Interconnected: Spliced Souls

It had occurred a few hours after Itarr angrily slammed her hand against the nearest rock, shattering every bone multiple times. She was so consumed by anger and her lack of skill because she had tried everything, but Servi and Momo still weren’t close to waking up.   

The goddess was hysterical. She grabbed her hair, emotionally yanking large strands. The bald spots were instantly covered when her regeneration kicked in. “I’m a failure… I can’t do this! I can’t do that! Just what the hell can I do…? Albert, please… I… I don’t…”   

Merka had crafted a little dirt hut for Olga to sleep in. He certainly sympathized with the grieving goddess. Albert felt for her. The teenage revenant desired to help, but his skills were lacking. The most he could do was support her.   

“Harming yourself won’t help,” he gently chided her under the glowing moonlight, the crackling fire incinerating the dry leaves he had tossed in moments before.   

“What will? What am I missing? I… I can’t lose them! I can’t! I... I just can’t…”  

“You won’t. Listen to me… Pay close attention.” The butler gently placed Itarr’s hand on Servi’s wrist. “That’s her pulse. She’s alive.” He did the same to Momo. “That’s proof they’re fighting hard. I’m not sure what’s going on, but they will wake up. You believe in them, don’t you?”  

Itarr wiped her snotty nose on her sleeves. She nodded. No one would’ve imagined a goddess like her crying like this. 

“Then hold fast to that belief because they believe in you. Momo certainly did when she slit her throat because she knew your blood would protect her.” Itarr enjoyed the butler’s kindly, warm smile that a grandfather would’ve given their grandchild. But his expression starkly changed. Fisher felt it, too. He may have been asleep, but his decades of instinct enflamed, waking him instantly.   

They weren’t alone. The group had marched a mile into the forest and set up camp after ensuring the smoke wasn’t easy to see.   

Suddenly…  

They came from above—winged-wildkin bearing the emblem of Lando’s Nail. They landed around the makeshift camp and held their armaments at the ready while the tallest approached.   

“Explain yourself,” said the eagle-faced woman. Her avian eyes narrowed. She bore a scar across her beak.   

“We’re survivors,” said Albert. He had a story rehearsed.   

“…” The woman didn’t buy it. Or if she did, it wasn’t by much. Albert continued. He watched his words because he knew the reputation these soldiers had. The Nail was rumored to be Lord Flynn’s personal mercenaries since he was the commander-in-chief. Officially, they answered to the crown, but politics were fickle. They weren’t always black and white.   

“We were on a mission to destroy a clan of golems in the tunnels hidden near the mountains when they vanished. The woman with black hair is Servi. She’s my summoner.”  

“Who are they? Explain the hut. Why are you traveling with a golem?"  

“That’s Itarr. She was on the same mission, and we joined our cause. The golem, Merka, answered Servi’s summoning call with Finn, the other spirit you see behind me. A little girl named Olga is in the structure. We found her abandoned, lost, and scared. We were escorting her to the city when the incident occurred.” Fisher couldn’t use his real name, so he came up with Finn. While it sounded random, Albert surmised there was a reason behind it.    

“Lost, then?”  

“Not necessarily. We know the path to Arcton. However, we are not hasty fools. Traveling with two unconscious people and a malnourished child requires delicate handling.”  

“The singi?” She turned to a scribe with a notepad and confirmed he was writing everything down.   

“Our ally. I’m afraid the explosion was too much. We were on the border.” Albert saw Itarr flinch, but he didn’t regret his word choice. Everyone here knew it wasn’t her fault. No one expected anything like this to happen. 

“Have you heard about Arcton?” Albert shook his head. He listened to a lengthy, hasty rundown of the city. They knew everything, of course. What they heard didn’t add anything they hadn’t already known.   

“Stay here. Don’t move.” The woman walked away. Those swords and spears never lowered. Of course, they wouldn’t. Not when the Nail prided themselves on being the strictest, most powerful branch of the Landonian army. One could liken them to being its special operatives, which wasn’t as inaccurate as you might think.   

