Chapter 67.Soul Transfer Vessels
The gap between them felt less like a river and more like an endless abyss.
For the first time in years, the thought crossed his mind.
"...Ca... Can I win...?" He sat up, the attendants leaving his side.
His condition had stabilized.
Such actions were to be expected from the Soul Transfer Vessel.
The soul still bears the scars of the final battle. Until alleviated, it could haunt them, and if strong enough, drive them mad, at least for inexperienced nobles.
People like Valentin would have shaken it off after a while.
"I can’t keep this up..." He looked to his side, where two more bodies lay side by side.
Bodies with his face and physique.
Soul Transfer Vessels.
He had only two left out of the five allocated to him.
One might think even a simple assassin having one would mean a duke would have endless.
Well, true, if not for its side effects, not in the use of one, but multiple.
Though they are legendary-grade artefacts, they aren’t mythic-grade. They have side effects.
Mythic artefacts are woven into the fabric of reality, artefacts once used by gods.
Artefacts that line the very makeup of the world.
They have no side effects, accepted by the world as they are. Asclepius’ Ring is one of the few artefacts in existence.
An artefact that grants a healing factor to its wearer, and as long as the wound isn’t fatal, one can heal from any and all ailments and disfigurements.
As long as their death isn’t instant and there is a breath left, its wearer will come back to life.
And they have no side effects. No cool time, no memory loss, nothing of the sort. No slowed regeneration.
The perfect artefact.
For legendary artefacts, side effects exist, just hard to reach by the common folk.
The soul transfer vessel one of such legendary artefacts.
An effect that cannot be experienced with one, not even two, but five uses.
One’s soul cracks after the fifth death, starting with memory loss, the soul trying to get rid of the trauma of all its deaths.
The sixth death leaves the soul in fragments, though separated, all still present in the body.
The person involved is practically driven mad.
Unable to articulate words, eyes distant, scratching their body, seemingly trying to drive out the pain of the numerous deaths, the sixth death replaying all the deaths they had forgotten, the mind unable to tell real from fake, believing it was going through all those deaths at once.
Insanity the only outcome possible.
And the seventh, not all fragmented souls make it back, most lost through the transfer, only a few making it to the vessel.
The person involved is lost to the void. They can only stare into the void, comatose.
After countless trials and errors, the fixed amount was agreed to be five.
Memory loss was manageable.
"But... How?..." He rubbed his chin in contemplation, wondering how Aiden was this much stronger than him.
In the academy, they used to be rivals, just as the Vulcan and Agni Clans had been.
Aiden was always number one in practically everything, he himself taking second place.
It bothered him, yes, very much so, but at the back of his mind, to ease his ego, he believed Aiden was slightly, just slightly stronger.
They had always fought to a draw, Aiden winning a few times, but now...
"Was he playing with me back in the academy..." He replayed those battles, battles he had given his all.
"Huh..." he exclaimed.
He noticed a pattern.
Each battle, Aiden hadn’t broken a sweat.
He mimicked his breathing, breathing heavily like he did, but there was one thing he couldn’t mimic.
Sweat.
Valentin was drenched in sweat after a battle, trickling down his face, like raindrops, yet Aiden had never broken a sweat.
He was always covered in soot and dirt, and thus Valentin hadn’t really noticed.
"That Vulcan bastard..." He gnashed his teeth.
Boom!!
The stone bed beneath him split in two.
The attendants only glanced his way before continuing their duties.
"You bastard... I promise I will kill you..." he growled, crimson eyes glowing an eerie red.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, Aiden sat behind his desk in a military tent, the command pavilion, perched atop a hill overlooking the ongoing battle.
"Commander, we have news from Pryrewood."
A herald with golden-red eyes and hair knelt before him.
"Speak."
"The young master and the Thunder Princess were spotted in Pryrewood."
"Oh..." Aiden smiled faintly. "So they’ll be making it home in a few days. I suppose I should prepare as well."
He paused, noticing the herald still knelt.
"What is it?" Aiden asked, raising an eyebrow. "There’s more."
"It was reported... a Supreme Water Mage was found in Pryrewood."
Aiden almost reacted with excitement but stopped.
The herald wasn’t finished.
"...The Supreme was eliminated the night she was discovered. Enemy spies. She and her mother did not survive."
Silence fell.
A chilling coldness filling the tent.
Heat drained from the air as it pulled toward Aiden. Frost creeping across the goblet on his desk.
The herald exhaling misty breaths.
Aiden’s eyes darkened, glowing faintly. His brows tightened in restrained rage.
"Didn’t we root out all the spies? How were there still spies in Pryrewood, one of the counties closest to the capital?"
His voice came out as gentle waves, though the chilling air said otherwise
Ice spread further across the tent, frost lining the tent walls, floor creaking as ice began to form.
The herald trembled.
" How is a fire mage using ice magic...? he thought, his golden red eyes trembling in fear.
He couldn’t understand it.
Aiden wasn’t using ice magic.
He was simply stripping heat from the air.
He gathered his courage and continued.
"They are highly elusive, my lord. But there is more... The Thunder Princess captured one of the spies and is bringing them to the capital."
The pressure lifted. The chill in the room dropped, frost melted, warmth returning to the tent.
Aiden leaned back slightly.
"Gather the marshals. Prepare my chariot. I ride at dawn."
________________
.
.
.
A/N
Sorry, had to take care of some personal matters.(╯︵╰)
Writing is hard, cheer me on with comments power stones and golden tickets.
Thank you