The soul was a strange and wondrous thing — composed of three parts: the true spirit, memory, and soul energy.
The true spirit was the core, the most stable part of a soul. It sometimes even held fragments of memory as a backup.
When people spoke of reincarnation or possession, what they truly meant was the transfer of the true spirit.
Memory, on the other hand, was more like cached data — information built upon the true spirit, usually dependent on the presence of soul energy to form a complete consciousness.
Compared to the true spirit, memory was far easier to modify.
That was why most necromancers — those vile manipulators of the dead — confined their tampering to this portion.
But Hel was different.
As the Witch of Death, she was perhaps the one person in the world who truly understood the nature of souls.
Even the true spirit itself was not beyond her reach — she could alter it, reshape it, or even fuse fragments from two different beings.
For example…
The Grand Duke's eldest son, Everton, or rather, the one now known as Everton Allen Mandrake.
From the depths of the skeletal archmage's soul, Hel had extracted its true spirit — that of Allen Wolffang — and fused it with the true spirit of the Duke's son, Everton.
She then rewrote portions of their memories.
And thus, the "new" Prince was born.
He was no longer just the heir to Mandrake — he had become the Vice Bishop of the God-Worship Church, who by a stroke of fate had possessed the unfortunate young lord.
His purpose in coming to the Golden City was simple:
to open a passage to the Free Kingdom and unleash the undead plague upon the Mandrake Duchy.
Once that was done, the duchy would be annihilated.
"Rejoice, my brethren!"
Having fully embraced his hidden identity, the "Prince" spread his arms wide and laughed to the sky, his voice filled with fanatic ecstasy.
"Our god shall descend! The world shall crumble! All creation shall return to the embrace of corruption!
Before the end arrives, let us indulge in our desires without restraint!"
"Y-you lunatic!"
Marquis Gold, trembling with terror, pointed at him and shouted before turning to flee.
That declaration — it was the oath of the God-Worship Church!
Impossible. The Grand Duke's son… a cultist spy?
When had he come into contact with the God-Worshippers?
Was there an infiltrator inside the capital itself? Or could it be that—
He dared not think further.
Summoning every ounce of his strength, the marquis burst forth with all his might, racing toward the inner city like a maddened beast.
Despite his plump frame, he was still an Earth Knight. When his battle aura surged, his speed rivaled the wind.
Not even the knights following the prince could catch up — they were too stunned by what had just unfolded.
Even Switt stood frozen, his mind blank, unable to react as his entire worldview shattered.
Then, slowly, the laughing prince lowered his arms and strode toward Switt.
"Orphien," he said softly, "you should be awake by now."
"Orphien? Is… is that me?"
Switt hesitated, halfway through turning to flee — and then it hit him.
A torrent of memories surged into his mind, rooting him to the spot.
After what felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes. A small, knowing smile crept across his lips.
"Lord Allen… I didn't think you'd succeed."
"I know," the prince — Allen — said, a strange mix of pride and bitterness in his voice.
"I actually survived."
Then his expression hardened.
"Those fools in the kingdom dared to betray us during the exchange. They dared violate the ancient pact and insult the might of our God-Worship Church.
I'll make them pay for this treachery."
"My lord, what are your orders?"
"Summon all the undead from the Free Kingdom," Allen said coldly, turning toward the shattered gate behind him.
"We will wipe the entire Sacrificial Kingdom from the map."
As he spoke, he began walking toward the breach, and behind him followed the silent ranks of knights.
But beneath their armor, they were no longer living men — only walking corpses.
At the same time, the shocking news that the Mandrake Duke's heir had been a God-Worship Church infiltrator spread rapidly.
Through the Church's secret communication network, the information reached neighboring nations within hours.
In an instant, suspicion fell upon the entire Mandrake family.
The upper echelons of the kingdom moved swiftly. A unit of Sky Knights was dispatched to the Mandrake capital, arresting and confining the entire ducal household.
Their reasoning was simple: at such a critical juncture, no unforeseen element could be allowed to jeopardize the war against the beastmen.
Officially, the Mandrakes remained a noble family of high standing — but everyone knew this was a temporary courtesy, a facade maintained only because of wartime necessity.
Once the war ended, the Mandrake family would fall.
Even though the three great empires had not publicly decreed collective punishment for cultists' families, no aristocrat would willingly associate with a house that had birthed a heretic.
The Mandrakes' downfall was merely a matter of time.
But that was never Hel's true goal.
She had no illusions that a single "prince" could destroy a noble house that had endured for centuries.
What she really wanted was the undead army — the tens of millions of corpses that still roamed the Free Kingdom.
Even though the Witch of the Underworld had fled to the beastman territories, Hel dared not move recklessly.
She feared that her rival had left behind traps or remnants of power in the Free Kingdom.
She needed someone else to test the waters first — a disposable pawn.
And ideally, one who came with their own cover identity.
That way, any backlash wouldn't reach her.
In truth, the matter had slipped her mind amidst the chaos of recent events — until the prince's arrival and his subsequent death brought the opportunity back to her attention.
A noble who had secretly joined the God-Worship Church…
He was perfect.
Through him, she could both humiliate that "old fool" Duke Mandrake and gain a fresh supply of undead servants.
If she could acquire just one million more lesser undead, she'd never have to fear the War Witch again.
And if she could command ten million… she could crush that witch outright — and perhaps even tame her, turning the proud War Witch into a helpless little puppet.
Of course, being who she was, Hel would never rely on a single pawn.
The prince was just one layer of her web — an insurance policy.
She was already preparing additional arrangements.