Interconnected: Spliced Souls

The dark, damp prison was dimly lit by two flickering torches that cast eerie shadows. It didn't have traditional walls—just thick, crude, rusty iron bars that spanned from the floor to the ceiling, enclosing the prisoners in a single, large cell.    

Fifty minutes ago, a witch and her entourage stormed into the room and callously tossed a woman with strikingly blue eyes and pink hair onto the dirty, cold floor like she was no more than discarded trash.    

But true to the apothecary's word, the vixarian slowly stirred awake. Feeling returned to her numb limbs. Soft fingers scratched the rough ground, and she slowly got to her feet. Grogginess made her vision dizzy, so she steadied herself against the wall before checking her body for wounds.    

Luckily, she had her clothes. But her gear was missing. And as she touched her neck, her nails glanced against a metal collar. Focusing, she felt the glistening edge of a sharpened blade resting delicately against her flesh.    

It was probably spring-loaded.    

The vixarian tested her powers and manifested her mirror, so that worked. But she couldn't channel any spells through it. Logic dictated the collar must've had an anti-magic effect enchanted on it. Tampering with it was risky. Just one wrong motion could've triggered the spring. And the vixarian couldn't risk it. Not at this point.    

But she turned her gaze to her surroundings and discovered she wasn't alone.    

Golems.    

And a lot of them shared her cell, but they differed from Merka.    

The two in the corner looked like a couple. One was carved masculine, the other feminine, and the two held hands while watching the others.    

That one near the back wall held a book, but their fingers tried and failed to turn the page with every passing second.    

And then there was a singi? The vixarian moved a little closer and saw a crudely deformed statue with cat ears, but it wasn’t moving.    

The rest were about the size of children-- maybe a hair shorter-- with varying shades of complexity and craftsmanship.    

She sensed movement and observed the feminine golem stand. Its movements were sudden and jerky, and it approached a group of child-sized golems, patted their heads awkwardly, and returned to its seat. But then the male one stood and did the same thing.    

The vixarian spent a second thinking, but her internal deliberation was interrupted by faint whimpering. Upon further investigation, she discovered a little girl sitting against the furthest reaches. She overlooked her because the thick, dusty layer of grime and filth camouflaged her as part of the room.    

The inquisitive vixarian slowly approached, but she accidentally kicked a pebble, startling the malnourished girl.    

"No! Stay away! Don't come close!" Her voice was scratchy and strained-- raspy like the remnants of a dirty pipe left out to rust in a rainstorm. She swatted the vixarian's hand away, but those frail, thin fingers unclenched, and something went flying.    

The vixarian kneeled and picked up the object. It was a little charm shaped like a fish. The craftsmanship needed work, but it was made with love and care.    

"GIVE IT BACK!" erupted the girl. She stretched and failed to grab the vixarian's leg. "That's all I have left of Oskar and Patty! They gave me that! It's not yours! Give it back!"    

Oskar? Patty? They knew Merka, so...    

The pieces slid into place. This girl...    

Merka told Momo about many, but only one carried a fish charm. She had gotten it from her eldest brother the first time he took her to the local fishing hole.    

Olga... That was her name. 

The vixarian gently held her hand and returned the beloved treasure, softening the girl's anger.    

"Huh? But... Why? No, you're not...with the bad guys, are you?"    

"..." The vixarian remained silent. Olga stood, but she was assaulted by intense dizziness. But the vixarian kneeled and supported her, gently returning her to the ground before sitting beside her.    

"I'm sorry... Thank you, miss."    

"..."    

"Why aren't you talking?"    

"..."    

"Is it your throat? You can't speak?"    

"..."    

"And you still remain silent? Will nothing make you speak, Momo?" The vixarian looked at the speaker and saw Suusa. The youthful ogre approached, but his mannerisms were weird. His face seemed blank and void. He approached the bars and looked at the golems, his expression listless. "They're failures. The lot of them are. The one in the corner with the book. The necromancers said he wanted to be a librarian, but his desire wasn't strong enough to overcome his limitations. And that one-- the cat. His soul suggested he should've been born a singi, but the transfer process failed. That soul can't even muster the smallest movement even after I gave him his ideal body.”   

