He stood his ground, looking around for any evident threat, the words to Soul Scythe on his mind. Tense seconds passed, and the only sound he could hear was his heartbeat thundering. Activating his ability, he once again gazed at the spirit. Instead of menacingly emerging from the coffin, all it had done was flip on its side, facing Daniel.
“Long dead spirit, I’m not a thief. It would be for the best if you didn’t emerge from the coffin. It’s very scary here,” he said, tracing a dot on the coffin, slowly stepping backwards. The moment it emerged, either it or Daniel would meet its doom.
“Who are you calling a spirit!? I’m very clearly a heroic phantom,” the indignation in the booming voice was clear even from a distance. The spirit sounded surprisingly old for being so boisterous.
“Answer me this, thief. If you are not here to rob me of my family heirlooms, then why are you here? Is one of my descendants finally brave enough to enter my burial room!?”
Daniel carefully considered his words. What he was dealing with was an ancient spirit that once slew demons and dragons. It could likely extinguish his life in an instant.
“My name is Daniel, oh great ancestor. I’m a relative of the Steelford family. I’ve heard many tales about your heroic prowess, and I wanted to see your greatness for myself.” Daniel winced as he said this. Not even an infant would be fooled by such an obvious lie.
“WONDERFUL!” he yelled, shifting restlessly in his coffin. “What a filial descendant you are. My sons should have known I wouldn’t go to Ashkarn that easily, and even if they didn’t, their kids should have come to worship my grave. Ungrateful, all of them. Puh!” Daniel doubted spirits could spit, but Xaviar did so regardless.
“Ehm. You did a great job avoiding all the traps to reach me, at such a young age too. I made it so any weaklings that dared come here would get incinerated on the spot.”
Cold sweat ran down Daniel’s back. He hadn’t spotted any traps, and he doubted it was the 11 LUK that had saved him. They had likely faded in the four hundred years, though the Steelford ancestor didn’t need to know that.
“Right, it’s been an absolute pleasure talking to you. I’ve been inspired by your sheer presence, patriarch. I’ll go and train more of the family’s... halberd techniques.”
He had reached the end of the room by now, though he didn’t dare to relax.
“HOLD ON! Since you’ve gotten this far, you might as well pay respects.” If this wasn’t the plot of an old and wizened demon to steal his soul, then Daniel would be surprised.
“Honoured ancestor, I shall light a stick of incense in my home for you. Now, goodbye,” he walked backwards, still not daring to turn around.
“Gah. You’re just as impudent as the rest of them. You would humiliate me like this? So be it,” Xaviar spoke hastily, anger hidden in his voice. “I’m trapped here. The damn coffin makers enchanted it too well, with no regard for my wellbeing. I curse their inbred bloodline every single day.”
Daniel swallowed down a comment that was on the tip of his tongue. It wouldn’t do him any good to annoy the spirit, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
“I’m afraid I can’t help with that,” he responded.
“You disarmed the runes on the way here. There’s no reason you can’t do the same for the coffin.”
He took one last look at the glowing runes practically bursting with magical energy and shook his head. There was absolutely no chance he was getting it open. Seeing that the spirit claimed it was trapped, Daniel decided to speak more freely.
“Patriarch, there weren’t any traps on the way here,” he tried to sound remorseful.
“You bumbling imbecile!” Xaviar’s shouts reverberated through the room. “All of my descendants are bloody useless. I knew my sons were all fools, but not to this extent!”
The old spirit’s curses continued for several minutes, which Daniel safely observed from the other side of the room. Then, a thought struck him.
“Old spirit, I might have a way for you to leave after all,” Daniel shouted across the room.
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Do you enjoy getting cursed? Is that it? Go ahead, I’m waiting.” The previous shouts died down, a bitter irony resounding through the room.
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Slowly, Daniel approached closer to the sarcophagus, suddenly mindful of what was beneath his feet. He stared closely at the hazy soul and scratched his head, regretting the lack of an instruction manual for his abilities. Sitting down in a lotus position, he closed his eyes and entered his underworld.
Immediately, a shudder ran through his realm as something tried to claw its way in, but the void around him held strong. Everything was as he left it, except for three spirits floating next to the red river, not making any progress. Without him to guide them, they would never reach the afterlife.
