Just past the cottage, in an open area framed by a cluster of ancient oaks, Obinai sits cross-legged on the soft grass. The area feels quiet yet alive, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
Obinai’s posture is rigid with focus, his back straight, his eyes closed, and his breathing slow but measured. He can hear the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds as he waits, trying to calm the anxious thrum of his heartbeat.
Vale paces behind him, his staff tapping softly against the ground. His expression is calm, but his thoughts churn relentlessly. One chance, he thinks to himself. If this fails… what will come of this world? He exhales quietly, a faint, humorless chuckle escaping him. “No pressure,” he murmurs under his breath, shaking his head.
Coming to a stop, Vale plants his staff firmly into the ground and crouches down, sitting cross-legged behind Obinai. His voice is calm but commanding as he says, “Take off your shirt and sit straight.”
Obinai opens one eye skeptically, glancing over his shoulder. “Uh… okay.” He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side, exposing his lean back. The air feels cool against his skin. He straightens his posture again, glancing briefly at Vale. “So, what now?”
Vale leans forward slightly, examining the bare expanse of Obinai’s back with a critical eye. His hands hover just above the skin, faint trails of light sparking faintly from his fingertips as he assesses the area. After a moment, he places his palms firmly against the center of Obinai’s back.
“Brace yourself,” Vale instructs, his tone measured but firm. “And try to stay as relaxed as you can. This won’t be easy.”
Obinai grits his teeth, closing his eyes tightly. “Relax? Yeah, sure, I’ll just relax while you do… whatever it is you’re about to do.”
Vale smirks faintly but doesn’t respond. Instead, he begins. His hands glow softly at first, the light spreading outward in rippling waves that sink into Obinai’s body. The sensation hits immediately, sharp and invasive. Obinai’s breath hitches as he feels something alien burrowing through his flesh—fine, threadlike tendrils that seem to twist around his muscles and snake through his bones.
“It might feel invasive,” Vale says, his voice steady, though tinged with a hint of warning. “As if something is moving inside you—probing, shifting. That’s normal. Just breathe through it.”
Obinai lets out a shaky exhale, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ache. “Yeah, normal,” he mutters under his breath, his voice strained. “Feels like you’re shoving worms into my spine.”
Vale chuckles softly. “Not quite, but I understand the comparison. This is the essence finding its path, creating conduits for your Asaunce Vein. You’re doing well.”
Obinai doesn’t feel like he’s doing well. Each pulse of essence through his body sends a jolt of fiery pain mixed with a strange, invigorating energy. It feels as though his veins are being carved out anew, alight with something searing yet alive. His breathing becomes ragged as he grips his knees tightly, his nails digging into them.
“It’s… it’s not stopping,” Obinai gasps, his voice cracking as he struggles to keep himself composed. Drool trickles from the corner of his mouth, and he barely notices. “Is it… over yet?”
Vale keeps his hands steady, the glow intensifying as he channels more essence into Obinai. His voice remains calm, though a hint of empathy seeps into his tone. “Not yet, Obinai. Hold on.”
“Hold on?” Obinai’s head tilts slightly, his tone edging toward desperation. “You’re not the one being ripped apart!”
Vale doesn’t respond immediately. He feels the critical moment approaching, the essence beginning to solidify into pathways within Obinai’s body. Sensing the need for precision, he increases the flow deliberately, his hands glowing brighter. “Almost there,” he says firmly.
Obinai’s breaths grow shallow, his entire body trembling. “When?” he grits out between clenched teeth. “When is almost?”
Vale presses his palms more firmly against Obinai’s back, his voice steady but with an unmistakable urgency. “Not yet,” he says again, his tone resolute, though a faint undercurrent of strain creeps in. “You’re close, Obinai. Just a little longer. Stay with me.”
Obinai’s breathing comes in short, ragged bursts, each gasp carrying a tremor of pain. The essence surges violently through him, a torrent of energy that feels alive, invasive, and unrelenting. It’s not just pain—it’s searing, electric, a fire threading through his veins and bones, pulling apart and rebuilding everything inside him. His back bows sharply, and a scream tears from his throat.
