My skin felt tight, like it had shrunk in size. It wasn't painful or anything, just felt wrong. Every breath I do, scraped a little. Then gradually became painfully aware of my heartbeat. The room hadn't changed. It was the same as earlier. Nothing changed, everything looked normal while my body insisted it wasn't.
I gulped nervously, and my tongue tasted something metallic.
She plucked the flower right out of my fingers. I didn't look over, but I could still see her amused look. She twirled the green stem between her thumb and finger, watching it spin as a slow smile finally broke across her face.
With her back to me, I forced myself to speak. "What did you do?"
I slowly looked at her, my eyes shaking.
I glanced down.
Hallucination?
No.
Those were real.
Everything I felt was real.
"What a beautiful petal," She said, as my blood dripped from her hand onto the table.
What the fuck is that place?
I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes, then exhaled slowly.
I did it again.
Again.
Until I managed to compose myself.
I opened my eyes gradually, and saw her eyes on me. My face reflected in her eyes—and then it sank, stretched, pulled me, the longer I stare the more drawn into. It has no bottom, just an endless pit of nothingness. I leaned forward without noticing, elbows on the table, chin resting on my hands.
"This must be some sort of nightmare I cannot wake from," I muttered, slamming my palm against my forehead.
"With that, shall we continue?" She asked cheerfully.
I peered at her through the gaps between my fingers
"Why don't you just kill me?" I asked, voice flat.
"Kill you?" She repeated, tilting her head innocently, like a mild curiosity. "Why would I do that? We had a deal, remember?"
She laughed softly. It wasn't mockery, but genuine amusement, as if I'd misunderstood something.
The reality of my situation was absolute: I possessed neither the capacity nor the capability to serve as a vessel. While others might have something to offer, I have none. She might had everything, power, protection, or the promise of something greater.
But there's one thing I could offer: My soul.
My limitations were not a matter of choice, but of fundamental physics. In a world governed by the flow of mana, Claude was an irregular. This reality, like my previous reality, should operate on the immutable law of cause and effect, though, in this instance, the law of equivalent exchange was the more accurate word.
It was a cosmic balance that dictated that nothing could be gained without a corresponding sacrifice; one could not simply summon existence from the ether. To believe otherwise was to ignore the very mechanics of how things worked.
It was exactly what the original Claude Belmont had been trying to achieve. The only reason I had even suggested it... was likely just to prolong my situation.
I had read every book Claude left in his room, studying every volume in detail. Even though his diary was useless, I managed to slowly grasp his way of thinking. Those books were filled with theories regarding the "why"—most of which reached the same conclusion I had: simply had nothing to offer.
But then again, what if the spirit simply refused? Or, more importantly, what if the spirit accepted it anyway? There was no evidence regarding that specific situation in those texts.
And now, I'm here.
In that unlikely case, I still have a chance.
So I clung to that logic.
"Understood," I replied. "Can I ask some questions?"
"Feel free!"
"Spirits exist on a different vibrational plane than the physical world," I began. "For a spirit to exert influence or use its power, it needs a 'medium of exchange' that both the spiritual and physical realms recognize—a conduit, in a sense. Furthermore, borrowed power is notoriously volatile. No normal mortal can handle it directly, as it is both too pure and too chaotic."
It works much like the mana that the little furball taught us. Mana, in its rawest state, is a paradox: it is the purest form of life energy, yet it is inherently chaotic because it obeys no physical laws. This is why the human body is simply a finite container.
Most people are what I call "closed circuits." Their internal mana is like a stagnant pool, safe, predictable, but strictly limited. If a normal person attempted to draw upon a spirit's power, the result would be catastrophic. The sheer pressure of that would snap their mind like a dry twig or liquefy their veins.
Only a selected few possess the specific biological elasticity known as a high "spectral threshold." This isn't just a talent; it's a rare physiological trait that allows the body to stretch and expand its mana capacity without breaking down. These individuals have "open architecture", kind of like veins and nerves capable of conducting the high-voltage current of a foreign entity.
That's how I would describe it.
I paused, my eyes narrowing. "... If you're not simply delaying it out of entertainment. Why did you accept it?"
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "You offered it yourself."
"Allow me to take you to the beginning." She lifted a hand, and the space behind her warped, not in a visual way, not in any way my eyes could clearly define, but simply conceptually.
Beginning...?
"There are layers to existence" She began, "Worlds stacked not vertically, but within itself, by rule and authority. The world you reside right now, exists within the causality of birth, decay, entropy. Also, is not the first layer of existence, nor is it the highest. It is a managed world."
"Managed..."
She leaned her head forward. "Once, we walked freely across that world. Not as myths or forgotten, but as complete beings. However, direct presence brought imbalance. Authority overwrote causality. Probability collapsed. And we disappeared."
I'm still lost.. What is she talking about? Freely? Myths? What?
Her fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.
"So a separation was enforced." She continued, "A separate dimension domain was established."
"The spirit realm?" I muttered under my fingers,
The spirit realm, as the name suggests, is a dimension separated from the physical world. My eyebrows furrowed as another thought connected itself. There was a lingering feeling that she wasn't talking about that at all.
Most importantly, she didn't make sense—her existence, everything about her.
There were spirits in this world, yes, but they were never humanoid in the truest sense. Even human-shaped... Even high-ranking spirits only had approximated shapes. Yet she stood before me, flawless in proportion.
A higher being? In a way, spirits were akin to gods. Perhaps a primordial one? Much older than the existing high tier beings? That shouldn't be possible. The game never mentioned them—ever.
Could it be the second installment?
No, they would've told me with their loudmouth.
