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Saga of the Twin Spell-Blade
Chapter 71 : Reflection of a Past Life

Chapter 71 : Reflection of a Past Life

The eerie landscape felt barren as they followed the undead scout, leaving the ghastly castle, its servants, and the terrified survivors behind, uncertain of their fate.

"I don’t think we should show ourselves," Sophia contemplated as they quietly pursued the undead scout, intending to shadow it back to its master.

"Well, if they saw the castle filled with bodies, they'd have to be dumbasses to meet us," Mike continued. "But if we do catch them, I say we make them squeal. Keep one captive in the bag, revive it only if we need to know more, but it's best if this doesn’t reach the city." Mike's tone held a cold determination.

"I hate planning to kill people we haven’t even met," Sophia confessed, struggling with the moral implications. "But considering what we've seen, chances are they aren't good people. And if they're anything like those vampires, I doubt they're anything close to decent." The grim reality of their situation made her moral compass waver.

Amidst the ruins of an ancient windmill, the scout led them to a structure worn by centuries of neglect. Moss-covered and bereft of many proud stones, it stood as a remnant of bygone eras. Within, three figures gathered around a small cook fire—a woman elf and two men, one appearing to be a dwarf and the other a half-orc, their mixed features apparent. The woman appeared deeply engrossed in some form of concentration, likely controlling the undead scout. A grotesque amalgamation of body parts, the undead creature was a testament to its creator's macabre craft, its composition tailored for swiftness and stealth, adorned with various parts from bats to rabbits.

Sophia discerned their presence with a divination spell but found the language they spoke impossible to decipher, defying any known incantation she possessed. Its resonance carried an ancient power that struck a chord within her, echoing fragments of familiarity, possibly harkening back to her past life. As they observed the group for hours, it became evident that any planned meeting had been called off as the trio eventually abandoned the location, heading north for several days.

As they journeyed north, a haunting sight unfolded before them—a desolate, war-torn land scarred by unimaginable devastation. The once-pristine earth now bore great tears gouged into its surface, like immense claws raking across the land. These monumental canyons stretched for hundreds of meters, weaving an intricate tapestry of destruction across the landscape.

The shattered remnants of a medieval city lay amidst this desolation, its crumbling walls and dilapidated structures testifying to an ancient grandeur long forgotten. Yet, the most striking feature was the massive gap cleaved between the distant mountain range. An epic scar in the earth, it seemed to defy the very laws of nature, stretching for miles on end.

The haunting landscape's sight stirred latent memories within Sophia, faint echoes from a time long past. Visions flickered like restless specters—ghostly remnants of her former life that seemed both surreal and all too vivid.

A colossal blue dragon, its majestic wings eclipsing the sun, spewed torrents of fire across the battlefield. A figure cloaked in golden light stood resilient amidst chaos, wielding a sword ablaze with a purple flame. Sophia's consciousness danced through time, witnessing the epic clash between titanic forces.

Amidst these spectral recollections, one memory stood out—a radiant strike from the figure's sword that rent the earth asunder. The memory was vivid and unsettling, the resplendent energy of the strike carving an unbridgeable chasm between mountain ranges. It was a testament to an apocalyptic confrontation, etching an indelible mark on the world.

These glimpses of her past life as a necromancer haunted Sophia. The overwhelming dread and despair seeped into her soul as she grappled with the haunting truth of her actions. The weight of millions of lives taken in the name of power for her cult, Dead Tooth, bore down upon her shoulders, the recollections sending shivers down her spine.

"It couldn't have been me. I wouldn't! I can't! It's not me, it's not my fault, not me..." Her voice cracked, the visions tearing through her mind, bringing her to the brink of despair. Memories of commanding legions of the undead, utilizing the necromantic arts to wage a war against the Pillar of the North, loomed large in her consciousness.

"Calm down, Soph! I can't see everything, but I get the idea, and this wasn't you," Mike offered in a rare moment of compassion and comfort. "This wasn't my sweet sister, who has hang-ups on the most basic things. You are a good person, even if to a fault sometimes. This wasn't you, but you have to be strong now."

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Sophia's anguish lingered, the weight of the memories and the darkness of her past choices continued to torment her, casting a long, foreboding shadow on their journey back to the city she once ruled.

In the wake of Sophia's harrowing panic, she withdrew into a deep slumber within their shared consciousness, leaving Mike to pursue the cultists alone. A sense of unease gripped him as he realized his sister's vulnerability in facing the haunting visions. The glimpses of her incredible power left him disturbed but also envious of the power she had wielded.

