Jax opened the door gingerly and looked into the space between the tower's edge and the nearest building. There was a small alley between the building and the tower. He spotted a doorway perhaps ten meters down the side of the wall.

He pressed his consciousness out toward Nia and asked, "Hey, how are your energy levels after that little trick you pulled off?"

She shrugged and didn’t reply with words. Instead, she pressed a sensation against him, and he felt as if he were viewing a glass that was nearly overfilled. Then she said, "I don’t view my energy in numbers like some with better wetware. Instead, I just have these feelings. Most lower-tier entities do. That’s how it feels."

Jax was surprised by this. He had honestly just assumed that everyone experienced things in a manner mostly similar to his own. But, if he thought about it hard, it made sense. He had simply never given it too much thought.

Jax pressed his back to the wall, glancing over at Nia as she shimmered faintly beside him. "Check it out," he thought to her.

Nia didn’t waste words. She simply faded into the air, her presence thinning like smoke on the wind.

Without looking up, Jax spoke again. "Jerg, watch the alley. Durg, bring down the hobgoblin and signal to the other towers, let them know we are done and ready once they are."

Jerg gave a sharp nod, his wiry frame already half-hidden in the shadows near the doorway. His sharp eyes scanned the narrow space, his massive stone-tipped spear resting lightly in his hands.

Durg let out a grunt—his version of acknowledgment—and trudged toward the stairs. The floor groaned faintly beneath his weight, but it didn’t bother him. Nothing much ever did.

Jax sighed and crouched down against the cold wall. The souls gem in his arm and chest pulsed faintly and he turned, speaking his incantation as he did. He was able to claim both of the spirits that he had taken in this room. One was weak, that of the lower leveled hobgoblin, but the Hobgoblin who had commanded was strong indeed. Jax knew that he was only able to control it due to the power of the Void Spirit that pulsed in his chest.

Moments later, Nia returned, materializing beside him like a whisper of moonlight. "It’s a meeting hall," she said in his mind "Fifty goblins, give or take. They are doing the grunt work—cleaning, hauling, cooking. They have no weapons. The Hobgoblin princelings the problem," she continued. "Level 17. He’s barking orders and working the slaves hard. The warriors—about six or seven hobgoblins—are drunk and feasting. Loud, sloppy, but I wouldn’t count on them staying that way if a fight breaks out."

Jax blew out a long breath, he didn't like the sound of that, a princeling implied the presence of a king. "How do we take them quietly?"

Nia’s shrug was sharp. "We don’t. You try sneaking in, the slaves will panic, and the warriors will sober up fast. We’ll need to hit them hard, all at once—or come up with something clever."

Jax nodded as Durg clambered down the stairs, he was accompanied by a large hobgoblin above his name read [Level 6 Archer] Jax noted that Durg had a wicked looking bow around his arm. As the creature descended the stairs Jax saw that he looked horrified at the small blood filled room. Jax gestured for him to join his manacled companions. He did not have additional manacles to restrain them, so he simply trusted that the creature would make no rash moves as it joined the other three.

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Jax frowned at himself as he considered their plan of attack. He was not confident in subduing the goblins in the chaos of an attack. some 60 creatures, to include a level 17 as just not within their wheelhouse. So, he did the only thing he could think to do, sitting down the warrior started meditating and trying to harness the power of his skills. True it would not win the fight, they still needed to make a plan, but he needed the power to enact any plan they made, and besides if they waited there was a chance that the assassins would rejoin them.

Jax sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his back resting against the wall. His eyes slid shut, and the clamor of the world around him faded into a dull hum. He drew in a deep breath, focusing inward, centering himself. This wasn’t like any of the crude experiments he’d tried before. If he was going to create something real—something worthy—it would require everything he had.

At the core of his being, in the recesses of his spiritual heart, he felt them: the souls. Four faint motes of light, each flickering with a different essence. The three hobgoblins burned with fiery intensity, their spirits brimming with stubborn resolve and brute strength. But there were differences, too. One carried a faint air of dominance, another a sense of fear. The third was chaotic, almost feral, its rage still untamed.

And then there was the spider. Its soul pulsed with alien coldness, sharp and calculating. It was smaller, yet its threads reached farther, weaving intricate patterns even in its confinement. Its venom coiled at the edges of its essence, waiting to strike.

Jax inhaled sharply, his focus tightening. He felt the Void soul stir within him, an unseen presence pressing against the rebellious spirits. The Void soul was his anchor, its intent sharpening his will. Through its influence, he suppressed the souls’ chaotic flailing, forcing them into a fragile stillness.

"No sudden moves," he muttered, sweat forming at his temples.

He reached out with his mind, his will acting as a scalpel. Slowly, he began to dissect the souls, teasing apart their essences. The largest hobgoblin’s strength was undeniable, a raw and massive force. He drew on it carefully, extracting its size and endurance while letting the rest of its rage dissipate into the void.

The spider’s soul was trickier. He worked with delicate precision, unraveling its venom and webs from the intricate lattice of its essence. It screamed as he worked, the sound a high-pitched chittering that reverberated through his mind. He ignored it, his focus unwavering.

The other hobgoblin souls followed. He took what he needed: the thread of subservience, a submissive core buried beneath the bluster. It would bind the spirit together, creating order out of chaos.

The work was agonizingly slow. The souls screamed in pain and fury, their protests grating against his mind. Jax grit his teeth, his fingers digging into his knees. "Hold together," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Finally, as the pieces began to align, he felt a shift. The fragments coalesced, merging into something new—a greater spirit, its essence surging with rage and animosity. It pulsed wildly, testing its boundaries, but the Void soul held it firm.

"Not yet," Jax murmured.

The next step was harder. Drawing on the latent power in his arm, the natural energy that connected him to the living world, he began to shape the blade. The new spirit served as the core, its essence bound to his will. Green tendrils of energy wove outward, forming the rough outline of a weapon.

The process drained him. Every breath felt heavier, every heartbeat louder. The blade resisted, its form flickering as the spirit within fought for dominance. But Jax’s resolve didn’t waver. He poured more of himself into the process, feeding the blade his energy, shaping its edges with the power of his will.

Twenty minutes passed. Sweat dripped from his chin, pooling on the cold stone beneath him. His arms trembled, and his vision blurred. But then, at last, the blade solidified.

It hovered before him, a sickly green dagger, its surface faintly pulsing with life. The weapon radiated malice, its form sleek and deadly.

A notification flared in Jax’s mind.

[F-Tier Wraithblade (Dagger)] created.

Skill gained: Wraith Blade - F Tier (Uncommon).

He reached out, his fingers brushing the blade’s hilt. It was cool to the touch, its energy humming faintly in resonance with his own. He exhaled, leaning back against the wall, utterly spent but deeply satisfied.

"One step closer," he muttered, gripping the dagger firmly. A ding sounded and he saw the notifications appear in his vision