuffling footsteps and the occasional rustle of cloaks. Soon, they reached a room with dim lighting. A dark red light shone brightly in the center, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The man in the cloak placed Kael''s body on the ground, forcing his face into the dirt. He was on his knees, just like the others beside him, feeling the cold, rough surface against his skin. A hunchbacked man in a black cloak stood off to the side of the eerie red light. In the center of the room, there was a hole in the ground from which the unsettling red light emanated. Soon, the hunchbacked man raised his hand, and the room began to tremble. Unknown characters, glowing with an eerie light, started to float in the air, swirling around the room. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The symbols pulsed with energy. The floating characters soon descended upon the bodies of the people facing the ground, including Kael. Each symbol adhered to their backs, glowing faintly. The character that attached itself to Kael was shaped like an eye, its presence on his skin sending a shiver of fear through him. Soon, the tattoos on their bodies began to glow with a crimson light and then floated off their skin, rising into the air. As the symbols left their bodies, Kael and the others felt their vitality drain away, leaving them weak and lifeless. The men in black cloaks knelt in their places, facing the pool of blood at the center of the room. The crimson liquid shimmered ominously under the dark red light. The hunchbacked man soon raised his voice, and it echoed clearly through the chamber. The room seemed to vibrate with the power of his speech. "Oh, Lord of Temptation, we yield to thee, Our bodies... your altar, our souls set free." The hunchbacked man''s voice rang out, each word heavy with dark intent. As he chanted, the room seemed to pulse with energy, the air thickening as if charged with an otherworldly force. The crimson light from the pool of blood flared brighter. The mark of bones appeared above the heads of the abducted people, glowing ominously as it manifested. In an instant, their lives were snuffed out, their bodies going limp. The bone symbols above their heads detached and floated toward the middle of the room, gathering around the pool of blood. The atmosphere grew even darker as these symbols converged. The bones were black, exuding a sinister aura that made them seem almost alive. They hovered in the air, twisting and shifting as if they had a will of their own. Their dark presence filled the room with an even deeper sense of dread, as if the very air was thick with malevolent intent. Soon, the black bones began to align and connect, assembling themselves into the shape of a skeleton. As the final pieces clicked into place, the skeleton of a higher being stood before them. "Our flesh can''t resist, your call... we heed, In passion and temptation, our souls concede..." The hunchbacked man''s chant continued, his voice rising in fervor. Each verse seemed to resonate with the dark energy of the room, intensifying the ritual. The assembled skeleton of the higher being seemed to respond, its skeletal frame vibrating with the rhythm of the incantation. Those with the flesh marks upon them died, their bodies going limp. As their life force faded, their forms began to dissolve and merge with the skeletal structure. As they perished, their flesh seemed to melt and warp, drawn irresistibly toward the skeleton in the center of the room. The flesh twisted and contorted as it fused with the black bones, covering the skeletal frame, forming muscle, sinew, and skin. The skeletal being transformed into something horrifyingly alive, its once-bare bones now clothed in the stolen flesh of the sacrificed. The being now resembled a human, its form disturbingly perfect. It had a strong, masculine build, and its face was undeniably handsome, with sharp features that seemed almost divine. However, there was an eerie flaw¡ªa gaping hole where its heart should have been. The body, though eerily perfect in form, also lacked its eyes. Where eyes should have been, there were only dark, empty sockets that seemed to absorb the light around them. This emptiness made the being even more unsettling, its handsome face twisted into something profoundly unnatural. Despite its blindness, the creature exuded an aura of awareness, as if it could see beyond the physical realm, guided by a power far more sinister. The hunchbacked man continued his incantation, his voice thick with reverence and dark intent. "Guide us in pleasure, with your fiery art, Lead us... to surrender, body and heart." The people marked with a heart symbol began to convulse violently, their bodies twisting and contorting in agony. In a gruesome and horrifying display, they melted into lumps of flesh, merging together into a single mass. The sight was sickening, a twisted parody of life as the flesh coalesced into a heart¡ªa heart unlike any human''s. This heart was not the usual red of a blood-filled organ, nor the pale white of one drained of life. It was a deep, unnatural purple, pulsating with an intense rhythm. All that remained were the eyes and the soul to bring the vessel to completion. Though it now had a body, heart, and form, the being stood as a lifeless shell. The hollow eye sockets and the stillness of its form hinted at its incomplete state, needing a soul to animate it and eyes to give it vision. The ritual was nearing its climax, and the dark energy in the room grew heavier. The mark on Kael''s back began to tremble, vibrating with a sinister energy. Though Kael had been unconscious since the start of the ritual, his body reacted instinctively. The eye-shaped mark seemed to pulse with life. Sword Boom! The ground trembled violently, but it was not just beneath their feet¡ªthe entire cave was shaking. Debris began to fall, crashing to the ground with thunderous impact, sending clouds of dust and rock fragments through the chamber. A sword suddenly plunged from above, slicing through the air and crashing into the ground with a fiery impact. The rocks around it began to melt, glowing with intense heat as they changed colors¡ªfirst from gray to yellow, then orange, and finally a blazing red. Blub... Blub... The molten rock bubbled and hissed, dripping away like liquid fire, as the sword''s searing presence melted everything in its path. The massive hole created by the sword''s fiery descent became an entryway for the soldiers above. Boom! One by one, armored figures began to drop through the opening, their silhouettes framed by the lingering heat and glowing embers. The soldiers descended with precision. Their armor gleamed in the dim light, weapons drawn and ready. The armored figures who descended through the hole were massive, towering over the others in the cave. They wore gleaming silver armor, each chestplate adorned with a prominent emblem¡ªa sword crossed with a sun. As the soldiers landed with heavy thuds, the hunchbacked man barely reacted. He turned slowly to face his kneeling underlings, his expression showing no surprise, as if he had anticipated this intrusion. "Buy me some... time," the hunchbacked man commanded his underlings, his voice cold and decisive. Without hesitation, the dark-cloaked figures sprang into action, moving to confront the armored soldiers. Clang! Boom! The cave erupted into chaos as the two sides clashed. The silver-armored soldiers, though few in number, fought with unmatched skill and precision. Each wielded a different weapon: one with massive gauntlets, another with a spear that glinted menacingly in the dim light, a third with a halberd that cut through the air with deadly arcs, and others with swords. The hunchbacked man, meanwhile, retreated slightly, his attention focused on the ritual he was determined to complete, trusting his followers to hold off the attackers long enough for him to finish his work. Slash! Boom! The sounds of battle filled the cave. The hunchbacked man murmured under his breath, "Let''s advance this." With a swift motion of his hand, the ritual intensified. The marks on Kael''s body and the others'' suddenly vanished, dissolving into the air like smoke. The power of the ritual escalated, the hunchbacked man''s form began to blur, his outline shimmering as if he were merging with the ritual itself. As the ritual intensified, a figure suddenly dropped from the hole above, landing gracefully beside the sword embedded in the ground. Booom! This newcomer was noticeably smaller than the previous soldiers, yet their presence commanded immediate attention. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The armor he wore was finely crafted, with intricate details that set it apart from the others¡ªelegant curves and sharp lines that hinted at both artistry and lethal precision. A faint red tint glinted on the edges of the armor, giving it a regal yet fierce appearance. Without hesitation, the figure reached down and grasped the sword, pulling it free from the molten rock. The newcomer stood tall, the sword held ready, their eyes locked on the blurry form of the hunchbacked man. The hunchbacked old man glanced briefly at the person with the unusual armor and began the ritual. "My soul... will be your path, through shadows and night, Guide us... in darkness-" The new soldier was about to make a move but the hunchback man glanced to the soldiers and murmured, "To forbidden... light." Soon, the hunchbacked old man vanished like ash, and the body on the altar came to life. This being was beyond the comprehension of ordinary people¡ªan existence that signaled the end of the world. The vessel of the ancient being was now complete, but it lacked eyes. The entire cave shook as this being awakened on earth, and all who were near could not resist falling to their knees before such a supreme form of life. The hunchbacked man''s subordinates eventually fell, but it took the soldiers longer than expected to defeat them. The cramped space of the cave made it difficult to wield their weapons without endangering each other. Realizing the strain on his troops, the leader of the soldiers unleashed an aura that spread throughout the cave, creating a protective barrier. The oppressive atmosphere that had weighed down on them lightened, allowing both the soldiers and the hostages to breathe more easily, free from the suffocating presence of the ancient being. The leader of the soldiers issued swift commands, and the subordinates dispersed instantly, moving with practiced precision. Without wasting a moment, the