"..."    

"Don't talk...about my family like that!" Olga's voice was small. The vixarian doubted Suusa even heard it. But the human was frightened. She shivered and tightly held onto the vixarian for comfort and safety.    

"The dullard refused to assist further and received a rightfully deserved death.”  

He must mean Merka.    

"Failures don't mean a damn thing. Successes... What does it amount to if you cannot replicate an experiment with enough consistency to outweigh the danger? Annie... I'm sorry..." Tears flowed from Suusa's eyes. He clearly wasn't all there. His words, tone, voice, and body language clashed with each other-- almost like he suffered from mental madness.    

Annie? That's the girl he knew. Was his past the truth? How much did he embellish?    

"They say only the true power of [Necromancy] can return a soul to a destroyed body. But there are murmurs of a darker power that allows a soul and body to be formed from nothing... But there must be a way to achieve resurrection without requiring secrets that necessitate multiple lifetimes to study. I won't stop...until Annie's in my arms... But enough of that. Come. Put your hands through the bars. Play nice, and I won't kill the girl. I'll even let you carry the filthy thing to not slow us down.”   

"Don't... Don't leave me... Please... Miss, don't..." Olga's weak grip became weaker when the vixarian stood. She had no choice but to listen.    

"Good," replied Suusa. While she approached, he kneeled and crafted a rope from dirt, tightened it around her wrists, and told her to step back. She did, and he opened the door.    

The vixarian lifted Olga and wanted to cry. A girl her size should've been much heavier, but she was all skin and bones-- with sunken cheeks and skinny arms and legs. Just how little food did these monsters feed her? A stiff breeze could knock the poor thing over.    

She hugged the girl close to her chest. The intimate physical contact was too much for the exhausted girl. The warmth of another living being was enough to lull her overstrained mind to follow her body's desire for rest. She slowly closed her eyes and drifted to a deep sleep.    

"Disgusting..." Suusa approached and held a hand to the rocky restraints, forming a lead. He looked at the failures and briefly pondered destroying them.    

Then again, that was a mercy. And he didn't have much mercy left. So, he left them be-- souls trapped in bodies they couldn't understand-- bodies unfamiliar with the souls they carried. They were failures, Suusa thought, and failures needed to be punished for failing to achieve results.    

The ogre led them through the dark, dank prison. The smell of disgust was so overpowering that the vixarian nearly wanted to vomit. She saw half-eaten plates of rotten meat and sour milk amid trash and bloody clothes.    

But the other cells were empty. And the lacking guards or other personnel concerned her.    

The vixarian eventually walked through a hole in the wall and emerged on the fifth floor of a spiraling prison tower on the edge of a massive underground cavern. It should've been pitch black-- but light filtered in from overhead from a...hole? Was that the moon? It seemed so big, but was it always that large? And did it always reflect so much illumination?    

"Surprised, are you? It's written on your face. We're currently 300 feet below the Arcton Mountain Range in a chamber I hollowed. But don't dally. Keep up." Suusa tugged on the rope, and the vixarian followed him down the spiraling staircase.    

The vast expanse before her teemed with an awe-inspiring array of military resources skillfully organized amidst the landscape's rugged beauty. Hundreds and hundreds of weapon racks stood in disciplined order along dozens of catapults, trebuchets, and other siege weaponry. A legion of quartermasters deftly handed out swords, shields, spears, bows, and axes to all who wanted them.    

That was one thing-- alarming by itself, but the vixarian also spotted a dragon's horde of food, water, and other vital supplies necessary for an army on the move. There must've been a hundred or two mules and bulls with densely packed wagons attached to their harnesses.    

It was like a well-greased machine-- everyone moved with little wasted movements. The discipline was almost unheard of.    

The vixarian kept walking, eventually bypassing the hollowed remains of a training ground built a dozen feet into the ground. The trampled dirt marked the footsteps of those who tirelessly practiced until their skills were perfect.    

And soldiers...    

The vixarian saw at least four or five thousand-- at least, but there could've been far more.    

