Negary pov :

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With spectral eyes, I glanced at the lifeless pile of bodies on the floor of the Hall of Faces. A detached acknowledgment passed through my consciousness as I shifted my focus.

Turning my gaze inward, I directed my attention to the mangled body I was currently inhabiting.

'They really fucked up my flesh suit, huh?' I thought as I started to examine it's curent state in minute detail.

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(Medical mumbo jumbo)

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'Well, besides it's face being cut off, the severed wrist exhibits signs of transected ulnar and radial arteries, with accompanying damage to the median and ulnar nerves, causing immediate loss of functionality up to the elbow. The multiple lacerations on the torso reveal incised wounds extending through the epidermis, dermis, and into the subcutaneous tissues. Their irregular patterns indicate variations in the knife's trajectory and depth during the assault.

Eight stab wounds on the dorsal aspect follow a trajectory targeting vital structures, including the thoracic vertebrae, lungs, and the posterior aspect of the heart. These puncture wounds display a combination of penetration and cavitation, leading to extensive internal damage.

The cardiac arrest, evident from the cessation of heartbeat, suggests a failure in the heart's electrical system or a profound disturbance in the cardiac muscle.

The punctured head reveals a penetrating wound that traverses the cranial vault, causing direct trauma to the cerebral structures. A comprehensive examination indicates the obliteration of the central cortex, with a cessation of neuronal activity and connectivity...'

...and yet the body stood...

'Of course it fucking stands if I'm supplying it it with mana, you dumbass...'

I chided my inner doctor who was currently banging his head on the walls of my psyche. No matter how many times I saw proof of the new reality of my existence, it never ceased to amaze me...

"A set of rules so foreign to everything I thought possible...how could I possibly not feel the drive to unravel them?" I muttered softly as I increased the output of mana from my soul, concentrating more on the hole in my golem's head.

'Let's bring this bad boy back to life...'

Drawing upon the accumulated essence of a hundred souls (helpfully provided by my other half through our tether) I channeled the energy into my compromised form, focusing on 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 and everything I wanted to happen with the flesh golem.

'Why waste so much energy on a random body instead of taking a brand new one?' One might ask, and the reason was simple. The more I ,,worn,, a body and the more saturated it became with mana, the more it's biology seemed to be... altered...for a lack of a better word. It progressively became an extension of my soul, and as such, it's value increased with each day it spent in my possession...a fact clearly illustrated by the sheer speed of it's recovery...

'Can this body even be considered human anymore?' I wondered as I examined the whole process using my soul sense.

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(𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗲 mumbo jumbo)

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In the span of mere seconds, "hemostasis" (or it's spiritual equivalent) kicked in—vessels constricted to minimize the spectral bleeding, and a ghostly platelet plug formed from soul energy without my guidance, seemingly following the ingrained instructions of the body.

The "Inflammatory Phase" the unfolded, cleansing the suppurating wound, accompanied by an otherworldly sensation that mimicked redness, swelling, and pain despite blood not yet flowing through my veins.

Transitioning into the Proliferative Phase, the Hall of Faces witnessed quite a spectacle. New tissue materialized from thin air, ghostly fibroblasts producing an ectoplasmic collagen matrix. A spectral angiogenesis occurred, ethereal vessels forming to supply unseen nutrients to the healing fabric of my golem.

Finally, the Remodeling Phase commenced, with unseen hands rearranging the threads of ethereal collagen to enhance the strength of the healing tissue. The bizarre mending unfolded in a surreal dance, a mere minute stretching into a metaphysical rejuvenation, leaving me unfazed.

The spectral glow shimmered through the lacerated tissues, mending the severed wrist with renewed vitality. The internal wounds, inflicted by fatal stabs, underwent rapid regeneration as the energy cascaded through the damaged tissues, revitalizing the compromised cardiovascular and respiratory systems.

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The cardiac arrest, which had silenced my heartbeat, yielded to the influx of energy, reigniting the rhythmic pulsations.

The obliterated brain, once a silent witness to its own demise, now stirred with revitalized neuronal activity, weaving intricate patterns of connectivity...which didn't do shit since I was piloting most of the body with my soul, but it was the thought that mattered...

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I used a moment to stretch, my newly regenerated limb reaching out towards the ceiling. The faces on the walls seemed to watch with an otherworldly curiosity as I loosened the tension from my form. Amid the haunting silence, the candles flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced along with my movements, creating a peculiar harmony between the living and the fake masks of the disregarded.

'Speaking of which...they were quite pathetic...' I thought as as took a closer look at the lifeless pile of faceless assassins.

The headless bodies lay in a disordered heap, their decapitated heads arranged in a morbid collage nearby. The glassy eyes of the severed heads stared into an abyss, their beady gaze devoid of life. An eerie stillness enveloped the scene, casting an otherworldly pallor over the macabre arrangement, resembling mannequins in a morose tableau.

'Maybe I was too cautious with them...nah, there's no such a thing...'