soldiers gathered the surviving hostages, including Kael, and began their rapid retreat to the hole from which they had descended. Kael was slung over the back of the soldier wielding gauntlets, who climbed the wall of the cavern with remarkable strength. The soldier''s hands dug into the rock with ease, pulling them both upward toward the surface. Meanwhile, the leader of the soldiers remained standing at the forefront, directly facing the vessel of evil. He did not move, his eyes locked on the ancient being. The soldier holding a spear urgently asked their leader, "Captain, let''s fall back!" The captain, eyes fixed on the ancient being, shook his head and said, "You go first. I''ll catch up." The soldier nodded and quickly climbed back up the hole they had descended. The captain, however, couldn''t shake the feeling that releasing this ancient being into the world would be extremely dangerous. The captain, watching the ancient being, knew he couldn''t attack while it was still assimilating the soul. If he struck now, he risked getting caught in the process and having his own soul drained. So, he kept his distance, carefully observing. Boom! The ritual was complete, filling the air with the foul stench of lust and blood. In this atmosphere, ordinary people would easily lose control. The being gently descended, placing its feet on the ground with grace. It opened its palm, and a blood-colored liquid materialized, forming into two eyeballs. The being placed the eyeballs into its empty sockets. They squirmed, initially uncoordinated and shifting around on their own. After a few minutes, the eyeballs settled and began to move according to the being''s will. The captain of the knights felt his heart race as he gripped his sword tightly, watching the being intently. The being, completely naked, began to walk forward, heading straight toward the captain. Clink! The captain''s sword burst into flames as he slashed at the being''s neck with extreme speed. Ting! The sword was stopped mid-strike, blocked by the being''s nail. The impact sent a small shockwave through the air, but the being remained unfazed, its eyes locked onto the captain with a cold gaze. "---------?" The being''s voice echoed as if whispered directly into the captain''s ear, though its words were impossible to comprehend. !! The sound was twisted and unnatural, as if spoken in reverse, carrying an eerie, cursed undertone that sent chills down the captain''s spine. The captain quickly retreated, his eyes widening in alarm. A sense of dread washed over him as he realized the being''s voice might have cursed him, leaving him feeling uneasy. "------?" The being spoke again, but its words remained incomprehensible. The captain looked at the being once more and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. Ha... Boom! The captain surged forward with incredible speed, aiming to strike the being once more. But just before he could reach it, the being spoke again. The eerie voice made the captain flinch, his momentum faltering. "Ahh... Hello... You under...stand?" The being spoke in the captain''s language, its voice still unsettling but now disturbingly clear. ''Imperial language?'' The captain was surprised, but he maintained a poker face and responded, "I do understand your speech now." "...Good, I''ll kill you... now," the being said, its tone was calm yet chilling. "Sure," the captain responded immediately, his voice steady. As he spoke, the temperature around them began to rise rapidly. The air above the captain shimmered and blurred from the intense heat radiating from him. Faith Boom! The being launched its attack, but not with physical force or magic. Instead, it targeted the captain''s very soul. As a vastly superior entity, the being unleashed an overwhelming soul pressure, bearing down on the captain with crushing intensity. !! The captain could feel the weight of the being''s presence, as if his very essence was being squeezed and threatened to be torn apart. "Urkk!" The captain gasped in pain, stumbling out of posture. He felt as though he were being crushed from within, struggling to maintain his composure. "Mother... Guide me," the captain prayed fervently. As he spoke, a radiant light enveloped him, easing the crushing pressure. With the divine light aiding him, his breathing became more controlled, and he regained a measure of stability. "Blessing..." The being observed the captain with a dismissive air, its eyes reflecting a sense of disdain, as if it were looking at a mere insect. Clank! The captain''s armor shifted suddenly, covering his mouth and hiding most of his face. The only visible part of him now were his eyes peering out from behind the armor. [Burned Flower: Ashes] The captain unleashed a powerful technique, setting his sword ablaze with intense fire. The temperature soared above 1200¡ãC, melting the cave floor and trapping the being''s feet in the softening rock. Though the terrain was shifting and unstable, the captain was familiar with the heat and used it to his advantage. The sudden heat causes the rock walls to crack and splinter, while organic materials and flammable objects ignite instantly, bursting into flames The ground begins to melt, turning into molten, glassy pools, and trapped moisture violently evaporates into steam, causing small explosions. Sand and minerals in the soil begin to vitrify, turning into molten glass as silica melts around 1200¡ãC. Toxic gases like carbon monoxide and sulfur dioxide are released from burning and melting materials, making the air unbreathable. Slash! The sword struck the being and burned it, but the body convulsed and regenerated almost instantly. "Kaha...hahah!" The being laughed, walking calmly despite being engulfed in flames. "Not... bad! Why don''t you... become my disciple? I can give... you anything..." Despite being engulfed in flames, the being offered a deal, its smiling teeth visible through the fire. "Fuck off." He attacked the being relentlessly, striking again and again. Slash! Slash! As the being regenerated, it was also turning to ashes at an alarming rate. The captain seized the moment and activated his technique once more. [Burned Flower: Wilt] When executed, this technique allows the sword to strike with precision at areas that disrupt the flow of regenerative energy within the opponent''s body. Each cut or thrust releases a pulse of energy that interferes with cellular repair mechanisms, keeping wounds open and causing previously healed injuries to reopen. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. The heat from the captain''s sword intensified, cutting through the being with the precision of a laser slicing through tofu. The being had no chance to retaliate against the relentless assault. Slash! After delivering the final cut, the captain stepped back and released a puff of smoke from his armor''s mouth cover. Tsss... Smoke began to seep out from the captain''s armor. But before the captain could react, the being stood up once again, seemingly unfazed by the brutal assault. "Hm..." The being inspected its limbs, opening and closing its hand as if testing its strength. The captain, though bewildered, wasn''t entirely surprised. He had expected this kind of resilience from the creature. !! The being locked eyes with the captain, and in an instant, the captain''s body froze. A barrage of blood vessels shot toward him. Out of instinct, the captain activated his aura, quickly enveloping his body in a protective shield. He narrowly escaped death as a few blood vessels reached his helmet, corroding part of it before being repelled by the aura. With the helmet partially corroded, the captain''s eyes were more eexpose. The being could easily read the captain''s emotions just by looking into his eyes. "Mother... bless me," the captain muttered, cupping his fist and placing it against his chest. A radiant golden light enveloped him once more, filling him with renewed strength and protection. The being stepped forward once more, and with that single step, the ground beneath them transformed into a horrifying mass of flesh and blood, pulsating. Soon, the entire cave began to shift, its walls and ceiling turning into flesh, with blood dripping from the roof. The once solid ground was now a grotesque landscape, pulsing and oozing with life, as if the cave itself had become a living organism. "Give... up, you''ll meet your end soon," the being said, its voice dripping with cold certainty. The ground transformed into flesh, with blood vessels creeping and spreading everywhere. They reached the captain''s armor, wrapping around it and threatening to penetrate his defenses. The captain stepped back, struggling to maintain his balance on the slippery, fleshy ground. Each movement was precarious as the grotesque surface made it difficult to keep his footing. The captain released intense heat once more, setting the fleshy ground ablaze. The air in the cave had already become unbreathable due to the exploded minerals, but the captain used his aura to stabilize his breathing. The burning flesh emitted a putrid stench, overwhelming to the human nose. The captain retreated, carefully making his way back until he reached the hole he had created earlier. The being took a single step, and the gap between them closed instantly. In its mind, eliminating such a minor threat was trivial, which was why it had been toying with the captain from the start. !!! The being''s hand nearly touched the captain, but as it came close, the armor on his left arm began to corrode instantly. The captain leaped up, grabbing onto the edge of the hole he had created earlier. With swift precision, he used his grip on the wall to pull himself up, quickly climbing to escape the being below. The being refused to let the captain escape easily, leaping after him with blood vessels and flesh reaching out, nearly grabbing him. In a desperate move, the captain threw his flaming sword toward the being. The blade struck and lodged itself into the being''s body. The being continued its pursuit, undeterred, but suddenly the sword lodged in its body exploded. Boom! The blast sent a shockwave through the air, temporarily halting the being''s advance and buying the captain precious moments to climb further. The captain was fully aware of the being''s rapid regenerative abilities, so he activated his heat ability once more as he climbed. This decision came with great risk¡ªmelting the walls of the hole could bury the being, but it would also make it harder for him to continue climbing. Additionally, the heat