13. Spirit Society II

Slip beneath the sky.

Facades burst from the river, morphing into spectral fish and hurtling into Raziel. Their slick fins and tails wriggled vigorously, heaping on him even as he slapped the fish away. But then his footing slipped, and -

He went under.

His fingers reached for the lake’s surface as the black-glass currents flowed over him. The soft blue candlelight winked above. His clothes floated around him, the waters pulling him deeper and deeper and deeper.

Raziel’s feet found purchase on dirt and dried leaves.

The black sky rippled above him, the scales of the spectral fish glinting far above. The blue aurora filtered down like spears of blue light. A half-cut moon rippled as the fish dragged across it, disturbing the eerie silver reflection. Fish darted and danced in the night, casting a soft, unearthly light over the world below.

It was truly beautiful.

Looking around, a sense of deep familiarity washed over him; he was no stranger to these woods. This was the Dark Forest, a place he knew like the back of his hand. But just as the sky was not the true sky, and the stars were not the true stars, this forest too seemed to twist and waver like a reflection on the water.

“Get down!” yelled Father Linus, tackling Raziel.

A spear of bitter-cold mana streaked over them.

The action seemed to rip a shroud off of Raziel, who was suddenly plunged into a bloodbath of sounds and scents, overwhelming in their clarity and intensity.

Raziel clamped his hands over his ears, his [Hyper-Vigilance] going wild.

The thousand voices no longer whispered. They yelled. Their tones twisted and weaved together in a discordant symphony.

Father Linus shielded Raziel protectively. Weapons crossed the air above them. Spirits thrashed in a feral rhythm, attacking each other without sense. These beings didn’t have designations. They were bottom-tier spirits—unawakened.

The Nexus had transported their trio right into the middle of a battlefield.

Pressure fell upon the world. A migraine instantly formed in the base of Raziel’s skull. Warm blood dripped out of his nostrils and ears.

The [Priest] gasped, coughing up a lung full of blood. Red liquid flowed freely from his eyes and ears, splashing next to Raziel's head. With [Hyper-Vigilance], Raziel sensed the brutal rupture of Father Linus's internal tissues under pressure. The sound of blood violently coursing through the man's body drowned out all the other noises in Raziel's ears.

A pair of dirty leather boots stood in front of them.

The [Wraith] connected his thumbs and index fingers, forming a triangle with his hands. The wind increased in strength. Black hair whipped around the [Wraith]’s shadowed face.

Burning red eyes took on an eerie glow.

A small blue pentagram appeared under the [Wraith]’s heels, glinting like a knife.

The [Wraith] inhaled deeply.

Exhale.

In an instant, the glyph swelled, stretching out to encompass a hundred-foot radius. The blue mana lines seared the ground beneath Raziel and Father Linus, marking the earth with their power. Everything within the glyph's reach—trees, rocks, spirits—except for them at the epicenter, was hurled away with tremendous force, colliding violently with the encircling forest.

“Leave.” The [Wraith]’s soft command crackled and split the air.

The voices flowed as one, insulting and shrieking at the [Wraith]. The spirits fled the area, resulting in the temperature rising by a few degrees. Wreckage surrounded the trio. Broken weapons littered the ground.

Raziel wiped his bloody nose with his wrist. He stared at the [Wraith], starstruck.

The [Wraith] had single-handedly dispatched over a thousand conflicting spirits, forcing them to abandon their battleground.

To Raziel, who couldn't even channel his mana properly, this display was the height of magic.

And this guy was a Ravenbone!

Father Linus toppled to the side, clutching his shoulder where a spear had sliced into him. A hint of bone peeked out from the wound. Suddenly, Raziel remembered how much the [Priest] had suffered when the [Wraith] unleashed his aura.

“Father Linus!”

Murmurs fell from the [Priest]’s white, cracked lips. Holy light enveloped the man’s hand. With grit teeth, the man placed his hand on his wounded shoulder, the mana filling the gash like bright, liquid metal.

“Don't worry about me,” gasped Father Linus. “I’ll be okay.”