“Endure this,” Vale urges, his voice steady but laced with a quiet plea. “Please. This is necessary. You’re almost there.”
The light emanating from Vale’s hands intensifies, flooding the clearing with a radiant glow that pulses in waves, sending ripples through the air like the surface of disturbed water. Obinai grits his teeth, his hands clawing at the earth beneath him as the pressure inside him builds, mounting to an unbearable peak. It feels like he’s a dam on the verge of collapse, every inch of him straining to hold together.
The glow surges brighter, and suddenly, the dam breaks. The light bursts outward in a blinding explosion, flooding every corner of the clearing. Obinai’s body feels like it’s caught in a storm—untamed, primal energy raging through him with the force of a thousand storms. His scream is swallowed by the deafening roar of the explosion, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he feels weightless as a shockwave ripples outward from his body.
The blast throws both him and Vale backward. Obinai’s body lands hard against the grass, the impact knocking the wind out of him. The world spins wildly, the horizon tilting and blurring as he gasps for breath.
Vale, several feet away, struggles to his feet, his robes fluttering in the fading turbulence. The area around them is transformed. The ground where Obinai sat is scorched, the grass blackened and curling away from a darkened circle etched into the earth. Faint tendrils of smoke rise from the epicenter of the blast, and the air remains heavy with a residual hum, like the aftermath of a bell struck too hard.
Obinai lies on the ground, his chest heaving as he tries to collect himself. The ringing in his ears gradually subsides, replaced by the soft rustle of grass and the distant chirping of insects. He blinks, his vision clearing, and the world around him snaps into sharp, almost overwhelming clarity.
The colors are vibrant—unnaturally so. The grass glows with a rich green that seems to radiate life itself. The sky is a deep, endless blue, and the glow of the setting sun bathes the plains in gold, the hues more brilliant than anything Obinai has ever seen. He notices the tiniest details—the intricate veins of leaves on distant trees, the delicate movements of insects crawling across the ground, and the faint ripples of air disturbed by the breeze.
Obinai lifts his hand slowly, his fingers trembling as he stares at them. Around his fingers, a faint shimmer dances—a glow that clings to his skin like an invisible aura, pulsing softly in rhythm with his heartbeat. His eyes widen as he murmurs, his voice barely audible, “What…?”
Before he can process the sight, Vale hurries toward him. Without hesitation, he grabs Obinai by both shoulders, his crystalline eye scanning him urgently. “Are you alright?” Vale asks. He tilts Obinai slightly, examining him as though searching for any signs of damage.
Obinai blinks, startled by the sudden shift in Vale’s demeanor. “Uh… yeah, I’m good,” he replies, his voice uneven. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Vale doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure?” he presses, his grip firm as he leans in closer. “You just went through an immense transformation—”
“Yeah, man, I’m fine,” Obinai interrupts, pulling away awkwardly and rubbing his wrists as he scoots back. He shoots Vale a confused look, his tone laced with a hint of discomfort. “Seriously. I’m good.”
Vale exhales slowly, visibly gathering himself. He brushes the dirt from his robes with deliberate movements, straightening his posture as his usual composure returns. “Alright,” he says, his voice calmer now. “You can now perceive Essence.”
Obinai looks up at him, still seated on the grass, his breathing uneven as he coughs lightly to clear his throat. His mind buzzes with thoughts. What’s with this guy? He’s acting so weird… Shaking off the thought, he croaks, “That… that was insane,” his voice hoarse and cracked. “I thought I was gonna die.”
Vale smooths out the front of his robes, straightening the hem as he clears his throat. “You weren’t far off,” he says dryly. “But you didn’t. And now, you’re one step closer.” He pauses for a moment, his tone shifting. “I’d call it a day for now to give your body time to adjust, but there’s one more thing we need to address before we stop.”
Obinai frowns slightly, his irritation bubbling up as he thinks to himself, What’s with this guy? I’ve barely had time to ask my questions. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, Vale raises a hand, cutting him off.
