A new wave of adversaries swept in, mounted on white horses and clad in armor gleaming with a brilliant sheen. They were the city's elite guard, built entirely differently than previous enemies- stronger, faster, and far more dangerous.

The cohort escaped further into the Elven city of stone, small rivers, greenery, and magic crystals. Maeve was extremely quiet and filled with revulsion as she ran in the middle of the pack, daring not to look back. They eventually merged into a crowd of Ravenours escaping in the same direction. Or at least attempting to flee. Elven pursuers on horseback caught onto their trail, determined to stop the intruders from leaving the area. And, by the speed at which their mounts galloped, it would only take seconds before conflict became inevitable.

Gideon knew their lives were next on the platter, and desperate, he did something Vin found deeply despicable. Jazzy roughly yanked the sleeve of one of the Ravenours in the pack and shouted so everyone would hear, "Your princess needs you!"

"Protect her- don't let the enemy come close to the future of our people!"

Maeve heard this and became frantic, retracting his directive and hollering for everyone to save themselves. Vin watched the commotion unfold, his thoughts drifting back to the day spent alongside the one-winged royal, completing menial tasks for her people. He had seen their devotion to her firsthand and felt the fierce loyalty that bound them. As strange as it seemed, he realized that if he were a Ravenour, he may have also laid down his life for someone so steadfastly loved.

The brutes, who had their own conceptions of the princess, gave each other a stern look and slowed their pace. A man of higher rank than the others bowed and spoke for everyone when he told the young ruler, their tribe's only hope, "It's been an honor, your Highness."

The ruby-eyed royal clamored, stopping in her tracks, but Gideon and Tristen hauled her onward. She looked back as the small unit rushed the enemy mounts with crude weapons like chairs, large rocks, and pipes. The horsemen slew many of them the moment they neared, yet some managed to disrupt the riders, causing their mounts to buck and falter, buying precious moments for the rest of the group.

As horrible as it was, despite how uproarious Maeve became, they had to push on. Their cohort dipped down narrow side paths that the large horses couldn't fit down, also attracting less attention while fleeing the unrest.

Hostiles were around every corner; they should have taken their time and exercised caution, but physical or mental exhaustion had taken its toll. Tristen's cognitive disarray from dying made him antsier than usual. He ran ahead of the party, unaware of the gap he'd put between them. Gideon usually curbed his partner, but his past actions weighed on him.

Maeve's physical accumulation of injuries and fatigue clouded her senses at a crucial time. She didn't hear the approaching danger and allowed the light-haired Ravenour to unknowingly dash out of the alleyway onto a main road. A mistake that cost him because one of the elite knights passing by on horseback lobbed his head clean off without stopping.

Several more cavalrymen rode by, ignoring the small group to join the main defensive line. Only two combatants stayed behind, which they judged enough for a small party of weaklings. One was an elite knight with a sword and shield; the other was a mage with a large staff. Neither bothered dismounting and began charging mana into their blade and wand.

Ranged attacks from swords were more straightforward, so it came first, sending a deadly crescent wave of light at the mortals. Gideon didn't hesitate to bounce in front of Maeve to take the attack head-on in her stead.

It was nauseatingly woeful. They were all so weak that it was a given that they would die in every encounter. Dying and using the flames created when they resurrected was the only way to fight. Not to mention, Vin needed more time to find a soul to feed Tristen since they were further away from the piles of corpses in the town.

'But. Why?'

'Why do you need to obtain someones soul to ressurect him?' The question suddenly taunted Vin's cleverness. Pricking at his pride as if he'd been as incompetent as those half-dragons.

'Don't test me,' he responded to the voice in his head. One that'd become too active lately. The timing couldn't have been any more terrible. He froze for a split second, but the adrenaline made his mind operate at an astonishing rate.

In the brief moment he blanked out in thought, Maeve jolted in front of Gideon and roared as her arms screamed, towing a sword twice her weight. The crystal blade clashed with the light arc, creating a violent impact that made her arms recoil upward. The royal's entire body blasted back from simply deflecting the attack, but Gideon was right behind her to cushion her plunge.

Vin found the answer he'd searched for, squinting at the mage beginning to cast. He mumbled in response to his rebel mind's question. 'I need souls to revive because our bodies are just a host for magic. The soul is actually what produces mana.'

'Enough mana to completely restore a body, at the sacrifice of the other person's soul.'

