“Fia…” Amaryllis murmured. Her sight and awareness came back to her a moment later. She lay on a soft bed, probably in a hospital ward. Her head throbbed. She recalled the moments before losing consciousness. The strangeness of the experience still lingered in her consciousness. The child-like blissful voice still echoed. Her heart desired to hear it once more. It had to be some kind of magic to make her feel this way.
“I’m Light,” the person looking down at her replied. Her voice was enchantingly warm and gentle. Amaryllis needed a full minute to comprehend her words. Her mind felt submerged in the depths of the ocean, and the pressure made it difficult for her neurons to function.
“Where am I?” Amaryllis asked the obvious question.
“Association hospital ward. I doubt you care about the floor number,” Light said casually. She pushed down the springy mattress and slid her hand under Amaryllis’s back to help her sit up. Gently, almost as if Amaryllis was a frail old woman.
“I’m Amaryllis. Thank you for taking care of me,” Amaryllis shifted her gaze to her. Light was young, in her early twenties. Teal blue hair tied in a bun, she wore glasses that she clearly didn’t need, but they made her look more like a doctor. She wore a white coat over a black T-shirt and jeans but nothing to puff her almost flat chest.
A disarming aura surrounded her. Yet the weight of her soul was overwhelming, warning her not to peer into it, and foolishly, she did. She had never done it before, but it came naturally to her. She did that to see how Light’s soul compared to Sanguine's. And her depth was like gazing into a fiery abyss that would incinerate her before she could make out anything.
Amaryllis gasped.
“Don’t do that,” Light patted her back. “I guess you’ve just seen a soul for the first time, and curiosity got the best of you. But it is rude, no different from trying to see someone without clothing.”
“S-sorry,” Amaryllis lowered her head. Stupid. Stupid.
“And it is dangerous. If you attempted it with someone of my caliber, but not me, your soul would have shattered like glass under a hammer. Do you understand?”
“I’m sorry,” Amaryllis whispered, feeling like a child caught pilfering sweets. “I was…”
“It’s fine,” she pressed her back firmer; it was comforting. “I don’t mind. Curiosity is fine. I’ve done my share of stupidity,” she chuckled, leaving the bed. By the wall, a desk stood, overflowing with files, and a chair before it. Rolling the chair from the desk, she sat next to the bed. “Let’s start with the basics. Your full name.”
“Amaryllis. Blackfrost,” Amaryllis said, with a pause, observing Light’s reaction. Light’s brows slanted, and then they soared up in her hair.
“What a coincidence, I’m a Blackfrost too.”
Amaryllis nodded. Was she supposed to apologize? Smile at the coincidence? Not to mention, Light was far too heavy to feel at ease around. Yet she shone like a warm light. But, a little too bright.
“Do you have any medical condition that could cause temporary fainting?” Light gently tapped the checklist board with her index finger.
Amaryllis searched her memory. “No, I don’t think so. This has never happened before.”
“I see. Anything you recall before passing out?”
“I had a conversation. Something that fluttered around in the darkness, a childlike voice. And she asked me to give her a name. And I said Fia. She happily accepted it. And then, I passed out.” Amaryllis whispered. The more she spoke, the more her voice grew uncertain. By the end, she only hoped Light wouldn’t send her to the lunatic ward, tied by chains on this very bad.
“I see. That is odd,” Light replied without a hint of surprise or suspicion. “I don’t think there is any spirit in the Hall of Forge. But one may have slipped in. Anyway, congratulations, you’ve befriended a newborn spirit. While I doubt it’ll be of any use to you right now, it will be a great companion in the future.”
“How do I summon her?” Amaryllis asked. She wanted to see who had that voice.
“You can’t. Spirits can not be made obedient. You can try calling it, but that has to wait until you’re done with the assessments. Since it would have gone to sleep after the naming ritual, and siphoning all your mana. Resulting in you blanking. And you don’t have, let’s say, energy to sustain a spirit in this realm.”
“That’s unfortunate. I wanted to see what she is.”
“You’re not the only one,” Light chuckled. “But that concludes this segment.”
“Can I return?” Amaryllis inquired. She was a little curious to see how her soul would be forged into a weapon, even if a larger part felt something akin to apprehension.