Itarr had a dozen eyes on her when she kneeled and held her friends’ hands. She prayed for their return now more than ever…because of what she heard when the eagle-faced woman returned.   

"Your story doesn’t make sense. It’s been six days. We’ve scouted the surroundings from dawn until dusk, and your group just now appears? You will be teleported to a cell within Canary until we can start a proper investigation into your claims. Once we can verify them, you will be released.”  

“What?!” Itarr was taken back. “That’s not fair! Servi knows Harold! Momo knows him! Ask him! He’ll know—”  

“Don’t you dare use his name so casually! Lord Flynn doesn’t have time to waste on the common rabble.”  

“I'm not. Lord Flynn doesn’t know me, but he knows them! They talked about his kindness a lot!”  

Albert didn’t let it go. Something similar happened after the raid on the slave market. Some overzealous, pompous know-it-all had treated Servi like a criminal, and he had died for it after Harold granted Servi permission to kill him. He didn’t want the same fate to befall this woman.    

 “I would advise you to heed her words, madam. It’s not just Lord Flynn. Our group is friendly with the Queen of Night and Dreadwood Shadow. Allow me to reminisce about the past. Months ago, there was an incident involving an underground raid. My summoner was a victim until Lord Flynn’s forces saved her from a cruel fate. Since then, they’ve remained in contact.”  

“A relationship in the mind does not constitute the real thing.”  

“Perhaps that’s correct, but these relationships are verifiable.”  

“Keep talking if you want the shackles. Do not make this harder than it needs to be.”  

“…” Albert sighed. Obviously, he didn’t want a fight to break out, as that would sour things immensely. Still, he didn’t enjoy being treated like a criminal. Neither did Itarr, who wanted to do something.   

“Captain, I thought about it. I remember reports of the Dreadwood Shadow breaking her sabbatical leave when she returned to the guild for the mentorship program,” said another woman. Her pigeon-like wings were folded nearly against that shiny armor. “I believe the Bicornkin speaks the truth.”  

“…” The captain looked over her shoulder at Albert. She didn’t so much sigh as exhausted her annoyance. “Very well. Change of plans. You’re not going to prison. We have another location. Consider it a rest house. You’ve endured much, but do not expect the luxuries to last should we discover lies within your statements."  

"That’s understandable, but you’ll find I speak nothing but the truth.”  

“If you say, Bicornkin. We’re about to move. Come on. Get a move on.”   

“Hey—no! Don’t touch her!” Itarr crawled over Momo’s body when someone tried to lift her. “I’ll carry her!” The soldier looked at his commanding officer, who permitted this.   

Albert kicked out the campfire before gently lifting his sleeping necromancer. Merka softly woke Olga, who asked if it was time to move.   

It is. Don’t be scared, okay? Everything's going to be okay.   

“Okay… Merky… I’m still sleepy…”  

That’s okay. I’ll carry you.  

The hut dissolved, revealing Merka and his little sister. Instantly, some of the soldiers felt disgusted. They only saw golems as monsters. The narrow-minded couldn’t imagine why any summoner worth their salt would summon one.   

“You. Boy. Do not fall behind.” The eagle-faced woman pointed at Fisher—or Finn—he was now going by. He tagged along with the group as they emerged out of the forest. The mages had erected a teleportation circle and linked it to one in a specialized cell in Canary’s dungeon, but the plan had changed. It took ten minutes to alter the destination. 

 Albert briefly wondered how they organized the connection until he saw the glimmering, azure hue of a sapphire communication crystal embedded within someone’s earring. Of course, this was the Nail. Anything less than perfection from the best wouldn’t cut it.   

The officer Servi killed on Harold’s orders was the punishment awaiting all who betrayed his strict standards.   

Itarr barely kept it together. She was being treated like a common crook. Her best friends weren’t waking up. A sense of failure was all she felt. She didn’t even think she deserved to be a goddess. The tears didn’t stop even after their surroundings changed. Gone was the fresh air of a clean, unfiltered forest. In its place were...berry-scented candles?   