Vin felt for and reached an essence he found some distance away, then yanked it over to Tristen. The antsy young man awoke with a magnificent purple blaze and collapsed to their knees. After Vin's success, his inner mind clapped and asked, 'Then what happens to the soul of the person you sacrificed?'

...

'Do you still believe in heaven?'

Vin understood what- he? Was implying. When he was a child, his grandmother passed, and as he cried, his mother told him that she was going to live happily in eternal paradise. He truly believed that and presumed that one day he'd meet his gram again in everlastingness.

The mortal soul went to the afterlife. That was what he'd known, but what if there was no soul left to pass?

There was no time to ponder such a profound question.

Vin manipulated the flames from Tristen's revival and raised a firewall between them and the horses, making them tug away in fright. The elite mage used two hands to cast, so they had no grip on the creature's reigns and fell off their mount.

With the entrance to the narrow passageway completely blocked with fire, the cohort ran back the way they came.

<>

They only left one set of enemies for another. Soon after cutting the corner, Vin locked eyes with the same silver, wavy-haired mage that killed him on the other side of the canal. Time seemed to slow as their eyes met. The air thickened with the unmistakable weight of mutual loathing as they both acted. The mage struck first, commanding the trees' vines to spring to life. Before anyone could respond, Vin and the others were brutally whipped into a building, shattering through thick wooden panels. They hit the ground hard inside a civilian home, rolling to a painful stop amid splintered debris.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Impaired and wounded again, Vin lay still in a cloud of dust created from the forceful entry into the home. They all had suffered severe injuries and were immobile. More than the pain, Vin's mind was a mess. He was ensnared in some sick string of provoking introspection. He didn't want to indulge in it, but the voice in his head became more persistent the more he rejected it. 'You remember when you were trapped on that tree in the swamp right? A jeep dropped from a portal and a man got out and tried to help you. He was a father.'

'He was the orignal soul sacraficed so you could live.'

'How do you think this family will feel once they die and arrive in heaven only to find they'd be spending eternity without him?'

'Would that still be their paradise, or, hell?'

Amid his internal strife, the earth mage appeared at the entrance of the hole in the building. Vin was already picking himself up from the ground, but the other Ravenours were still indisposed.

'What if it'd been Macy, or-'

Vin's heart skipped, and he yelled in Earthian, "I get it! Shut up already!"

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet. All of a sudden, it didn't hurt as bad... Not compared to the fate of losing your soul and spending an entity in nothingness.

'It hasn't just been criminals lately. You've used whoever was closest to revive yourself and the others. After living with Ravenours for a week, I'm sure you know they're not all bad. Yet, you've doomed innocent men, women, maybe even children.'

Vin slapped his hands over his face; truly, out of all the villains in the world, whether it be Ravenours, Elves, or Gods- He was the worst. "I didn't want this."

'But, you did.'

Aggressive vines entered the building and dashed for Vin first. They gripped his neck and limbs, threatening to pull him apart. He became suspended in the air, and his eyes shut with a weighty guilt that turned him cold. He could die right there and revive, but then who would pay the heavy toll.

In the end, he needed power to survive, but if he couldn't gather it from the souls of others, then... Vin squeezed his eyes closed even tighter. His toes curled, muscles tensing in growing dread at the decision that lay before him.

There was one drastic difference between a regular fire and an eternal one. Violet flames were a blaze infused with the essence of a mortal's soul, which is defined as "everlasting." He hadn't noticed when practicing on the candlelight because it was such a small amount. But, the Flame Conversion skill actually siphoned some of his essence into the fire to give it persistent qualities. This knowledge slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

It was only then that he began to understand his dark magic. Unlike other spells that ran on mana, the powers he inherited from the black Phoenix fed on mortal essence. All along, he’d been tapping into the wrong source, like trying to fuel a fully electric machine with gasoline. He still believed he needed to trade one soul to save another, but at least now, he could fight.

Bracing himself, he offered a small portion of his soul to the magic power within him. He was cautious, giving only a whisper of power at first. If his spirit at full force was akin to a blazing torch, then each flicker he called forth would drain that light. Too much, and there'd be nothing left but darkness.

A great warmth heightened within him until a dark fire emanated around his skin like a cloak. That spark caught the vines, quickly turning to ash, freeing him from their clasps. Vin then clenched his fist and pooled flames onto his hands before thrusting them forward and sending forth a blazing wave that caused the mage to jump back.