“For your soul,” Vale begins, “we need to contain it.” He gestures vaguely with his staff, pacing slowly as he speaks. “Souls are like wisps—fragile, constantly shifting. And yours…” He trails off, exhaling heavily. “Yours isn’t free. I can see it.”
Obinai’s eyes narrow, watching Vale carefully as he paces. “What does that mean?” he asks cautiously.
Vale stops and turns to face him, his expression grave. “Your soul,” he explains, “is bound. Dark tendrils pierce through it, woven tightly around it, holding it captive. To me…” He pauses, rubbing his forehead with a tired sigh. “It seems like even if you were to die, that thing inside you wouldn’t let you rest.”
Obinai scoffs, his lip curling slightly as he looks away. Great, he thinks bitterly. Now I can’t even die. That’d be nice, though. Peaceful. Quiet.
Vale’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “What we need to do,” he continues, “is create a casing for your soul—a structure that will stabilize both your soul and the entity within it.” He pauses, watching Obinai carefully. “This casing will prevent either from overtaking the other. It will act as a barrier, but it will also give you something more.”
Obinai raises an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” he asks flatly.
Vale steps closer, his tone growing more intense. “The casing will be infused with your Essence, Obinai. It won’t just protect your soul—it will give you the ability to touch it. To connect with it. And eventually, to influence it.”
“Influence it?” Obinai echoes. “What does that even mean?”
“It means you’ll have the ability to strengthen it,” Vale says firmly, locking eyes with him. “To make it strong enough to resist the entity trying to take over. But this process isn’t simple, and it isn’t fast.”
Obinai stares at him for a long moment, his expression blank as the weight of Vale’s words sinks in. His thoughts churn in frustration. Didn’t catch half of that… but it better work. He sighs, running a hand through his locs before muttering, “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
Vale studies him for a moment, his gaze lingering. There’s something almost imperceptible in his expression—something that Obinai can’t quite place. Relief? Concern? He can’t tell.
Why does he care so much? Obinai wonders.
...
Obinai lies sprawled on his back, one arm stretched limply above his head, the other draped across his chest as if trying to shield himself. His legs are splayed unevenly—one bent at the knee, the other stretched out with toes pointed slightly outward. A short distance away, the charred ground looms. His body trembles slightly as he struggles to steady his breathing.
The hoot said to lie down comfortably and wait… The thought echoes in his mind, bitter and doubtful. Each attempt to inhale catches painfully in his throat, his chest rising and falling in erratic, shallow jerks. Why does this feel like the opposite of comfortable? His unease deepens. I have a bad feeling about this. This isn’t going to end well, is it?
The grass beneath him feels cool against his skin, a soothing contrast to the heat radiating from the scorched earth nearby. His fingers twitch weakly, brushing against the edge of the blackened ground as if testing whether it’s real—or just part of some terrible dream.
Above him, Vale stands motionless, his sharp gaze fixed on Obinai. His staff leans against his shoulder as his free hand moves deliberately through the air. His fingers twist and curl in precise, almost hypnotic motions, as though weaving invisible threads. The gesture is intricate—his thumb and forefinger forming a closed loop, while his remaining fingers splay outward, tracing faint arcs in the air. Pale ribbons of light trail faintly from his fingertips, dissipating into the atmosphere like smoke caught in the wind.
Vale mutters under his breath, his tone low and deliberate, the words unintelligible but heavy with intent. His crystalline eye glimmers faintly in the dim light, catching the soft glow of Essence that lingers in the clearing.
Obinai blinks up at him, his vision hazy, the figure above him blurring slightly at the edges. His thoughts, fractured and sluggish, begin to piece themselves together. This crazy fuck… what the hell is he doing? His lips twitch in a faint attempt at a smirk, though it’s more bitter than amused. Damn, he reminds me of Dad… The thought cuts through him unexpectedly, sharp and painful. His throat tightens, and he sniffs quietly, his chest aching for reasons that have nothing to do with the essence.