“Right, Sanguine deposited you in the Anvil section,” she glanced at her mobile. “But another candidate has occupied your slot since you lost consciousness. You will not incur any sanctions for, to put it mildly, irresponsibility. But, you will also refrain from retelling your encounter with the spirit to anyone, and I’d advise not letting it be seen in public until you can stand up against the supernatural. A precious thing is a precious thing. And you’re but a prey.”
Amaryllis exhaled. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”
She is like Sanguine, kind, and considerate. Someone, I can trust. Still, there are too many nice people for the place erected on strength as the foundation. Something that preaches the hunt above even their soul. “Miss Light.”
“Light will suffice,”
“Light. I hope you don’t take offense, but it’s odd. For an organization notorious for deaths and the strong preying on the weak, you and Sanguine, the only ones I’ve encountered so far, are kind. I cannot help but….” The light was too nice for Amaryllis to voice her thoughts.
“Strong preying on the weak,” Light murmured in a ghostly tone, “is a fallacy that the outsiders concoct for their lack of comprehension of how this place operates. We don’t hunt the weak. Nor will you if you join our ranks. We hunt the mighty. You will be filled in on it during or after the soul forging. Let those words shimmer in your mind for now. We only prey on the mighty, for we are not feeble.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Amaryllis nodded as Light wheeled away the chair and positioned the board on the desk. Feeble… are we not? They were not immortal after all. Even falling from here could kill them.
“Though I won’t judge this place based on a sample of two. Not to inflate my ego or anything, but I’m the kindest soul in this place,” Light smiled, and Amaryllis could have trusted her words. “This place is worse than you can imagine. You’ll encounter some that would leave you at death’s door, writhing in pain just for amusement. Regrettably, it might be your next instructor.”
Amaryllis swallowed. Surely, that was a jest.
Light exhaled. “Death is one of many facets of Soul Hunt. But, it is one you’ll learn to respect, or you will succumb to it before that. You know you’re confined in this place until you become a Soul Hunter or die in the process, right?” Amaryllis didn’t like how easily Light threw around the death word.
“I am,” Amaryllis considered it as part of the bargain. Soul Hunters earned more money than what her meager jobs could afford, not to mention she already lost it. “I took the gamble, and I will reap the rewards or pay the price.”
“Hmm… The Assessment usually spans a week. During that period, you’ll be evaluated on every aptitude as a hunter you need to possess. The Soul Hunt is usually done in a trio, one leader, and two aides. These tests are administered to ascertain which position you’ll assume or if you’ll assume any at all, and as you surmise, no one covets the role of a listener. Every person in this place is a prodigy in their own right, indubitably. You’ll have to strive for it,” Light paused, sighing. “Well, I digressed from what I was saying. Anyhow, during this time of the week, if you ever feel unwell, mentally or physically, you can come here. I am always available, even at midnight. Or if you need to inquire about something, in case someone proffers you something, which many will do, and you will be enticed, but don’t take the devil’s deal. No one is looking out for you. Always bear that in mind. You are in an organization founded on Hunt. And assessment is here to determine—if you’re a predator.”
Amaryllis pondered Light’s words. “No one is looking out for me, I know that… but you are extending me an invitation to come to you in case I am doubtful. Are you not contradicting your own advice?”
“Am I? Well, I’m different from them. This ward is the only thing I care about, and people’s health who come here. But uttering those words means little. You’ll have to decide who you can trust. And always weigh in if they’ll profit from anything, and if you cannot affirm or deny, then you’re better off avoiding them,” Light left her seat. “Enough with the small talk, I’ll escort you to the next assessment. Usually, it is done after the soul forge, but you get an exceptional treatment.”
Amaryllis slid off the bed. At last, she noticed that her clothes had been substituted with different ones. Not something extravagant, but far superior to what she had arrived in.
A pair of grey and dull shirt and pants. “Did something happen to my clothes?”
“No. They were simply incompatible in this environment.”
That was a polite way to say they were shoddy and unworthy of The Soul Hunt.
“It’s not the reason you might assume. You’re exposed to mana and soul’s presence severely here. A simple blunder from anyone will have you without a scrap of clothes in the middle of the hallway.”