The room was beautiful. Itarr half-expected the eagle-faced woman to lie, but this room was more like a house. It had a few beds, tables, a gorgeous sink, a stove, and a wood fireplace in the corner.   

How different would their surroundings be if that woman hadn’t spoken with her captain? Merka immediately tucked Olga into bed while Itarr and Albert placed their dearest allies beside each other.    

Maybe it was a sign of things to come. Or perhaps an omen of luck that things wouldn’t be as bad as Itarr thought—but did a failure of a goddess like her deserve such lofty ideals as hope?  

Someone knocked on the door, but it was just some guard. He told them he’d be standing outside if they had questions or needed anything. 

Is that kindness genuine? Dineria… Nimyra… Momo… Servi…  

Itarr sat on another bed and sighed. She hugged her legs before becoming lost in thoughts—something she should not have done—until she swore she saw movement. Itarr thought it was her mind playing tricks on her, but no…  

It wasn’t.   

---

“I see…” I listened closely to Albert and Itarr, although the latter was difficult to understand since she couldn’t stop crying.  “It’s really been five days?” I was alarmed, but Fisher Jin—Finn’s ring—surprised me even more. He seemed hesitant to speak since we knew his past. Maybe he didn’t want to be a bother. Momo and I knew he felt responsible for everything…because it was his fault.   

It all happened because of him.    

It wasn’t in me to diminish or say anything because it wouldn’t be new. Fisher had suffered enough, and even being alive when I knew he desired death was enough punishment. I didn’t need to add anything, but he surprised me by making his presence known. “Momo, I cannot thank you, Servi, Itarr, and Srassa for spending time with my family. I’m glad…they—”  

“You don’t have to say anymore,” replied Momo, her hands occupied by Itarr’s soft fingers. The clingy goddess sat between us on the impossibly satiny bed, and we weren’t letting her go. “Your wife’s a great woman, and your daughters are super cute. Butterfly Rumble had a blast with them! It’s nice to see you again, Merka. I’m glad you're okay. I’m sorry, Olga, but that wasn’t me… It was another me who looked like me.”  

“But it was still you, Ms. Momo! Umm… Thank you… I’m glad you can talk again… Your voice is pretty.”  

“Aww… You’re a kind cutie, aren’t you? Haha!”  

The little girl giggled and hugged Merka some more. She was in a fantastic mood, but Itarr… When they told me about Olga, my goddess flinched. I instantly knew what she had thought, so I changed the topic to Momo’s mirror. 

“It’s odd. I’ve never heard of a skill like this,” said Albert. He suddenly stopped speaking. Pulling out his phone, he sent a group text. 

People may be listening. Let us keep our conversation here or within the ring.   

Good idea, but let me do something 

Eh? Wait, what do you have planned, Servy?  

  

I want the ravenwatchers to deliver letters to Dineria. Nimyra, too. Are we certain someone is confirming our relationship with them?  

I’m positive. It would reflect harshly on Harold to hold us in contempt without verifying my claims. That would diminish the Nail’s reputation for perfection.   

Or Harold could brush it under the rug.   

That is an option, but I guarantee we’re being watched. The Nail will have guards stationed outside.   

I approached the window, but I didn’t see anything.   

Still, Albert was probably right. I could’ve done something if this was a prison. Maybe there’d be a window high up or something I could sneak a bird out, but it was risky. It wasn't worth it.    

So we had to wait.   

No, I could’ve walked out. Opposition would be there, but [Heart Clutch] would’ve said otherwise.   

Except no. I didn’t want violence to uproot what little goodwill we had with these soldiers. Dropping bodies was the last thing we needed.  

Olga’s excitement had quickly shifted to drowsiness as Merka tucked her into bed again. I used the app Itarr had made to communicate with Momo to tell him we were entering the ring.    

Okay. We’ll be here.   

Fisher probably didn’t know he had a Skill Phone, so I typed a message and asked if he wanted to enter the ring. His body went limp after a second of pondering, and I joined him.  As I did, I thought about something pressing I hadn’t considered.   

Itarr’s manifestation used our gathered souls to fuel the process, so we had 0 SP. Nyxaris had collected the necromancers’ souls and safeguarded them, leaving us with 2 NP.   

