16. Spirit Society (V)

Raziel’s neck strained as he looked up.

The crow led them to a decrepit treehouse, a frayed rope swinging from its ledge. The place didn’t look particularly safe. But what had Raziel been expecting? A stone fortress? When Raziel and Father Linus got within twenty feet of the treehouse, a circle of a million tiny glyphs flashed red-hot, a warning.

“What? Think you’re the only one who’s ever used Bramblebog’s gateway?” the crow asked Father Linus, lifting his beak haughtily. “When I was still alive, I made a number of journeys here.”

‘And when was that?’ thought Raziel sarcastically, appraising the dilapidated state of the treehouse. ‘A thousand years ago?’

Father Linus and Raziel climbed half-way up the rope before realizing the crow stayed just beyond the edge of the protective circle.

“What gives? Aren’t you coming too, old man?” asked Raziel.

“My formation prevents all spirits from approaching.”

“Only an extremely knowledgeable and talented alchemist could've create such a profound formation,” grunted Father Linus as he crawled up the rope. “I’m sure the Great Immortal Zu’en would reward you greatly if you scripted a similar formation around Bramblebog…”

“What do I need from a troublemaker like Zu’en?” muttered the crow.

Raziel paused his climb, a cold shift in the air.

“What is it?” asked Father Linus.

“A spirit is coming,” said Raziel. “A [Ghoul].”

The crow elongated into a black-haired man with eyes of burning red. Blood, black as ink, soaked through the layers of bandaging cloth around his thigh. He flicked his wrists. A hooked blade appeared in each hand. Moonlight, blue and cruel, gleamed along their edges like twin smiles.

The outline of his silhouette blurred into black flame.

Raziel breathed out uneasily, a dark pressure slamming down like an executioner’s axe. The fragrance of rot rushed through the woods. In his peripherals, the circle of glyphs burned brightly, each a small sun, and he realized he was only feeling a small fraction of the [Wraith]’s true aura. This aura which he could distantly tell was much stronger than anything he’d ever felt before - strong enough to burst his soul.

Had the [Wraith] been hiding his true strength this whole time - ?

“Really?” came a throaty female voice. “I thought you were something of a gentleman.”

“Only in public, my dear.” With an insincere curl of his lips, the [Wraith] flickered out of existence.

A horrible screech rang through the woods. Metal scraping against claws.

Their fight was too fast for Raziel to track, even as he strained his [Hyper-Vigilance] to try and catch the blurred movement. The shine of blades flashed in the darkness. From how quickly and intensely the [Wraith] had responded to the threat, Raziel surmised the [Ghoul] wasn’t a [Ghoul] at all, but the dreaded [Phantasm], Last Wish.

Raziel climbed into the treehouse and pulled Father Linus up behind him. Raziel crouched, balancing the ledge in the arches of his feet. At this height, he would probably break his legs if he jumped. “Is he winning?”

“This will likely end in a draw,” admitted Father Linus. “I don’t think the [Phantasm] expected to fight today.”

“You think she wanted to ambush us?”

“That, or she was performing surveillance. I imagine she was passively tracking us by our auras, and when we went inside the formation, we vanished from her senses. She probably came to investigate.”

The thought of Last Wish stalking Raziel by his aura made his skin shiver. He could always walk quieter, or cover his scent, but what was he supposed to do about his aura?

Raziel said, “You know, despite my ancestor’s philosophy on helping us, he’s been pretty helpful.”

“There’s a difference between allowing you to find your own path and standing by as you prance into a slaughter.”

The fight was mesmerizing - there was simply no other way to describe it. Raziel rocked forward, not even daring to blink. Their duel reminded him of math, of all things. A wildly complex equation with fractions, exponents, variables all folding down into a whole number. In flits of black flame, the [Wraith] took Last Wish for a dance, vanishing one moment and reappearing the next with a flurry of slashing blades.

The [Wraith] knew where Last Wish would strike before she did.

Raziel thought about his own footwork, and immediately discovered several improvements he could make. The [Wraith]’s every movement was perfect. No motion was wasted. Simply watching this fight had enlightened Raziel.

Last Wish’s guise began to shatter, her true form oozing out between the shards of figment.

[Ghoul]

[Gh/oul]

[Gh/ta/sm]

Her form twisted and swelled, doubling in height compared to the [Wraith], taking on a grotesque bulk. Death-black tattoos murmured across her skin like serpents, like shackles. With a sickening squelched, a second pair of arms descended from her rib-cage, entrails plopping to the ground. ‘I carry the stories of the lost.’ Her aura buzzed and whirled. ‘I change with the wind.’ - ‘I am the pebble underfoot’ - ‘I deceive the deceivers’ - ‘I see the unseen’ - ‘I speak for the storm’ -

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

‘I AM THE SUM.’

[Level 2 - Phantasm]

An overwhelming stench of decay filled the air, causing Raziel to avert his gaze, his eyes watering.

Raziel had been focused on etching every second of the duel into his memory. It was only when he looked away that he realized he'd been subconsciously channeling mana into his eyes. Shockingly, this amplified the power of his [Hyper-Vigilance], causing Last Wish’s Level to appear in her designation.

Now, as the mana in his eyes dissipated, the [Level 2 - Phantasm] reverted back to the simpler [Phantasm].