No doubt-- this was a war camp preparing to head out, but where? Why was it formed? It couldn't have been for Servi, right? Had she even been here long enough to make an enemy with this many resources at their disposal?   

But then the vixarian deduced something astounding, if not highly concerning. Others had collars tightly clasped around their necks, but they were human. Yet the ones wielding weapons and wearing armor... They were non-humans.    

Humans were being treated like lower-class scum-- something even less than dirt. In just the twenty-minute walk, she saw humans being hit, cut, beaten, and thrown to the ground before being spat on and kicked.   

Suusa remained silent. No one tried to speak to the vixarian. They didn't acknowledge her presence and stared disgustingly at the frightened child she hugged close to her heart.    

And then she saw them… Standing in far, far back against the northernmost reaches of this underground plain—surrounded by a dozen personal guards wielding nadrium-clad weapons…stood a kobold in strikingly polished armor. His mythril gear reflected the moon’s unnatural light and made him glow. His tail was crudely deformed, and when he turned, the vixarian saw large scars flanking his face, including one across his left eye.    

“And you must be Servi’s companion,” he said, his voice deep and scratchy—as if he had suffered an intense burn to his throat. “My name isn’t important, but you may call me Sakdu.”   

“…”   

“She doesn’t speak. Not anymore,” answered Sissy, stepping out from behind him. “I presume the betrayal is responsible.” She held her hat by her side, and the vixarian realized she wasn’t human. Those antennae hinted she was a Butterflykin. But where were her wings?    

“Can you blame her? Shock affects people differently. Any luck with the girl?” asked Gerld, who approached from the right. “Ah? I see that grimace. You won’t speak, but this?” He touched Momo’s sword, bag, and wrist-mounted crossbow. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s about time for me to upgrade.”   

“No. Momo refuses to open her mouth. The human couldn’t get her to break her silence.”   

“You will die. The fate is inevitable, but you don’t wish to know why?”   

“…”   

“You’re not a singi, are you?”   

“…”   

“You won’t answer?”   

“…”   

“Are you aware why you have been chosen?”   

“…”   

“That thing denied me my rightful revenge. This anger I built… It has been stockpiling for years and years…”   

And so, the vixarian learned a horrible truth through the kobold’s insane ramblings about a man who had altered the fate of the country through misguided revenge against the people who weren’t even responsible for the night that corrupted his life’s destiny.     

No, it was more than that.    

The impending slaughter would inevitably alter the world's fate through fractured possibilities that all branched from Fisher Jin’s choices.    

Simply put, monotonia—the colorful devils—wouldn’t exist. That alone would have changed everything, but his revenge beget more revenge. It was a never-ending cycle of death and being unable to forgive the ones who had taken their loved ones that ended so many bloodlines far earlier than nature had intended.     

I knew Fisher was a horrible man, but…to do…all that? And Cassidy, too…?   

"Fisher Jin was mine to claim, yet that damnable thing robbed me of my rightful vengeance! His family was destined to fall by my hands! Canary was to be reduced to ashes! For years, I’ve harbored this hatred and nurtured it! It kept me going! It gave me the strength to wake up! It made me create the Kaisaku Syndicate! A home to all who’ve suffered by human hands—oppressed by their abhorrent deeds! My soul—our souls seethe with indignation! The world must bear our anguish! The humans must face the consequences of their actions! The flames of vengeance consumes us! It is the only truth the Kaisaku Syndicate harbors! And how dare Servi rob me of my flickering hope to see him suffer the same fate he subjected me to?! The vendetta we cling to is our only truth! And it won’t be denied!”   

“…”   

Suddenly, Sakdu chuckled. “You harbor a heart denser than stone, singi. Will nothing get a rise out of you? Not even when I tell you Canary will be buried underneath a flame of hellfire within the week? We march on the city at dawn. But you won’t experience it. I know you’re close with the Queen of Night and Dreadwood Shadow. Why don’t I make you an offer?” Sakdu pointed at Olga. The vixarian defensively stepped back and held the sleeping girl tighter. “Abandon the human. Kill her like the dog she is. Slit her throat. And throw her corpse into a grave. Do that, and I won’t hurt your elves.”   