could ignite the explosive minerals embedded in the rock, further complicating his escape. Yet, he pushed forward, knowing he had little choice. The heat around the captain intensified as he climbed rapidly, determined to escape. Small explosions erupted from the minerals in the rock, adding to the danger, but he pressed on, navigating the chaos as the walls of the hole began to melt around him. A few minutes later, the captain pulled himself out of the hole, breathing heavily. He paused, noticing the unsettling stillness¡ªthere was no movement from the being below. The silence was eerie, and it struck him as very strange. The captain noticed the footprints scattered across the ground, suggesting that his subordinates had managed to leave without any issues. Sigh... This small sign of their safety offered him a brief moment of relief. Suddenly, a blood vessel emerged from the ground, oozing a trickle of blood. The eerie sight was a stark reminder that the being''s influence might not be entirely gone. Boom! The ground erupted violently, and a mass of blood vessels wriggled and writhed from the explosion. The being returned. Without hesitation, the captain charged at the being, launching a powerful punch with all his remaining strength. Bang! The captain was thrown backward by the blood vessels, his right arm snapping with a sickening crack. The armor on right arm was shattered, leaving him severely injured and vulnerable. He quickly got to his feet and raised his guard, determined to keep fighting despite his injuries. "Insignificant," the being said, looking at the captain with clear disdain. The captain''s heart pounded loudly in his chest as he struggled to control his emotions. The overwhelming fear of death gripped him. !? The being, sensing danger, attempted to escape but found itself trapped within a holy formation. The priests revealed themselves, emerging from a spell scroll crafted by an Archmage, which had kept them hidden from the being. Sixteen priests encircled both the being and the captain, their presence forming a powerful barrier. As the being struggled to escape, the captain laughed and removed her helmet, revealing long crimson hair cascading down her back. It became clear that the captain had been female all along. Despite the dire situation, the captain laughed, her demeanor unshaken. The barrier, which sealed off any escape or entry, meant both she and the being were destined to die here. The being''s mind, now unraveling, began to create illusions to deceive the priests outside. "Hey, idiot! Do you want to escape?" the captain called out, offering the being a deal. The being looked at the captain with a mix of curiosity and expectation, hoping for something substantial in the offer she was making. "There''s no escape, fucker! We''re both going to die here!" the captain shouted, laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face. Veins bulged on the being''s face as its rage intensified. It wanted to rip the captain to shreds, and for the first time, the being displayed such a raw, furious expression. "Oh? So you can make expressions, huh? I guess that will be your last!" the captain laughed again. Her hand growing even hotter as she concentrated her aura. In a burst of extreme rage, the being rushed at the captain. Swoosh! With a defiant smile, she pointed her hand at her own neck and said, "I''ll be going first! Take your time here, idiot!" "This is my faith!" As she slit her own throat, she died instantly, leaving the being in its fury. Church I woke up staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. My mind was foggy, and my body refused to respond. Panic set in. I tried moving my fingers¡ªnothing. My toes? Still nothing. My head? Not even a twitch. ''Fantastic. I''m paralyzed.'' A nun approached, her expression calm and practiced. "I''m glad you''re awake. Wait here, I''ll bring Father Lucian," she said before turning away. ''Yeah, not like I have a choice.'' Left alone, all I could do was stare at the ceiling, noticing the cobwebs in the corners. ''At least the spiders are making themselves at home.'' Minutes passed as the reality of my situation sank in. This wasn¡¯t a dream. My body refused to respond, except for my eyes. Terror and fascination warred in my mind. ''This is bad¡­ but also kind of amazing? I should be dead, right? How did I survive?'' I dug through my hazy memories, but they remained frustratingly out of reach. Pain. Fear. Darkness. My body felt weak, my cheekbones sharper than they should be. I probably looked like I had just crawled out of a grave. The priest finally arrived, settling into the chair beside my bed with a quiet chuckle. "How do you feel?" ''Oh, just fantastic, Father. Thanks for asking.'' I stayed silent¡ªnot that I had much of a choice. He didn¡¯t seem to expect an answer, which was a relief. "The mark on your back was quite large. Its effects are gone, but the imprint remains," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. ''Mark? What mark?'' My curiosity flared, but I had no way to check. "Do you remember your name? Where you''re from?" he asked. I barely managed the slightest shake of my head. "Did you lose your memories?" Lucian¡¯s expression turned more serious. I blinked. It wasn¡¯t entirely a lie. I had no memories of the body I was in, and my past felt like a fading dream. I knew who I was before this, but how I got here? Blank. "I see¡­ that''s unfortunate." Lucian sighed, then continued. "There were three of you who survived and were brought here. The other two¡­ didn''t make it." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. His voice held genuine sorrow, which only made me more uneasy. This wasn¡¯t just a passing remark¡ªhe truly mourned their loss. Silence hung between us before he offered a small smile. "For now, just focus on your recovery." ''Sounds like a scam,'' I thought, but blinked anyway. Once he left, I was alone again, with nothing but the creaking walls and the ever-present spiders for company. ''This place looks abandoned. Am I in some rundown medieval church? And why do I have the sinking feeling that I was almost sacrificed?'' The weight of my situation pressed down on me. A few hours ago, I was just a regular college student. Now, I was here¡ªwherever here was¡ªbarely clinging to life. ''I wish I had my phone,'' I muttered internally before exhaustion pulled me under once more. --- Chirp. Chirp. The sun hadn¡¯t risen yet, but the birds were already announcing their existence. I groggily opened my eyes. My body felt¡­ lighter. Tentatively, I tried moving my fingers. They twitched. My toes? They responded. My arms? Stiff, but functional. ''Holy crap, I can move!'' Sitting up was a struggle, my muscles weak from who-knew-how-long of immobility, but at least I wasn¡¯t a vegetable anymore. The room was simple¡ªwood and stone, rustic and old. Insects crawled along the cracks in the walls, reminding me that hygiene was clearly a luxury here. My stomach growled. As if on cue, a young nun entered, pushing aside a thin curtain that served as a door. "Oh! You''re already up! That''s amazing!" she gasped, eyes wide. I blinked at her enthusiasm. "Please rest! I¡¯ll bring you something to eat!" She gave me a bright smile before hurrying off. I sat back down, rubbing my temples. ''Well, at least someone¡¯s nice around here.'' A few minutes later, she returned with a wooden bowl of steaming soup. "We don¡¯t have much, but please, eat as much as you like," she said kindly, placing it in front of me. I picked up the crude spoon, blew on the soup, and took a cautious sip. It tasted like warm water with a vague memory of vegetables. I kept my face neutral. "Is it not to your liking?" she asked, tilting her head. I met her gentle, expectant gaze and took another sip, suppressing a grimace. ''I¡¯ve eaten instant noodles with no seasoning before. I can survive this.'' "It¡¯s¡­ nourishing," I said diplomatically. She beamed. "I¡¯m glad!" I sighed internally. ''Yep. I¡¯m doomed.'' --- The soup, while bland, confirmed two things: I wasn¡¯t in immediate danger of starving, and the people here¡ªat least the nuns¡ªweren¡¯t hostile. That didn¡¯t mean I trusted them. The young nun studied me with a soft smile. "You seem much better already. You must be strong." ''Strong? No. Just lucky.'' Or unlucky, considering I had no idea how I ended up here. "What is your name? Do you remember anything?" she asked gently. I hesitated. My memories of this place were nonexistent, but that didn¡¯t mean my past self was unimportant. Too many unknowns¡ªwho I was, who tried to sacrifice me, and why I survived when the others didn¡¯t. Giving out my real name felt like a mistake. So I lied. "¡­Grimm," I finally said, choosing a name that felt oddly familiar. The nun¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. "It¡¯s nice to meet you, Grimm. I¡¯m Sister Elara." I gave a slight nod, watching her reaction. Nothing. No recognition, no suspicion. Just genuine kindness. That was almost more unsettling than if she had reacted. "Father Lucian will be pleased to hear you¡¯re recovering so quickly," she continued. "You were in terrible condition when we found you. It¡¯s a miracle you¡¯re even awake." ''Miracle, huh?'' That word didn¡¯t sit right with me. I glanced around again. The wooden walls were aged, worn, and carried the faint scent of damp earth. This place wasn¡¯t well-funded, meaning no advanced medicine. So how did I recover so fast? I looked down at my hands¡ªpale, weak, but functional. My back still ached where Lucian mentioned the mark. I needed a mirror. Sister Elara stood, dusting off her robes. "Please rest for now. Father Lucian will check on you soon." I nodded again, watching her leave. The moment she was gone, I forced myself to stand, ignoring the protests of my weak legs. My balance wavered, but I managed. No major wounds, just soreness. My back still tingled as if something had burned into it. I hobbled toward the window. The glass was warped, offering a distorted view outside. The sky was still dark, the village beyond quiet. No visible guards. No immediate threats. I wasn¡¯t locked in. That was good. But it didn¡¯t mean I was safe. Someone¡ªmaybe a cult, maybe something worse¡ªhad tried to sacrifice me. That meant they could still be looking for me. And if the church had saved me, were they allies? Or had they simply found me first? Too many questions. Not enough answers. I sighed. ''Think, Grimm. What¡¯s the safest way forward?'' For now, acting like a confused amnesiac seemed best. It kept suspicion off