The C-Realm hit Zack like a physical force. One moment he was standing on the grimy, familiar pavement of his home city, and the next, he was stumbling onto ground that felt like desiccated, blood-colored sand. The air was thin, carrying the taste of ash and sulfur.
He had expected demons. He had expected a brutal, immediate fight. Instead, the first thing that struck him was the crushing, absolute silence.
Above him, the C-Realm sky was a perpetual twilight, dominated by a massive, pulsing red orb that was not a sun, but the realm's core energy source. It cast deep, jagged shadows across the landscape—a seemingly endless expanse of dunes littered with the calcified, skeletal remains of creatures Zack didn't recognize. The scale here was terrifying; even the remains of the flora were titanic, bone-white structures that looked like petrified trees reaching toward the malevolent sky.
He turned back to the tear in reality. The C-Realm Gate, the shimmering purple aperture, looked less like a temporary portal and more like a permanent wound in the fabric of space. It pulsed rhythmically, but the edges were already beginning to contract, drawing inwards.
It's closing, he realized, a spike of cold panic hitting him. The Gatekeeper must be stabilizing it from the other side. They don't want the Sentinel following me.
The Sentinel. The thought of that shimmering, judgmental armor spurred Zack into motion. He was trapped in the C-Realm, but at least he was alive, and the initial wave of power from the B-Class Soul Knight was still coursing through his veins, making his body feel lighter and faster than ever before.
He watched as the portal shrank, collapsing into a small, flickering violet spark, then vanishing entirely.
Gone. He was completely cut off.
A faint, chilling sound, like a dying fire being extinguished, echoed in his mind. It was the Waning Echo—the residual effect of his last Rebirth. Every time he rewound, the echo of his soul's previous location lingered for a short time, and Thanatos's power allowed him to feel it fade. The stronger the death (like the Mal'gora's claw), the stronger the echo, and the more draining the next one would be.
He focused on the invisible Souls at his periphery. The small, D-Class Soul Knights (now fifty-two of them) were stable, but the towering B-Class Soul Knight was more volatile. It felt like a massive power source that he didn't know how to properly pilot.
The new Soul Knight is too big for the anchor, a frigid, silent thought manifested in his mind. It wasn't his own voice, nor was it the comforting guidance he sometimes imagined Thanatos offering. It was the raw, unadulterated consciousness of the Mal'gora soul itself, now trapped within him. You are weak. This shell cannot hold me.
Zack shuddered. He had never felt the individual consciousness of a soul before. The lesser demons were just energy, mindless fuel. The B-Class soul was different. It carried will.
"Shut up," Zack muttered, walking backward, placing his back against a massive, smooth rib bone that jutted out of the sand.
I am part of you now, Death-chosen. You should have been stronger. You should have let me kill the stone-man.
Zack channeled his will, focusing on the core principle of his Grant: Absorption means Dominion. He mentally slammed down on the intrusive thought, asserting his authority. The B-Class Soul Knight flickered violently, then settled, its towering, armored form becoming rigid once more, the malicious thought silenced.
He needed control. He needed to understand how to integrate this immense power before it consumed him.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered. The ground vibrated, and Zack instinctively tensed, drawing his shortsword.
From behind the curved spine of one of the immense skeletal structures, two figures appeared. They were demons, but unlike the Brute or the Grubs. These were sleek, six-limbed predators called Cinder-Stalkers, characterized by their dull, obsidian-like skin and eyes that glowed with embers. C-Realm Native.
There were two of them, hunting in tandem. They spotted Zack instantly, recognizing the scent of fresh, dimensional life.
Zack gauged the distance and the threat. The Cinder-Stalkers were faster and smarter than anything he had fought before. Their souls would be Normal-tier, a good, steady supply.
He didn't wait for them to charge. He dashed out from the cover of the rib-bone, leveraging the temporary speed boost from the B-Class Knight. He needed to make this quick and efficient.
The first Stalker lunged, its six legs propelling it forward in a horrifying, blur-like motion. Zack anticipated the trajectory, channeling the brute strength he'd absorbed into his legs, leaping high into the air.
As he descended, the second Stalker, cunningly, moved to intercept him mid-air.
Zack was caught between two deadly creatures. He had to absorb both, or die.
He shifted his weight, using the momentum of his fall. He struck downward, his iron shortsword powered by Thanatos's chilling energy, plunging the black blade into the head of the second Cinder-Stalker.
The second Stalker collapsed instantly, its body dissolving into black smoke. The essence of a C-Class soul, a rush of cold, smooth energy, flowed into Zack. Soul Knight Count: 54. A new, medium-sized Knight, armored like a skirmisher, materialized silently among the ranks.
But the death of its partner was the distraction the first Stalker needed. It whipped its segmented tail—tipped with a bone spike—around and slammed it into Zack's side before he even finished absorbing the first soul.
The impact sent Zack flying, the air ripped from his lungs. He slid twenty feet across the red sand, the pain a searing, agonizing fire that made the pain of his previous death seem like a papercut. He hadn't been killed, but he was seriously injured. The speed boost vanished. The B-Class Knight flickered, the Mal'gora's silent disdain washing over him.
He struggled to sit up, his ribs screaming in protest. The first Cinder-Stalker advanced slowly, its amber eyes gleaming, savoring the kill.
Zack coughed up blood. He had just gone from the brink of oblivion in his own world, to near-death in the C-Realm. And he couldn't afford another Rebirth. Not here.
He looked at his reflection in the dull iron of his blade. He saw the desperate, haunted face of a boy with too many souls and not enough control. He was an echo of death itself, constantly on the verge of fading.
He gripped his sword tighter, forcing himself to stand. The Sentinel was gone, the Gate was closed, and now, he was facing the true, unforgiving nature of the realms. He was Thanatos's Knight, and if he wanted to survive, he had to embrace the one thing that scared him most: the power of the soul he had just stolen.
He focused entirely on the B-Class Soul Knight, pouring his intention into it: Lend me your strength, Brute. NOW.
The colossal, shadowy Knight at his back responded. It didn't move, but a visible ripple of raw, crushing energy flowed from it, into Zack.
Zack let out a ragged, silent scream as the power flooded his body. He felt his adrenaline spike, his vision sharpen, and his broken ribs momentarily forgotten under the tide of borrowed, volatile strength. The Mal'gora essence was dominant, demanding violence.
The Cinder-Stalker recognized the shift in energy. It hissed, its six limbs digging into the sand as it prepared a final, frantic lunge.
Zack met its charge, not with a fancy technique, but with the borrowed, horrifying power of a B-Class Brute. His movement was a dark blur. His sword struck the Cinder-Stalker's skull, and instead of a clean slice, the blade pulverized bone and fused skin. The essence of the C-Class soul rushed out, and Zack greedily accepted it.
Soul Knight Count: 55.
He stood alone on the C-Realm sand, breathing hard, the Mal'gora's power receding, leaving him bruised, exhausted, and terrifyingly strong. He had killed three demons in minutes—a B and two Cs. His soul count was rising, but so was the darkness within him.
He was in the Normal Realm now. He had survived the Scrutiny, but he had entered a new level of war. He looked out at the silent, endless, petrified landscape. He had a long way to go, and the only guide he had was the cold, silent choir of his Soul Knights.