It was true. Raziel’s brows knit together, hearing the man’s organs start to stitch together.

“No one was worried about you,” said the [Wraith] in a stone-cold voice.

Raziel crawled forward a few feet towards the [Wraith], pressing his forehead to the ground. He'd never begged in his life. However, if begging would get him what he wanted in this instance, he would gladly do it. “Ancestor, please teach me,” he pleaded. “If you accept me as your student, I’ll do anything!”

The [Wraith] glared at him from the corner of his eye. “No.”

“Why not? Aren’t we related?”

Why did everyone in Raziel’s family deny him? His father refused to teach him magic, which was understandable considering the law in Bramblebog. But Raziel had learned most of his skills alone. Physical combat, hunting, dodging beasts. His father often argued that teaching Raziel any combat techniques would only serve as an incentive for Raziel to engage in more brawls at school.

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That might’ve been the case when he was younger, but not anymore.

At this point, Raziel felt like he was being rejected by his own family.

“I'm not worthy of being a teacher,” rasped the [Wraith]. “Don’t you understand? I don't even have a soul. My body passed on over a decade ago. I'm just a shade left behind, a thumbprint on a wine glass.”

Raziel struggled to keep his expression calm. Was the [Wraith] saying that he used to be even more powerful?

How was that possible?

“You have a stunted view on what is considered impressive. In this world, there are people who can destroy Bramblebog by accidentally sneezing too hard. These are the people you want tutelage from."

“But- “

“No.”

“Can you at least teach me the basics?”

“Ask the priest, he's more than adequate to help you.” The [Wraith]’s dispassionate gaze landed on Father Linus. The red of his eyes seemed to alight at the man’s obvious pain, the edge of his mouth ghosting upwards. “How about it?”

“I was already planning to give him a couple of tips and tricks,” wheezed Father Linus. “But Raz, don't underestimate yourself. Half of the students in your class will die of old age as a simple [Bramblebog Villager].”

“You need to know magic to become an alchemist. The only cards I have are - “ Raziel stopped himself. “The only thing I have is the Sacred Book.”

“We can discuss this later. For now, let's find a safe place to use as a base,” said the [Wraith], spinning on his heel and stalking away. The pentagram smoldered in the dirt like crumbled sapphires and the scent of burnt mana bit the air. Ash and smoke blew across the ground.

Raziel tried to help Father Linus stand, but the man waved him off, standing with his own strength.

“Thanks for shielding me,” said Raziel quietly. “I wasn't quick enough."

“It's my duty to protect the younger generation.” Father Linus coughed. Raziel had the sudden wish to remember what the man actually looked and sounded like.

“Not only that,” called the [Wraith] who was already twenty feet ahead. “But if Raziel died here, you’d have to answer to his parents and little Mielle.”

“Again,” said Father Linus. “I'm a little more worried about you.”

“Don't underestimate my descendants. They tend to inherit the worst of my tendencies.”

Father Linus shrugged at Raziel.

However, Raziel’s mind was too preoccupied to participate in the conversation. How on earth had the [Wraith] become so powerful in the first place? Clearly the man was older than his appearance suggested - an old grandfather or a great-uncle. What he was most curious about were the [Wraith]'s eyes - they shared the same red eyes.

The eyes no one else had.

Raziel cleared his throat, remembering something important. “Where… where is Bramblebog?”

This part of the Dark Forest felt hauntingly familiar, almost as if they were standing in the very spot where Bramblebog was meant to be. He recognized the landmarks – the worn-down boulder, the ravine with the foul mud, and the oak tree which had been knocked over by a storm long ago but had kept growing. But there weren't any cottages. He didn't see the church, or the school, or the Healing House.

“Look in the distance,” said Father Linus.

Raziel stopped in his tracks. His mouth moved to form words but nothing came out. Huh? He stared. A village floated in the sky, a swath of earth beneath it keeping it afloat. A hazy, light blue dome ensconced the village in a bubble.

