The Pandorian’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground, his face a frozen mask of confusion and terror. I stood over him, panting heavily, the previously dull ache in my side now intensifying. It felt almost anticlimactic despite being near death myself, blood escaping my wound in heavy streams.
I stared in wonderment at the Soul as it hovered almost playfully over the male’s corpse.
Looking back, I wasn’t sure how I knew how to do what I had done. In Ordite, it was well known that the Core formed within the heart; protecting it. That much was obvious. One could not reach the heart of an Awakened without first overwhelming their Core.
But the soul – the soul was not something even the scholars on Ordite had known about, at least not to my knowledge. This Soul Weaver energy of mine was unique. Gideon, or the man playing him anyway, had not had a Core. Stealing his soul, though I was not entirely sure what a soul was, had not been all that difficult. It was, more or less, unprotected.
The Pandorian, by contrast, had a Core protecting his soul making it much more difficult. And though I hadn’t known for certain, I’d somehow felt the shielding over his soul had originated from his Core.
I physically shook my head, attempting to clear myself of distracting thoughts and to focus my vision, which had begun to blur. Questions concerning the details of souls and Cores were well beyond my scholarly prowess. Even in Ordite, I’d relied on countless advisors trained in Core research for answers. Even as a child, I had never been the best student.
Seeing the Pandorian’s unmoving body at my feet, I was filled with both elation at my success and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. The bone-weariness consumed me, and I was instantly met with an adrenaline dump that caused my feet to shakily give way as the pain from my stomach radiated through me like fire.
My instincts screamed to remove the sword. My training fought against that urge. Despite my self healing abilities, the heart energy in and around my Core was in a statis much like the rest of me. Even if I did pull out the sword, I didn't know if I could heal it before I bled out. So long as my heart energy was frozen like it was, that was unlikely.
I had to find a healer. Where was Marisar? I tried to look around from the Selenian but my body refused to respond as the floor rose to meet my face.
Before I hit the ground, Ethan's large hands cut my fall short, his arms lifting me into the air. “Are you alright, my Queen?” The Berserker’s concern clashed with the anger in his voice.
I nodded weakly, my vision swimming and my blood running cold. A searing pain burst from my midsection. I stifled the scream that begged to rip itself from me and forced myself to look down at what pained me.
Nida stood there, her face concentrated as she removed the sword still impaling my stomach nearly to its hilt. It slid out silently, accompanied only by a grunt of pain that managed to escape me. I wanted to shout at her not to take it out without a healer, lest I bleed out. I didn't have the chance before Nida yanked it out of me with a squish, followed by a flush of wet hot fluid flowing from my wound. Great.
Maybe I’d been too reckless.
“Marisar is a healer,” I groaned, attempting to channel some of my reserves to the affected area and heal it myself, but the energy refused to move. All my energy was still in statis, though my Core continued to absorb the homeless heart energy escaping from the Pandorian’s silver Core.
I knew what that meant, and a small smile tugged at my lips despite the blood that seeped profusely from the wound. Even if the healing wasn’t perfect, I simply needed it to keep me alive for the moment.
My Core was ready to progress.
And, with it, my wounds would heal through the body Reformation.
“There’s no time,” Nida said urgently. “I have some healing skills I'm going to use. Hold still, my Queen.”
That will hopefully be enough, I thought with a wince as she reached to gingerly touch the bleeding wound.
I nodded to the tigerkin woman. “Do what you need to do.” Then I looked toward Ethan. With gritted teeth and dried blood clamping one of my eye lids shut, I said, “Set me down, Berserker, and bring me the Pandorian’s heart.”
To his credit, Ethan didn’t argue. He quickly found a fallen boulder to set me against and turned to face the battlefield, which had come to a standstill. I didn’t need to be a telepath to understand the look of complete shock on the faces of the Colosseum’s guards and mercenaries. With someone as powerful as the High Pandorian on their side, they had undoubtedly believed their victory was all but guaranteed.
It was no longer so assured.
Their faces transformed into fear and one by one they began to flee.
I tried to infuse my words with some heart energy, but my Core screamed in retaliation at the effort and instead of an empowered command I just grunted. Instead, I released a low growl and muttered, “Do not let them escape.”
What was once a battlefield quickly devolved into a one sided slaughter. Now bereft of their creator, the fearsome golems slowly collapsed into dust without the Pandorian's energy or magic, I wasn't sure, to fuel their existences. The remaining mercenaries and guards were left at the mercy of the overwhelming number of freed slaves and Paragons.
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There was no mercy in war.
“A Queen must make the wise decision,” my father had warned, “not the emotional one. Not the decision you think is the most fair, but the wisest decision that will bring everything to an end. That will allow your people to thrive. You must never leave enemies alive to fight another day, to birth future enemies. There is no surrender in war. No mercy.”
No mercy, I thought as Ethan returned and a brilliant green light enveloped me from Nida's hands as she began to heal my wounds. The pain lessoned slightly as the power sank into me.
The berserker brought me the Pandorian’s heart, and I took it with trembling hands. I chose to believe they shook because of my excitement at progression rather than the weakness of blood loss. I tried not to dwell on it too much.
I pulled my arm back and squeezed against the silver Core with all my strength. The flesh of the Pandorian’s purple heart exploded between my fingers, swiftly followed by a shattering of silver; the glass-like substance that was the Core of heart energy.
The energy surged into me, and I threw my head back in pure agony as the torrent of lifeforce rushed into my Core. I struggled to control the chaotic energy, while sweat poured down Nida’s face as she focused on healing my wound. I vaguely felt her switch to using magic rather than heart energy, but I wasn’t in the right state to wonder about the difference.