The strength we received from souls was divided by how many ring bearers there were. Since we had 5—Myself, Itarr, Albert, Fisher, and Momo— it took 5 souls to gain 1 Soul Point to spend in [Necromancy].   

I was weaker now than when I took on Sakdu, and… It would take hundreds of souls to regain that same level of strength.  But the loss came from the added rings—not Itarr’s manifestation.   

You couldn’t quantify the abstract. 

If we had a pool of 50, my goddess and I received 25. But with three more rings, we each received 10. That pool of 50 was still there. It wasn’t going anywhere.    

However, that was five immortals... Five beings who could not die… Surely that outweighed two non-weakened immortals, right? 

---

“Oh, this is a surprise.” Albert saw the neighboring island and did not expect to see anything like it. Itarr was even more confused, but she didn’t feel alarmed.   

“It’s warm, isn’t it?” she asked. “I… Before I manifested, I saw your lookalike.”  

“You did? So, she made the trip? Did she say anything?”  

“No. But… It hurt. Looking at her made me cry, and I don’t know why. But I miss her. I don’t even know her, but it feels…like I’ve lost a part of me I can’t ever get back.” Itarr’s voice was barely there. It quivered like the cries of a violin on its last legs.    

I wished her manifestation had happened under happier circumstances, though. An ugly veil cladded what should’ve been one of the happiest moments of her life.  That was something we...all knew without speaking. I was sure Fisher even felt the discomfort.  

Momo rubbed Itarr’s back. “She’s not gone. I still feel her. She’s here—deep inside me. I’m sure she gave me this power.” Momo summoned her mirror. It flew around and settled on her shoulder like a parrot.   

“I’ve seen enchanted mirrors, but none quite like this,” said Albert. “Can you use magic? Are you on the [Forbidden Skill System]?”  

“Let’s find—” Momo coincidentally had her mirror pointed towards Nyxaris when she held her hands to the ground. 

A condensed, compacted blip of acidic goop shot out from the mirror like a bullet and slammed into the lesser lich’s face.  

I’d never seen her so panicked. 

“EHHHH? I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry, Nyxaris! I was just thinking about [Acid Arrow]. It just fired by itself. I didn’t mean to shoot you in the head!” 

“The poison is not effective. Thy strike hasn’t caused the bell to toll… Cease unneeded worries and cast them from thy heart, o’ child of the mirror.”  

“Child of the mirror?”  

“It is part of the lesser lich’s speech pattern,” answered Victor. “We do not harbor the knowledge you desire.”  

Well, that was fine, right? No, it wasn’t. It sucked having no answers to our questions. 

“Casting without speaking is [Voiceless Incantation]. How did you obtain it?” asked Itarr.    

“It’s not showing in my skill list,” replied Momo. “I don’t really know.” 

“Then it’s an innate ability?” inquired Albert. “Do you think it came from Momo’s lookalike?”  

“Maybe?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Momo’s the first one with someone inside them I’ve given my blood, so maybe it works best on those who fit the criteria? Everyone else gets a Skill Phone, but that doesn’t explain you two.  Merka ate my blood. He didn’t drink it. So it must be in liquid form, but maybe the trigger was the manifestation?”   

“Servi, there’s something else.  [Elemental Manipulation] is ready. It’s been initialized for a while. The swap time between our necromancy catalysts has decreased to an hour. I’m sure any ring bearer can use them, including revenants.”  

I didn’t lie to myself. I felt weird, almost like…I didn’t know what to feel. It wasn’t an emptiness or some void-like sensation, but the world around me felt numb to everything. Why was that? Momo was here. The city was saved. Sakdu was dead. Why did it feel like I needed something to distract me? I hated that feeling, so I summoned my phone and looked at my newest forbidden skill.  

There it was-- [Earth Manipulation]. The only one illuminated among the six that made [Elemental Manipulation].   