“…”   

“Still nothing? The lives of two elves against a mere child? No matter, I shall—"   

Sakdu carried a warhammer on his back. But before he drew it, a spirit bird flew into the scene, landing on his massive shoulders.  It squawked a message—one the vixarian expected. “The target is still alive! It has been spotted on the back of a black raven! The current estimated time of arrival is 8 minutes!”   

“Oh, I knew this would happen. You never send a dirty necromancer to handle an undead problem.” Sissy shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know why Cassidy ordered us to return, but I’m sure she’s dead. Maybe she’s lived as a human for so long that she learned to think like one. But this confirms something I’ve been thinking about, boss. That thing doesn’t fit a lich’s criteria. I’ve yet to see the target display anything close to a lesser lich’s power, let alone a lich, during our time with it. Our target almost strikes me…as more of a pure necromancer. I believe we were misled. Your informant was wrong on this.”  

Sakdu took the witch’s words and dwelled on them for a moment. That elusive Golden Reliquary swore up and down Servi was a lich when he made his impromptu appearance. And while Sakdu didn’t trust that mysterious man as far as he could throw them, he was an informant with a spotless record. But Sissy was from the Wytchguard Covenant. She was an expert on necromancers and undead, and Sakdu knew her hatred wouldn’t let her lie about them.   

If she said Servi wasn’t a lich, then Servi wasn’t a lich. But did Golden Reliquary make a mistake? 

The more powerful liches could take humanoid forms—that much was true. So, for him to call Servi one must’ve meant she made quite an impression on him. Or, perhaps the masked man desired to end this partnership and lied about Servi’s identity to give her an advantage in this fight?  

But did he expect the witch to catch on so soon? That seemed like a careless oversight. Golden Reliquary was not prone to making them in the years he’d worked with Sakdu, which left a single, obvious answer.  

Regardless, it didn’t matter. The Kaisaku Syndicate’s leader wouldn’t survive past the week. Canary’s downfall would foreshadow his suicide since he had nothing left to live for.    

“Are you losing confidence in your abilities?” he asked the witch.    

“That’s not what I mean, boss. Necromancer or not, all manipulators of the undead will find anguish when confronted with their bane.”  

Sakdu turned to his messengers, commanding them to deliver his new orders across the base. “Go! Ready an ambush! Strike our opponent down! Make them rue the day they were brought into this world!”  

“I’ll construct a barrier in the entrance corridor. It’ll inflict a blanket debuff upon Servi, and all low-tier and a few mid-tier undead will be purified by divine flames. Those that survive will be crippled.  I’ll also add an anti-lich effect to it, too.”  

One of Sakdu’s loyal mages appeared and teleported Sissy to the entrance, where she did what she said. She returned four minutes later to report her success, but then decided to pull out all the stops.   

Anything to rid the world of a manipulator of the dead.   

The witch pressed her palms together and chanted in the language of gods, crafting a warm, glowing orb of holy flames that sent a scattering wave throughout the underground base. “The spell must be maintained.” Sissy carefully held the magic close to her chest and hugged it. “It’ll further weaken necromancy spells and inflict lethargy on the target, leaving them ripe for the slaughter, boss.”  

“And is that all? I want you two to make the preparations for killing the target if they somehow survive the initial encounter.”  

“The boss has a point. Never underestimate your enemy. Come on, you two. Let’s get it done.” Sissy walked with a spring in her step. She loved the euphoria that came with slaughtering a wielder of unholy magic.  

Gerld caressed Momo’s sword before following the witch, who had walked about forty feet away, and the vixarian frowned. A weapon like that was meant for her host’s palm—and no one else.   

Suusa was the last to arrive. Sissy desired an arena, so the youthful ogre kneeled. He placed a palm down, and a wall of earth that stretched from the ground to the ceiling suddenly erupted, shooting up so fast someone would’ve wondered if it was spring-powered. Another appeared behind them, and then two more from the left and right.  They were enclosed from the outside. Darkness swallowed them until Sissy used a light wand to create illumination orbs that brightened their surroundings.   