me while I gathered information. Footsteps approached. I quickly sat back down, forcing my body to appear fatigued. The door creaked open, and Father Lucian entered, his calm presence unchanged. "You¡¯re already up? That¡¯s promising," he said, taking a seat. I met his gaze but stayed silent, letting him speak first. "You survived something terrible, Grimm. A ritual. A sacrifice." My fingers curled slightly. "Whatever was meant to happen¡­ it failed. And you survived." I kept my face neutral. "Do you have any memories of that night?" I shook my head. Lucian studied me for a moment, then nodded. "That may be for the best." A heavy pause. "You¡¯re safe here. For now." Safe. For now... Intel I spent the next few hours testing my body, gradually regaining my strength. My muscles still ached, but I could walk now¡ªalbeit a little unsteadily. The more I moved, the more I confirmed something unsettling¡ªmy recovery speed wasn¡¯t normal. Either they have some kind of healing magic, or something else is at play. Whatever the reason, I wasn¡¯t about to complain. What mattered now was assessing my surroundings and preparing for the worst. The church was small, its wooden pews creaking under the weight of time. Dust coated the corners, and faded religious symbols lined the walls¡ªnone of which I recognized. A few nuns passed by, some offering polite smiles, others too busy with their tasks to notice me. No guards. No locked doors. That was good. I reached the entrance and hesitated. Stepping outside meant exposure, but it also meant gathering information. If this world was anything like I feared¡ªone mistake, one wrong gesture could get me killed. Pushing open the heavy doors, I stepped into the village. It was small¡ªdirt roads, thatched roofs, and wooden houses forming a simple but functional settlement. A handful of villagers moved about, carrying baskets or tending to livestock. Near the center, a blacksmith hammered away at a glowing piece of metal, while a group of children kicked a bundle of cloth tied together like a ball. No one paid me much attention. Good. That meant I wasn¡¯t considered a threat. Yet. I took a slow breath, scanning my surroundings. If I needed to escape, there were a few possible routes¡ªa narrow alley between buildings, a broken fence near the edge of the village, and what looked like a forest path leading beyond the fields. Noted. But leaving now would be a mistake. I didn¡¯t know the terrain, the dangers outside, or the laws that governed this place. For all I knew, getting caught stealing food could end with my head on a pike. I needed intel. And Sister Elara was the perfect source. I spotted her near a well, filling a wooden bucket. Approaching her casually, I made sure my steps were slow and unthreatening. She noticed me and smiled. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°Grimm! You¡¯re walking already? That¡¯s amazing!¡± I returned her smile¡ªsmall, controlled. ¡°Still a bit sore, but I¡¯ll manage.¡± She set the bucket down. ¡°That¡¯s wonderful. Did you need something?¡± ¡°Actually, yeah.¡± I rubbed the back of my neck, feigning slight embarrassment. ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t know much about this place. I was hoping you could tell me a little¡­ so I don¡¯t accidentally offend someone and get myself killed.¡± Elara giggled. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry! People here are kind, they wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡± She paused, then cleared her throat. ¡°Well¡­ most of them wouldn¡¯t.¡± That¡¯s concerning. She motioned for me to sit on a nearby bench. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to help! What do you want to know?¡± I sat beside her, keeping my posture relaxed but my mind sharp. ¡°Everything. Start with the basics.¡± Elara nodded. ¡°This village is called Redgrave. It¡¯s a small settlement under the rule of Baron Lysander. He collects taxes but mostly leaves us alone. The main dangers come from monsters in the wilds, not the nobility.¡± Baron. Feudal system confirmed. I filed that information away. ¡°And the church? How much influence does it have?¡± She smiled. ¡°Father Lucian is well-respected, but our church is small. The Holy Order controls most of the major cities. Out here, we just try to help people.¡± So there¡¯s a larger religious authority. That means the wrong words could get me branded a heretic. Noted. I leaned forward slightly. ¡°What about¡­ customs? What¡¯s considered rude here?¡± Elara hummed in thought. ¡°Well, don¡¯t insult the nobility, obviously. And don¡¯t touch someone¡¯s head unless you¡¯re close to them¡ªit¡¯s seen as demeaning. If someone offers you food, it¡¯s polite to take at least a bite, even if you don¡¯t like it.¡± Good to know. Would¡¯ve been awkward refusing that soup outright. She continued, ¡°Also, don¡¯t speak ill of the gods in public. Even if someone isn¡¯t that religious, disrespecting them can bring bad luck¡ªor worse.¡± Worse? That¡¯s vague. I don¡¯t like vague. I nodded. ¡°Got it. And¡­ the ruins where I was found. Where exactly were they?¡± Her expression darkened slightly. ¡°Underground, near the village. It used to be an old temple, but it collapsed long ago. We avoid it¡ªstrange things happen there. People go missing.¡± I masked my interest. ¡°Then why was I there?¡± She hesitated. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡± Liar. She knew something¡ªor at least suspected. But she didn¡¯t press the issue. That meant she either trusted Father Lucian to handle it¡­ or she was afraid. Either way, I needed to see those ruins for myself. I leaned back, exhaling softly. ¡°Thanks, Sister Elara. This helps a lot.¡± She smiled, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. ¡°Just¡­ be careful, okay?¡± I nodded, standing up. ¡°I will.¡± As I walked away, my mind raced. A failed sacrifice. A mark on my back. Ruins that people feared. And the fact that, despite everything, I was still alive. I wasn¡¯t just lucky. Back at the church, I sought out information. Books would be my next priority¡ªreligious texts, historical records, anything that could provide insight into this world¡¯s past and its people. I found Father Lucian near the altar, sorting through a pile of worn-out scrolls. He glanced up as I approached. ¡°Feeling better already, Grimm?¡± he asked with an amused smile. ¡°Still a bit weak, but better than before,¡± I admitted. ¡°I was wondering¡­ do you have any books I could read? I¡¯d like to understand more about this world.¡± Father Lucian raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not many outsiders ask for books first. Most just want food and shelter.¡± ¡°I just don¡¯t want to be ignorant,¡± I said with a shrug. He nodded approvingly. ¡°A good mindset. We have a few scriptures and some old records. You¡¯re free to read them, though some are in an older dialect.¡± That was fine. Even if the language was difficult, I could still gather useful context. He led me to a small side room where dusty books and parchment sat on wooden shelves. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a start. As I scanned the faded text, I found religious doctrine¡ªstories of gods, saints, and divine punishment. But hidden between the lines were mentions of old kingdoms, wars, and disasters. This confirms it. This world has a long history¡­ but only fragments are recorded here. Another book focused on practical knowledge¡ªtrade routes, crops, and mentions of rare spices. Spices. That caught my attention. If this world had a functioning trade system, then food wasn¡¯t just for survival¡ªit was a business. And if spices were a luxury, then good seasoning was an opportunity. Setting the book down, I turned to Father Lucian. ¡°Father, can I ask something?¡± He smiled. ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the economic situation like here? What do people trade the most?¡± He chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s not a question I hear often. Redgrave is simple¡ªwe trade mostly wheat, wool, and iron ore from the nearby mines. Bartering is common since coin is scarce. Only larger towns deal in major commerce.¡± I nodded. ¡°And spices? Are they common?¡± His smile faded slightly. ¡°Not here. Spices are expensive¡ªonly the wealthy use them. Salt is common, but things like pepper or cinnamon? Those come from distant lands and are worth their weight in silver.¡± Jackpot. I stood up, stretching. ¡°Thanks, Father. That helps a lot.¡± He gave me a curious look but didn¡¯t question further. Gods I found Sister Elara tending to a small herb garden behind the church. She was younger than the other nuns, with a calm demeanor and an air of quiet diligence. If I was going to get information, she seemed like the best person to ask. "Excuse me, Sister Elara," I began, keeping my tone polite. "Can you tell me more about the gods worshipped in this world?" She looked up, surprised but not displeased. "Of course, Grimm. Most people grow up learning about them, but I suppose it must be unfamiliar to you." She dusted off her hands and gestured for me to sit on a nearby bench. "There are six main gods that rule over this world: the Gods of Life, Sky, Water, Fire, Night, and Light. They are the most widely worshipped and hold great influence over nations and kingdoms." I nodded, absorbing the information. Six gods governing fundamental aspects of existence made sense. But something felt missing. "If there''s a god of life¡­ does that mean there''s also a god of death?" I asked, watching her expression carefully. Elara hesitated. Her fingers tightened slightly around the herb she was holding. "Yes," she admitted, voice softer. "There were seven gods once." My interest sharpened. "What happened?" She glanced around, as if making sure no one else was listening, before lowering her voice. "The Church of Death suffered a great tragedy over a hundred years ago. A group of heretics targeted them, and their mission remains a mystery even now. ...Some say they sought forbidden knowledge. Others whisper that they aimed to unseat the god of death entirely." I frowned. "And what happened to the god of death after that?" She shook her head. "No one knows. Their followers were scattered, their temples destroyed, and since then, the balance between the gods has been¡­ fractured. Some believe the god of death still exists but is no longer able to manifest in the world. Others think they were sealed away." A god being sealed or missing? That had serious implications. If gods could be harmed or erased, then divine power wasn''t as absolute as I thought. Elara sighed, brushing her hair back. "This church follows the Goddess of Life. She represents warmth, growth, and healing. But even she has been affected by the loss of balance. Some say death is a part of life, and without its proper place, the cycle has become¡­ unstable." I processed her words carefully. A hundred years wasn''t that long in historical terms. If there were still remnants of the god of death''s influence somewhere, I needed to know more. A sudden thought struck me. "What about their followers?" I asked. "You said the Church of Death was destroyed, but did any of them survive?" Elara frowned, her fingers absently pressing against the fabric of her robe. "There are rumors," she admitted. "That some remnants of their faith still exist, hiding in the shadows. But no one has seen them in years." A cold breeze passed through the courtyard, rustling the herbs. