Wraithwood Botanist

B2 - Chapter 35 - The Soulmancer

Drugs. Eating processed soul meat felt like drugs—or at least the way they’re described. The moment that I swallowed a piece of steak, my shoulders slumped, and I dropped to the ground.

"Mira!" Aiden yelled as he rushed up to me.

I could hear him, but I couldn’t pay attention. My core and chest felt like it was taking a shower and my arms and legs felt like they were melting while getting massaged, a sensory equivalent of someone mixing blue paint into a tub of white and stirring it with a stick. It felt like I was healing—truly healing—for the first time in my life. It was magical.

Kline jumped up on my chest, and I released an oof.

"I’m okay…" I said dreamily, shooing him off. "It’s just… good. Eat a bite."

Kline turned to the steak, which had fallen into the dirt, picked up a piece, and ate it. Two minutes later, he was lying next to me, zoning out.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Aiden asked.

"Try some," I said.

He picked up a dirty piece and dusted it off while the lurvines watched on.

"Give them a piece first. Once you bite in, you’re toast."

Aiden nodded and threw Sina a piece, then Kael and the rest. One after the other, they collapsed like dominos.

"Are you sure this is okay?" he asked.

"Is it okay?" I laughed. "Oh, yeah. It’s ohhh~kay."

Aiden dusted off a piece and took a bite, fighting through the gravel. Two seconds later, he collapsed on the ground, too.

It felt like we were a roaming pack of druggies, and I hated that, but it was hard not to enjoy the feeling. I doubted that mortals were supposed to eat food like this. Energy was welling within us, leaving us feeling full of vitality, and I could feel my core getting stronger. This was food that was genuinely worth the money. It was just too much to explain.

Twenty minutes later, the high from the food wore off, and I sat up, overlooking the forest. I stood and felt light as a feather, and when I stretched my limbs, they felt pure. I cycled my soul core, and it felt smooth and powerful. One bite had noticeably changed me—and that was second evolution meat. I had a third evolution bear to tackle. My journey as a murderous foodie had just begun.

The lurvines got up and walked up to me, sitting like trained animals, begging me for more.

"Oh, don’t you worry," I said. "Our night’s just begun." I threaded the aura just by processing the meat, and I would need the soul processing practice to make a soul elixir. It was time to begin cooking.

2.

Mintas was working his shift at the Claustra headquarters in the Caralyx Islands when an intruder broke through the gate. There was no physical shockwave from the break-in; in fact, the gate opened on its own. That said, the ward had dissolved around the mansion, and the signal of the other demigod guards posted there was missing.

He flew across the veranda he was on, jumping over a railing and into the garden of the estate’s lawn. Two other demigods joined him as they rushed the cloaked figure that was walking through the gate.

The "man," if Mintas could even call him a man just by their broad shoulders and chest, looked like death incarnate, standing seven feet tall, wearing black robes that wrapped around his calcified skull and multi-pointed antlers. Despite his deathly appearance, every time he stood a step, the grass and flowers in the garden turned vibrant and flushed with energy.

The god of death brings life.

Mintas’s mother used to say that. It was similar to the general concept of the cycle of life, but she had adapted it to describe the gods and their decision to bring needless death upon the world.

He didn’t know who this individual was or if they brought either life or death, but his appearance gave a visual representation of the concept more than any story ever could.

Mintas tried to appraise the man’s strength—but he found nothing. The man had no soul force signature or mana warp. None. The ninth-tier camouflaging techniques the Claustra used could recreate different mana and soul force signatures, making someone weak look strong or someone strong look weak, but those techniques bent and distributed mana. This wasn’t like that. There was nothing around the man as if he had never been touched by mana or soul force in his life. It was like he was a ghost.

"Hold back," Mintas ordered the others. He walked up to the man with a strained chest. "State your business."

I’m here to speak with Romulan, he said directly in Mintas’s mind.

"He’s in a meeting."

I’ve been told.

"Then make a meeting and return later."

I will not.

Mintas’s heart released flicking thumps, each reverberating in his chest as he looked at the man before him. As a demigod, Mintas had spent over a millennium fighting stronger opponents than himself and achieved a degree of mastery that only resources and knowledge could transcend. During that time, he could always gauge the strength of his opponents. It was the tension and strain they put on the world with their soul force and mana-condensing techniques. Just being around a ninth evolution god like Romulan made him kneel instinctively. Yet with this man, there was no indication of how strong they were aside from the fact that they were standing in the Caralyx Islands, the floating islands only demigods and above lived in, had just walked past a ninth-tier array and had so much control that they could mask themselves with absolute camouflaging that exceeded anything he had seen from the Claustra—a godline of illusion.

That meant they were a god, at the very least. It was the only explanation.

"Does Romulan know you?" Mintas asked.

He’s expecting me.

"You’re not on his guest list."

That doesn’t matter.

Mintas’s chest welled with hot frustration. "What’s your name?"

Like all of the Claustra’s contracts, I wish to remain anonymous. Now take me to Romulan, or bring him to me.

There was a silent impasse with Mintas looking at his fellow demigods. The elf put his hands together to unleash a realm, but the intruder’s words stopped him.

I seek a meeting, not conflict. But if you insist, first think of all those bearing witness to this exchange. Because when I fight—I leave no witnesses.

His words turned Mintas ribs to strings, then pulled and released them. It was an extremely uncomfortable feeling. Yet Elas did not feel so much indecision or terror.