Nida looked up, her usual jovial expression now distraught as the scream that had been struggling to escape finally tore from me and echoed through the dungeon.
Unlike previous times I’d absorbed heart energy, the Pandorian’s had been refined by a silver Core. It was multiple times more potent than anything I'd been able to experience in this life, threatening to overwhelm and consume my own heart energy in the process. Perhaps it would have, had I not experienced this many times in Ordite. I knew what to expect from absorbing a higher-tiered Core, especially on the verge of the Reformation stage.
As the heart energy coursed through me, I fought to circulate it through my meridians as I’d been taught in Ordite. Previously, my heart energy had not been strong enough to clear the meridian pathways, and once opened; I would finally be able to initiate my first Reformation.
Ignoring the persistent pain in my stomach, I concentrated on circulating the quality energy. It surged through my meridians, seeking out the deep-seated impurities accumulated over years from exposure to mortal world pollutants compounded by this body's prior abuse and neglect. Expelling these impurities was excruciating, as always.
This time, however, the agony surprised me. As I looked inward at my soul, visible for the first time since the Transference, I saw it as a massive diamond light twisted with a dark, wild purple of my necromantic attribute. Next to it was a much smaller flame, entirely enveloped in a dark, oozing black mass of impurities.
Lilliana.
With that thought, my body convulsed violently. My blood boiled, veins burned with intensity, combined with the pain from my stomach wound pushing me toward unconsciousness. My skin turned clammy and pale, beads of sweat sliding down my face. Each droplet fell, splashing into the dirt, blackened like the present state of Lilliana’s soul, carrying away some of the toxins along with it. Soon, the black sweat turned into a heavy ooze that slunk to the floor, evidence that the Pandorian’s silver Core energy was being properly absorbed by my evolving Core.
Inside our souls, my heart energy attacked the built up grime of negative energy relentlessly, breaking it down before pushing it out through my pores much as the System had done to Orpheus’ blood. The bitterness of bile rose in my throat, and my stomach churned. I was quickly overwhelmed by the acrid scent of expelled toxins, a testament to my Reformation.
With each purification wave, my body underwent a profound transformation. Unimpeded by bronze-level impurities, the heart energy flowed more freely, penetrating deeper. It began to reconstruct my physiology at the most fundamental level. I consciously reached out, attempting to restrain the reconstruction from pulling too heavily on my “true self.” Since Lilliana’s body was that of a child, a full Reformation would tear it apart, and I wasn’t sure I could survive that.
My bones, once burdened by physical and metaphysical impurities, lightened and strengthened. Each bone seemed reforged, denser, and more resilient, capable of withstanding great pressure without relying fully on flexibility or rigidity. The marrow would produce richer, more potent blood, increasing my vigor and physical capacity.
My muscles, too, underwent metamorphosis. Fibers were stripped down and reformed to be stronger and more efficient. Each sinew embedded with heart energy refined by my now silver Core, enhancing my physical capabilities beyond those of an ordinary mortal. The power was both familiar and exhilarating.
My skin, once dulled by battles and abuse, shed dirt and blood, glowing with silver radiance. It became supple yet tougher, able to withstand bruising and cuts that would have incapacitated Lilliana’s meek body. Though I couldn’t see my eyes, I could feel them regain their old brilliant red, replacing Lilliana’s soft brown. A sharp pain lanced from my eyes as an old scar etched itself down my right eye.
When the mark of a Fallen Lunari threatened to tattoo itself on my forehead, I pushed back on the reformation. Accepting the mark would force my body to adopt the increased musculature of chosen Lunaris, a blessing prohibited for children, historically resulting in slow, painful deaths.
Although the Reformation would age my new body somewhat, likely throwing it into the midst of puberty, I needed to keep my true self mixed with Lilliana’s until her body finished undergoing that natural process. That way my body wouldn’t just increase in size but also grow and age into a better, stronger physicality than my previous body. There was also the risk that forcing a child's body to morph into the body of an adult through reformation could cause lasting damages to the body's growth potential. I wanted to avoid that risk.
As the Reformation neared completion, I felt a clear shift in my Core. The ruddy coloring slowly faded, replaced by a silver sheen that consumed the dull bronze with fervor. When the Core completely glowed silver, it pulsed with power. Compared to a bronze-tiered Core, it had become a wellspring of heart energy. The once-foreign power now an extension of my own will, ready to be harnessed as I desired.
I was one step closer to my former strength. My former glory. It felt damned good.
As physical pain subsided, I opened my eyes to see rows of kneeling Paragons. Many freed slaves knelt too, awe clear in their expressions. They knelt in blood and gore, among felled friends and foes without any regard. I belatedly realized I wasn’t sitting anymore; Nida wasn’t healing me. She was with the others, kneeling, eyes cast downward in respect.
Then, I noticed I wasn’t standing either. I was upright, sure, but floating off the ground. The radiance of my new Core shone through my skin. I couldn’t help but grin. To those who had never seen an Awakener with a silver-tiered Core, I must have looked like a god.
I turned toward the closest Paragons: Ethan, Nida, and Nasq. For some reason, I was not surprised that those three were the nearest in proximity to me. Nor did I find myself particularly displeased with it either.
“Have the stragglers been dealt with?” I asked, my voice now too elegant for a child but still retaining a delicate quality.
Without rising, Ethan spoke with his usual grumble. “Aye, my Queen. None remain.”
“Good.” At my words, Ethan’s aura seemed to swell with delight, though his features remained stoic. “Then I suppose it’s time for us to interrupt a banquet.”