Raziel had a thought. ‘I don’t think Last Wish is female… at least, not anymore’

Last Wish was an amalgam of everything she’d ever consumed. This was the power of a [Phantasm].

Usually, when one spirit consumed another, they absorbed a portion of their power, blending it with their own essence and evolving seamlessly.

There was nothing seamless about Last Wish.

“We need to help the old man,” whispered Raziel harshly. “Just look at that monster!”

“There’s nothing we can do. This is far beyond us.”

But wasn’t that always the case?

Raziel’s fingernails bit crescents into the meat of his palms. It made him sick how weak and helpless he was - even with his new upgraded body, it still wasn’t enough! He wasn’t even close to being a match for Last Wish!

A heavy hand fell onto Raziel’s shoulder. “Trust in your ancestor.”

“I know he’s strong, but - “

The lines above Father Linus’s eyelids creased in thought. “No, you don’t know. Your ancestor wasn’t born in Bramblebog, he came from afar,” said the [Priest]. “I’ve always suspected… There are portraits of legendary figures in the Sacred Book. Your ancestor looks exactly like one of them.”

“What are you talking about?” Raziel unclenched his fists, instead curling his fingers into the wooden ledge. “Isn’t the Sacred Book thousands of years old?”

Father Linus kept his eyes steadily on the [Wraith]. “The Sacred Book says that in antiquity, twelve great [Dragons] drowned the world in calamity. Humans were forced to live in the margins between their territories. In this world, the Great Immortal Zu’en took on twelve disciples, and specifically trained each one to perfectly counter these great [Dragons]. They succeeded, bringing forth the Age of Man.”

Raziel had heard of this tale - it was a popular story, even beyond the church. “The twelve dragonslayers died long ago.”

“But they left behind heirs,” said the [Priest] intensely.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing - was Father Linus claiming the [Wraith], and by extension Raziel himself, were from the bloodline of one of these legends?

“One of the twelve ancient heroes was known as ‘The Vagrant’. Does that ring a bell?”

It did.

“Vagrant is an extremely rare class,” continued the [Priest]. “If a scripture containing the method to acquire the class surfaced in the continent, all hell would break loose. Your ancestor didn't stumble upon the Vagrant class by chance.”

Raziel shifted his gaze back to the fight, conflict warring in his heart.

What was the [Wraith]’s mysterious background?

His ancestor died the day Raziel was born… and Raziel possessed a mysterious and powerful card in his core.

They shared the same red eyes.

The system had also offered Raziel the [Vagrant] class - and to Raziel’s knowledge, he hadn’t done anything particularly amazing to achieve it.

Somehow, it was all connected.

“I knew your ancestor before he passed,” said Father Linus. “He kept many things close to the chest, but I always suspected he was at least Level 3 or 4. The wraith he left behind can’t be weak.”

Level 3? Level 4?

That kind of unfathomable power made Raziel’s head dizzy and his knees feel weak.

If the [Priest]’s suspicions were correct, then what on earth was Raziel’s ancestor doing in a remote village like Bramblebog?

“Does being the heir of one of Zu’en’s disciples make him holy? Is that why you’re so nice to him?” asked Raziel faintly.

“I’ve never cared much for the concept of holiness,” said Father Linus simply. “You know that.”

“Why are you a priest, again?”

A small grin formed on Father Linus’s lips. “If you ever came to church, you’d know the Great Immortal founded the church as a military force against demons. Tradition, procedure, philosophy - these things are but ornamentation.”

Raziel hummed, letting the conversation wither.

He tried purposefully focusing his mana into his eyes this time, but he couldn’t seem to do it.

He would need to prioritize training this skill.

It was way too valuable.

Father Linus gasped. “No!”

A question immediately leaped to Raziel’s tongue, but died before it could escape his mouth. He watched the scene with dawning horror.

The two spirits continued to clash, seemingly matched in strength. They either didn’t notice what was happening behind them or didn’t care.

The pale blue veil around Bramblebog shimmered, patchy and unstable. The village became more vibrant and lively in color and sound. Small figures walked around, oblivious to the peril they were in.

Father Linus cursed sharply. “They’re generating too much spirit energy! The veil is failing!”

Raziel didn’t say the obvious - he didn’t need to.

If Father Linus’s hypothesis was correct, that meant that Bramblebog was a half-step away from becoming a Spirit Village.

What did that mean?

The Great Astyraen Kingdom was a fabled place of incredible wealth, but it could only be found under dawn’s light. Grannus had been warned that if he entered the Great Astyraen Kingdom, he’d need to leave before the sun breached the horizon. Otherwise, Grannus would be dragged down into the Spirit World alongside the kingdom, and he’d be attacked by the vengeful spirits of Astyraen’s Court of Lich-Kings.

If Bramblebog transmuted into a Spirit Village…

The pendulum would swing.

In the mortal world the village would suffer the beasts of the Dark Forest.

In the Spirit World the village would be overrun by spirits.

There was a reason why bones littered the streets of the Great Astyraen Kingdom, and why skeletons sat upon solid gold thrones, their scepters of death magic slack between their fingertips. There was a reason why no fish swam in Spirit Seas.

Every time you entered the Spirit World, you lost something. Every time you wanted to reenter the mortal world, you had to regain it. Sometimes that was too hard.