"How did you make it past the guards out front?" Elas demanded.

The man turned to him with a calm demeanor. "They became hostile—so I killed them."

Elas unleashed a realm. A dome domain stretched out over the grounds, and pure soul force condensed into thousands of spears surrounding the intruder in a prison. Even the ground turned solid with soul force, electrified by mana, ready to strike from all angles. If someone didn’t have enough soul force to freeze out the realm with one of their own or at least break through a section of the spears, they would not be able to do anything except block.

Elas turned to Mintas. "Activate the restriction array. We’ll take him in alive."

Mintas heard him, but he didn’t move. His eyes were glued on the intruder that was standing there, lost in thought, deciding what to do. Then, the intruder spoke once more.

Tell me, how important are you to your master? A mere servant? A soldier? A leader?

"Elas… wait." Mintas put up his hands with icy chills and turned to the beastkin beside him. "Get Romulan. If Romulan is expecting him, we don’t want to harm his guest."

"Are you serious? If Romulan expected him, we’d be informed to let anyone with their description in. The guest wouldn’t be killing our people!"

"Listen, Elas. If your realm is strong enough to kill him, it can imprison him. And if he’s imprisoned, there’s no problem waiting. If it’s not strong enough to kill him, we’re useless to Romulan. Right now, we need to warn and mobilize the Wings."

Elas clicked his tongue and conceded to the logic.

Mintas nodded and released a divination pulse that spread along the land, picking up all living signatures in the area. Nine people were watching. He connected to all of them in a neara network and spoke within their minds. Inform Romulan and get the Wings. We’ll contain the threat. I don’t want a single one of you watching. If you are—I will have your head by day’s end.

"Are you insane?" Elas hissed.

That’s a wise decision, the intruder interjected as he watched the others rush from their posts. I pray you continue on that path.

Elas sneered but complied, watching the beastkin Iakal rush into the residence with the rest, and then he waited. The intruder never moved.

It seemed it would end peacefully, but to Mindas’s silent internal dread, neither Romulan nor the Wings arrived. There was just one Wing, one of the twelve eighth evolution gods that acted as generals and officials for Romulan Claustra, that came.

"How interesting," she said as she walked out in the garden. Behind her, a female human giant made of transparent soul force followed her footsteps, eighty feet in height, with two wings on her back. It was her guardian, a spirit that acted as her body in battles, and just being near it was suffocating.

This was what a god was supposed to feel like.

Mintas knelt. "Lady Real."

"Do not address me. It’s shameful that you did not handle this matter."

"There was no need for blood—"

"If a guess of Romulan kills one of our family members, we repay them in kind. If they’re too strong for our guards, the Wings will come—but not before."

"That’s normally true but… he has no signature."

Real turned to the intruder, who was standing calmly in a solid realm. It was hard to tell from the suffocating soul force around the intruder, but there was no secondary soul signature or mana warp patterns within. "Where’s the ward?"

"It just disappeared."

She pulled out a small knife and rolled it around her fingers in thought. After it rolled through all her fingers twice, she snapped it into place.

"Strike him."

Elas activated his realm to send the spears compacting on the intruder, but a colossal suffocating hand of raw soul force broke through the spears, clamping its fingers down on Elas. It dug its nails inside and spread its fingers, and a ghostly copy of Elas separated from his body, silently screaming as the realm around the intruder disappeared, taking all the spears with it. Just as the elf’s chest exited his chest, his soul tore like a sheet of paper before snapping back in place. After that, his shoulders and arms fell limp—

—but the ghostly hand held him up by the torso.

Mintas watched the scene in horror, wondering how a seventh evolution demigod, who had spent centuries mastering magic, martial arts, and soul arts, had been ripped apart in the blink of an eye.

He turned to Real to gauge her reaction and saw her staring with trembling eyes.

"You’re him… aren’t you?" she whispered. "The soulmancer of Dronami."

I am.

"You should have announced your presence," she said, kneeling. "The Wings’ve been trained to greet soulmancers with distinction. If you would have just—"

Enough.

Suddenly, a massive explosion of soul force expanded from his body, creating a dome over the garden that blocked all sound. This was a true realm, a completely isolated domain where the intruder held dominion over the soul force and mana.

Real’s body freckled with goosebumps and she released a realm of her own, obtaining a fifty-foot space of control for her and her guardian—struggling to move past that. Mintas hit the ground before then, wheezing from the strain of soul force, wondering when he had felt so powerless.

It’s unfortunate you would identify me so casually. The soulmancer took a step forward. That defeats my request for anonymity. He took another. It defeats your master’s order not to speak of me. He took a third and kept walking.

"Forgive me," she said nervously. "I will request a kill switch."

There is no need. I gave them warnings. I told you that your master was expecting me. I clarified my reason for not disclosing my identity. He paused to let his words sink in. Then you attacked me.

A piercing shriek erupted from the soulmancer’s chest, and the translucent white form of a wild beast entered the soul arm holding Elas in place. It pumped from the soulmancer’s arm to the hand, like a beast moving through a hose, as it moved toward the fingers.

Real attacked faster than Mintas could process. He blinked, and she was slashing the arm in half. She succeeded in detaching the arm like an umbilical cord, but the beast was faster. It pulsed through the hands and fingers and went straight into Elas’s body, turning the elf’s eyes white.