Silence settled afterward.
Not the awkward kind.
The dangerous kind—the kind where the universe pauses, watching to see how badly you're about to be screwed.
I exhaled slowly and looked at Soul One, who was still lounging in conceptual nothingness like a man enjoying a particularly entertaining chess match.
"…I have questions," I said.
"Oh, good," he replied brightly. "If you didn't, I'd have to worry about your intelligence."
I ignored that.
"Answer them properly," I said, "or I'll kill the Chosen myself."
Soul One smiled. "Confident words for someone who was nearly dog chew."
"Answer," I repeated.
He waved a hand lazily. "Proceed."
Question One: How do I hide?
"How do I stay hidden," I asked, "while staying close enough to protect the Chosen?"
Soul One didn't even pretend to think.
"I already gave you that."
I frowned. "That's not an answer."
"Yes, it is," he said, tapping an invisible point in the air. "Soul Obscurity."
I scowled. "That hides my soul signature. Not my actions. Not the consequences. Not what actually gets noticed."
"You asked how to hide," he replied calmly. "Not how to behave."
"That's dodging the question."
"No," he corrected. "That's defining it."
He gestured, and the familiar soul-model appeared again—my soul wrapped in crystalline layers, threads blurring outward until they dissolved into nothing.
"Soul Obscurity doesn't just conceal your soul aspects," he said. "It reduces your relevance. To systems. To fate. To observers who categorize anomalies by importance."
"So I'm background noise."
"Precisely," he said. "And background noise is rarely investigated—unless it becomes too loud, too consistent, or too impressive."
I clenched my jaw. "Which brings me to question two."
Question Two: How do I protect without being traced?
"Soul Obscurity doesn't erase consequences," I said. "The moment I interfere—kill something, sabotage a scheme, save a life—I create echoes. Ripples. Traces."
Soul One's smile widened.
"Good," he said. "You're thinking correctly."
He reached into nothing.
And pulled out a scroll.
Not a System window.
Not an artifact blazing with runes.
Just… a scroll.
Old parchment. Darkened edges. Symbols etched so subtly that my eyes kept sliding past them. The air around it felt wrong—not heavy, not powerful—just quiet.
Too quiet.
My Survival Instinct twitched.
Subtle.
But traceable.
"What is that?" I asked carefully.
"One of the most hunted objects in the world," Soul One said casually. "A class scroll."
My breath stalled.
"That's impossible," I said. "Those things can start bloodbaths."
"Oh, relax," he waved it off. "They're rare, not mythical."
He extended it toward me.
"It's yours—if you're willing to bear it."
Cold crept down my spine.
"Take it," he continued. "It doesn't replace what you are. It just gives you an extra role, subclass to be specific—nothing more."
I stared at the scroll.
"…What subclass?"
Soul One's eyes glinted.
"Read."
The scroll unfurled on its own.
Not with light.
With silence.
The words didn't glow or announce themselves. They simply were—etched directly into my perception.
_
Class: Soul Assassin (S Rank)
A predator who strikes at the soul rather than the flesh.
Soul Assassins exist half a step outside the battlefield—unseen, unfelt, and often unremembered until it's far too late.
Where armor fails.
Where regeneration cheats death.
Where destiny assumes safety.
They end stories.
-
My heart pounded.
"This—" I swallowed. "This is a specialized soul-based class."
"Yes," Soul One said pleasantly.
"You told me those were rare. Restricted. Dangerous."
"They are."
"And you're just handing me one?"
"I'm giving you a tool," he corrected.
The text continued.
_
SOUL POWER: ? / ?
A class-exclusive resource that refines Soulforce into a controlled medium.
All soul-based skills consume Soul Power instead of raw Soulforce.
-
I stiffened.
"That means—"
"You don't tear open your soul," Soul One finished. "You don't crack the core. You don't gamble your existence every time you act."
My pulse quickened—in excitement.
"But remember, soul power is still the refined form of soulforce; you have to be very resourceful in its use, because you cannot generate it within a fly."
My pulse slowed—just slightly.
The skills etched themselves next.
_
Skills:
• Soul Veil (S):
Envelops the user in a soul-shrouding veil that suppresses presence, killing intent, and perceptual detection. Reduces spiritual echoes left by hostile actions.
• Lethal Strike (S):
A precision execution attack targeting energy flow. Damage increases exponentially against unaware, restrained, or destabilized targets.
• Echo of the Soul (A):
Detects, analyzes, and tracks soul signatures. Reveals clones, illusions, afterimages, and spiritual residue.
_
My fingers tightened.
"This class doesn't fight openly."
"No," Soul One agreed. "It removes problems."
"You said soul-based classes are dangerous."
"They are," he said calmly. "So be cautious."
He tapped my chest.
"Combined with Soul Obscurity," he continued, "Soul Veil suppresses not just detection—but metaphysical aftermath as well. Fewer echoes. Less narrative weight."
He smiled faintly.
"You won't just be hidden. You'll be forgettable."
I swallowed.
"So I protect the Chosen," I said slowly, "by eliminating threats before anyone ever realizes they existed."
"Yes."
"And if I'm careful… no one traces it back to me."
"Correct."
"…You predicted this."
Soul One's grin was unapologetic. "I anticipated your trajectory. But you were the one, who activated the forbidden skill."
I exhaled sharply. "I hate how much sense this makes."
"You'll adapt," he said. "Or you'll die."
Question Three: How do I know when to interfere?
This was the one that mattered.
"How do I know," I asked quietly, "which dangers to stop?"
I met his gaze.
"How do I tell the difference between preventing disaster—
and breaking the story?"
The amusement faded from Soul One's face.
For the first time, he looked serious.
"That," he said, "is tricky."
He reached into nothing again.
This time, he pulled out a pair of spectacles.
Simple. Thin-framed. Clear lenses.
Utterly mundane.
Which gave me goosebumps.