[Soul Weapon Forged: Formless Blood Ink]
Amaryllis rubbed her face with the sleeve to the point of turning her face red. She let out a shuddering breath, facing Henneth. “I succeeded?” she whispered hoarsely. She couldn’t say. She saw no weapon—only black and red liquid squirming around her arm.
“You did,” Henneth said, writing something on the board. “And that’s one unique weapon. Having faced the Seran upped your chances, I say. Most, regardless of talent, only get uncommon-grade weapons,” Henneth closed the distance and stared at it for a while longer. “You can put it away for now. There’s a training ground where you can try it out later.”
“How do I do that?” Amaryllis asked.
“Just imagine it all sinking inside your arm.”
Amaryllis imagined it all sinking into her arm, vanishing and letting the tattoo on her arm shine. It all vanished, slowly filling up the hollow indenture in her arm. She felt complete again. She had not known how she didn’t feel it before, but she felt more complete than ever before.
“Alright. Now it’s time to sign the pact with Anvil and let the Indenture come to be. Once you do that, you will get access to the status and system: the Soul Progression System. The soul hunt is genius at names,” Henneth chuckled sarcastically.
Amaryllis nodded. “Pact?”
“Just place your hand on the Anvil again and say, ‘Henceforth, I am a Soul Hunter. From today to the day my body fails to wield the weapon, I shall be part of the Hunt and hunt Serans, the worshippers of death, and anything else that shall dare threaten the peace of Living. Never once shall I find kindness or greed blind my desire for the hunt.’”
Amaryllis looked at the anvil. It had changed its form. Now, it was like a bottle of ink, spilling out from the corner, with a feather pen dipped inside.
“Since you received a unique form of soul weapon, the anvil changed its shape. A bottle of ink… try writing the back in the air.”
Amaryllis nodded, touched the feather with her hand, and Anvil glowed, but that’s it. She felt nothing. Once she pulled it out, a paper manifest in the air, old parchment, edges decayed by time. She took a deep breath and wrote what Henneth had asked.
It hung in the air, burning with green flames; the paper melted once she finished writing, leaving behind burning ashes. Then they swirled in the air and wrapped around her fixed arm, digging deeper and deeper into her arm until all that was left was just pain.
The stems on her arm turned black with ashen leaves and blood-red flowers.
The Soul Forge Contract has been established. You’re now a Soul Hunter.
You’ve been granted access to the tier 3 soul progression system: Areth.
“You received the notification?” Henneth asked.
“I did.” Amaryllis nodded, marveling at the tattoo on her hand. It was magnificent if she must say. The tattoo would cost her a fortune in the outside world.
"If you wish, you can proudly show it to the world; if you don't, that's all right. Soul Hunters have full right to choose what they wish to do." Henneth said, "Now, to access the system, Hold the ink and think of Status."
Amaryllis nodded, grabbing the Cold Ink bottle. Calling it an anvil was weird.
The white screen. Amaryllis sucked in a sharp breath as she read the first line. A rage flared in her arm. How dare they! She held the bottle tight until its edge began to dig into her palm. How dare they call her that?! She had a Name. Her sister gave her a name. She suppressed her thoughts as her eyes read the rest of the content.
Unnamed one
Age: 20
Weight of Soul: 1
Soul Level: 1
Soul State: Unformed
Executioner Rank: Unranked
Path: undecided
Attributes:
Strength: 1
Speed: 2
Dexterity: 2
Endurance: 2
Insight: 5
Will: 7
Intelligence: 8
Concept: 13
Soul Attunement: 1
Soul shards: 12000
Mana Capacity: 80/80
Mana absorption rate: 40/hour
Mana consumption by The Frost Seal: 64/Minute
Skills:
Skin hardening lv 3
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Mana enhancement lv 4
Enforced Mana paths lv 2
Passive channeling Lv 3
Mana Fever Resistance Lv 7
Soul Forged weapon:
Formless Ink
Grade: Unique
Type: Concept
Mastery: None
Forged: Once (Acquire 100 Soul to reforge.)
Souls Slain: 0
Soul Skill:
Form Manipulation Lv 1
State Tempering Lv 1
“What did you see? Generally, assessees squeal, dance, and do something happy sort of thing. You, on the other hand, look like you’re about to kill something or someone.”
Amaryllis blinked, looked at her whitening hand, and lessened her grip on the Anvil. “Sorry… I was just surprised… you cannot see it?”
“No one can,” Henneth replied. Amaryllis sighed in relief. She had no answer if someone asked why she was named unnamed. “Did you get a legendary grade skill node or something?” Henneth asked.
Amaryllis shook her head. “Nothing of sort… as far as I’ve understood this. But… I don’t understand all this.”
“That’s why I’m here. I’ll explain things from top to bottom. A handbook should suffice, but, for some retarded tradition, someone of my status must parrot it. At least, they pay for this handsomely, so there’s no need to complain, I suppose. Anyway, the first is names. Well, it’s your name. Nothing to explain.”
“Name given by whom?” Amaryllis asked. “I mean… I was named more than once by different people.”
“Hmm…” Henneth mused. “It’s written there, isn’t it? If you’re asking how it’s weighted. Then, it generally shows a name most accepted by you. Be it a name given to you by yourself or your parent.”
It does not! She wanted to scream but nodded. She couldn’t throw a tantrum. The name mattered not. Not like anyone will know. She was Amaryllis, as Cynthia named her.
“Then, we get to the interesting part,” Henneth grinned. “The weight of your soul. Take a guess what it is?”
