You have defeated [Lower-Grade Clay Golem]. Lower-grade Spirit will be integrated into the Thirteenth Spirit [Thirteen].

You have defeated [Lower-Grade Clay Golem]. Lower-grade Spirit will be integrated into the Thirteenth Spirit [Thirteen].

…

You have defeated [Lower-Grade Clay Golem]. Lower-grade Spirit will be integrated into the Thirteenth Spirit [Thirteen].

Congratulations! Your existence has reached a new level. You are now a Level 20 Spirit.

You have received one Stat Point to assign to your stats.

Strength: 14 → 15

Mana: 19,000 → 20,000

Thirteen dismissed the notifications of her recent kills after assigning her stat point from the level up. I added some Agility last time, she thought, satisfied with her choice. She stole a glance at her stats.

Strength: 15

Agility: 7

Vitality: N/A

Intelligence: 11

Perception: 11

Willpower: 11

She collapsed against Nihil’s back, her mana starting to recover from the recent battle. She lay there and crossed her right leg over her left as she examined the ragged tears in her pants. Her left leg was basically bare from below the thigh. At this rate, they would soon be cut up into useless straps of cloth, which would leave her with nothing but her false skin. Then again, it was not like she had benefited from those rags anyway.

Closing her status, she started to balance her sword on her index finger while enjoying a leisurely ride through a field of cracked dolls and shattered clay. The layer was so thick that walked on her own was almost impossible, and with each of Nihil’s step, she could hear clay cracking and breaking

Thanks to Nihil, this did not affect her very much, although she wondered if whoever was responsible for making and throwing these golems at her considered what should be done with their remains. “Or maybe we are just exceeding expectations,” Thirteen said jokingly.

Wouldn’t surprise me if he just didn’t care enough. But it’s strange, I would have expected something to happen by now, but it's just the same cycle over and over. Maybe I’ve been forgotten? Maybe the old man died?

A defiant thought rose in her head and was immediately silenced. Nope. She was stronger than ever, but the contract still was in place and still restrained her. She was still not at the stage to break a contract from her side, but even if she was, she probably would not do it. Her summoner knew ancient spells and rituals, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume he also had the means to punish her.

Servitude or the Lake of Fire… Barely worth thinking about. Though once I’m done, I’m gonna drag that mortal fuck with me and toss him right into the flaming waves. She smirked at the ceiling before a clicking sound tore her out of her imagination.

Thirteen pushed herself upright, letting her sword drop into her palm. She crossed her legs and tapped Nihil’s flank. The charger pivoted, turning toward the origin of the noise, which was, surprisingly, the door. That’s probably why the next wave hasn’t arrived yet.

After being pushed a little, the door suddenly swung open with so much force that it slammed into the wall, hinges screaming in agony. Though the door was of little interest to her when Thirteen saw the man that stood in the frame.

He was extraordinarily handsome. A symmetrical face, clear skin, healthy black hair that was cut short and a set of entrancing red eyes. His black coat, tailored to fit him perfectly, bore beautiful crimson embroidery that bloomed like flowers along the sleeves and collar.

Still preening like royalty, ?????. Her thoughts stopped there briefly. Right, names are not a thing anymore.

Nihil shifted subtly, and Thirteen chuckled with amusement when she noticed that he was trying to enhance his presence, making himself bigger. The man watched her with a kind smile.

“I’m gonna take an educated guess that you now go by Twelve,” she said, her tone flat and direct. Nihil came to a halt about ten feet away from him, keeping his distance. Thirteen thought about making him go further, though she decided against it.

The man, and spirit, before her gave a negligent wave that could hardly be called a greeting. “And that would make you Thirteen, I presume?”

A sardonic laugh escaped her. “Yeah. Terrible, isn’t it? Giving us fucking numbers as names, who thinks of shit like this,” she spat.

Twelve nodded enthusiastically along with that. “Truly uninspired,” he agreed,” quite fascinating if you consider that mortals are supposed to be more creative than us. Makes one worry about the state of mind of our summoner, doesn’t it?” He shrugged, appearing entirely dispassionate about the issue. “Still,” he added, his false joy falling away for a moment, “it’s good to see you’re doing well. How’s your first time in the mortal world been so far?” he asked, honest curiosity leaking into his voice.

Thirteen looked over her shoulder, more to draw Twelve’s gaze to it, before turning back. “Oh, it’s peachy. Can’t say I expected much of this world, and I have been thoroughly disappointed,” she said, observing a lack of surprise in Twelve’s expression. “I take it you’ve faced a similar situation.”

