·
A soul is a vessel—fragile yet immeasurably profound—and the power it contains is what wizards call soul energy. When this energy condenses into tangible form, it becomes a soul crystal.
To many wizards scattered across the vast expanse of the Multiple Universes, soul energy is the single most inclusive form of power known to exist. Elemental energy, for instance, cannot be absorbed by countless species whose bodies lack the proper channels or affinity. Soul energy, however, follows almost no such restrictions. Nearly all beings, regardless of origin or evolutionary path, can absorb, transform, or utilize soul energy in some capacity.
Because of this unparalleled universality, soul energy has become one of the most widely applied power sources in the known worlds.
A soul crystal, then, is the final echo of a departed soul—a condensed crystallization of soul energy left behind after death. Such formations are precious, both for their rarity and for their near-endless utility. Unfortunately, naturally formed soul crystals are exceedingly uncommon. Only certain unique, often dangerous, entities leave behind raw soul crystals upon death, and such beings are rarely encountered.
For most wizards, artificial creation becomes the only viable method. Creating a soul crystal by hand requires the preparation of an appropriate vessel. Among countless materials, gemstones are the most widely chosen due to their stable structure and high energy compatibility.
At this moment, Magus was doing precisely that—artificially crafting a soul crystal.
Around him, translucent specters wailed in unwilling terror as invisible force dragged them one after another into the prepared gemstones. As each spirit was swallowed, the gem in Magus's hand darkened, its color bleeding toward a dull, ominous gray.
Within moments, every vengeful spirit haunting the ruined manor had vanished.
Magus frowned slightly and asked the only remaining presence, "Are there more?"
The evil spirit floating nearby trembled with fury beneath his anticipatory gaze. But Magus was dissatisfied—the energy consumed so far was insufficient. The gem needed more to fully transform.
His stare seemed to provoke the evil spirit into a fit of rage. With a piercing shriek, she released a blast of negative energy aimed straight at him.
But the attack dissipated harmlessly against the translucent barrier of his Shield spell.
Sensing her attack had failed, the evil spirit abandoned restraint. Her form lifted abruptly from the air before she hurled herself toward him like a streak of dark lightning.
Magus didn't so much as glance at her. He simply murmured a sequence of intricate, ancient syllables, focusing entirely on shaping the spell in his mind.
At the moment, Magus carried three layers of defense: his Shield spell, a dense constellation of protective energy particles orbiting his body, and a protective ring enchanted with defensive magic.
On top of that, he held an Earth Rune Gem in his palm, ready to activate instantly if needed.
With these protections, the evil spirit posed no real threat; she could not possibly break through them in a short time.
And indeed—by the time Magus completed his spell, the evil spirit's clawed hands had barely scratched the outer surface of the shield.
"Magic Missile."
Three fist-sized projectiles materialized instantly, their surfaces shimmering with pale arcane light. They shot forward like arrows, piercing straight through the evil spirit's ethereal form. Each impact tore a ragged hole through her essence. Her shriek of agony was shrill enough to rattle the air, and her already translucent body dimmed even further.
Magus's expression remained calm, almost serene, as he prepared and released a second volley of Magic Missiles.
Thus began a brief but intense clash.
The evil spirit abandoned all thought of defense—truthfully, she had none to begin with. Her form darted erratically through the air, weaving in unpredictable arcs as she attempted repeatedly to slip past Magus's defenses and reach his physical body. Each time, however, the shimmering shield intercepted her with perfect timing, preventing even a graze from landing.
Magus, by contrast, stood rooted in place, conserving energy and focusing only on his spellwork. One Magic Missile after another struck the evil spirit with merciless precision.
Even when she finally managed to tear through a portion of the shield—her claws scraping lightly against the outer layer of his energy particles—her condition had already deteriorated beyond recovery.
The spirit had taken four Magic Missiles in succession. Her form flickered like a dying flame, fragile and on the brink of collapse. Only now, with dread overtaking anger, did she attempt to escape.
But it was far too late.
Magus released the fifth Magic Missile, watched it strike with pinpoint accuracy, then raised the half-transformed gemstone in his hand.
The gem—now pulsing faintly—released a powerful pull, exerting an invisible gravitational force that seized the weakened spirit.
She shrieked in despair and twisted violently, but exhaustion left her powerless. Inch by inch, unwillingly but inevitably, her soul was dragged into the gem.
