Reyn hurried away and only when the church was out of sight could he finally exhale. He rolled up his sleeve and examined his arm: the bruise from the beating, clearly visible in the mirror that morning in the apartment, had almost vanished. At that moment, pleasant warmth spread through his body at the sites of former bruises. His muscles ached slightly, and inside, myriad ants seemed to crawl—tickling and pleasant at once. The same happened with the back of his head, where he had been hit hard. Now, even pressing with his hand, he felt no pain.
Reyn finally understood why after the brutal beating by Ramsey, with severe injuries and drowning in the river, he had recovered so quickly. It was all the result of his phone absorbing souls. Just now on the square, he had absorbed Ruiz's soul, and last night during the transfer—the soul of his predecessor, the other "Reyn"! Without the contribution of his former "self," the current Reyn couldn't have come back to life.
At this thought, Reyn's feelings mixed. He not only took over someone else's body but also spared not the soul, using it to restore his own strength.
"I will definitely avenge you," Reyn silently promised.
Besides the sharp charge increase and near-complete healing of wounds, two or three icons activated on the phone interface. But the street was too crowded, so Reyn didn't check them right away, continuing his search for lodging.
Walking the street, Reyn discreetly activated the camera, observing passersby. Under his unusual vision, each person's soul became visible. Reyn found that most people's souls were very similar, at least in strength—the difference among commoners was small. After secretly observing several hundred people, he gradually discerned patterns.
Soul color reflected emotional state. When relaxed and calm, souls took on a pale white hue. With strong emotions like anger or rage, color shifted from white to red; the richer the red, the stronger the agitation and deeper the anger. In moments of despondency, like sadness or grief, souls turned blue. Green indicated joy and merriment, yellow—care or sympathy. Pain and fear colored souls black, disgust and dissatisfaction—pink, apathy and stupor—gray.
However, soul color wasn't always pure and uniform. People's emotions constantly changed, and souls usually mixed two or more colors, like blended paints. If a person was far, Reyn struggled to pinpoint emotional fluctuations just from color shifts. Only approaching within ten paces and focusing on one target could he intuitively sense soul fluctuations, as if experiencing the same feelings, accurately gauging mood.
Passing through Rien's streets, Reyn noted locals' souls were mostly gray with blue or pink admixtures. Very few had green or white shades. Reyn sighed inwardly—it was obvious. How could slum dwellers be in good spirits? Few were content with life here.
Color was the soul's external manifestation; its true essence hid inside. Reyn noticed something strange lurking in each person's soul depths. This "something" resembled a symbol, very small, easily overlooked without scrutiny. Red and black, distorted and writhing like a living creature, floating in all souls and emanating a putrid aura. This aura was very familiar to Reyn—extremely similar to that from Ruiz. Clearly, both had the same source.
"Bloody Soul Curse!"
Reyn recognized it immediately. What else but the Bloody Soul Curse could be this sinister presence in every human soul?
"And the curse in my soul—is it the same as everyone else's?" Reyn couldn't be sure, as he couldn't see his own soul's state. Though last night in the nightmare he heard the Dark Lord's whisper, confirming the curse, his soul was a fusion of two, plus a mutated phone—who knew if there were differences.
Besides the Bloody Soul Curse, most people's souls were very simple in structure. Reyn could see through them at a glance, indicating ordinary folk. Only a very few had strong, unusual souls. These resembled Holy Swordsman Demps's soul: denser, layered, and in their depths, besides the Bloody Soul Curse, other foreign elements. These foreign elements varied: some abstract symbols, others images of creatures.
Reyn knew these were soul elements! Each soul element represented a specific ability; people with such elements were superhumans.
For example, Reyn spotted an incredibly strong man. A head taller than average, light armor covered his upper body, high combat boots on his feet. A round iron shield hung on his back, a sword gripped between shield and back—only the hilt visible. Even by the massive hilt, the sword seemed very heavy. He strode the street, heavy steps thudding dully, but moved fast. Passersby parted before him, fearing to get in his way. Anyone would see he was a superhuman.
Reyn examined this superhuman's soul: several times stronger than ordinary, three layers. In the deepest layer, two elements. Curious, he subtly quickened his pace, following the man, focusing on his soul. Details of the two elements enlarged: one a white triangular symbol, the other a gray stone sign. Reyn didn't know their names, but the intuitive sense from them revealed their purpose.
