It was an odd sensation, suffering from the presence of a new fire in my soul, yet craving the thrum of its strength at the same time. Whatever the emerald flames were doing to my essence, I coveted it immensely. Those same instincts that had driven me to survive were basically crying out in celebration.

So, despite the fact that I was literally stumbling my way out of the room after Crewe’s dismissal, I was still grinning like a loon.

The only thing that marred my good mood slightly was Glaustro’s expression as he looked at me, and the quietly growled “We will talk after I’m done here” he sent me out with.

Thankfully, he still had plenty to discuss with Crewe, which meant I was perfectly free to pursue the feelings burning inside my chest! And those feelings were driving me straight towards the Absorption Station.

Considering the size and space requirements of a station, it didn’t take me long to track one down. The cutoff zone I once found a little ominous was now inviting with its promise of safety and power, and I strolled right on in without hesitation.

The first thing I did was draw my sword.

Legacy of Lethaniel: Demonic Soul Blade

Tier: Greater Demonic Weapon

The ‘greater’ tag made me giddy, and the beautiful patterns on my blade only lifted my mood higher. It really did look like a piece of art, even more so than before. The soft lemon-green color of the blade shone. The patterns almost seemed to move, lit by an enchanting emerald glow.

Overall? The upgrade was more than worth it. Even with my increased earnings, it would be challenging for me to save ten thousand souls on my own for such an investment.

Speaking of my earnings, once I was finally done ogling my blade, I sheathed it and turned my attention to the soul purse on my hip.

I hadn’t gone quite as laser-focused in the most recent battle as I did back when we fought the bugs, but in comparison, the fight to claim the city had provided many more foes to slaughter. My haul from the conflict turned out to be a neat six hundred and twelve souls. Combine that with what I already had, and I was the proud owner of eight hundred and fifty-four souls.

It was a damn shame that I was going to lower my wealth significantly in the next couple of minutes, because it would have been nice to boast about being ‘well off’ for once. Needs must, I suppose, which was why I stripped off my upper body armor and clothing with minimal fuss.

That just left the matter of how exactly I should position myself for the procedure.

I knew from experience that it would be painful, so I wanted to be relatively comfortable. At the same time, if my gambit worked and I did fully sprout wings, I did not want them immediately squished between me and the seat. That would just mean more pain.

If my first experience with actual wings involved the need to chug a healing potion, I was going to flip out.

In the end, I settled into a somewhat awkward, partially curled-up pose on the lower half of the seat, lying on my side at the very edge. I would have tried to lie down on my front, but the fact that the whole setup was inclined to keep you in a sitting position made the option untenable. This way, I could grip my legs and curl up further when the pain became too much, and my wings would hang off the side when they appeared.

If they appeared.

With that sorted out, I pulled out my purse and slowly counted out seven hundred souls, awkwardly cradling them to my chest to keep them from spilling.

Even without relying on the station’s ability, I was fairly capable of gauging the quality of a soul at that point. And by ‘quality’, I don’t just mean the soul’s official rank. I had noticed some time ago that not all souls were made equal even if they shared the same designation.

A basic soul that came from a human was significantly more complex and interesting than one that came from a beast. The human had more varied experiences, more knowledge, more… everything. Offered a choice between a beast and human ‘basic’ soul, a demon would always go for the human, even if they both nominally contained the same amount of energy.

More ‘complex’ souls looked better, too. They shone just a little brighter, and their fractal appearance was a bit more refined. Not enough to affect their value when trading or even when using an Absorption Station, but it was noticeable if you paid attention. This was helpful in a practical sense. A trained eye needed only a glance to pick up on which souls had more skills and useful stuff to absorb.

Not that I had done a lot of absorption lately.

It wasn’t fear that dissuaded me from pursuing that path. It was just basic common sense and self-preservation instincts. Sure, I could stuff myself full of pointless trivia extracted from locals and turn myself into an expert on all things Lagyel, but then how much of ‘me’ would be left?

Could I even claim the name Hayden, let alone the vague references to my previous life, if I had the experiences and memories of dozens more people shoved inside my head? I wasn’t eager to find out, that was for sure.

Plain and simple, it was just better to use the souls for bartering with the Abyss, upgrading my weapon, or purchasing stuff I might need. If I came across something exceptional? Sure. Then again, I could always just hold out and chow down on the soul in question once I was properly inducted into the demonic ranks.

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Shedding the bits of hesitation that were making me ramble, and hating myself a little for still harboring them in spite of my excitement, I finally offered up the souls.

A part of me was afraid that the process would repeat from the start every time, with the Abyss blazing a blueprint for the wings directly onto my soul again and again. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

Instead, I enjoyed the much more bearable, physical pain of my body getting violently toyed with by cosmic forces.

Matter was formed from nothing, then fed into the pair of stunted wings I had been trying to ignore. Within the blink of an eye, the wings grew several inches longer. The bones formed rapidly and speared through flesh to string it into place, the way you might shove a frame into a piñata.

The process hurt. It hurt so much. But even as my mind started to drift, clouded by images of unspeakable things the Abyss was trying to feed me through our connection, I clung to the dream I had conjured back when I made my request for wings in the first place.

I clung to the idea of freedom. Of entire new horizons opening up to me, literally and metaphorically. Of all the exotic worlds I would be able to visit with wings and a solid wind at my back.

It didn’t make any of the torment any easier, but it sure reminded me what all the pain was for. And, more importantly, that the dream was worth the pain*.* I didn’t need to throw away what was left of my mind and humanity just to make it all stop. The process would conclude on its own, when my body was ready, and all I had to do was hold on.

