Chapter 8: Insertion [2]
"What did you do to him?!"
Daniel’s finger pointed at Alden. His arm was shaking from the effort of holding it up, but his eyes were locked and certain.
The room had gone very quiet.
Nicholas stood with both hands still on Daniel’s shoulders, not speaking. Roselle’s eyes moved between Daniel and Alden in quick.
Alden looked at Daniel’s finger.
Then at Daniel’s face. The color was coming back into it. The emptiness from before was gone. He looked tired and disoriented and confused, but he looked present.
’So that’s how it works.’
The pieces connected quietly.
Daniel had been in the doorway last night, reaching for him, and then he hadn’t been. He’d just stopped. Alden had assumed he’d slipped. Had assumed a lot of things while running and not looking back.
’Soul Extraction activated under stress without me doing anything. I pulled part of his soul without meaning to. And it stayed extracted until I touched him again and it returned.’
’An incomplete extraction is enough to lock someone in place. Conscious but completely cut off from their own body.’
’And I can return what I take.’
A slow excitement moved through his chest that he kept off his face.
"You." Daniel’s arm was still extended. "What did you do? The moment you touched me, it felt like my body came back. Like something that had been missing just... returned."
"You only recovered after Alden touched you?" Roselle’s voice had gone careful.
Daniel nodded weakly. "Yes."
The room fell silent.
Then the student nearest the door broke the silence.
"What did you DO to him?!"
Another stepped forward. "Don’t tell me you caused this too! Don’t tell me—"
"I helped him." Alden shrugged. "That’s all."
"That’s it? That’s your explanation?"
"You can believe it." He turned toward the door. "Or not."
"HEY! Don’t walk away from us! We’re still talking to you!"
He kept walking.
"Don’t think saving Daniel changes anything!" The voice followed him into the corridor. "We’re not thanking you for anything! You’ll always be exactly what you are! A filthy criminal who got lucky—!"
Nicholas raised a hand to stop them.
"But why, Nicholas?" The others looked surprised by this action.
"I know you are still a criminal for what you did," Nicholas bowed to Alden. "But thank you for helping my friend."
Alden raised one hand without turning around.
The infirmary door swung shut behind him.
_____
His dormitory room was quiet.
Alden sat on the edge of the bed and raised his right hand in front of him, looking at his palm in the late afternoon light coming through the narrow window.
’Soul Extraction isn’t just for creatures.’
’It works on people too. Involuntarily, under stress, without any intention behind it. Which means I have no idea how many times it’s activated without me noticing.’
He turned his hand over. Then back.
’And I can return what I take. Which means I have some form of control over what happens after. Which means this isn’t just a weapon.’
’Just like Soul Extraction, putting it back must be Soul Insertion.’
He closed his fist slowly.
Six Acts still locked. First and Second Act already doing things he hadn’t expected. The gap between what he understood now and what he’d understood on day one felt enormous, and he’d only scratched the surface of two entries out of eight.
’What’s in the rest of it.’
He stood up and walked to the worn mirror on the wall beside the window.
Black hair. Black eyes. A face he’d been wearing yesterday.
He reached up and touched his cheek.
"An extra," he said quietly.
A short laugh came out.
He had written a world with hundreds of characters. Protagonists, Antagonists, side characters, background figures who existed to populate scenes and then disappeared. He had never written Alden. He had never put his own real name on a page or imagined this face.
An extra in his own novel.
’There’s no going back.’ He looked at his reflection for a moment longer. ’This is too real. Whatever happened to put me here, the way back isn’t in front of me. So the only direction is forward.’
’Get stronger. Master Soul Rendering. Survive long enough to see how a story ends that I never finished writing.’
His thoughts drifted without him pushing them anywhere.
White hair. Crimson eyes. The one who had made everyone in the courtyard step aside before they decided to.
Seris Ravenveil.
He shook his head.
’One of the main villains and she walks in looking like that.’ He turned away from the mirror. ’Figures.’
He’d built her character. Had known exactly what she was capable of, what she wanted. He knew her better than most of the characters.
’Beautiful doesn’t change what she is.’ He sat back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. ’Nicholas and the others can deal with her. That’s literally what they’re here for. I’ll survive my own way and stay as far from her story as possible.’
He closed his eyes.
’I need more beasts. The forest near campus isn’t going to be enough, students have been hunting there for years, the weak ones are gone, and my progress on the Blueprint is too slow at this rate.’
’There has to be another way.’
He let that problem sit while the afternoon light shifted across the ceiling and the campus outside his window went through its evening routine.
_____
The Royal Dormitory was in its own wing of the school grounds.
It was not in the same building as everyone else. It was its own building, with shiny marble floors that showed the lights above. The silk curtains moved gently even without a wind.
Reserved for higher nobles, royalty, and the academy’s elite. The gap between it and the standard dorms was huge.
Inside one of the private rooms—
THUD!
A heavy black coffin landed on the polished floor.
Its lid creaked open on its own.
Inside, a young man lay completely still. No visible wounds. His face looked peaceful.
Looking up from the chair, Seris lifted a white cloth to carefully wipe away the small red blood stain at the corner of their lips.
"...Dispose of it."
The maid beside her bowed immediately.
"The blood was disappointing." Seris folded the handkerchief with precise creases. "It lacked vitality. Dull. I expected considerably better."
"My deepest apologies, Lady Seris." The maid’s head stayed low. "I’ll ensure someone more suitable next time."
"See that you do."
The maid closed the coffin lid and lifted it without difficulty.
Not long after, a second maid entered with a stack of documents.
"My Lady. The profiles you requested."
Seris accepted them without looking up from the window.
She moved through them at a steady pace. Top-ranked cadets, noble heirs, scholarship students, future guild recruits. Names and ranks and family backgrounds and skill assessments.
She read each one fully before setting it aside.
None of them held her attention past the first page.
Until her fingers stopped.
She held the file for a moment without opening it.
Then she did.
A photograph on the front. Below it, in clean official text:
Current Status: Under Investigation.
Academy Reputation: Hostile.
Public Allegations: Attempted assault against fellow student, Sierra Thorne.
Seris looked at the photograph.
"...So this is the one the entire academy despises."
"Yes, my Lady." The maid who had brought the documents answered quietly from the side of the room. "According to our observations, he has become completely isolated. Most students avoid him. The rest insult or threaten him openly." A brief pause. "Someone treated that way for long enough would eventually lose the will to keep going."
Seris said nothing for a moment.
Her crimson eyes stayed on Alden’s photograph.
"Perhaps."
She turned the page and read the rest of the file. His academic standing. His registered skills. Low, unremarkable, nothing that distinguished him from the background.
She reached the last page and closed the file.
"The ones abandoned by everyone." Her finger tapped the cover once, slowly. "Nobody asks where they go. Nobody notices when they disappear." The corner of her lips moved. "A low profile and a bad reputation. The perfect combination."
She set the file on the arm of her chair.
Her eyes drifted back to the window, to the academy grounds lit gold in the evening, students moving between buildings in small clusters.
"I wonder," she said to no one in particular, to the room and the fading light. "what kind of blood flows through someone like you."