His moment of reflection is shattered when a sudden, white-hot sensation tears through his body. His eyes roll back, and his jaw tightens as he grits his teeth against the overwhelming surge of pain.
His muscles twitch violently for a moment before they go slack, his entire body sinking into the grass as the tension drains from him. The world around him dims, the edges of his vision darkening as an oppressive weight settles over him. He feels it—the darkness. It creeps in slowly, curling around him like a thick fog, pulling him deeper into its suffocating embrace.
“Wait…” he murmurs weakly, his voice barely audible, more a breath than a word. His fingers twitch slightly, as if trying to reach for something—anything—but his body refuses to obey. The darkness presses closer, swallowing him whole, until the faint glow of Vale’s weaving hands is the last thing he sees.
...
Vale stands with his eyes closed, his breathing shallow and strained. His thoughts race. Please… let me fix this. Let me change this. This is the only way—damn it. His hands twitch at his sides, his fingers curling into fists before relaxing again. This has to work.
Slowly, he opens his eyes. Hovering before him is a faint, glowing wisp—a soft, ethereal white light, pulsing gently as if alive. It floats delicately in the air, fragile and pure. Vale lets out a faint, almost imperceptible smile at the sight, relief flickering briefly across his face.
But his smile falters as shadows stir behind the wisp. Black, writhing tendrils creep forward, slithering with unnatural grace. They pierce the wisp without hesitation, stabbing through its glow like barbed spears. The tendrils coil tightly, constricting it, the once-steady pulsing light now flickering erratically as if struggling to stay intact.
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Vale’s breath catches, his expression tightening. “Only one chance,” he whispers shakily, his voice hoarse. “The fact that he has Essence now will make the casing stronger… stronger means the wisp will be stronger…” He trails off, his resolve hardening. It has to be enough.
He thrusts both hands forward, his fingers spread wide, palms facing the wisp. His thumbs and index fingers curl slightly inward, forming half-circles, while his other fingers extend outward, trembling faintly from the strain. The air around his hands begins to ripple, and faint, glowing particles of light shimmer into existence, gathering around the wisp like fireflies drawn to a flame.
The particles coalesce slowly, forming a fragile, translucent sphere around the wisp. The sphere glows faintly, its light pulsating in rhythm with the wisp inside. Vale holds it there, his arms trembling as he channels more energy into the casing. His mind races. This has to work… this has to hold…
The casing quivers, cracks forming across its surface like shattered glass. Darkness begins to seep through the fractures, spilling out in tendrils that twist and writhe, threatening to overwhelm the fragile structure. Vale’s breath quickens, sweat beading on his forehead as he pushes harder, his hands shaking with the effort.
“Work, damn it…” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice a mix of desperation and fury. The casing splinters further, the light inside dimming as the darkness begins to spread. “WORK!” he roars, his voice echoing through the clearing. “WORK, DAMN IT!”
With one final surge of energy, the casing solidifies. The cracks vanish, and the darkness recedes, contained once more. The sphere hardens, shimmering faintly before settling into a steady glow. Vale exhales sharply, his arms dropping to his sides as he staggers slightly, his body trembling from the exertion.
He wipes the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand, letting out a low, ragged cough. Damn this age… he thinks bitterly. Sacrificing power always comes at a price. His mind drifts back to a time when his strength was unmatched. Back when the Dwardens were a threat, a single breath from me could topple their strongest battalions. The memory stirs a faint flicker of pride, quickly extinguished by the weight of his current state.
His gaze shifts to the orb, its surface now containing a swirling mass of white energy. Relief washes over him briefly, but it fades as his eyes catch faint streaks of black still entwined within the white, the two hues mingling uneasily like oil and water. His frown deepens, brow creasing as he studies the imperfection. It’s not perfect, he admits, a pang of frustration gnawing at him. But it should hold. At least for now.
“This should let him feel a bit freer,” Vale mutters quietly to himself. “He should be able to move to the next phase…” He lifts his staff slightly, pointing toward the orb. With a faint hum, the sphere descends slowly, settling onto Obinai’s chest before dissolving into his body in a cascade of soft light.
