Zeke found himself in a sparse forest, where the sun shone brightly, and the crisp air felt like a beautiful spring morning. The rustling leaves and the gentle breeze created a peaceful scene. However, unlike the serene atmosphere, his brows were furrowed.

He gazed down and inspected the ground beneath his feet. The grass was lush and green. He looked at the trees and found nothing wrong with them.

What was going on here?

He distinctly remembered falling asleep in the Deadlands, a peculiar occurrence on its own. Typically, one wouldn’t realize they were dreaming while still inside the dream. Yet, what was even stranger was how unusually realistic this dream felt. From the grass to the trees, there wasn’t a single fault or incongruity in his surroundings.

Zeke furrowed his brows and clenched his fists experimentally. Physically, he seemed fine. However, he quickly noticed he had no access to his Magic in this strange dream. Not having his Sphere of Awareness felt unsettling. It was true what they said: you only realize the value of something once it was gone.

Zeke raised his gaze and looked around. This place seemed oddly familiar for some reason. It was as if he had been here before, though he couldn’t quite put—

His mind froze when he glimpsed a distant structure peeking through the treetops. Drawn irresistibly, he moved toward it, step by step, as if possessed. Moments later, he broke through the underbrush into a clearing that could not have been more familiar. He was standing in front of Maximilian’s mansion.

The three-story structure blended seamlessly into the forest as if it were a part of nature itself. Its ancient pillars resembled tree trunks, and the lush vines climbing its walls gave it an air of tranquility. Zeke had always believed this house straddled the line between natural and deliberate, making it appear both untamed and sophisticated.

A lump formed in his throat at the sight of his former home. It was the only place where he had truly felt welcome after arriving at the academy.

Zeke gingerly approached the entrance and reached out for the doorknob. The doors swung open with a familiar creak, revealing the house's interior. He peaked inside and found everything just as he remembered. Yet, the complete absence of people made the familiar sight appear strangely dissonant.

Zeke stepped inside and checked the rooms one by one. The maid’s quarters, the living room, and even the kitchen were all deserted. It didn’t feel like the home had been abandoned for long, but rather as if he had arrived when no one was there.

Idly, he wondered what had become of this place after they fled the empire. He knew their name and rank had been stripped, and their lands returned to the Crown, but he had never learned the fate of their possessions. For all he knew, this house might not even exist anymore.

Zeke climbed the stairs and headed to his former bedroom. Without knocking, he entered and looked around. Everything was exactly as it had been when he lived there. Even his possessions had returned. The battle staff Markus had crafted for him stood in a corner, the box of Essence Crystals Viola had given him for his birthday lay open on his desk, and the Mystery Box he had retrieved from the Giger ruins was neatly placed on a shelf.

How nostalgic.

Zeke stood rooted to the spot, immersing himself in the memories of a time long past. He wondered what his life might have been like if he had never left the Empire, if they had never attempted to spread the Meditation Technique, and… if Maximilian had lived.

At that moment, a noise seized Zeke's attention. His head snapped towards the sound, eyes widening. If his senses were correct, it had come from Maximilian's study. He hurried down the familiar corridor and stopped abruptly in front of an ornate wooden door. His hand rose to open it, but he hesitated at the last moment.

His heart was racing. Could it be?

Once he got his breathing under control, Zeke knocked three times, more out of habit than anything else, before opening the door. His gaze fell upon the large oak desk that occupied a huge space and the stiff-backed wooden chair Maximilian used to occupy. There he found a figure looking back at him with calm eyes. However, instead of joy, Zeke’s expression was one of confusion.

This… was not Maximilian.

The man seemed middle-aged, with dark, slicked-back hair and piercing black eyes. His slim nose and thin lips gave his face a somewhat malnourished appearance. Yet, his gaze held an intensity few could match. But above all, he was a total stranger to Zeke.

As he scrutinized the man, the man returned the favor, appearing equally curious about Zeke. For a while, silence hung between them as they studied each other intently. After a moment, the man hummed contemplatively and met Zeke’s gaze.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“You have come,” the man said.

Zeke didn’t quite know how to react to this. Had he been expected? It felt curious to be welcomed into this own home by a complete stranger.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Care to guess?” the man said, smiling faintly. It was the first time his expression had changed.

Zeke scrutinized his counterpart. It was unfortunate he couldn't rely on Akasha; she could have easily identified the man if he were someone notable. Still, Zeke had a strong suspicion.

“Are you the King of the Dead?” he guessed.

The man's expression returned to its natural state, almost resembling a frown. "Of all my names and titles, I like that one the least."

Zeke's breath hitched. Until now, it had been mere speculation, but he had guessed correctly. The man before him was none other than the infamous King of the Dead, ruler of the Deadlands, and one of the most powerful beings on the Continent.

Why… was he here?

“Are you wondering why I have come?”