Mike bore his own burdens, his pact with the demon Anna Sha aiming to break their souls free from worldly constraints with the power she offered. Yet, this path led him down darker roads, seeking absolute liberation regardless of the cost including necromancy. Wrestling with these thoughts, he grappled with the key treasures they wielded, once belonging to the fearsome Pillar of the North.

Their weeks-long journey deepened the divide between them. Mike, craving power at any cost, found himself advocating for the utilization of souls, even innocents, as a means to amass strength. The argument echoed through the desolate landscape, the air thick with tension.

Sophia, on the other hand, regretted her past life's actions, particularly using souls as fuel for her power. As they traversed the war-torn land, memories of her destructive past haunted her. The argument about morality became heated, each word a weapon in their internal struggle.

Sophia hesitated to fully command the souls she encountered, feeling a deep wrongness in usurping their will. Yet, The idea of destroying their souls, erasing their existence without a chance for reincarnation or afterlife, felt inherently evil to her. She recognized the ethical quandary of manipulating souls, but understanding the gravity of what it meant to take them out of the cycle of life, was the worst crime.

Mike's approach diverged from Sophia's moral compass. He advocated for whatever it took to amass strength, justifying his actions by labeling their adversaries as 'bad guys.' To him, using souls for power was no different from collecting tools, an acceptable means to an end.

Their debates often escalated into heated arguments, the dark echoes of their troubled minds reverberating through the undead landscape. Sophia, seeking redemption for her past deeds, clashed fiercely with Mike, who craved power and saw it as their only means of survival.

The burdens they bore, compounded by their shared experiences of this life and the relentless demands of their quest for freedom, strained their already fragile mental states. Their intertwined souls, combined with troubled childhoods in both lives, had already left them on the edge of sanity. Mike believed that they were never 'sane' to begin with, navigating through the turbulent journey as best as they could, doing what he thought was necessary for their survival and their goals.

"C'mon, Sophia, you can't keep clinging to this naive idea of redemption for a life that wasn't really yours! We're way beyond that and need to focus on the life we live now. We need power to reach our goals, and these souls could be the key," Mike asserted, his voice filled with a dark determination.

Sophia, her eyes reflecting the weight of her past, retorted with equal intensity, "Mike, you're spiraling down a path that leads to evil. I've seen flashes in my past life of where this road leads. Redemption may not cleanse my soul of the atrocities I've committed, but I'm tired of washing away the guilt with booze." Sophia expressed, as they moved beyond the scarred battleground. "It just isn't right."

"I'm not saying we go around nuking shit for the souls! But finders keepers when we find strong ones. Besides, you already collect bodies to use in fights; their souls are enslaved as tools," he countered.

Sophia rebuked her brother for what he perceived as her distorted perspective. "That's different from obliterating them from existence! And you always say they were bad guys! If I lose that justification, I will snap!" Sophia responded, dissociating herself from her past actions, knowing the indelible stain they left on her already fragile conscience.

"Come on, Soph! We're both a little off, alright? We've been through a lot, and dealing with all this crap is hard enough without your constant bitching!" Mike snapped back at his sister. Their intertwined souls and troubled pasts made sanity a scarce commodity for both, but for Mike, what mattered was doing what was necessary for him and Sophia.

"That... stings, Mike," Sophia murmured, her voice weighed down by the weight of their exchange, signaling the end of their conversation and leaving each to their own thoughts.

After weeks of tailing the cultist they finally approached the undead city, Mike took the lead in orchestrating their plan, seizing control while Sophia wrestled with the resurgence of haunting memories from her dark past at the sight of the inky black walls. She found herself consumed by the weight of her past atrocities, struggling to shake off the relentless flood of disturbing images.

In a swift, calculated motion, Mike intercepted the trio of cultists with a single decisive strike, reducing two to ash. His blade cleaved through their forms, leaving no trace of two, but the third, a woman elf, remained mostly intact as they stuffed her into their bag. The sudden, efficient elimination of the cultists stirred a profound unease within Sophia, emphasizing the stark contrast between their stealthy approach and the violent outcome.

While Mike remained confident that their actions would go undetected by the city patrols, Sophia grappled with an unexpected pang of guilt, a vivid reminder of her inner turmoil at the nightmarish city and the horrors she would have to face within.