The helpful popup said I unlocked the others by enduring trials. These challenges would ‘force the essence of elemental matter’ within me. Suusa said something about not completing his training, so I wondered if there were two or three ways to unlock the other manipulation skills. Maybe his training referred to these trials.  What if you acquired partial progress per trial? Do them all to unlock the skill's full power as a master, but you can do a few and gain an intermediate understanding? But if so, then why wasn’t [Earth Manipulation] broken into different sub-skills? Unless this wasn’t the case?  

Was it really all or nothing?   

I’m probably only as adept as Suusa, so I can only do what he could. 

“Oh? You have one of these now,” I said after catching Fisher’s uneasy stare. He summoned his phone, looking utterly confused at its unfamiliar shape. Albert, Itarr, and Momo coached him through its functions. He confirmed he had lost his sole passive skill. Fisher could probably regain it via [Soul Remembrance], but we didn’t know how long it’d take.   

He was uneasy. It was in his mannerisms. Fisher believed he should’ve been dead. But he wasn’t. He wanted to pay for his sins. Even without him telling me... He probably considered immortality a curse since it denied him his punishment. A blind person could see the tension.  

That’s gonna have to be handled soon. I don’t know how, but let’s think about it later.  

[Earth Manipulation]’s tooltip said the power of the earth flowed through me—that was it.   

“There is something else, Servi,” said Itarr. “The full data for [Voiceless Incantation] was in Suusa’s soul. It was automatically overlayed onto the prototype during [Elemental Manipulation]’s deployment.”  

I silently cast [Heart Clutch] at myself, confirming it worked. Next came a skull bomb. It was immediately absorbed into the ring before it blew.  

“That’s good. We’re still missing skill stacking. But… How do I use [Earth Manipulation]?” There was no assistance. I held my hand to the grassy ground, but nothing happened. Gripping a pebble didn’t jolt any urges. 

“Why not ask Merka?” suggested Momo, “I’m sure he won’t mind.”  

“Yeah, but I won’t drag him here when he can spend time with Olga.”  

“Yeah. That’s true.”  

“Hmm... Wait... I can do something. A simple question won’t be a bother. I’ll be right back.” 

I returned to my body and approached Merka with my phone.  

How do I use my magic?  

I nodded.   

I don’t know. It’s…just a feeling. I think about what I want to do, and I do it. I think about extra golems, and then I can make them. When I want to communicate, the knowledge or ability to make a writing pad comes to me.    

So…  

What did I harbor?   

A knife? That occupied my thoughts when I returned to the soul world and told the others what Merka had written.    

Picturing it didn’t work. I had an image of a dagger, but gripping the dirt felt like gripping the dirt. It didn’t even attempt to turn solid.   

Clearly, I was missing something. I tried for an hour, but nothing happened. I made no worthwhile progress.   

Itarr had access to [Earth Manipulation]. Of course, that made sense since we shared a soul—so she tried to help. The power of a geomancer could be embedded in a blood crystal, so I gave one to Albert, thinking he could discover a breakthrough.    

Albert also had enough Revenant Points to unlock a skill that transformed his necrotic energy into a blade. He purchased it, used it, and marveled at the green rapier. He said it felt like an old friend. There was more, though. He could now store ten undead within marbles of necrotic energy, but honestly?  

That skill was useless because the undead could be stored in our ring. Maybe there were benefits I wasn’t aware of, but I stretched my mind thin trying to think of any while failing to grasp the surface of success as a geomancer.   

“Let’s call it here, I guess. A city can’t be normally built within a day, so it’s foolish to think you can master a forbidden skill after a few hours.”  

“A break will never hurt. Shall I prepare tea? I’m certain Olga is hungry.”  

“Okay. I’ll see you guys in a second or two. Bye bye!” Momo waved. Her mirror mimicked her motions—she had gotten better at waving it around. It had a range of about five feet, and it didn’t matter if it broke because Momo could summon another one right away.    

Albert was already looking through the cabinets when we returned to our bodies, but there wasn’t any food.    

“Here. I’ll ask the guard for food. Surely they can do that much. I mean, this is imprisonment without the prison.” 

---

It was almost midnight. 