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words. I exhaled slowly. My gut told me this wasn''t just history. If the balance between the gods had truly been broken, then whatever happened a hundred years ago was still affecting the world now. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. "Is it forbidden to speak about the god of death?" I asked. She hesitated again before shaking her head. "Not forbidden, but¡­ discouraged. Many people believe that speaking their name invites misfortune." "So their name is unknown, too?" She nodded. "Just like the other gods, we only call them by their title." I leaned back slightly, staring at the sky. This world wasn''t as simple as it seemed. If gods could disappear, if divine balance could be shattered, then something deeper was at play. And if that tragedy happened just a century ago, there could still be clues left behind. But for now, I had what I needed. "Thank you, Sister Elara," I said with a small nod. "That was¡­ enlightening." She smiled, though there was still a trace of unease in her eyes. "I hope it helps. Just be careful what you ask, Grimm. Some things are best left buried." I wasn''t sure I agreed with that. If anything, now I was even more determined to dig. I returned to the church, my mind still racing. Information was key, and I needed more of it. If I wanted to survive in this world, I needed knowledge¡ªnot just about customs but also about its economy, food, and resources. Books. That was my next priority. A church had to have books, right? Even if they were just religious texts, they could still provide insight into how people thought, what they valued, and maybe even some historical records. I found Father Lucian near the altar, quietly sorting through some worn-out scrolls. He glanced up as I approached. "Feeling better already, Grimm?" he asked with an amused smile. "Still a bit weak, but better than before," I admitted. "I was wondering¡­ do you have any books I could read? I''d like to understand more about this world." Father Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Not many outsiders ask for books first. Most just want food and shelter." "I just don''t want to be ignorant," I said with a shrug. He nodded approvingly. "A good mindset. We have a few scriptures and some old records. You''re free to read them, though some are in an older dialect." That was fine. Even if I struggled with the language, I could pick up useful context. He led me to a small side room where stacks of parchment and dusty books sat on wooden shelves. It wasn''t much, but it was a start. I picked up the first book with care, scanning the faded text. A lot of it was religious doctrine¡ªstories of gods, saints, and divine punishment. But hidden between them were mentions of old kingdoms, wars, and natural disasters. ''This confirms it. This world has a long history¡­ but only bits of it are recorded here.'' I flipped through another book. This one had more practical knowledge¡ªtrade routes, crops, and even mentions of rare spices. Spices. That caught my attention. If this world had a functioning trade system, then food wasn''t just for survival¡ªit was a business. And if their spices were limited, then good seasoning was a luxury. I set the book down and found Father Abel still watching me. "Father, can I ask something?" He smiled. "Of course." "What''s the economic situation like here? What do people trade the most?" He chuckled. "That''s not a question I hear often. Redgrave is a simple village. We trade mostly wheat, wool, and iron ore from the nearby mines. Bartering is common since coin is scarce. Only the bigger towns deal in larger commerce." I nodded. "And spices? Are they common?" His smile faded slightly. "Not here. Spices are expensive. Only the wealthy use them. Salt is common, but pepper and cinnamon? Those come from distant lands and are worth their weight in silver." ''Jackpot.'' If I could replicate modern seasoning techniques¡ªsalt curing, better fermentation, or even basic food preservation methods¡ªI could make money. Maybe not instantly, but enough to establish myself. I stood up, stretching. "Thanks, Father. That helps a lot." He gave me a curious look but didn''t question further. "Knowledge is always valuable. Use it wisely, Grimm." I needed a plan. Surviving a near-sacrifice was one thing, but surviving this world was another. I had no knowledge of its economy, politics, or dangers. Worse, I had no money, no connections, and no identity beyond the name I''d stolen from a manga. That meant I needed a foundation¡ªsomething stable to keep me afloat while I gathered information. Freeloading at the church was out of the question. Even if they were kind, charity had limits, and I wasn''t about to test them. I needed a job, something that would let me move freely while staying under the radar. When I found the priest later that day, he looked up from his scriptures with mild surprise. "You''re recovering well," he noted. "Is there something you need?" I chose my words carefully. "I don''t want to impose any longer. I was hoping to find work¡ªperhaps here in the church or anywhere you could recommend." His expression shifted to something unreadable. "That''s quite responsible of you. Most in your position would have asked for more time to rest." Rest wasn''t an option. Sitting idle meant stagnation, and stagnation meant vulnerability. "Do you have any particular skills?" he asked. I hesitated. Back in my world, I was nearly a civil engineering graduate. Here? That meant nothing. "I can read and write," I said instead. "And I have a decent understanding of numbers." That was the safest answer¡ªsomething that wouldn''t raise suspicions but still held value. The priest hummed in thought. "We always need scribes, but you''d require religious training. If you''re looking for physical labor, the church handles purification rites for the dead. The bodies have been accumulating since the graveyard keeper disappeared a month ago. That position is still vacant." A graveyard keeper. It was an unassuming job, one that wouldn''t put me in the direct line of power or conflict. Yet it also came with something valuable¡ªaccess to information. "I''d like to take that job," I said. The priest studied me for a long moment. "It''s not an easy role," he warned. "The keeper is responsible for ensuring the dead are properly laid to rest. That means counting the bodies, keeping records, and making sure they don''t¡­ return." I caught the hesitation in his tone. "You mean making sure they don''t become undead." His gaze darkened. "Yes. That''s why all corpses are purified before burial. Without proper rites, some bodies may rise again. The graveyard keeper must ensure that doesn''t happen." That explained why the position had been abandoned. If the previous keeper vanished without a trace, it wasn''t hard to guess what might have happened to him. "What would I need to do before I''m officially given the role?" I asked. "You would require basic religious instruction," the priest said. "The inquisitors will need to approve your appointment, as those who tend to the dead must be trusted not to abuse their position. You''ll also need to report to the church weekly and keep a meticulous record of the bodies." It was reasonable. Dangerous, but reasonable. Still, this job had its advantages. I''d have a reason to leave town regularly, allowing me to explore and gather information. I wouldn''t be under constant watch, but I''d still have a place to return to if I needed shelter. The inquisitors¡ªthe church''s enforcers¡ªwould need to approve my position, which meant I''d have to go through some form of scrutiny. That was a risk, but one I could manage if I played it smart. "I understand," I said. "When can I start?" The priest smiled faintly, though there was something wary in his eyes. "I will arrange for you to begin your teachings tomorrow. Until then, rest." I nodded, though my mind was already turning. The previous keeper disappeared. Bodies were piling up. And for some reason, I felt like I''d just walked into something much bigger than I realized. Keeper That night, sleep didn¡¯t come easily. Lying on the stiff cot, I stared at the wooden ceiling, my mind a tangled mess of thoughts. The graveyard keeper role wasn¡¯t just about digging holes and counting bodies. If the previous keeper had vanished, then something took him. Whether that was an undead problem, foul play, or something worse, I had no idea. And yet, I had volunteered for the same position without knowing the full risks. I cursed under my breath. I should have asked more questions. I had been so focused on securing stability that I had overlooked the most fundamental things. How does mana work in this world? What about spiritualism? What even defines an undead? I had no frame of reference. For all I knew, this world had necromancers running around, raising corpses like it was a weekend hobby. I sighed. I need to fix this first thing in the morning. Even if the church wasn¡¯t hiding anything, my own ignorance was dangerous. If I didn¡¯t understand how the supernatural functioned here, I wouldn¡¯t just be making mistakes¡ªI¡¯d be walking blindly into a world where those mistakes could get me killed. I turned onto my side, shutting my eyes. The old wooden walls creaked as the wind whispered through the cracks. In the distance, an owl hooted, its lonely call swallowed by the vast silence of the night. Despite my exhaustion, I remained awake far longer than I wanted. --- Morning came too soon. A soft knock on the door stirred me. I opened my eyes to see Elara, the young nun from before, peeking in with a warm