Twelve took a step forward, but was stopped from taking another by a strong puff of Nihil. Her charger appeared to still not like Twelve. He did not try to kill him, which at least was an improvement from how he treated most other spirits. Stopping, Twelve shrugged again.

“I did, and though I did think you would have it easier than me thanks to him,” he gave a nod at Nihil, “it seems you’ve faced quite a lot more foes than me.”

“Maybe I just fought more waves,” she grinned.

“Maybe,” Twelve said with an ominous smile. “It was a challenge at first, but it got ridiculous after a while. I thought they would make the golems stronger, but they just increased the numbers,” his voice turned to pure amusement, “can you believe that anyone would think that five hundred of these things could win against one of me? Honestly, I’m offended at the mere thought.”

Thirteen shrugged, smiling. “Well, they are mortals.”

“True, that,” Twelve agreed.

Thirteen tried to gauge the mana in Twelve and found that it was only a few levels above her, one or two. He was a charmer, like her, but he possessed strength that not many charm spirits could claim. He had remained a prince back home, but he was in every aspect worthy of a king. And even weakened, he did not seem to have lost his edge.

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There was a brief silence as Twelve and Thirteen looked at each other, eyes telling stories of their time in the mortal world. It was after a long while that Twelve’s eyes wandered down to Nihil.

“That one still doesn’t like me, does he?” he asked.

Thirteen brushed through Nihil’s mane and scoffed. “Nihil doesn’t like anyone,” she said.

“Except for you,” Twelve commented.

“Except for me,” she echoed.

“But he kept his name apparently. He does not look like I remember him though,” Twelve remarked.

“You also have that status-thingy, yeah?” Thirteen asked.

Twelve responded with a curt nod.

“Well, Nihil doesn't. I’m not entirely sure on how that works, but I believe that his state is bound to the skill that this system has given me to summon him. Or something like that,” she explained, without revealing too much.

It was true that Nihil did not have a status like her and thus could not level up in a similar manner, however, since Thirteen did not get the essence of enemies he killed, she assumed that Nihil could still grow. It was just not that convenient to monitor.

Twelve gave a soft chuckle. “We have found ourselves in quite the odd situation, haven’t we? Makes one wonder who could have orchestrated something like this,” he said.

Thirteen’s expression soured. She understood what he was hinting at, and she did not like it. “There are not many who would dare to attack us like this, or who would give this much power to a single mortal. Speaking of mysteries, what exactly are you doing here?” she asked.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, “right, nearly slipped my mind,” he gave a short laugh before clearing his throat and straightening his back in a comically extra manner. “Our summoner has voiced his desire to have an audience with our two noble selves,” he declared in a mockingly pompous tone.

Thirteen scowled, not hiding her disdain–which she was able to only since her summoner was not here.

Taking note of that, Twelve gasped as if remembering something. “I do recall that he seemed to… not like you very much. I am wondering what you could have done to him. Did Nihil bite him?” he asked, waggling his eyebrow mischievously.

Thirteen shook her head with a thin smile. “I think he simply considers me useless. Not like I have a fancy combat skill like a certain someone,” she said, looking past Twelve, out into the space beyond her chamber

Twelve barked a laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Mortals, right? Can’t really call ‘em stupid, but they are certainly not smart. Well, that aside, we should get moving. I heard he actually created a brass vessel.”

“Oh yeah? Who did you hear that from?”

“Our glorious summoner himself. Told me while I was carving the heart out of one of his acolytes. His agenda aside, he sure is a buzzkill,” Twelve said, pretending to pout.

Just as I thought.

Annoying as it was, now that she had confirmed the existence of a vessel, the means to sentence her to eternal damnation, Thirteen found herself somewhat motivated to do as she was told.

Considering she had spent… a bunch of time locked inside that chamber, Thirteen found herself quite indifferent to finally stepping outside. Maybe because it had been only a fraction of a fraction of her whole life. I suppose it does feel nice though.

As it turned out, her chamber was just one of many along a dimly lit hallway that looked quite boring. Right opposite of hers, she spotted another door, closed and judging by the lock and bar holding it shut, locked.

“That’s Fourteen’s room,” Twelve explained before turning left and starting to move down the hallway. Thirteen followed him, losing interest in Fourteen’s door almost immediately.

After a while of walking, they came across another set of doors, one on the left, another on the right. The latter stood open.

“That one’s your room?” she asked, gesturing toward the opened door.

“Yep,” Twelve replied, then pointing at the room ahead of his own, “and that one’s Eleven’s. Haven’t seen him yet, though.