So long as I had sacrificed enough souls, of course.

When I first tried to grow wings, I shoved three hundred souls at the problem. It sounded like a lot, especially considering it took me only a thousand souls to ‘max out’ my ascension. Driven by the idea that growing a pair of wings could be equally expensive, I chose to sacrifice seven hundred souls this time, rounding out my investment to a nice even thousand.

I mean, if that number of souls was good enough to get the Abyss to acknowledge me, it was good enough to get me my wings, right?

As it turned out, I overshot by a little. Not a whole lot, but when the last growth spurt of my wings petered out and I felt them align with the vision of the wings embedded in my soul, there was still power to be spent. That power lingered in my wings, doing something there, before it shot forth and washed through the entirety of my body.

A billion little alterations I couldn’t track or even detect swept through my being. Then the power focused on my hands and feet. It must have found something it liked there, because it latched on and went to work. Every bone in all four of my appendages crunched, rearranged, then healed.

Again, and again, and again.

The dream of flight was no comfort. I couldn’t even grip something to ground myself physically. All I could do was lie there, helpless and screaming and so thankful no one could get inside the station to witness this.

When these final remnants of my sacrifice burned themselves out, I still couldn’t move. I stayed there for several more moments, panting and miserable. The experience had thoroughly cleansed me of whatever odd high possessed my mind after my sword’s upgrade process. With a rush of clarity, I decided that, in the future, maybe I shouldn’t just let someone mess with a weapon bound to my soul.

Recalling Glaustro’s expression, I winced. He… hadn’t been happy with me. At all.

Deal with that later, major bodily changes come first, I reminded myself, then slowly sat up.

You know, when one thinks about getting wings, one tends to focus on the positives. The amazing mobility. Unparalleled scouting opportunities. Looking cool and showing off by getting to do something typically reserved for birds.

Few people ever think about having to live with said wings when you’re not out doing cool loop-de-loops in the sky. So, I was genuinely shocked by what the wings were doing to my balance.

I had to relearn everything. Walking, turning, even just standing still: all presented their own new challenges. I was also hyperaware of every single muscle in my back. There was a whole new host of ways I could, and more importantly couldn’t, move them. The Abyss had definitely saved my butt by imbuing me with some of the instincts I would need to manage the changes, but even so, it was overwhelming.

As such, it took me a few minutes of stumbling about like a newborn chicken before I finally regained enough control of my body to focus on my appearance.

I inspected my arms first. They looked more or less the same as they used to, though I noticed my fingers were a bit longer and more spindly. Plus, when I flexed my hand, the claws that emerged from my fingertips were definitely deadlier than before.

The only other change was a host of spots dotting each arm. They weren’t super noticeable, just a shade darker than my light blue skin. But there was definitely something going on there. They seemed to be arranged in specific formations, starting small around my wrists and growing in size until they petered out at my elbow. When I prodded them, they felt vaguely stiff and unlike the surrounding skin.

I couldn’t figure out what they actually were. Even running my mana through the area told me nothing.

Taking off my shoes, I found the changes to my arms mirrored in my legs. The slightly darker spots had appeared there too, starting small around my ankles and then growing in size up to my knees. Once again, I couldn’t tell what they were supposed to do, if anything.

More interestingly, my toes could now produce claws. All I had to do was flex, and my feet became deadly weapons.

This was great, but also problematic. I fully assumed I would forget myself at some point and accidentally claw up my own shoes from the inside. Or, even worse, Yules’ leather-work would prove stronger than my claws, and the shoes wouldn’t give my new ‘deadly weapons’ anywhere to go when they tried to sprout.

I really, really didn’t want to imagine how much that would mess me up, so I happily stopped doing it.

Nope! No potential future disasters to worry about here!

Leaving the best for last, I finally turned my attention towards my wings.

I might be a tiny bit biased, but they were glorious.

I had expected them to turn out bat-like, in vein with stereotypical demons, but the Abyss must have fed on the bird imagery I gave it more than I expected. When I tentatively prodded my wings into a self-hug, I was enveloped in perfectly soft, downy feathers.

The Abyss did stick to its own theme, though. My wings were a beautiful shade of black, something between ‘night sky’ and ‘all-devouring void.’ Every movement sent a red sheen washing over them, glinting almost metallically under the light.

The most unexpected feature, though, was the array of markings on each individual feather. Every feather’s rachis, the main ‘stem’ or ‘spine’, had a line running along it, of a simple yet striking azure color. On either side of each line sprouted two symmetrical hills, forming a somewhat squished circle at the center of each feather.

For the life of me, I could not figure out if these markings were practical, or a simple decoration the Abyss decided to throw in because… why not?

Realizing the futility of further observation, I started getting dressed again, then promptly got stuck when handling my shirt and armor.

The basic shirt I had under the whole ensemble was easy enough. As much as it made me cringe, all I had to do was cut it up and then shove my wings through. But I had no idea how to handle the armor. After some waffling, I just stuffed it into my dimensional pouch.

I felt distinctly underdressed as I left the station. It was also more than a little unnerving to head out into a newly claimed city with no real upper body protection and burdened by brand new limbs.

So, I believe I could be excused for shrieking like a little girl when my eyes immediately landed on an angry demon face the moment I crossed over the station’s boundary. The almost instant realization that the demon was Glaustro didn’t do anything to set me at ease.

My commander was not pleased with me.

Not. At. All.