“Our work’s almost over, huh? Why not speed things up? Why wait for the boss’s men to take out the target?”  

“You make it sound like Servi’s going to survive the initial barrage,” observed Sissy.   

“Hey, I’m just saying… Don’t take that chance, yeah? Anyway, I’m thinking it’s time for a vacation. Let’s sail across the ocean… We have money, so I want to live an easy life.”  

“Well, you’re not wrong,” replied Sissy. “Suusa, care to do the honors? Our target needs a path exclusively meant for her.”  

“Okay. I’ll get on it.” Again, Suusa kneeled and pressed his palms to the ground. He didn’t need to mask his forbidden skill with verbal camouflage.    

He was a man of the earth—literally. Only another geomancer could understand his unbreakable connection with the ground that nurtured life. And through the ground he loved so much? He felt around, sending little vibrations under the surface. This was the unrestricted form of [Earthen Radar]—a recreation of the paltry version found within the [Warden Skill System] without any limits-- the way it was originally designed.  

The entire underground base was mapped in an instant. Suusa knew the location of every slave, animal, wagon, box, and person.  

His beloved earth told him everything he needed to know. Only a geomancer could listen to its voice and understand its pleading.    

His twisted magic took root. The ground enveloped his body like thick armor as towering, sharp tentacles protruded from his back. They writhed like disgusting leeches and burrowed into the ground while Suusa remained immobile. Six more branched off and followed. Their task? To create the jagged edges and barbed points lining the passageway before their prey was dragged to the hunting ground.  

He'd made it hurt.   

He’d make the target suffer indubitably. Of course, this preparation would’ve been for naught if their target survived. Maybe Servi would perish.   

Maybe she wouldn’t.   

Either way, her death was assured. Sissy guaranteed it. 

---

The fury inflaming my heart wasn’t just affecting me. The goddess inside my soul was just as wrathful.  

He’s going to die, Servi! Sakdu and his army will pay with their lives for what they’ve done!  

“I know! We won’t let any of them survive!” I shouted to hear myself speak. My ebonwing carrier flew at its top speed, and the wind slamming into me was blisteringly loud. We kept making blood crystals through the forty-minute trip since we’d need them to fuel our spells. I wanted to save them for Albert’s fight, but Itarr told me the good news.   

He had won.   

But our undead forces were decimated. Only a few mid-tiers survived. A skeleton priest was currently helping, and Merka was safe… Albert had suffered wounds, but expending blood crystals kept him alive. Nyxaris had two necromantic souls awaiting me. They were flying here, but I couldn’t wait for the lesser lich.    

But Vanessa was gone… The skeleton captain had died. It hurt… But they…  

They knew that could happen, but I wouldn’t mourn them. Not now. That could come later. Besides, Vanessa’s personality was in a shared pool with other arachnecrosis weavers. It wouldn’t be her if the same personality answered my call, however…  

But I shook my head to focus on what was more important. “What about that sensation?” I asked. “Can you still feel it?!” I was referring to something odd. During our return to Arcton, Itarr said she felt something strange and familiar, yet abstract and obtuse from the city. But minutes before we arrived, the tingling was on the move. And since it led us to the mountains, she wondered if the lookalike inside Momo had acted.   

She had to, right? If she was someone Momo spoke to for help, then she’d do something.  And if she was a goddess like Itarr, could they maybe…feel each other out? If not that, then were they somehow related? Was this her way of alerting us to her location? Momo had my phone, but it wasn’t equipped with GPS, and I didn’t summon it back. Besides, Itarr’s been sending nonstop messages, but there hasn't been a reply.    

Yes! It’s getting stronger. I still don’t know what exactly it is, but it’s from that direction! Down to the left! Do you see that stream? It leads to the plain Cassidy specified.    

“Got it! Come on! Get!” I dug my heels into the bird. The raven immediately squeaked and transitioned into a dive bomb, pulling up at the last second to coast on its tremendous acceleration. It flapped its wings endlessly, unleashing a hailstorm upon the lake. It was a spell that created updrafts of icy wind, and the raven caught one and soared high enough to clear the mountain path while maintaining its speed.    