Vale exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps back. “He should wake up soon,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. He glances toward Obinai, lying still on the grass. “Poor kid… wish I could bring the others, even that Elias fellow. But only one can do it. Only one can change it.”
His voice trails off as he looks back at Obinai. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, slowly, Obinai stirs. He shifts slightly, his back to Vale, stretching his arms outward as though waking from a deep sleep. Vale opens his mouth to speak but stops, his breath catching in his throat.
Obinai’s hands—his forearms—are a deep, unnatural charcoal black, the texture of his skin cracked and jagged, like volcanic rock.
His fingers curl slightly, faint tendrils of black energy trailing from them. His hair, once dark, now falls in messy, snow-white strands that catch the faint glow of the clearing. Vale’s crystalline eye widens as Obinai turns slowly, revealing his face.
His eyes—pitch black, empty voids—are lit only by golden irises that seem to burn with a faint, eerie glow. A faint smirk tugs at Obinai’s lips, but it quickly spreads, twisting into a grin. Then, without warning, he starts to laugh—a low, guttural chuckle that grows louder and sharper, echoing across the clearing like the toll of a bell.
Vale steadies his breathing, his chest rising and falling as he exhales slowly. His face is unreadable, though the faint tension in his jaw betrays his thoughts. He shifts his grip on his staff, grounding himself, but remains silent.
Across from him, Obinai—or rather, Beelzebub—stands with a wide grin, wiping a tear from his eye as his laughter subsides. “Isn’t it hilarious?” Beelzebub says, his voice dripping with mockery. “Look at you. Standing there like you’ve already won.” He chuckles again, pacing casually.
Vale’s gaze remains fixed on him, his face betraying only the slightest flicker of hurt. He says nothing, his posture steady, though his eyes darken as shadows creep beneath them.
Beelzebub lets out another laugh, throwing his head back. “Did you really think,” he begins, his voice sharp with disdain, “that you could lock me away so easily? That I would let you shove me into some little cage and call it a day?” He stops mid-stride, tilting his head as if considering Vale’s silence. “Do you even know what I am?” he asks, his tone turning coy.
Vale finally responds, his voice even, almost detached. “Yes,” he says simply, his eyes never leaving Beelzebub. He begins to pace as well, mirroring the entity’s movements, his footsteps slow. “You’re a sin. From your arrogance and hunger for control, I’d wager… gluttony.”
Beelzebub’s grin widens, and he spreads his arms theatrically. “Finally!” he exclaims, relief and amusement blending in his voice. “Someone gets it! I was beginning to think I’d have to spell it out. Even Eldoria didn’t figure it out this quickly.”
Suddenly, Beelzebub freezes, his smile fading as his body tenses. His golden eyes narrow as he leaps backward, landing gracefully several feet away. His hand twitches at his side, his expression sharp as he mutters, “Curious… very curious indeed.”
For a moment, his grin falters, replaced by something more calculating. What was that? Beelzebub thinks to himself, his mind racing. Is that… Primordial Karna I sense?
Vale stops pacing, his steps slowing until he stands just a few feet away. His gaze sharpens, his voice calm but firm. “You know,” he says evenly, his eyes locking with Beelzebub’s, “there’s no way out of this. Not now. Not ever.”
Beelzebub’s posture shifts slightly, the tension leaving his shoulders as a faint smile tugs at his lips. “I figured as much,” he replies, his tone laced with a mix of resignation and amusement. He casts a slow, deliberate look around the open area just pats the forest line, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Quite the place you’ve crafted here. I can feel it—there’s more than just ordinary magic in these walls. Ancient magic… no, true magic. You’re older than you look.”
Vale stiffens, his expression flickering for just a moment before he schools it into indifference. “Of course,” he says with a shrug, his voice clipped. “A concept would recognize it.”
Beelzebub chuckles softly, though there’s no warmth in it. “You’re making a mistake.” His words hang in the air like smoke, curling around Vale as though testing his resolve.