Amaryllis murmured another gratitude as she trailed behind her, eyes fixed on the ground. The sensation of the hospital dissipated as soon as they stepped out. Now, a corridor filled with mana supply lines, glowing crimson, and ivory ran along the slate walls. The silvery reflective floor replaced the milky white one. Everything felt on edge. Sharp. She couldn’t be certain if this was truly what she felt or if this place had some kind of magical effect.
Amaryllis turned. And for the third time, she was engulfed in darkness.
“Your next assessment involves a seran, soul demon, in case you don’t know. And it is not as unfortunate, after all… you’ll get a bonus for completion, and few people willingly take it without soul forge just for this sake,” Light smiled with sad eyes. “Whether you want to or not, you’ve stumbled into the lane that the highest scorers of this assessment will take. Try not to die.”
Amaryllis heard some of it before passing out. Handicap! The only thing that rang in her mind. She wanted anything but that.
………………
“Hey, wake up!” Someone shoved her shoulder.
Amaryllis blinked. A boy was crouching in front of her, his face twisted into a frown. His face was punchable, if Amaryllis hadn’t had extraordinary control of emotions, she might have. She remained impassive. After a moment of gathering herself, she realized she was in a simple plastered room that looked like a store room for cleaning equipment. Except for the blonde boy, there was another girl. She was indifferent to this situation, much like her. Black hair. Red eyes much like Sanguine. And one more girl. A shawl draped over her shoulder as she sat in a meditative position. Blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Her cerulean eyes fixated upon them, watching them with greater interest than Amaryllis ever saw anything.
Amaryllis shifted to the side, distancing herself from the boy’s face.
This is the next evaluation. A team effort? Light said I am handicapped since I don’t have a soul-forged weapon. Are we hunting serans or creatures with seran blood? In that case… Her eyes observed the two for a moment, and she sighed. I will need to work together with them. But why would they work with me? I don’t have much to offer… unless they are halfwits who need someone to help them with the most obvious choices.
"Greetings, I'm Amaryllis," she said. The rude boy didn’t introduce himself, still glowering like a mad dog. The black-haired girl glanced at her.
"I'm Mire." The shawled one said gently and unhurriedly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Amaryllis."
"Listen," the boy said, his tone oozing with arrogance. He lifted his right hand. A mark of complex runes and symbols adorned his forearm to the back of his hand. He displayed it proudly. Amaryllis surmised it was linked to his soul forge weapon.
Amaryllis didn't need to listen to know his intention. Hunters typically operated in a trio and one assumed the role of the leader. If this test was to determine who would be a leader, Amaryllis felt her chance at it dwindle. The advantage the boy possessed was far too immense, and he was keen to assert his dominance.
"Hey!" He thrust his finger at her face abruptly, nearly gouging her eyes. Amaryllis tilted her head just in time, but his nail still scraped the side of her face, above the cheekbones. She tightened her jaw.
Compose yourself, Amaryllis ordered herself. We both know he is provoking you, so we lash out and make this easier for him. We cannot let that happen.
"Should I presume you were nurtured in a menagerie, away from the manners of civilization and akin to a snarling brute?" Amaryllis inquired, her voice toneless. Of course, she had not entered here without any sort of assurance. She could fend for herself as long as it was not a clash with ability users. Even then, she wouldn’t die without some sort of parting gift, or she hoped. And she might just know how capable she was if this situation continued escalating.
"Mind your tongue!" he nearly shrieked. Amaryllis struggled to restrain herself from smirking. He's a dimwit.
"As should you," she retorted, peering at the raven-haired girl. She was the leader. Amaryllis didn't need to inquire. Her presence seeped with dominance that didn't necessitate taunting with words and yelling. The weight of her soul was greater than both of theirs.
The boy's face flushed crimson. "Listen, you harlot! I'm the leader here, and you three will heed my command. Is that clear?"
"And if I don’t?" Her eyes slanted. She already dismissed the boy as worthless. His temper was too short, and logical thinking was absent.
The boy's hand radiated. A weapon sprang out of the palm of his hand. A sword shrouded in mist. He grasped it, rose too swiftly for Amaryllis's eyes to track, and the tip of the blade jabbed her throat, painfully. If she swallowed, it would cut her skin. "Watch your tone, invalid."
Her jaws locked as fury blazed in her heart. Those words were uttered before. Too many times. And never not excruciating. "I dare you, halfwit," she said, gazing into his eyes. The veins in her hand turned inky black.