smile. "Good morning, Grimm," she greeted. "How are you feeling today?" I stretched, wincing as my body protested. "Better than yesterday." She stepped inside, carrying a small tray of food¡ªmore of the bland vegetable soup. "You¡¯ll need your strength before training begins. Father Lucian is waiting for you after breakfast." I took the bowl, forcing myself to eat despite the utter lack of flavor. "Elara," I said between sips, "I realized I haven¡¯t asked something important." She tilted her head. "Oh? What is it?" I hesitated, then decided to be direct. "Mana. Spiritualism. Undead. How do they work in this world?" Her eyes widened slightly, as if surprised I didn¡¯t already know. "That¡¯s¡­ a big question." "I should¡¯ve asked sooner," I admitted. "If I¡¯m dealing with the dead, I need to understand how they rise in the first place." Elara nodded, setting her hands in her lap as she thought. "Mana exists in all living things," she began. "Some are born with more, some with less. But magic itself is a gift from the gods, channeling their will through those they bless." I frowned. "So only the faithful can use magic?" She smiled at that. "Not exactly. Some people manipulate mana naturally, without divine favor. But true miracles¡ªthe kind that heal wounds or banish curses¡ªonly come from the gods¡¯ blessings." That lined up with what I had expected. "And spiritualism?" "Spirits exist all around us," she said, her voice lowering slightly. "Some linger because of unfinished business. Some because they refuse to move on. And others¡­" She hesitated. "Others are bound by darker forces." I caught the shift in her tone. "Like necromancy?" Her expression darkened. "Yes. Undead are not natural. They are a corruption, an offense to the cycle of life and death.Most of the time, they rise because of improper burials or cursed land, but some¡­" Her hands tightened on her lap. "Some are created intentionally." This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I filed that information away. If undead could rise naturally, then the graveyard job wasn¡¯t just about digging graves¡ªit was about preventing the dead from coming back. "I see," I said. "Thanks for explaining." She studied me for a moment, as if trying to figure something out, then nodded. "You¡¯ll learn more in your training. Be careful, Grimm. The dead don¡¯t always stay where they¡¯re supposed to." After breakfast, I found Father Lucian waiting for me in the small chapel, his hands resting on an old leather-bound book. "Are you ready for your teachings?" he asked. I nodded. He gestured for me to sit. "Before you take the role of graveyard keeper, you must understand the rites of the departed. The church does not merely bury the dead¡ªwe ensure their passage is undisturbed." He opened the book, revealing pages filled with intricate symbols and faded text. "This," he said, tapping the first page, "is the prayer of passing. It is spoken over every soul to grant them peace in the afterlife. Without it, a spirit may linger¡­ and lingering spirits are vulnerable to corruption." I listened carefully as he explained the different rites, how each step was meant to guide the soul and prevent it from straying. The more I learned, the more I realized how much responsibility this job actually carried. It wasn¡¯t just about shoveling dirt. It was about making sure the dead stayed dead. And considering the fate of the last keeper¡­ I had a feeling that wouldn¡¯t be as easy as it sounded. Father Lucian guided me to a quiet chamber within the chapel, a dimly lit room lined with old tomes and faded scrolls. A single candle flickered on the stone table between us, its light casting long shadows on the walls. "The rites of the dead are not merely tradition," he said, his voice solemn. "They are a barrier. Without them, the restless dead would walk among us." I nodded, already aware of the weight of my role. "I want to start with the prayers," I said. "If words can prevent spirits from lingering, I need to master them first." Father Lucian gave me an approving look before pulling out an aged parchment. "This is the Cantus Mortem, the most fundamental prayer for the departed. It must be spoken in Hubrien, the language of the ancients, for only this tongue carries the weight of divine command." I traced my fingers over the script. The letters were unfamiliar, twisting and curling in ways that made them hard to read. "Speak it," Lucian instructed. I took a breath and attempted the first line. "Hir vexa lumenor, en doura illume." The moment the words left my mouth, a strange sensation gripped me¡ªa weight pressing on my chest, as if the very air had thickened. Lucian watched carefully. "Again." "Hir vexa lumenor, en doura illume." This time, I felt it move¡ªsomething unseen, shifting just at the edges of my senses. It was subtle, but undeniable. Lucian nodded in approval. "You feel it, don¡¯t you?" I exhaled sharply. "What was that?" "The nature of Hubrien," he said. "It is not merely a language. It carries an intrinsic power, one that binds the will of the gods to our words.When spoken correctly, it resonates with the divine. When spoken improperly¡­" He paused. "It is nothing more than empty sound." I frowned. "Then learning it isn¡¯t just about memorization¡ªit¡¯s about understanding it?" "Precisely." That made things far more complicated. I was used to learning through logic, patterns, repetition. But Hubrien wasn¡¯t just words; it was intent. Lucian handed me another scroll. "This one is more advanced. The Rite of Passage." I read through the lines, this time more cautiously. "Vexa lumin, en daor en maren. Rhaem tovaren, ex illume." I stumbled on the last word, and immediately, the pressure I had felt earlier vanished. Lucian shook his head. "You severed the flow. The meaning must be carried from start to finish without hesitation. Even a single mispronunciation could render the prayer ineffective." I clenched my jaw, realizing how dangerous that could be. "And what happens if I fail during an actual ritual?" His gaze darkened. "Then the soul is left unguarded." I didn¡¯t ask what that meant. I could already imagine the consequences. As the lessons continued, I learned not just the prayers but the history behind them. The God of Life, the one worshipped in this church, was said to be the first to shape the cycle of existence. But life could not exist without death, and thus, the God of Death was born alongside them. The two were meant to work in harmony, ensuring the balance of the living and the departed. But that balance had been shattered a hundred years ago. "The Heretics," Lucian explained, his voice low, "targeted the followers of the God of Death. Their reasons are lost to time, but what is known is this¡ªwhen the last great temple of death was destroyed, something changed in the world." I leaned forward. "What changed?" "The natural order." He glanced at the candlelight, his expression unreadable. "Before, the dead would pass on peacefully. Now¡­ many do not. Spirits linger where they shouldn¡¯t. The undead rise where they never would have before." That explained the growing need for graveyard keepers. "So," I said carefully, "without the God of Death''s influence, the dead struggle to move on?" Lucian nodded. "And worse, something else has taken interest in them." A chill ran down my spine. "Something else?" "There are whispers of entities that feed on wandering souls. That twist them. Corrupt them." He met my gaze. "That is why you must never take the rites lightly. The moment you falter, the moment a soul lingers too long in confusion or pain¡­ something else will claim it." I inhaled slowly. This was no simple job. It was a constant battle. And yet, I needed to do it. Not just for survival, but because if the church was right, then every failure meant another lost soul. "I understand," I said. Lucian studied me for a moment, then finally nodded. "Good. Now, let¡¯s see if you can recite the Cantus Mortem without error." I took a deep breath and began again. "Hir vexa lumenor, en doura illume." This time, my voice did not waver. Routine My days began with the first light of dawn, the cold air seeping into my bones as I rose from the wooden cot in the church¡¯s guest quarters. The mattress was stiff, the frame creaked with every movement, but I was getting used to it. The scent of old parchment and candle wax lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of where I was. I made my way to the chapel, where the morning prayers were already being recited by the sisters. Their voices wove together in solemn harmony, the ancient language of Hubrien rolling off their tongues like a sacred hymn. I sat at the back, listening but not joining in just yet. My pronunciation was still clumsy, and I didn¡¯t want to disrupt the rhythm. Afterward, I met with Father Lucian. A stout man with graying hair and a sharp gaze, he oversaw the church¡¯s daily affairs and had been the one to approve my role as the graveyard keeper. Though I had yet to officially take on the responsibility, he made sure I was learning what I needed. "Here," he said, placing a few silver coins into my palm. "Your allowance. It¡¯s not much, but it should cover your meals and any small necessities." I weighed the coins in my hand¡ªfive silvers. Currency was still something I was figuring out, but I was starting to understand its value. "How much is a loaf of bread?" I asked. Lucian stroked his beard. "Depends on the baker. At Sister Miriam¡¯s shop, a small loaf is four copper, seven for a larger one. If you want something with honey or dried fruit, that¡¯ll be ten." A quick mental conversion told me one silver equaled a hundred copper. With five hundred copper to my name, I could sustain myself on bread alone for over seventy days¡ªassuming I didn¡¯t need anything else. "I¡¯ll manage," I said. Lucian gave a short nod. "Good. But if you need anything, don¡¯t hesitate to ask." With the morning prayers complete, I set off toward the graveyard. It was still under the church¡¯s care until I was fully entrusted with it, but tending to it had become part of my routine. The path was uneven, lined with weathered cobblestones and overgrown grass. After a fifteen-minute walk, I reached the iron gate. It groaned in protest as I pushed it open, revealing rows of gravestones¡ªsome simple, others carved with prayers and sacred symbols. The air here was different. Heavy. Quiet. Six bodies had been delivered for purification today. Wrapped in linen, they awaited their final rites. Without a proper burial, there was always a