The question must have been written all over his face, and Zeke had no other choice but to nod obediently when the man asked.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” the King of the Dead said. “I visit every single being who crosses my domain.”

Zeke frowned. Could that really be true? Despite numerous claims of meeting the King of the Dead, they were vastly outnumbered by the travelers who crossed the Deadlands each year. It seemed improbable that the King would meet everyone personally like this.

Once again, the man seemed to have read his mind. “You don’t believe me?”

Zeke shook his head. “I think there has to be more to it.”

The King of the Dead stared at him for a long moment before nodding almost imperceptibly. “You're right. Most of the time, I don't meet people like this. However, sometimes I am forced to make an exception. And this is one of those cases. Do you know why?”

Zeke shook his head. There was nothing about him that should have drawn the attention of such a powerful being. Unless he was referring to Khai’Zar. But if the King of the Dead had been interested in the Dragon, shouldn’t it be here?

The King of the Dead also seemed to realize that Zeke had no way of knowing as he spoke once more. “For millennia, I've watched over the bridge between realms. I judge all who pass: ignoring the insignificant and eliminating the harmful. Past actions and future plans are all within my gaze.”

Zeke had been listening attentively, but the man's last sentence struck him like a lightning bolt. Could it be? The moment he heard the words ‘Past actions and future plans’, realization dawned on him, and now that he knew, the possibility was difficult to deny.

“Are you… reading our Souls?” Zeke asked in a trembling voice.

The King of the Dead clapped, a pleased expression on his face. “I had expected you to catch on. Well done.”

“How are you doing this?” Zeke asked. “And why didn’t you do it to me as well?”

The King of the Dead paused before answering, as if carefully weighing his words. "I am meeting you like this because you have been resisting my scrutiny. Quite fiercely, I might add.”

Resisting? I Have?

All of a sudden, the dots connected in his mind. The sleepless nights, the shadows watching him, the feeling of pressure and unease ever since he entered the Deadlands. Had those been attempts to read his Soul? The thought of him fighting off the King of the Dead made him both speechless and proud at the same time.

“Does that mean you are unable to read my Soul?” he asked.

The King of the Dead smiled at him with a touch of amusement, as if finding something endearing, like a toddler or a small animal. In this moment, the gaunt man appeared less severe than Zeke had thought upon first seeing him.

"Unable? Hardly. However, if I had forced my way in, I might have caused you harm. As I mentioned, you were quite resilient," he remarked.

Zeke lowered his head and averted his eyes. He could feel his ears burning in shame. It had been quite arrogant of him to assume that he would be able to overpower an old monster like the King of the Dead. Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to take it to heart.

He regarded the man before him with fresh eyes. Now aware of his identity and sensing no immediate threat, Zeke recognized the opportunity before him. He had never had the chance to converse about the Soul with anyone, especially someone who appeared to be a master of the art.

"Sir… King of the Dead, may I pose a question as well?" Zeke asked, somewhat at a loss on how to address the man.

“I don’t see why not,” the man replied casually. “But I'd prefer if you didn’t call me by that name. I am no king, after all.”

“How should I call you then?”

“Most call me Sheol,” the man replied.

“Sheol…” Zeke repeated, tasting the sound of the word. It was a name he had never heard before, but he found it quite fitting. “Very well, Sheol, could I ask you about the Soul?”

Sheol nodded.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?”

“Yes and no,” Sheol said. “Your body is asleep, but your mind is still awake.”

“How could you have created this place?” Zeke asked. “This is clearly a scene from my memories.”

Sheol nodded. "You're correct. I didn't create this place. I simply invited you to a space where you could feel at ease, and your subconscious filled in the details. In that sense, it's much like a dream. I must admit, though, most people's memories aren't usually as vivid as this. You must have quite a talent for it."

Zeke nodded, realizing the detailed surroundings were likely due to his affinity with the Mind or his connection to the [Mind's Library]. With his curiosity satisfied, he had another question in mind.

“How is it possible that I've been defending myself against you without even realizing I was under attack?”

“That is quite normal,” Sheol explained. “The Soul and the Body are separate but more alike than you'd imagine. Just as the body fights sickness, the Soul repels intruders. Once it has been exposed to those dangers, their resistance increases.”

Zeke nodded thoughtfully. He knew that the human body became more resistant to diseases it had previously encountered. If Sheol's analogy held true, something similar might be happening to the Soul. Did that mean his Soul was growing more resilient with each use? However, there was something that Zeke wanted to know even more.

"Do you know a way to strengthen the Soul quickly?" he asked, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Quickly…" Sheol repeated, his expression turning solemn. “There is no such thing, I’m afraid. Nor is the growth of the Soul something that should be rushed. Mark my words, child, the Soul is the essence of your strength, and nothing is more important if you want to attain great power.”

Just as Zeke began to feel disappointed, the man added one more sentence. "However, there is a way I know to expedite the process without ruining it….”