“One more thing – you should be aware that time works differently in the Spirit World.” Father Linus started picking at the patches of dried blood on his cassock, burgundy flecks falling away. “A few hours in the mortal world is like a few days passing in this part of the Spirit World. We could spend a week here, and it's likely no one in the mortal world would notice we were missing.”

When the sky was a lake, and the stars were fish, Raziel had to quickly grow accustomed to the strangeness of the Spirit World. Accepting that the Spirit World played by different rules wasn’t hard.

But Bramblebog was floating.

“This is why the spirits can't reach Bramblebog,” said Father Linus. “The closer we move towards the village, the further away it seems. Like a mirage in the desert. Right now the veil looks well. We'll have to watch for any fluctuations, and then figure out what’s causing them.”

Raziel nodded.

“Let's move. Believe it or not, your ancestor is being unusually pleasant right now. We shouldn't test his patience.”

Raziel thought the [Priest] was being a bit too sweet, considering the [Wraith]’s aura had pulverized his organs only a few minutes back.

The two scampered behind the [Wraith].

Behind them their footsteps eroded away, as if they were never there.

Once they reached the [Wraith], Father Linus surprisingly took the lead. "Follow me. I can take us to the spot I normally shelter in when I'm in the Spirit World," he said. He then nudged Raziel. "I'm not entirely sold on your ancestor's idea of 'safe'," his voice barely above a whisper.

The [Wraith] hummed, trailing behind.

Raziel had to decide between keeping pace with the [Priest], the [Wraith], or walking alone. He didn't quite feel secure in this Spirit World version of the Dark Forest. He could still hear the voices. Except, they didn’t coax him with his deepest desires, or whisper sinister secrets to him. The voices spoke about random topics. What they wanted for dinner. Yelling about a spouse’s affair. One was simply crying because they couldn’t figure out how to tie their shoelaces.

Raziel felt like he was spying on a thousand different conversations.

“So… they named you Raziel?” asked the [Wraith]. “That's a good name. Traditional.”

Raziel’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Let my classmates know that. They think my name is Raventrash.”

“Rather impolite of them.”

“Actually, 'Raventrash' does have a certain ring to it, especially when they're trying to say it with a few teeth missing.”

The [Wraith] exhaled a deep sigh, stirring a breeze that made the tips of Raziel's hair dance. He peered down at Raziel with lofty disdain, as though Raziel was a bothersome puppy-dog nipping at his heels. The expression gave the man a striking resemblance to Ferrin Ravenbone.

“You really won't teach me anything? Even something simple might help me. I, well -”

“Spit it out.”

Raziel absentmindedly scratched his cheek with his index finger. "I was born with a poor aptitude for alchemy. That means I’ll have to push myself harder than anyone else to achieve the same level of success." A shadow of disquiet crept into his heart. He couldn’t bear to tell his ancestor the truth - that he didn’t just have a poor potential - but that his aptitude was F-Rank. "I spend every waking minute honing my skills, but it’s not enough. When Olster Wealcroft and I fight, we’re somehow on similar footing. All he does is lounge around in his big, stuffy house. But he’s an A-Rank, so his attributes level up easier than mine.”

"You shouldn't underestimate your rival's efforts."

Raziel’s gaze found the floating village in the sky. “What efforts? He gets everything handed to him on a silver platter. I might be slightly ahead of my classmates now, but how far can I truly get on my own? I’ll need way more training and resources to keep pace with the True Family kids. I need an edge.”

The [Wraith] paused walking. “You want some advice?”

Raziel nodded eagerly.

“Stop complaining.”

“Gentlemen?” called Father Linus. “We have a slight problem.”

Father Linus certainly had a way of understating things. A small crowd of [Ghouls] had stopped what they were doing, and were now watching them with suspicion. Rows of stalls occupied the area, selling a variety of goods from spirit fruit, to scrolls of calligraphy, to wooden pendants.

Raziel noted the celebratory materials in their hands. The banners. The yellow ribbons draped around the trees. A female [Ghoul] lounged on a thin branch, the train of her butter-yellow dress twisting and trailing down the trunk.

He knew this tradition.

“A wedding?” he murmured.