Vale sighs, running a hand through his hair as he turns slightly away. “Many have said that,” he admits, his voice heavy. “And I’ll keep making them, unfortunately. That’s something I hate—but it won’t change.”
Beelzebub lets out a low, rolling laugh, the sound echoing faintly. “I love that. Truly. But you realize what you’re doing is high treason, don’t you?” He steps forward, his hands gesturing casually as he speaks. “Every kingdom on the northeastern continent, just before the Everglades, has decreed that aiding the old Conceptual Sins in carrying out their purpose invokes an immediate Blood Order. They won’t ignore this.”
Vale’s lips curl into a humorless smile as he turns back to face Beelzebub. “Let them come,” he says, his voice cold and unwavering. “Even in my weakened state, I’ll can take them all on.” He pauses, his gaze growing distant for a moment before softening ever so slightly. “But you’re wrong about one thing. I’m not helping you—I’m helping Obinai. Despite his questions and hesitation, he listened to me. Reluctantly, yes, but he listened. I thought I’d have to force him, but he chose to trust me...slightly.”
Beelzebub tilts his head, considering Vale’s words. A grin spreads across his face, mischievous and sharp. He folds his hands behind his head, leaning back as though savoring the moment. “Foolish,” he says with a laugh. “Maybe even stupid. But I have to respect it. Though…” His grin widens, taking on a more sinister edge. “I’ll have to get at least one blow in before this is over...”
Time seems to slow as Beelzebub lunges forward, his fist hurtling toward Vale’s face with the speed and ferocity of a bullet. The air ripples with the sheer force of the strike, the shockwave cracking the ground beneath them like fragile glass. But Vale moves just as swiftly—no, faster. His form seems to blur for a moment, his figure flickering in and out of sight like a mirage. When Beelzebub’s fist reaches its target, it passes clean through Vale’s face, the figure dissolving into smoke before reforming a few feet away.
Beelzebub doesn’t pause, a feral grin splitting his face. He pivots instantly, his body a blur of movement as he spins into a roundhouse kick aimed directly at Vale’s side. Once again, Vale vanishes, his form dissipating just as the kick grazes him, leaving Beelzebub’s leg slicing through empty air. Vale reappears behind him, standing calmly with his hands crossed elegantly behind him. “You’re relentless,” he mutters.
“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Beelzebub replies. Without hesitation, he twists on his heel and drives his elbow backward toward Vale’s ribs, but it’s the same result. Vale flickers out of reach, his body seemingly untouchable.
Beelzebub’s grin widens more as he launches a flurry of strikes—punches, kicks, elbows, even a headbutt—all aimed to land with bone-shattering precision. But each one passes through Vale’s form like it’s made of mist, the air crackling with energy each time Vale shifts. Beelzebub stumbles slightly after another missed strike, letting out a bark of laughter as he regains his balance. “You’re toying with me!” he growls, his eyes gleaming with a mix of frustration and exhilaration. “Phasing in and out like a damn ghost. That’s not even fair.”
Vale sighs heavily, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Insignificant,” he says flatly, his tone almost bored. “You’re throwing tantrums, not punches.”
Beelzebub’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it sharpens. “Tantrums, huh? Let’s see you phase through this.” With a roar, he slams his fist into the ground. The earth trembles violently, splitting apart in jagged cracks that race toward Vale like serpents. Sharp chunks of rock and debris shoot into the air, and a pulse of black energy erupts from the impact point, rippling outward in a destructive wave.
Vale blurs once more, effortlessly weaving through the chaos. His movements are fluid, almost lazy, as if he’s strolling through a park rather than dodging deadly attacks. Beelzebub’s eyes narrow as he watches Vale phase in and out, his expression shifting to one of genuine delight. “You’re good. Too good,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “I might actually enjoy this.”
Vale reappears a few feet away, his stance relaxed but his eyes sharp. “Enjoy it all you want,” he says coolly. “But it’s pointless.” He raises a hand, and the ground beneath Beelzebub suddenly erupts, a column of white-hot energy shooting upward and slamming into him. Beelzebub is launched into the air, his body twisting as he braces against the force. He crashes into the ground moments later, rolling through the grass before slamming into a tree with a resounding thud.