risk of something unnatural taking root. As I took note of them, Sister Elara arrived. She was one of the more talkative nuns, her sharp green eyes studying me beneath her veil. "Morning," she greeted. "Morning," I replied. She glanced at the bodies, then back at me. "You¡¯re getting used to this, aren¡¯t you?" I nodded. "It¡¯s becoming routine." Elara tilted her head slightly. "Most newcomers are unsettled by the dead. You¡¯re not." I thought about that. Maybe I should have been. Maybe, if I had come straight from my old world, I would have been. But after everything I had endured, the dead didn¡¯t frighten me. The unknown did. "I don¡¯t think much about it," I admitted. "I just go with the flow." Elara smirked. "That¡¯s an unusual way to live." "Maybe." She hummed in amusement before gesturing to the wrapped bodies. "We¡¯ll need to perform the rites later. Will you assist?" I hesitated. My grasp of Hubrien was still shaky, but I couldn¡¯t avoid it forever. "Yeah," I said. "I¡¯ll assist." By midday, I made my way into the village. The streets bustled with life, merchants calling out their wares, the scent of fresh bread and burning firewood filling the air. Sister Miriam¡¯s bakery was a modest stone-and-timber building, a wooden sign above the door engraved with a loaf of bread. Inside, the warmth of the ovens wrapped around me, the shelves lined with loaves, rolls, and pastries. Miriam, a plump woman with graying hair, glanced up from kneading dough. "Ah, the little graveyard keeper," she said with a grin. "Come for some bread?" I nodded. "A small loaf." She wrapped one in cloth and set it on the counter. "Four copper." I handed her the coins, then hesitated. "Do you sell anything with spices?" If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Miriam raised a brow. "Spices? Not often. Cinnamon and nutmeg are expensive¡ªonly the wealthier folk buy them." I filed that information away. If spices were a luxury, then someone who could introduce better trade routes or alternative sources could make a fortune. "Shame," I said. "I was hoping for something different." "You from the south?" she asked. "Southerners like strong flavors." I shook my head. "Just curious." Miriam hummed but didn¡¯t press further. That evening, I returned to the chapel for my studies. Father Lucian tested me on the prayers, and though I stumbled, I was improving. The Hubrien language still felt foreign on my tongue, but I was beginning to grasp its weight¡ªthe way each word carried meaning beyond its syllables. At one point, I hesitated and frowned. "I never asked," I said. "What exactly is mana? And how does it connect to spirits and the undead?" Lucian closed his book and studied me for a moment before speaking. "Mana is the essence that flows through all things," he said. "The breath of the gods. It shapes miracles and magic alike." "And spirits?" "They are echoes. Some say remnants of the soul. Others believe they are merely lingering energy, given form by strong emotions. But what we do know is this¡ªwithout proper rites, the dead do not always fade." That tracked with what I had learned. The fall of the God of Death¡¯s church had disrupted the natural cycle. That meant more wandering souls. More problems. "And the undead?" I pressed. Lucian¡¯s expression darkened. "The undead are not spirits. They are husks, animated by corrupted mana. A true undead does not retain its soul¡ªit is merely a body, controlled by something else." Something else. I didn¡¯t like the sound of that. I furrowed my brow. ¡°Then¡­ what are those ¡®something else¡¯ that control the undead?¡± Father Lucian, who had been calmly turning the pages of an old tome, suddenly stopped. The dim candlelight flickered against his aged face, casting shadows beneath his tired eyes. He closed the book with a quiet thud and folded his hands over it. ¡°You ask a dangerous question,¡± he said, his voice lower than before. I didn¡¯t flinch, looking at him. Lucian let out a slow breath. He looked at me, really looked at me, before shaking his head. ¡°Not yet.¡± That was not what I expected. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°You need understanding before knowledge.¡± His fingers tapped against the wooden table in a rhythmic pattern. Tuk, tuk, tuk. ¡°Some truths are bound to the soul. If you force them into a mind unprepared, the mind will break. Or worse¡ªthe soul will shatter.¡± I blinked. ¡°You mean people die just by learning things?¡± Lucian gave a grim nod. ¡°More than you think. Some truths cannot be known without consequence. It is the same as mortals knowing gods¡ªthose who attempt to grasp divinity without preparation¡­¡± He lifted his hand, then clenched his fist. ¡°...explode.¡± I stared at him, waiting for any sign that he was joking. He wasn¡¯t. A sudden gust of wind rattled the window. Clack, clack. The wooden sign outside the church swayed violently, its chains groaning. I exhaled, trying to process everything. I had thought knowledge was power. But here, knowledge could also be death. --- Morning came with the distant cries of roosters and the muffled chatter of villagers setting up their stalls. My routine had become familiar by now¡ªwake up, wash my face in the cold basin, and head to the chapel for morning prayers. I stumbled over the Hubrien words again, my tongue tripping on the sharp syllables. The ancient language was beautiful, but damn, was it difficult. After prayers, I received my usual allowance from Father Lucian ¡°Morning, boy,¡± he greeted, placing the five silvers into my palm. I pocketed them, nodding. ¡°Morning.¡± Abel chuckled, stroking his beard. ¡°You¡¯re always so stiff. Loosen up. A man your age should laugh once in a while.¡± ¡°I laugh,¡± I said. ¡°No, you exhale sharply through your nose.¡± ¡°¡­That¡¯s still laughing.¡± He rolled his eyes and waved me off. ¡°Go get your bread, gravekeeper.¡± --- I stepped into the village streets, greeted by the lively sounds of the morning market. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked goods, grilled meat, and hints of damp earth. Chatter, laughter, footsteps against cobblestone. People bustled about, exchanging coins and greetings. The village wasn¡¯t large, but it had its share of personalities. First was Old Man Joren, the town¡¯s cobbler. He sat outside his shop, hammering nails into a leather sole. Tap, tap, tap. His hands were wrinkled and rough, his bald head reflecting the morning sun. ¡°Morning, boy,¡± he grunted. ¡°Morning,¡± I replied. ¡°Hmph.¡± He didn¡¯t say anything else, just kept hammering. That was Joren. The man barely spoke more than a few words at a time. Next was Elira, a young woman selling apples near the well. She was the kind of person who could talk endlessly about nothing. ¡°Ah! The gravekeeper!¡± She beamed, holding up a bright red apple. ¡°Look at these! Freshly picked this morning! You should try one! An apple a day keeps the spirits away, you know?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s not how that saying goes.¡± She grinned. ¡°It is now.¡± I shook my head and kept walking. Finally, I reached Sister Miriam¡¯s bakery. The smell of warm bread was stronger here, making my stomach growl. Ding. The small bell above the door chimed as I entered. Miriam, the plump baker, was already busy kneading dough behind the counter. ¡°Ah, you again.¡± I nodded. ¡°One loaf.¡± She grabbed a small loaf, wrapping it in cloth. ¡°Four copper.¡± I handed over the coins and hesitated. ¡°Do you ever sell anything with spices?¡± Miriam sighed. ¡°You and your spices again. You got expensive tastes, boy.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Just curious.¡± ¡°Hmph. If you want spices, go ask Old Fennel. He¡¯s the only one who keeps any, and he charges a damn fortune.¡± Old Fennel? Another name to remember. I took my bread and stepped outside, taking a small bite as I walked back toward the church. --- The rest of the day passed in a blur of lessons. I practiced the chants again, my throat growing sore from repeating the same verses over and over. The Hubrien prayers were rigid, precise¡ªone wrong syllable, and the meaning changed entirely. "O blessed keeper of life, weave thy grace upon the lost, Guide their steps to slumber, their rest undisturbed, May the veil of dusk shelter their passing, And may the gentle hands of eternity embrace their souls." The words weren¡¯t just for the dead¡ªthey were meant to guide me as well. To recite these prayers was to link myself to something beyond the mortal world. It wasn¡¯t just language. It was a ritual. A contract. I also started practicing spirit sight. Lucian explained that spirits weren¡¯t always visible to the naked eye¡ªthey lingered in a separate layer of reality, the Ethereal Veil. ¡°The Ethereal Veil exists alongside our world,¡± he said, pacing the chapel floor. ¡°It is neither here nor there, but between. When we pray, when we call upon the gods, we touch that space¡ªif only for a moment.¡± I frowned. ¡°And what are the risks?¡± Lucian stopped pacing. His expression darkened. ¡°There are always risks." A heavy silence filled the air. I exhaled. ¡°So¡­ let me guess. People have died trying to look beyond the veil?¡± ¡°Not just died.¡± He turned to me. ¡°Some never returned at all.