I extended my spectral hand, grasping the soul of the nearest fallen assassin. The ethereal soul pulsed with residual energy as it slowly melded with my incorporeal form, being ripped apart in the process. I continued, uncaring of the frenzied movements of the soul, stripping it of any and all remains of consciousness or personality.

"Of course...there wasn't much up in that head of yours to begin with," I smirked, absorbing a fraction of the Faceless's combat prowess, weaving it into the tapestry of my own skills.

I recalled the grueling years honing my craft within the temple's walls – the mastery of poison, the art of seamless concealment, and, above all, the right way of stealing a face.

It required using a small amount of soul energy to make a small connection with the tissue, making it remain alive and also tricking one's own body into not rejecting it.

'Huh, nifty trick' I thought while casting a brief glance at my own visage adorning the wall, its vacant eyes seemingly fixed on me.

I didn't need it anymore, of course, since my golem's face healed along with the rest of it's body, but the stone wall on which it was displayed was far more interesting...

"I couldn't believe my eyes at first..." I said out loud as I started absorbing the second assassin's skills, completely discarding the wasted soul energy emanating from it as I ground it into dust.

"But I guess this whole room is made of some kind of soul-absorbing stones," I murmured, feeling the dense mana saturating the hall, clearly emanating from the walls...

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'Second soul assimilated' I seamlessly reached for the third in line, the process unfolding with an eerie naturalness.

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"Oily black rock, huh?" I kept on talking to myself as I remembered the name given to these inferior versions of the toys I used to play with in hell.

A spark of interest flickered within as I estimated the reservoir of a few thousand souls' worth of energy stored in the very walls of the hall.

"Probably all those that drank too much pool water..."

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Absorbing the third and fourth soul, I felt my skills sharpening and the feeling was quite euphoric despite no energy coursing through me.

'My extraction rate is quite shit, though' I thought as I barely managed to extract a third of the soul's skills despite having done this exact thing almost a thousand times before....this had to change...

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Now that I thought about it, the high density of mana and soul energy in the temple was the most likely culprit for the apparent insanity of the Faceless. Normal humans weren't meant to live in such conditions as their souls were insufficiently refined to bear it.

'So their mind got eroded as their souls became more bloated...eventually becoming No One...or dying in the process, I guess'

'Arya most likely got away before that could happen...but how did she kill the Waif, though? She was injured and fighting a superior opponent. The only answer is ,,plot armor,, but that doesn't seem to exist in this world as far as I could see.'

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As I continued to unravel the souls of the fallen assassins, the hall seemed to grow colder, each shred of their skills and essence I could extract, absorbed into my being.

As I moved from one lifeless form to another, I allowed a soft melody to ecape my lips, with the macabre scene unfolding around me. Each shattered soul brought not only a surge of power but also a glimpse into a past existence, a tapestry woven with diverse experiences and skills, as I had to decide which one to prioritize above the others, as each assassin had something akin to a speciality.

The Old Man's subtle grace, The Scar-faced Man's lethal efficiency, The Beggar's knack for disappearing, The Noble's deceptive acting, The Young Boy's nimbleness, The late Jester's precision, and The Worker's poison mastery—all were now a part of my arsenal...the first two I killed were kind of average unfortunately.

My thoughts, akin to the haunting tune, danced between the echoes of the absorbed souls and the grand design forming in my mind. Future plans unfolded like an intricate map, each stolen essence contributing to the vast landscape of possibilities ahead.

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And then...my mind screeched to a complete halt...

...something was 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴...

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In a sudden surge of power, my soul radiated an overwhelming pulse of mana, sending shockwaves through the hall.

The pulse unleashed an irresistible force, hurling the lifeless bodies of the assassins nearby like discarded toys. Their forms collided with the walls, akin to cannonballs, creating a chaotic display of impacts that echoed through the hall.

The very foundation seemed to quiver, stirring dust from the floor into an ethereal dance.

Oddly, the torches lining the walls stood steadfast, their flickering flames undisturbed by the potent force that reverberated through the space.

And for the first time ever since I entered the House of Black and White...I wasn't smiling anymore.

Because I just realized the dichotomy between my two trains of thought...the part of me currently inside the temple wasn't thinking about some very important questions for some reason, as if 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 was messing with my mind, making me remain at ease despite beeing deep into enemy territory...

'When did I stop looking for signs of the Landlord of this temple?' I wondered

'And where the hell is the last soul? That cheeky nun...the Waif...'

I stretched my soul sense to its outermost boundaries, seeking any aberrations in the ambient energy. Yet, the thick veil of mana and soul essence within the hall defied my scrutiny. As an uncanny frost descended upon the surroundings, an unnatural cold seeped into my very being, heralding the relentless advance of frostbite.

The temperature continued its relentless descent, each passing moment freezing the air around me. I remained unmoving in the middle of the hall, surrounded by an eerie cold that seemed to seep into my very soul...and then I heard it...

A silky-smooth whisper brushing against my senses, as if a presence loomed just behind my shoulder. The voice, warm and soft, held an inhumanly cold undertone, sending shivers through the already frigid air...

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"𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍...𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒓, 𝑴𝒓 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏?"

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