Thirteen scoffed as they walked on. “I can’t stand diviners. Always think they know everything.”

“Can you blame them, most of them do,” Twelve replied, a light-hearted laugh ending his sentence.

“Seeing all these rooms, I take it everyone has been summoned?” she asked as they passed yet another set of doors.

Twelve nodded. “He did. Though as much as I despise him for this unnecessary… meddling, I am intrigued with what he has planned.”

Thirteen responded with a dismissive scoff, shoving her hands into the tattered remains of her pants. Her shirt had already been destroyed and its final remnants now served as a makeshift chest wrap. Her gaze drifted to Twelve–a fellow charmer–and his immaculate outfit. There was not even a speck of dust or dirt on it.

“Stare any harder, and I might get the wrong idea,” he teased, a smirk playing across his lips. Thirteen blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked away.

“As if,” she said. “I’m not even your type, moron.”

Twelve chuckled, low and knowing. “And you also know that something like that does not stop me,” he remarked, a flicker of memory–their first encounter long before either had ascended to the seventy-two–dancing in his eyes. “Or you, for that matter,” he added.

“That was in the past,” she huffed. “I’m just envious of that skill of yours,” she admitted.

Tugging at his coat, Twelve allowed the black fabric to stretch effortlessly. “Pretty impressive, right? I’m not even sure if this is still fashionable these days, though. It’s been a century or two since I was last summoned.”

Thirteen had nothing to say in response. She knew nothing of the mortal world and never had an interest in its customs. Spirits like them had everything in their home world, and she could not understand how someone like them would willingly offer their services to mortals. Then again, she had long given up on understanding what was going on in Twelve’s mind.

As their conversation came to an end, they arrived at an enormous gate–a massive set of doors blocking their path forward. To Thirteen’s surprise, hooded mortals were placed to their left and right, straining against two wall-mounted wheels that seemed to gradually drag the gate open. Their scent was sweet, reminiscent of fresh honey and their dark cloaks seemed to perfectly match the corrupted taint on them.

Once the opening was wide enough to allow them through, Twelve beckoned Thirteen to follow him, casually throwing a flirtatious wave at one of the mortals.

“Who are they?” Thirteen asked.

“As far as I know, they are our summoner’s subordinates. Quite fragrant, aren’t they? Smells a bit like… murder.”

“And oath breaking,” Thirteen commented, dissecting the smell a little. What kind of oath became clear when Thirteen spied the winged sun symbol on the outside of the gate. “And sacrilege,” she added, smirking.

Beyond the gate lay a circular chamber with a staircase spiraling upward for hundreds of feet. Like a tower, only that there were no windows. Torches flickered along the walls, interspersed with banners bearing Shamut’s winged sun. Three humans stood at the base of the staircase.

One of them Thirteen recognized instantly: the silver ring adorning his hand, the metallic necklace and the ancient sigil and runes concealed beneath his white and golden robe. Her summoner in all of his vile glory.

The mere sight of him provoked her displeasure, yet she refrained from showing it. Despite her emotions, she also felt curious about the reason they had been asked to come here. Maybe she would finally learn why she had been dragged into the mortal world.When they approached, the mortal that summoned them turned.

“Welcome, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he greeted, one bow for Thirteen and another, less deep one for Twelve.

“You bow well, mortal,” Twelve said in the midst of delivering a polite bow alongside Thirteen. Thirteen smiled slightly.

The old human scoffed. “I had many years to learn,” he grumbled. “Thirteen, what happened to your clothes?” he asked.

She scowled, intending to hiss, but only managing to reply honestly, “Ripped while fighting,” she said.

He gave her a scrutinizing glare, which she happily ignored. “It’s of no consequence, follow me,” he said and began ascending the stairs. The two other mortals followed behind them.

“So, Master, what is it that you want us to do? Reignite your marriage's love? Have a young girl fall for you, or a man–though I can’t help you with the latter. Is that why you brought Thirteen, too?” Twelve asked, his tone jovial, excited.

He hasn’t changed in the slightest, Thirteen thought.

“I have no need of your charms,” their summoner replied. “I have another task that I need you to complete,” he said.

Twelve feigned disappointment. “You want us to kill something, then?”

“That is part of it, yes,” their summoner said, nodding. “There is a monster den that I need you to deal with.”

Thirteen and Twelve looked at each other, before her fellow spirit shrugged.

“Why use Charmers like us to fight? One or Two can deal with any monster no problem.”

There was a brief silence, which their master eventually broke, never looking back at them.

“I am aware, Your Highness, but trust me, I know exactly what I am doing.”