Spirits in this world had categories. I knew that much. At the top were Celestial Spirits. Big ones. Stars, planets, constellations as such. The Lunar Dragon of Shin Morino was the go-to example, or the Sun Lion.
Then there were Great Spirits. Whole elements. Fire. Water. Wind. Land. Concepts of nature basically.
Then the Heroic Spirits. Not heroes in the fairy-tale sense—tools like weapons. Artifacts given will and purpose. If Celestial Spirits were the symbol of the universe, and the Great Spirits was the planet, then Heroic Spirits were relics of the world, spirits made of "processed" materials like steel, bronze, wood, etc.
If I tried to make sense of it, she should fit somewhere in there.
Celestial Spirit, maybe.
Except Celestial Spirits weren't... like that. They were vast. Inhuman. Usually animal-shaped, abstract, symbolic.
Never humanoid.
I rifled through my memory, scenes blurring together like poorly loaded assets.
I'm getting a headache from all this thinking.
Wait—
No—!
The spirit realm was nowhere near comparable to that hellhole of a place. If I remembered correctly, it was around the second volume where Shin was sent there, and it was depicted as one of the most majestic locations imaginable. It wasn't even comparable to that dump.
I leaned back slightly, thoughts clicking into place one by one, enough to form an outline.
What even is that place?
Should I ask? Some thoughts were better left unspoken...
Deep in the labyrinth of my own thoughts...
Snap.
The sound was sharp and low. I ignored it, burying myself deeper in my own labyrinth of thoughts, but it happened again. Louder this time.
Snap.
Snap.
"Hello!"
Suddenly, I snapped back to reality. Her face was right there, inches away from me.
"Hello?" I repeated her.
She was leaning over me, sprawled atop the table, her head tilted. That persistent, playful curiosity gleamed in her eyes, far too close to be comfortable.
"You were not listening to me anymore," She pouted, though the amusement never left her gaze.
Since when did she...?
She crossed her legs, and I inadvertently gazed away. But she reached out, grabbing my face with both hands and forcing me to look into her face.
They were not eyes meant for a human face. The violet ran too deep, stretching into a boundless, layered infinity that swallowed the light. Within those depths lay nothing but emptiness, a cosmic indigo that felt both millions miles away and uncomfortably close.
"Do not look away," She leaned in, pinning me with her gaze, our nose touched. Her voice didn't just speak; it echoed, "Remember this. All that you were. All that you are. All that you will ever be—past, present, and future. You laid it out."
I heard the beat of my heart, a frantic rhythm echoing along with her voice.
I gulped hard and let out a broken laugh. "Ha—ha... H-how would that even work? My soul? If you take my soul, what's left of me? I'd just... cease to exist, wouldn't I?" The words tumbled out of my mouth, fueled by pure panic.
The air became heavy.
She leaned back, finally giving me breathing room, "You are conflating joining with co‑existence. They are governed by entirely different principles. The laws of the universe would never permit the former—at least, not without the complete dissolution of your essence." She let the that sink in before continuing. "What is required is an equal contract: a tether in which the intentions of both our souls converge. You will not be erased. You will be... shared."
My breath stifled.
"Imagine holding a star with your bare hands. Ordinarily, a host employs mana to form a buffer—a liminal space where my nature and yours may coexist without mutual annihilation. But you possess none."
"It is not as simple as fastening myself to your soul and calling it a tether. You have no such intermediary for me to anchor to."
"A contract is, at its core, a cage of rules. We refer to them as Behavioral Anchors. They are the sole mechanisms that prevent my will from overwriting your own."
The longer her gaze remained, the longer I held my breathe.
"Ordinarily, these anchors are reinforced by mana. Taboo clauses, for example—'Never speak a lie,' or 'Before invoking my power, you must submit to a hundred repetitions,' or even 'Only in the presence of rage shall my strength be granted.' As long as a host possesses mana, such strictures function as a shield.
Am I the only or is the world started spinning?
"But for you... there is nothing to bear that weight."
She smiled softly, her fingers caressing under my eyes. The gesture was tender, loving, but it sent a sickening shiver down my spine. My skin crawled beneath her touch; it felt less like an embrace and more like a predator marking its territory.
"Fret not," She looked away momentarily.
Finally, I let out the breath I'd been holding.
She continued, "Without mana to reinforce the Sovereignty Clause, the Door between us remains wide open. You cannot invite me and then send me away. If I enter, I remain. And because your soul cannot filter me, we would be forced to invoke the Condition of Sacrifice. To prevent the link from shattering your mind, you would be required to offer pieces of your humanity as a substitute for the mana you lack."
"If we are to form an equal contract, we cannot rely on the Principle of Mana. We must instead invoke the Principle of Essence. And because you cannot offer payment in mana, the universe will exact it in Coherence."
"Coherence?" I repeated.
"The Law of the World holds that a soul without mana is incomplete. If I enter you, I will fill that absence. However, in the absence of mana to keep us distinct, we will merge."
"Each fragment of power I grant will displace a corresponding fragment of your identity. You will not be borrowing my power—you will be inviting me to occupy the vacancy within your soul, until nothing remains of the original occupant."
"You will lose the capacity to feel hunger, then pain, then love. You will become a living Principle."
"You want to bypass the world's principles? Then you must become a Living Vow. You must swear that your life—your very ego is the collateral. No mana to lose means no safety net. One slip, one moment of mental weakness, and 'I' become 'We,' and 'We' become 'It'."
"That is why, you are mine." Her smile started small and soft. Then, the corners of her mouth pulled back too far, revealing a row of pale white teeth.