“It’s the weight of my soul’s strength?” Amaryllis played along, diverting her mind from the name that was giving her a seizure.
“Not quite. Strength is the wrong word. It’s the weight of your soul and can be weighed in the most literal sense. Right now, it should be one in your case.”
Amaryllis turned her head back to the status, and, sure enough, it was one. “It is,” she said.
“Why is it one?” Henneth asked.
Amaryllis shook her head. She couldn’t remember when, but she had seen it turn one somewhere.
“The weight of your soul increases if you kill a seran. By ‘kill,’ I mean you have to be the one to deal the final blow. Your weight will increase by one. Second, if you’re responsible or at fault for a civilian death. This one is convoluted since what qualifies as your fault can never be explained, but the system will tell you. And when you receive it, feel free to be gloomy, as it means you could’ve saved someone but failed to.”
“I will not let that happen,” Amaryllis said with little confidence. That’s the kind of perfection she knew didn’t exist.
“Sure,” Henneth’s grin grew wider. “And finally, when your teammate entrusts you with their death wish, your soul’s weight increases by one. In your case, that’s mire. Now you should be asking questions. Rack your brain in full throttle.”
The first thing that came to her mind was Light’s words. Upon the death of my teammate… So, assuming Mire died because of her, yet, for some reason, she could not remember something so important.
She remembered what Light said. She needed to receive something to have the leader position, and so far, the only thing that the weight of the soul seemed to do was make someone feel powerful and commanding.
Did that mean the thing that she needed to earn was the weight of the soul to continue to be in the leader’s position?
Now, It made complete sense that Light didn’t want them to separate, and the assessment, too, was designed to make them work together.
Wait, but… Did they want one of us to die to increase the weight of the other’s soul? Doesn’t that mean they were literally throwing us there to die from the very beginning, with or without Clownman’s doing?
There’s only one leader candidate and two followers or listeners. That’s to make them die and increase the weight of the leader candidate’s soul. And Light had said, If I don’t receive it, I’d either be a follower or the best leader. That means if I managed to make it out alive with all four alive, it would be extraordinary, but that’s impossible. Or I would be a follower, meaning someone else gets the weight of the soul.
Amaryllis shook her head. She didn’t like the implication of being a follower. “The second assessment is designed to have one of us die to increase the weight of other souls and by making us kill serans to increase the weight of the soul. That’s how they nurture the leaders, and others are here to die from the very beginning.”
“Right, but not quite. That’s what we normally do, but in your case, all of you were here to be in the leader candidate section, but Clownman went ahead and created this mess.” Henneth said. “But yeah, what you think is right. Most people taking the assessment are here to nurture the leader candidate and shape them into leaders. And rest? They are here to die, at least ninety percent of them.”
“That’s…” Amaryllis didn’t even feel angry. Just realizing how badly they wanted to create a soul hunter, and how low they were willing to sink for that sake.
“Before you start crying, I know it’s wrong, but it’s the only way the soul hunt can work. The weight of the soul is the most important thing for a Soul Hunter, only preceded by the Soul Forge weapon. Is it cruel? Yes. Evil? Most likely, but they are sacrifices that must be made to keep the system running, and they don’t die in vain. You will have to fulfill their death wish. That’s how the soul hunt tradition works.”
“I don’t know… what was her death wish,” Amaryllis asked. She suppressed all the feelings that rose at the thought of knowing someone was killed just for the sake of her nurturing. And even more vile feeling of the fact someone died for her and she couldn’t remember it. She still didn’t want to believe it to be true, but that was becoming harder with each passing moment.
“Oh, she has written a letter in case of death, which will be handed to you if you pass the final assessment, along with any other weight you receive.”
“Letter?” Amaryllis suppressed a panic.
“Ah, you’re one of us then. Well, the letter, or the final wish, is only given to those whose life cannot be simplified. In other words, they don’t a have single-minded goal for which they cling to life. Unlike us, I only care about furthering my knowledge, so that’s a single purpose. There’s no need for me to write a letter to the person who will get the weight for my death. Whatever you desire is simple just like me, so you were not asked to write this. But that does not mean your death wish won’t be fulfilled, the system will generate the notification on your behalf. Something simple like make a grave for me, find this person for me, or pay my loan.” Henneth chuckled.
“It’s great actually, not having to sit and write a letter to someone who saw your death. While knowing you’re going to burden them with another task,” Henneth’s voice turned somber, “I recently had to write my final wish, and it isn't a great feeling. But, some things are necessary, and seems like, now, I am deemed as a complicated human by the system. Spent the entire week writing just that. Talk about a waste of time.” Henneth stopped, realizing she had been blabbering. She cleared her throat, “Anyways, you will get Mire’s final wish after the assessment if you make it out alive, and if you don’t. Well, that’s the end of Mire’s chapter.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Amaryllis asked it was an obvious question, but she felt the need to ask. Henneth seemed absolutely sure she would fulfill Mire’s final wish.
“You won’t?” Henneth knitted her brows, “Why won’t you?”
“I meant hypothetically. What if someone doesn’t fulfill whatever is written in the letter.”
“Well… you’ll be deemed an outcast by the Soul Hunt organization, meaning merchants, smiths, and shops will refuse to sell you anything. Think of the last wish as a religious ceremony—one with the highest importance. You can even land yourself on a stake to be burned alive if you do it more than once. There’s no choice in it.”
Amaryllis gulped. “I get it.” I don’t really. But even if I die, my sister will be taken care of. Not that she planned to die any time soon. Not after this weapon.