The blazing barrier Vin conjured bought them precious seconds to regroup. Some of the party staggered, battling both injury and exhaustion, as Vin shouted for them to hurry. Maeve let out a sharp, pained groan as she finally rose, leaning heavily on Gideon. The guard spoke with a somber note, "Maeve's leg is broken, and Tristen is still unconscious."

Vin turned and registered that Jazzy wasn't in any better condition as a large fragment of wood was lodged deep in his side. The slick-haired Ravenour understood their limits and suggested, "I'll only slow you down so you take Maeve and escape. You can come back and ressurect me and Tristen later."

"That won't work anymore," Vin replied.

"Why not!?" Gideon shouted back, evidently reliant on the fact they couldn't die."

"It just won't," Vin said darkly. "I'll handle this on my own so get out of the way."

Vin blasted fire at the back of the house, creating an exit, "I'll lead them away from here, so hide in one of the rooms out of sight."

Gideon wavered momentarily but inevitably obeyed the human's directive. Before he led Maeve into one of the rooms in the home, Vin inhaled and hollered strings of nonsense to bombard the earth mage's ears and mask the movement. Once the Ravenours were hidden, Vin extinguished the flames so the house didn't burn down, then stomped out the back of the house, continuing to shout. He was already dizzy from yelling, and his spirit felt light from constantly using those flames, whatever that meant. Maybe he'd simply pop out of existence if he completely exhausted his soul essence.

Who knew.

His racket summoned more Elves to the area, but that was fine as long as their attention was on him and not the others. He blasted into another building, avoiding main roads where mages and archers could strike from afar. He ran as fast as he could through that city of canals while taking sharp turns in narrow spaces to avoid the fast horses and bursting through walls to dodge magical attacks. Each time he used his power, he expanded more of the essence of his soul. Becoming more... Hollow. Empty.

He crossed groups of Raveours, who ended up in combat as they tried to escape. Their struggle reminded him to extinguish the trail of flames he was leaving behind so as not to block their paths.

As he ran by one group in particular, his sights caught something peculiar, so he U-turned toward the one-sided fight. He saw two or three horned individuals swinging skateboards like some human superweapon. The wheeled tools couldn't have belonged to the Elves. The rational assumption was that the boards, classified as "Exceptions," were transferred to the Archival Dimension with everyone else.

Vin snatched a metal rod from a table set and shaped it into a makeshift blade before encroaching on a Ravenour using a skateboard as a weapon. He offered a trade, and the Ravenour took it without hesitation, reclaiming his preferred weapon. Once their ideal instrument was in their hands, they both became more positive about their odds.

The moment Vin's feet touched the deck, the top of the board, he felt immensely more capable. He pushed off the floor and took off. The motion was awkward initially; he wobbled for the first few kicks, but his muscle memory, combined with his supernatural recollection, made it easy to find his usual rhythm. The wheels spinning beneath his weight were such a comforting sensation, so much so that it almost masked the fact he was gradually losing something precious within him...

Only his will to survive carried him onward; he'd face the consequences later. Crouching low allowed him to gain speed as he rolled. Behind him, a small Elven force pursued. They never expended many resources on one person, often fighting one to ten. However, after seeing him burn through the city, they made him an exception to that rule.

With Vin's confidence underneath his feet, he could lose them in the complex mazes of the town structures. Still, he decided to take extra risks to do something to help the people he'd been using as additional lives.

Vin began riding parallel to a long canal. He aimed his hand at the cool, clear surface and then discharged flames that superheated water and created a tremendous veil of haze that obscured him and most of the battlefield. If anyone had the sense to escape, that would be their only chance.

The massive vapor cloud made it easy to lose his pursuers. He rode back to where he'd left Maeve's company, dismounted the skateboard, and played on stealth to avoid further conflict. He snuck into the house and wandered into the bedroom. Tristen, barely conscious, jolted up and raised his fist in defense. Once he noticed it was the human, he slackened and said, "Vin!? I'm glad you're okay."

A quick glance around the Elven room reassured Vin that everyone was alive, though badly injured. He unwittingly relaxed, his face loosened, and his arms limped, dropping the skateboard he carried. His head bobbed back and forth as he attempted to stay awake, but everything was becoming dim. His resistance was futile, and he soon lost all sense and collapsed into Tristen's catch.

The four of them managed to escape... Notwithstanding, they were still stuck inside the Archival Dimension, a place of impossible feats.

Still, if only he could rest his spirit for now.