When the final wisp of her essence disappeared inside, the gemstone's surface solidified into a uniform gray crystal.
A true soul crystal.
"It's done," Magus whispered, unable to hide a hint of satisfaction.
Ordinarily, crafting even the lowest-grade soul crystal required the souls of dozens of knights—an amount of refined soul energy difficult to gather without specialized tools. With his current mental strength, Magus could not yet extract souls directly from corpses. Such a task required magical arrays or advanced soul-extraction artifacts, neither of which he possessed.
But vengeful spirits and evil spirits were different. Their forms were naturally composed of condensed negative soul energy. All he needed was to weaken them and absorb them by force.
A single evil spirit could replace twenty or thirty knight souls—sometimes more.
After storing the newly formed crystal carefully, Magus lifted his gaze toward the Bloody Mandarava growing not far away.
This carnivorous, sinister flower had created the evil spirit as a sort of mobile avatar—an external extension formed by concentrating a vast portion of its accumulated energy. Freed from its rooted limitations, the avatar could move freely and attack independently.
Thus, when the evil spirit perished, the Bloody Mandarava suffered a devastating backlash. The once-vibrant flower now drooped visibly, its petals shriveling and its size shrinking until it stood less than twenty centimeters tall.
Magus knelt beside it, grasped its stem firmly, and pulled it from the earth.
The Mandarava thrashed violently, emitting a psychic scream sharp enough to scrape against one's mind. It tried desperately to burrow back into the ground, but in its weakened state, its struggles were feeble.
Magus forced it into a silver-plated box engraved with a Soul Sealing Array. The runes shimmered faintly as the lid closed, sealing away the flower's psychic influence.
So long as the box remained shut, the Mandarava would pose no danger.
Magus dusted off his hands and surveyed the manor grounds.
With both the entrenched evil spirit and the Bloody Mandarava neutralized, the once-menacing estate began to revert to a mundane ruin. The eerie mandalas that had saturated the garden wilted rapidly, decaying into lifeless black husks. The oppressive atmosphere lifted, revealing a place that now looked merely abandoned rather than cursed.
But appearances were deceiving. A dense concentration of negative energy particles still permeated the air, invisible yet potent enough to cause sickness or madness. Left alone, the contamination would take four or five months to disperse naturally.
A Wizard Apprentice could purify it within days—but Magus saw no reason to offer free labor.
A thousand gold coins for eliminating an evil spirit was already inexpensive. Had it not been for the soul crystal and the Bloody Mandarava, he would never have accepted such a low-paying task.
Outside the manor gates, Viscount Silver Moon paced anxiously. Every few seconds, he glanced toward the manor, worry written plainly across his face. Not long after Magus entered, a sudden blaze erupted from within, followed by bone-chilling screams that had nearly made the viscount's legs give out.
He wanted to send guards to investigate, yet none dared approach. The unknown horrors inside were too intimidating.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he wrestled with fear and duty.
At last, Magus stepped out from the manor's entrance.
"Sir Ang—" The viscount hurried over, voice trembling with both worry and hope. He wanted to ask a dozen questions but couldn't find the words.
Magus spared him the trouble. "The evil spirit has been dealt with."
Relief washed across the viscount's face like a breaking wave. His knees almost buckled from the release of tension.
"There is still heavy contamination inside," Magus added calmly. "Do not let anyone live there for at least half a year."
The viscount nodded repeatedly. Even without the warning, he had already decided that the manor would remain sealed forever. No noble in their right mind would live in such a place after what happened, and he certainly wouldn't attempt to grant it again.
What mattered was that Stone Bell City—his rightful territory—was safe. A single manor was insignificant in comparison.
"Sir Ang," he said with renewed enthusiasm, "I have already had a grand banquet prepared. Please, allow me the honor of hosting you."
Having encountered such a powerful wizard, he would be a fool not to try drawing him into his sphere. If he could persuade Magus to settle in his domain, he would gladly offer not merely a manor but an entire town.
Unfortunately for him, Magus didn't even hesitate.
"No need. I have other matters."
Without waiting for a response, Magus turned and walked away.
As he departed, a guard sprinted past him toward the viscount. With Magus's sharp hearing, he clearly caught the whispered message:
"My lord, Shimmer Baron has declared war on Blackstone City!"
For more chapters
patreon.com/Liamlivingstone