The moment the countdown ended—
We dissolved.
Light swallowed us, breaking our bodies into particles, scattering thought and sensation alike.
Then—
White.
Not the blinding kind that scorched your eyes. Not the holy kind priests liked to rant about.
Just… white.
Endless. Depthless. Directionless.
No floor. No sky. No horizon.
And the worst part?
I recognized it.
Which was deeply unsettling, because the last time I'd felt this familiar—
I'd been theoretically dead.
"…You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, my voice echoing far too clearly.
"Did I die again? Because if this is some kind of cheap prank, I'd like to formally sue the universe."
My body felt wrong.
Not injured. Not whole.
Weightless.
Like an idea pretending to be human.
I looked down. Same shape. Same hands. No blood. No armour. No Ironhowl.
Just… me.
Then the white peeled back.
Not violently. Casually. Like a curtain someone had forgotten to close.
Beyond it stretched drifting stars and fractured constellations, cosmic currents flowing like glowing fish through an endless night sea.
And lounging comfortably in the middle of it all—
A man.
Seated sideways on nothing, one leg crossed, chin propped on his palm. Long hair drifted lazily behind him. His eyes glowed with ancient amusement.
He looked infuriatingly relaxed.
"Well," he said cheerfully, "if it isn't my favourite problem child."
I closed my eyes.
Counted to three.
Opened them again.
Still him.
"…You," I said flatly, already tired. "Of course it's you."
Soul One grinned. "Aww. That's no way to greet the being who personally saved your soul from karmic retribution."
"I'm pretty sure you tossed me into reincarnation like a bag of trash to avoid getting caught."
He waved a hand. "Details. You landed on your feet. Eventually. Mostly. With only moderate existential trauma."
"…I kind of hate you."
"I get that a lot."
I exhaled slowly. "Alright. Let me guess. This is either a dream, a hallucination from soul backlash, or you've decided to kidnap me between dungeon floors."
Soul One clapped once.
The sound rang inside my skull like a struck bell.
"Full marks. Third option."
"Fantastic," I muttered. "Do you do this to all reincarnators, or am I special?"
"Oh, you're very special," he said brightly.
"Most of the others are still alive, ignorant, and boring. You, on the other hand—"
He leaned forward slightly.
"—touched something forbidden."
The space sharpened.
Not heavier.
Sharper.
My Survival Instinct twitched on reflex alone.
"…Yeah," I said carefully. "That was kind of an accident."
"No," Soul One replied calmly.
"It was kind of the problem."
He stood.
The cosmos behind him folded inward, forming a vast, translucent image of a soul.
At its core: a dense light my soul covered in a crystalline layer—Soulforce.
Around it: a lake of mana, with aura misting outward.
"You've been taught the basics," Soul One said.
"Mana. Aura. Conversion. Flow. Control. Very neat. Very System-approved."
He tapped the crystal core.
"But this?"
His finger passed through it, distorting the image violently.
"This is not something the System truly owns."
I frowned. "Soulforce."
"Yes. The source. The root. The thing the System politely pretends it regulates."
The image shifted again—thin glowing channels extended outward, layered with symbols, laws, restrictions.
"The System was designed to interact with outputs," he continued.
"Mana pools. Aura flow. Skill execution. Stat reinforcement. All safe. All filtered. All deniable."
He looked directly at me.
"Soul-based skills skip all of that."
Cold slid down my spine.
"They draw directly from the crystal around the core," he said.
"Unfiltered. Unbuffered. Unmanaged."
I swallowed. "But the System penalized me. Locked my energy."
"After the fact," Soul One corrected.
"Like a fire department showing up once the house is already ash."
He snapped his fingers.
The image replayed my strike—Soul's Fury activating, aura collapsing inward, Ironhowl screaming as everything condensed into a single, impossible blow.
"You didn't use Soul's Fury," Soul One said quietly.
"You survived it."
My jaw tightened.
"That skill isn't meant for mortal bodies," he continued.
"Or normal souls. Or teenagers with unresolved anger and catastrophic luck."
"Hey—"
"You got lucky," he cut in sharply.
"Again."
The image slowed.
"Your charge time was insufficient," he said.
"You didn't fully open the channel. If you had—even for another second—"
The crystal and the core inside fractured.
Cracks spread like shattered glass.
"—your soul would have been damaged."
I stared.
"Not your body," he added.
"Not your mana pool or aura pathways. Your soul. Permanent degradation. Memory loss. Emotional collapse. Possibly annihilation."
My mouth went dry.
"So… I almost deleted myself."
"Yes."
"…Huh."
Soul One raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"I'm processing," I muttered. "Give me a second to be appropriately terrified."
He snorted. "Mortals."
The image faded.
"Understand this, Augustus," he said, voice sharpening.
"Soul-based powers don't forgive ignorance. They don't scale gently. And they do not care about your reasons."
I frowned. "But I have the skill. The System gave it to me."
"Yes," Soul One said dryly.
"And the System gives people fireballs, too. That doesn't mean it teaches them not to throw them at their own faces."
He paced slowly.
"To wield soul-based power safely, you need one of three things," he continued.
"A soul-specialised class. Soul-specific cultivation arts. Or an external authority capable of stabilising the interaction."
He glanced back.
"You have none."
"…For now," I said weakly.
He smirked. "There it is."
I scowled. "So what, I'm never supposed to use it again?"
Soul One stopped in front of me.
"No," he said.
"You're only supposed to survive without it."
That hit harder than I thought.
Silence stretched.
Then he sighed dramatically and flopped back into his lounging position, conjuring a floating seat.
"Do you have any idea how annoying it is," he muttered,
"to reincarnate someone, weave an edict into their soul, dodge the Karmic Court—only to watch them almost self-destruct because they got emotional?"
"I was saving my team," I snapped.
"And that's admirable," he said.
"And stupid. Heroic stupidity is still stupidity."
I clenched my fists. "You threw nine souls into reincarnation to avoid paperwork."
"Tactical retreat," he corrected.
We stared at each other.
Then—despite myself—I laughed.
Short. Breathless. Tired.
"…You really haven't changed."
Soul One smiled, softer this time.
"Neither have you. Still angry. Still stubborn. Still a smart fool."
His gaze sharpened.
"But now you're doing it in a world where even breathing has laws."
I sobered. "So why am I here? I don't think my suicide attempt warrants you to personally invite me here."
"Because," he said simply, "you crossed a line."
The white space shifted again.
Threads appeared—countless glowing strands stretching into infinity. Some bright. Some frayed. Some burning with ominous colour.
"Cosmic attention," Soul One said lightly.
"Spiritual anomalies. System logs. Forbidden activations."
Several threads pulsed.
"My Edict masked you from most of it," he continued.
"But forbidden skills leave echoes."
"And echoes attract… interest."
My stomach sank. "Interest from who?"
He grinned.
"The usual. Things that think mortals are tools. Or toys. Or entertainment."
"…Great."
Soul One straightened.
"Which brings us to the real reason I'm here."
I sighed. "I knew there was a catch."
"Always is. I took care of all of the echoes for you, but in exchange."
He snapped his fingers.
A sigil appeared between us—layered, complex, pulsing in sync with my heartbeat—nothing like a System window.
"I have a mission for you," he said.
I eyed it warily. "I don't like the sound of that."
"Nobody does."
"What kind of mission?"
He smiled—slow and dangerous.
"The kind the System can't assign."
The sigil flared.
"Somewhere in this world," Soul One continued,
"There exists a boy."
And just like that—
I knew my not-so-peaceful life was officially over.