We soared like a rocket and sped down the rocky landscapes. At first, I didn’t see anything strange. It was just a plain befitting a mountainous region, but Itarr was adamant she felt the feeling far beneath us.    

And then I saw them. Thirty out-of-place soldiers stood in formation near the end. I didn’t see an entrance, but one must’ve been hidden.   

They spotted us during our approach and wasted no time firing a barrage of magic. But the ebonwing carrier was deft in its flight. Its large size betrayed how agile it was. I held on tightly as it swerved and avoided the spells, emerging true from the onslaught of multi-elemental bombardment that exploded behind us while unleashing a faint haze of icy wind.  

Is that a spirit? Itarr saw a transparent bird fly from a mage’s shoulder. The ground behind the soldiers vanished, revealing a massive downward incline that probably delved deep below the mountain range. It was wide enough to fit twelve or fourteen tanks side-by-side with room to spare.    

“Does it matter?! We gotta kill the summoner before it sends word of our arrival!”  

I have an idea! Jump off the bird!  

I focused strength on my legs and leapt to the left, falling as my bird suddenly turned down and used its momentum to fly away. But its wings caught another updraft it had left in its wake and ascended high. It folded its wings in, then suddenly spread them wide while screeching. Magic circles gathered in front as it rolled to face the soldiers. With a mighty, high-pitched caw, it unleashed a blinding cascade of icy shards that rained like bullets. The frigid projectiles sliced through the air with razor-sharp precision and descended upon our enemies.   

About half were pierced. Crimson blood splattered the ground, which had turned blue and icy wherever a shard impacted the ground. But the other half had set up defensive barriers around the spirit summoner without worrying about themselves. While they weren’t directly affected, the spreading frost quickly entrapped their legs in an icy prison.   

But the ebonwing carrier had more to give. And before I became bloody paste, Itarr retrieved a second raven she had made. It manifested below me, and I latched my scythe deep in its hide to catch myself as it soared towards the underground entrance.    

Another downpour of [Blizzard Scream] finished off the survivors, but that barrier didn’t break. It was close, though. The transparent surface had a thousand cracks. Magical flakes fragmented off. The strain on the summoner’s face said all I needed to know.    

He wouldn’t survive the next attack.  

Itarr absorbed the bird when I was a few dozen feet away, and I flew with my scythe raised, severing the spirit summoner in half with a clean cut, but I recovered with a flourish and sliced him down the middle, cleaving his brain in two.  

“Did we make it?” I asked, absorbing his soul.    

I’m afraid I don’t know, but let’s hurry!  

“Got it! Hey! You two! Follow me! We’re going in!” The ravens cawed, and I rushed into the hidden path when…    

…the birds painfully cried behind me. I stopped and turned around, and they were engulfed with white fire that burned away their very lives.   

But I couldn’t do anything…before they perished…leaving behind only ash.  

“What the hell?!” I summoned a skeleton squire, and it also burst into flame.   

It must be an anti-necromancy safeguard. We’re on our own, Servi! But don’t worry. The undead in our ring are protected. It cannot penetrate our soul world. Should I call for Albert?  

“No… Not yet. He’ll be our trump card. But I want him ready to go at a moment’s notice. Keep him updated. And tell Nyxaris to be wary about the barrier.” 

I couldn’t delay my arrival and wait for the lesser lich, only to discover they couldn’t break it. The added firepower would’ve been desirable. And another two or three mid-tiers would’ve evened the odds, but I had to be fast!  

Momo’s life depended on it!  

I ran like the wind and kept going even after the path darkened. The worst outcome kept creeping into my thoughts. But I had to shake away those thoughts!  

Momo was fine!  

She had to be! A few seconds later, I saw light at the end of the tunnel. It was more like a curtain, though. Whimsy and opaque. Perhaps a portal? Was it another anti-necromancy safeguard? Or an illusion spell to prevent me from preparing for what lay behind it?  

Did it matter?  

It didn’t.