The white symbol embodied pure strength, granting power far exceeding normal human. The gray stone sign made skin tough and sturdy, reinforced physique, resisting normal damage and boosting overall strike resistance.
"This man is an 'Iron Guard.' No wonder he's armored."
Reyn wasn't too versed in supernatural professions but knew Iron Guard was one of the most common. Iron Guards were famed for defense. Though inferior in raw power to "Berserkers," they balanced attack and defense, with endurance and mental fortitude, adapting to various combat. Many aristocrats and trade guilds hired Iron Guards as guards or trained their own, making the profession popular. Their drawback was slowness, but only compared to other supernatural professions. To ordinary eyes, this Iron Guard moved extraordinarily fast, covering distance in one step, quickly leaving others behind.
Reyn wasn't going to follow further but saw him enter a roadside inn. The inn was large, in the best spot on the street, nearly district center. Three stories with a spacious courtyard behind. Even from afar, noise from the main hall carried.
"Basilisk Tavern."
Reyn watched a bit. Guests constantly entered and exited; he noted several superhumans among them—three in short time. This piqued his interest. It was still morning, not even lunchtime, yet the tavern bustled with such activity and superhumans. Clearly no ordinary inn.
Reyn entered through the main door, hit by thick alcohol smell. The spacious hall held a dozen tables, half occupied. Patrons drank carefree, talked loudly; no one noticed the newcomer. People at tables weren't just sitting—they played cards.
"My turn, ha-ha, you're done this round!"
"Fireball, fry you!"
"What shitty hand?"
"Damn, I ain't folding, another round!"
Voices rang from all sides. Players gripped cards, faces focused and expressive. Some, getting good cards, joyfully downed big mugs of beer; losers cursed; others scratched heads, lamenting bad luck. Onlookers egged players on. Several waiters with trays darted through. The tavern buzzed nonstop.
Of course, not everyone played cards. Some just sat with friends, sipping and chatting, apparently exchanging info.
Seeing this, Reyn was somewhat taken aback. It didn't match his expectations at all. Then he recalled: they played "All Souls Cards." This game had been popular in the Empire for years. Originally a simulation of battles between All Souls Mage superhumans. Rules spread gradually, player numbers grew. The Alchemists Association saw profit, refined rules, officially released card types. Fans spent on buying and collecting, then battled friends at tables.
All Souls Cards weren't just for commoners—many aristocrats and superhumans were hooked. Wealthy enthusiasts formed clubs, held regular tournaments. Competitions tiered by scale; winners got cash prizes and special titles, earning respect. Popularity birthed pro players earning from cards—"Card Players."
Reyn never played All Souls Cards, only saw classmates do it. Cards weren't cheap, hard to collect. A deck needed at least sixty cards per player per game. Prices varied by quality: cheapest commons few copper foxes, rarest legendaries rumored at tens of thousands gold shields—mind-boggling sum!
Reyn circled the early-morning players and approached the bar. Before he spoke, a booming voice from behind the bar rang clear even in the din:
"Lad, stopping or playing cards?"
A good-natured face emerged. Age hard to tell: thick red beard hid most, prominent large nose. Brown eyes deep-set, bushy wide brows, red hair on top shaved into defiant mohawk.
Seeing the rooster-crest hairstyle, Reyn barely held back laughter but didn't dare laugh aloud. Because it was a Dwarf.
The bar reached only waist-high to a human; Reyn saw the Dwarf's torso. Though chest-high to him, he was huge width-wise: arms thicker than Reyn's thighs, broad waist, massive shoulders, solid muscles—beer barrel incarnate. Probably weighed twice Reyn; in a fight, Reyn would just take beatings.
Dwarves weren't human, immune to curse, naturally super-strong. Reyn discreetly studied the Dwarf's soul. Different from human but stronger than average superhuman.
He was surprised to see a Dwarf in Rien district. Dwarves weren't rare in Empire, especially big cities by mountains or coast. Many settled, did business; some became full Imperial subjects. Longsande had Dwarves too, but in richer Hontō or Silverstar districts with supernatural academies, rarely leaving without need.
"Innkeeper, how much for your cheapest room?" Reyn asked.