Dineria was still tending to her store. Its floors hadn’t seen a footstep in four hours, but she didn’t want to head home—not yet—not when there was a chance someone could walk through that door and tell her the news. Any news, really—good or bad.   

The elf needed closure. Dineria’s students had been missing for a while. The vanishing mountains sent worried, anxious cries spreading all over Canary. No one was more affected than her roommate. Claire’s bleeding heart had been torn asunder. The lass had faith, of course. But faith meant very little when the dead kept piling up. 

The red-headed elf was probably four or five glasses deep into a wine-assisted slumber. Dineria wanted to be there for her. She loved that workaholic like a sister—perhaps more so—but what comfort could she offer that she hadn’t already proposed?   

Dineria wanted to be alone. Some people desired that. Claire wasn’t one of them. She had to be around others. Perhaps it was a desire to feel accepted, wanted, or welcomed, but the elf was the kind of woman to buy a stranger a meal with her last dupla to have a conversation partner.   

The true reason was selfishness. Dineria knew she couldn’t keep it together to see her best friend torn apart. Her precious Claire-Bear… Even now, as the elf wiped down a shelf she had cleaned a dozen times, she felt herself on the verge of breaking apart.   

It wasn’t like she hadn’t searched. She did—she left with the first group with Percival, but their search didn’t bear fruit. She stayed out there for three days before being called back for another report.    

She looked everywhere, but there was too much to cover. She didn’t even sleep or stop for food because her mind couldn’t stop thinking.   

What if they were swallowed up by whatever took out the mountains? 

What if they were involved in the rumored attack on Arcton? The city was a mess. The earthquake rampaged the town like a raging bull in a glassware shop. The current death count was over 7,000. It was impossible to verify everyone’s identity.    

Dineria had faith… Her student was immortal! Albert was knowledgeable! A goddess lived inside that ring!   

If anyone would be fine… It’d be them... 

Right? 

That was the focus of Dineria’s prayers to Elrune. She didn’t know where the Elvish goddess stood when compared to Itarr, but perhaps the two used to be friends? Maybe the ancient divine that blessed her with [String Bender] would throw a helping hand or two?  

Dineria wanted to get back there—she had plans to do just that in a day or two. She had to make the necessary preparations, which were almost complete. Favors were being called in, and favors were being owed.    

It wasn’t just Dineria and Claire who felt like they couldn’t function. The Queen of Night often laid alone in her bed with nothing but alcohol to dim her urge to cry.  She didn’t want to work. She didn’t want to move or even get out of bed. Not even Meghann could help her.   

Nimyra didn’t want to lose anyone else. She almost lost Lucy. And then Servi nearly vanished from her life. Now? She wholeheartedly believed the ones she cared about were gone…  

Dineria couldn’t face Nimyra. Not if she wanted to keep her emotions in check. But it felt like it would be another night—one without a shred of news. The still-clean cloth fell from her loosened grip as she walked down the aisle with the spiders. She tried to smile at the fuzzy creatures, but Dineria couldn’t muster a grin. Still, she silently thanked them for the thread they spun. She offered gratitude to the leaves for providing warmth-- the wood for rigidity. She walked her entire store, giving thanks until she reached the front door.   

Dineria would have to go home. Sooner or later. She couldn’t sleep at the store again since the spiders wouldn’t spin their thread if they sensed her emotions. She needed their webbing for the upcoming expedition's supplies. With a sigh, she looked over her shoulders and fondly remembered the first time three young girls walked in with warm, excited, curious smiles.   

Knock! Knock! Knock!   

A banging noise broke her from her flashback.   

“Sorry, but we’re closed,” she said, opening the door. Dineria recognized that armor, but her voice lacked emotion. “Please wait until tomorrow if you need any supplies.”  

“No, ma’am. It’s not that,” said the girl with pigeon-like wings. “You’re Dreadwood Shadow. Is that correct?”   

“I am. Why?”  

“Do you know a woman named Servi?” One by one, the woman listed off names. She didn’t recognize a few of them, but Itarr?! Momo?! Albert?! Her eyes said it all. Dineria didn’t have to respond.   