At some point, they had noticed his arrival, which prompted snarls and wails of boundless rage. The couple, Valeria and Ashrik, both started to conjure spells, but they were like ants in front of a tiger. With a simple thought, he lifted a piece of the river, crafting sturdy chains from the blood-red water. Then, they shot out like serpents, coiling around the three spirits.
The boundless display of might served to only enrage the couple more. The spearman, however, stopped resisting, realising the futility of their actions. He observed them for some time, disdain colouring his soul
Daniel would need servants in the future. It wouldn’t look good if he had to step in for every little thing, especially since he was the lord here.
Suddenly, a part of his soul shook, recalling the memory of Morvina’s assault. The previously arrogant thoughts shifted - he needed companions to protect him from her invasion, which was what he set out to do.
He glanced at the bound spirits, loosening the binds on their legs. With the chains weighing them down, they would have to walk along the river and ponder whatever was on their mind. He would reincarnate them in time, let them suffer a bit for daring to attack him. Besides, he had to investigate these spirits further - what made them different from regular souls?
Daniel set the questions aside for another time, instead focusing on his initial objective.
Spirit Reception Lounge - A place to receive and house wandering intelligent spirits from the outside world. The wielder of the gate will not be able to exert full authority on the spirits invited.
Daniel read the description carefully, going over to investigate the lounge once again. White pillars, runed walls, a white pylon. Those were the only three things of note in the room, and no matter how much he poked or prodded them, nothing happened. He was stumped.
Well, if he didn’t know how to do something, why couldn’t he steal someone else’s method?
With that in mind, he returned back to the tomb.
“Honoured patriarch, it’s a very simple thing. You just have to pledge your soul to me and swear an oath,” he injected as much optimism into his words, but before he could even finish the sentence, a roar of rage erupted from the coffin.
“You want the great Champion of Ashkarn to dedicate his soul to some fledgeling who can’t shatter a few small runes!? You must be crazy! Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
The coffin quivered under the spirit’s rage, but if emotions were all it took for Xaviar to break free, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“I’ve seen him in my dreams. You’re too low level to even fathom a single aspect of his, but I- I saw him in all of his glory. He promised I would be one of his generals, the one to lead the charge against the eldritch.”
Daniel listened to the outcry seriously, but he had the upper hand here. He just had to phrase his words correctly.
“If you’re so dedicated to Ashkarn, why are you still here?”
And then, there was silence.
“There must be a reason. I’m sure he has some grand plan in mind for me. I just need to get out of this cursed tomb!” The emotions in Xaviar’s voice were spilling out raw.
“Xaviar, you’ve been dead for more than four hundred years. The tomb is in an abandoned sector of the city, where only ghosts and beggars live. Any grand manor that might have been here has been destroyed.”
Daniel’s words were like a hammer, driving a nail deeper into the spirit’s emotions every time he uttered them.
“The entrance was under three different locks. The dust was piled up so high that it was clear no one had stepped in here for years. Frankly, I’m not sure the Steelford family exists anymore.”
Using Reaper’s Eyes, he saw Xaviar desperately banging against the coffin lid, trying to break it with all of his might.
“That can’t be right. You’re lying! You said you were a distant relative.”
Daniel debated on how far his lies should run.
“I thought my life was in danger, so I lied. Before this, I'd never even heard of the Steelford family.”
The words sat heavily on Daniel’s soul. One by one, he was crushing everything the spirit had come to believe. Still, it had to be done. This was the only way for Xaviar to find peace, to stop rotting inside an ageless casket. Or, more importantly, it was a way for Daniel to protect himself.
At this point, Xaviar had gone silent. Still, Daniel didn’t relent.
“If I left, no one else would come for hundreds of years. Even if they did, I doubt they would have a way to shatter that coffin of yours. This way, you can find peace, even if it means a different afterlife. Please. Do this for your own sake.”
He exhaled, letting his anxiety fade. Daniel had said all that he could - now the choice was up to Xaviar. A minute passed, then two. It was only after half an hour that he spoke up, nowhere as lively or boisterous as before.
“Just when I thought an angel had come to save me, it turned out to be a devil all along. Fine. Name your oath.”