Beelzebub groans, lying still for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. He brushes the dirt from his shoulders with exaggerated flair, his grin never wavering. “Not bad,” he says, cracking his neck with a sharp tilt. “But lucky for me, you gave this damn boy access to Essence.” He spreads his arms, gesturing to himself with mock grandeur. “Now I won’t break so easily.”
Vale straightens, his expression unchanging as he regards Beelzebub with a mix of indifference and mild irritation. “This conversation,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of finality, “is over.”
Beelzebub smirks, his muscles coiling as he prepares to launch another charge. But before he can move, his body betrays him. His smirk vanishes, replaced by a grimace as his torso convulses violently. He doubles over, clutching his stomach. “Argh!” he snarls, his voice strained with both pain and confusion.
Vale watches, his expression calm, but there’s something new in his eyes—a flicker of satisfaction. For the first time, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He tilts his head slightly, his tone quiet yet deliberate. “Good,” he murmurs.
Beelzebub grits his teeth, his fingers digging into his sides as he fights to steady himself. His legs tremble, but he forces himself halfway upright, his golden eyes glaring at Vale. “At least… explain,” he manages, the frustration in his voice cutting through the pain.
Vale steps forward. “The soul casing,” he explains. “You did well to let the soul settle in its new form. But now that it’s connected to Essence, every time Obinai is conscious or uses Essence, you are suppressed. That casing was made using his soul. You cannot overcome it.”
Beelzebub lets out a strained laugh. “Clever,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly. “Annoying, but clever.” He groans, clutching his stomach again, but his eyes gleam with malice. “You know… I can see why your soul intrigued me. That scent…”
Vale’s smile fades, his expression hardening.
Beelzebub exhales sharply, his grin returning as he straightens slightly. “I’ve tasted it before. Had it in my grasp.” He tilts his head, studying Vale intently. “But you escaped me. How? All the souls I’ve consumed become a part of me.”
Vale’s sighs, but his tone remains composed. “Why don’t you ponder on that for a while?” he says, turning his back to Beelzebub and walking a few paces away. His thoughts shift to Obinai, his mind racing. By now, Obinai should be regaining control. As long as he never initiates a contract… His train of thought halts abruptly as faint whispers, barely audible at first, begin to fill the air. They swirl like the faintest echoes of a distant chorus, soft and insidious, growing louder with every passing second.
Vale’s steps falter, and his eyes widen as the whispers crescendo into a maddening hum that seems to seep into his very bones. He spins around, his pulse quickening. Beelzebub remains rooted in place, his stance calm yet deliberate. One hand is outstretched in front of him, his fingers curling slowly. His golden eyes glow faintly, the malevolence in them sharp enough to pierce through the suffocating atmosphere. A dark grin spreads across his face...
“Wonder if your boy can survive the toll of this,” Beelzebub says softly.
Vale’s breath catches, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the staff tightens. His chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths, his lips parting as a single thought takes root, heavy and cold. Ancient magic… The words swirl in his mind like a storm cloud, and before he can stop himself, he whispers, “No…” His voice barely carries, but his feet move, stepping forward against the growing tremors in the ground.
Beelzebub straightens, his shoulders tightening, his grin fading into a thin, focused line. Then, without hesitation, he throws his arms wide, his voice erupting with a sharp ferocity that slices through the thick, oppressive air. “Unalith… Ninsola!”
Space itself seems to ripple...
Vale’s step falters, the force of the chant crashing against him like a heavy tide. The ground beneath his boots groans, cracks spidering outward with audible snaps. His eyes narrow, his focus locking onto Beelzebub as the air thickens, pressing against his chest like a weighted shroud.
The sound comes first—a high-pitched whine that drills into his ears, relentless and sharp. His muscles tense, his body reacting instinctively before his mind can catch up. Then, it hits. A blinding beam of light tears through the distorted air, screaming toward him with unrelenting speed.