“That’s what I figured.” Dineria’s verdant eyes glistened with thick, fat tears as she listened to the soldier.  As soon as she got an address, she ran like the wind towards a mansion in the noble district. She could run faster than any carriage—at this speed, she’d outrun a horse enchanted with a dozen speed buffs. She was like a blur, hopping from rooftop to rooftop.   

She couldn’t stop crying… Oh, how euphoric her heart must’ve felt at being the closure she desperately needed to hear!  

Dineria arrived at the location in question.   

“They’re here, right? The group you teleported from the Arcton Forest?”  

“How—” The left guard was instantly shut down. Dineria didn’t have time, so she jumped to the point.    

“I’m Dreadwood Shadow! I’m Dineria! Let me in! I want to confirm my students’ safety!”  

“It’s fine,” said the pigeon-like wings. She landed only a few seconds later. “Let her through.”  

“Ma’am!” The guards unlocked the door. Dineria sped through the foyer. She jumped to the railing, leaping to the third floor in a single bound, landing with a roll as she darted down the left hallway.   

“Impressive as always, Dreadwood Shadow. Or so I’ve been told.” The speaker was Percival. Was it a coincidence that he arrived when he did? His golden eyes were free from ulterior motives, but his body language said otherwise. “I’m happy for you. Oh, it’s always a joy to see a heartfelt reunion. Well? Let’s not keep them waiting?”  

Dineria shook off the odd feeling and followed the duchess’s bodyguard to a particular room. It was faint, but she heard familiar voices. Two were unknown. Percival motioned to the guard, who opened the door.   

There... There they were…   

Her gaze darted to the young man, that pink-haired girl, the crimson-eyed amnesiac, and that green-eyed little boy. And that golem… And the little girl asleep in those rocky arms…  

“Servi... Momo... You... You’re...”  

The elf was confused, but her jaw dropped when she saw how similar that brown-skinned woman was to her immortal student. 

Dineria’s steps were slow. She almost lost the strength in her legs, but she forced her way past the threshold until she broke into a full-blown sprint.   

Percival observed the reunion. He really thought it was beautiful. He had spent a few days in the field with Dineria and understood her as a person—even without reading the guild’s extensive file about her career.   

He didn’t hear much of what they said, but he heard a single name  

Itarr.  

That woman... The one who looked like Servi...was the one who made her immortal.   

Percival’s eyes widened, but he otherwise remained calm at seeing a manifested goddess, matching rings, odd ears on Momo’s head, and a golem holding a little girl in its lap while she ate a warm, late-night supper.    

As calm as one could be considering the circumstances—this group had been considered dead. To see them alive was nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps it even necessitated the guiding hand of a goddess?  

Dineria wiped her watery eyes and turned around. She started to close the door.  

“Hey—Wait! I have—” His words were frozen solid. His throat felt like a glacier that prevented his sentence from being spoken. Such a glare from the infamous Dreadwood Shadow made him realize his questioning could wait. Just seeing Itarr here—in the flesh—confirmed by how astonishingly similar her appearance to Servi—deserved a report or two on its own.   

Besides, Percival wasn’t sure what he even wanted to ask. So, he walked away as the elf locked the door from the inside. He was positive she was placing her seals on the inside because he observed a faint barrier that flashed twice before turning invisible.  Although Percival had an item with his sister’s counter seal, he refrained from using it.   

Why?  

Because a goddess was right there!  

He didn’t know what she was capable of! Could she see through the counter seal? If so, what…would she do? The situation was volatile—unsteady. He wouldn't risk angering the divine goddess because of their secondary goal. No matter what… He had to do all he could to remain on friendly terms—to gain their trust. A task like that was far easier said than done, and it was better to be safe than sorry.   

Percival entered the room next door to focus on his hasty report while thinking about other organic ways to get more information.    

But it was getting late. Percival wondered if a message was being delivered to Harold. If so, he’d be arriving shortly. The duchess was already awake, though. She couldn’t sleep a wink after messengers from the Nail informed her about Servi's 'survival.' She merely waited for the command to assemble at Harold’s estate.