¡± My skin prickled. I didn¡¯t press further. I still had a lot to learn. And if I wanted to survive in this world, I had to be careful about what I chose to learn. I had come to this world without knowledge, without power. But information was power. And little by little, I was starting to understand how things worked. That night, as I lay on my cot, staring at the ceiling, I knew one thing for certain. If I wanted to survive here, I needed to learn everything. Soul The morning light streamed through the stained glass windows of the chapel, casting shifting hues of blue and gold across the stone floor. I had come to expect the silence of these early hours, the distant murmurs of prayers, the quiet footsteps of the sisters tending to their duties. Today, however, Father Lucian had something else in mind. "Today¡¯s lesson will be different," he said, his voice measured, steady. "We have spoken of the structure of the soul, but now you must understand its nature." I inclined my head slightly, waiting. "The soul is not a single thing," he continued, turning the pages of a thick, worn book. "It is shaped by life, molded by choice, and stained by experience. No two souls are identical, yet they fall into patterns, types, that define their nature." He gestured for me to follow him deeper into the sanctum. The air grew heavier here, thick with the scent of aged parchment and burning wax. Before us, a wooden stand held an ancient manuscript, its ink faded but still legible. "There are many kinds of souls," he said. "Too many to name in a single sitting. But to understand them, we place them into groups." He lifted his hand, fingers hovering over the text as if tracing unseen lines of meaning. "First, there are the Radiant Souls¡ªthose who shine, who bring warmth and light to others. Their presence alone inspires. Saints, heroes, those destined to lead with kindness and strength. But even light casts shadows. Those with Radiant Souls burn brightly, but if left unchecked, they may consume themselves or blind others with their brilliance." I considered that. A soul that could inspire¡­ or destroy through its own intensity. "Then, the Corrupted Souls," he went on. "Twisted, whether by their own desires or by forces beyond their control. These souls spread decay, not always by intention, but by existence alone. They are drawn to ruin, and ruin is drawn to them." His tone was careful, neutral. He did not pass judgment, only stated fact. "Eternal Souls," he continued. "Those who persist, who endure. Even in death, they linger. Sometimes as ghosts, sometimes as something far more dangerous. A soul that refuses to fade can become a force beyond mortality." A pause. The candlelight flickered. "Feral Souls are driven by instinct. Beasts in human skin, or perhaps something more primal than even animals. They are fierce, untamed, unbound by reason." There was a faint shift in his expression, something unreadable. He turned the page. "Dominion Souls command. Whether through strength, cunning, or sheer will, they bend others to their purpose. Kings and conquerors often possess such souls, though so do tyrants." I listened intently, barely moving. Every word built the world around me, revealing unseen forces at play. "Malignant Souls... these are those who exist to oppose, to harm, to destroy for the sake of destruction. Unlike Corrupted Souls, which may be victims of fate, Malignant Souls choose their path willingly." Another pause. I had the feeling he had seen such souls before. "Withered Souls¡ªfading, drained, struggling to remain. A soul too weak to sustain itself will wither, just as a body deprived of sustenance." I took in a slow breath. How many people had souls like that? How many had simply dried up under the weight of life? "Fragmented Souls¡ªbroken. Shattered. These people are incomplete. Whether through trauma or interference, parts of their soul are missing." He closed his eyes briefly before continuing. "Some souls are made for battle. Warrior¡¯s Souls burn with a fire that cannot be extinguished, a drive to fight, to push forward no matter the cost. They are drawn to struggle, to the clash of steel and the taste of victory." I remembered something, then. Something I had meant to ask. "Aura," I murmured. Lucian glanced at me, surprised I had spoken. "You remembered," he said with a nod. "Yes. Aura is the extension of the soul''s force into the material world. Warriors who refine their souls can exert this force, strengthening their bodies, intimidating foes, or even resisting supernatural effects. But only those with strong souls can wield aura effectively." I stored that away, another piece of the unseen mechanics of this world. He continued. "Loner¡¯s Souls stand apart. Not by choice, not always. Some souls simply cannot connect as others do. They walk alone, whether by fate or design." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. "Subservient Souls bend to the will of others. Not out of weakness, but out of a deep-rooted need to serve, to follow, to devote themselves utterly." The list went on¡ªLawbringer Souls, those bound to order and justice. Caretaker Souls, who nurture and guide. Dormant Souls, waiting to awaken. Rebellious Souls, who refuse chains of any kind. Hidden Souls, veiled, secret, obscured even from themselves. And more. Each name painted an image in my mind, a glimpse of what people could be, of what souls could become. Finally, Lucian closed the book. The silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant tolling of the chapel bell. I sat in thought, turning everything over in my mind. Souls weren¡¯t just some unseen concept. They weren¡¯t just energy or belief. They were real. Structured. Defined. A foundation upon which all life was built. And if that foundation cracked? I exhaled slowly. I had much to learn. --- I lay on the stiff mattress, staring at the ceiling of my small chamber. The candle beside me flickered, casting shifting shadows against the stone walls. My mind, however, was far from rest. The souls¡­ their meanings¡­ their implications. Radiant Souls¡ªthose who shone like beacons, bringing light to the world, but at risk of burning too brightly. Corrupted Souls¡ªtwisted by fate or will, leaving ruin in their wake. Eternal Souls¡ªrefusing to fade, lingering beyond death. Feral Souls¡ªdriven by raw instinct, untamed and wild. Dominion Souls¡ªcommanding, shaping the world through sheer force of will. Malignant Souls¡ªdestroying for destruction¡¯s sake, feeding on suffering. Withered Souls¡ªdrained, fading, lacking the strength to sustain themselves. Fragmented Souls¡ªbroken, incomplete, missing pieces of their essence. Warrior¡¯s Souls¡ªborn for battle, thriving in struggle. Loner¡¯s Souls¡ªdetached, walking paths apart from others. Subservient Souls¡ªbound to serve, not out of weakness, but out of deep devotion. Lawbringer Souls¡ªupholding order, enforcing balance. Caretaker Souls¡ªnurturing, guiding, protecting. Dormant Souls¡ªwaiting, their potential sealed away. Rebellious Souls¡ªrejecting control, resisting fate itself. Hidden Souls¡ªveiled, unknown, even to themselves. Gentle Souls¡ªsoft, comforting, their presence soothing others. Pure Souls¡ªuntainted, innocent, untouched by corruption. Ascended Souls¡ªreaching for something greater, seeking enlightenment. Void Souls¡ªempty, hollow, unreadable. Grieving Souls¡ªburdened by sorrow, carrying the weight of loss. Shifting Souls¡ªunstable, changing, never fixed. Suffocated Souls¡ªtrapped, unable to breathe, unable to be free. Chaotic Souls¡ªerratic, unpredictable, forces of disruption. Shrouded Souls¡ªconcealed, hidden in darkness, unseen. I turned onto my side, my thoughts swirling. Father Lucian had spoken of understanding before learning more. That knowledge was tied to the soul itself. That knowing things beyond one''s comprehension could lead to destruction. Could a soul change? Could one become another? Could a soul¡­ break? I exhaled softly. My mind was full, yet knew this was only the beginning. I needed to understand more. As my thoughts settled, a question surfaced in my mind. What kind of soul did I have? I replayed everything Father Lucian had taught me, the countless types of souls, each with their own nature, their own fate. I was not ignorant¡ªI knew that a person¡¯s soul shaped their path. Some were born warriors, others caretakers. Some sought order, others sought freedom. If I could choose, which would I be? A Radiant Soul? No. I was no guiding light, no beacon to others. I had always been reserved, lost in thought rather than standing at the forefront. A Dominion Soul? That didn¡¯t fit either. I had no interest in ruling or shaping the world through force. A Loner¡¯s Soul? Perhaps. I had always been introspective, withdrawn. But I wasn¡¯t completely isolated. I still sought understanding, connection, even if in my own way. A Hidden Soul? The thought lingered. A soul that even the owner did not fully know. Could that be me? Or¡­ I let out a slow breath. A Fragmented Soul? The idea unsettled me. A soul that was incomplete, missing pieces. Something broken. But was that not what I felt? I had memories of another life, knowledge that did not belong here, yet I did not know where I truly stood. My past and present were disjointed, and the future remained uncertain. If I was fragmented¡­ could I ever become whole? I closed my eyes, letting the weight of that thought settle over me. Tomorrow, I would continue learning. For now, I would rest. --- Morning came as it always did, the golden light of dawn filtering through the small window of my room. The wooden floor beneath me creaked softly as I sat up, my body moving through the motions of routine before my mind fully awakened. The scent of fresh bread and warm broth lingered in the air when I stepped into the main hall of the church. Sister Elara was already tending to the altar, murmuring quiet prayers in Hubrien, while Father Lucian sat at one of the wooden benches, skimming through an aged tome. After a simple breakfast, I resumed my duties¡ªorganizing the records, checking the bodies that had been stored for purification, and ensuring that none showed signs of potential undead. Clack, clack. The sound of a staff tapping against stone echoed as Father Lucian approached. He watched me for a moment before speaking. "You ponder much, yet you ask little," he said, his voice calm yet perceptive. I hesitated before answering. "I prefer to listen first." He gave a knowing nod. "And yet, your thoughts are restless. Speak." I took a breath. "How does one know what kind of soul someone has?" Lucian leaned against the nearest pillar, his gaze thoughtful. "To truly know a soul is not simple. It is not written upon a person¡¯s face, nor can it be read like a book." He gestured to the villagers outside, some tending to market stalls, others passing by in quiet conversation. "You must observe. A person''s actions, their desires, their fears¡ªthey all whisper the nature of their soul." I frowned slightly. "So there is no definite way?" "There is," Lucian admitted. "But it requires something rare¡ªeyes that can perceive one¡¯s world. Some are born with such sight, others gain it through trials or divine favor. With it, a soul¡¯s nature is revealed, its essence laid bare." I absorbed his words, considering their implications. "So one must either watch and understand¡­ or be granted the ability to see beyond what is natural." "Precisely." Lucian studied me, his eyes reflecting a wisdom earned through years of experience. "And what do you seek to know?" I looked down, pondering. "My own soul." He chuckled softly. "Then observe yourself as you would another. In time, the answer will come." I nodded, though my thoughts were far from settled. I would continue to learn, to watch, to understand. If souls dictated one''s fate, then knowing my own was the first step toward shaping mine.