Vale’s body moves before the thought forms, his hands snapping up, staff crackling as it channels raw energy. The beam collides with a massive barrier of shimmering force, the impact shattering the air with a sound like breaking glass. The ground beneath Vale explodes, dirt and shards of stone erupting in every direction as he plants his feet firmly, the sheer force threatening to drive him to his knees.
The explosion follows—a deafening roar that drowns out all other sounds, a burst of untamed power that sends shockwaves tearing through the forest. Trees splinter and topple, their trunks groaning in protest before collapsing like brittle twigs.
Beelzebub, caught in the aftermath, is launched into the air like a ragdoll, his body twisting as the shockwave slams into him. His laughter is cut off, replaced by a sharp grunt as his back crashes into a distant tree, the impact splitting the trunk in two. He collapses to the ground with a thud, rolling onto his side. For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing, the forest around them reduced to a desolate wasteland of charred earth and fallen timber.
Beelzebub’s dark grin begins to fade as his hair darkens, strands melting back into Obinai’s natural color. His glowing eyes dim, the golden hue giving way to their normal state. His posture sags, his body trembling as the transformation recedes. He weakly mutters, his voice barely audible, “How long does he think peace will last…”
And just like that, Beelzebub is gone. Obinai is himself once more.
A low groan escapes him as rolls over, his body heavy and unresponsive. Pain radiates through every limb, each breath sharp and uneven. “What the…?” he mutters, his voice hoarse. He tries to push himself up, but his muscles protest, sluggish and weak, refusing to cooperate. His hands tremble as he drags himself onto his elbows, gritting his teeth against the effort.
Why does my body feel so heavy? The thought claws at his mind, panic edging in as the weight pressing on him feels almost unnatural. His skin burns, his bones ache, and every movement feels like wading through thick, suffocating tar.
He lifts his head, his gaze unsteady as he struggles to focus. When his eyes finally lock on the scene before him, his breath catches. A hollow silence fills his mind, the sheer scale of the destruction rendering him momentarily numb.
The forest ahead is… gone. Trees that once stood tall are nothing more than shattered splinters, scattered like debris from a violent storm. The earth itself is blackened and cracked, an enormous arc of scorched ground stretching so far that it vanishes into the horizon. Did I… do this?
He stares, wide-eyed, his mind racing. No way… please, no. Did I…? His thoughts spiral. No, no, no… there’s no way I did this. Is Vale dead? Did I—
A voice cuts through his panic. “So…”
Obinai jerks back with a startled yelp, scrambling away from the source of the voice. He turns and sees Vale standing several meters away, his robes tattered and singed but intact, his staff planted firmly in the ground. A faint trail of smoke rises from his figure, and yet he’s… smiling. Not a wide grin, but a small, knowing smirk.
“I think,” Vale says with a faint chuckle, “the base of your problems has been resolved. Now…” He steps forward, brushing a bit of soot from his sleeve, “you can finally be taught.”
Obinai blinks, his mind still catching up to what just happened. His body aches, his head spins, but he finds himself stammering, “W-wait! Hold on!”
Vale stops, tilting his head slightly as he raises an eyebrow. “Yes?” he says.
Obinai takes a deep breath, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I… I have no idea what’s going on. How any of this is happening. What the hell that thing inside me was—or still is. What you’re even doing here. And why me!” He swallows hard, his voice trembling slightly. “I need explanations. I need answers. A lot of them. And I’m not doing anything else until I get them.”
Vale studies him for a moment, his expression softening. “Is that all?” he asks, a faint hint of humor in his voice.
Obinai’s eyes narrow, irritation breaking through his exhaustion. “Oh, and a bath,” he mutters. “I need a damn bath. I feel disgusting.”
At that, Vale’s lips curl into a genuine smile, and he nods. “Fair enough,” he says simply. “Come, then. We’ll discuss everything over dinner.” He turns, gesturing with his staff for Obinai to follow. “I’ve got some stew brewing. I suspect you could use a good meal...”