“Zalanir” yanked the last piece of hide off of the enemy’s chest. Some of the fur and bloody skin still stuck inside his nails, though his gaze was firmly on the beating heart.

  Grggggg! Inserting his head into the loser’s chest, Zalanir grabbed the valve and whisked it together with the pounding heart off. A condensed line of liquid coursed through the gap of his fingers, branching out into four smaller lines and dropping off from his elbow.

  The bear’s head erupted into green vortexes, and quickly they formed a whirlwind of green energy encircled his spot.

  Kac! Kac! Kac! Zalanir laughed at the useless struggle from the enemy, but then he squatted down and punched his head. Black smoke went off chaotically in the surroundings, lifting all the rabbit carcasses up and flung them off in all directions.

  Grggggg! He scratched the bear’s belly and grabbed onto its bones.

  Fear? No, this couldn’t be fear, for he had none of that. Stopped fighting back. The bones he held onto were crushed under his grip, leaving him tilting to the side and collapsing onto the rough, bare hide. He convulsed and kept on tapping the bear and his head until he lost his thoughts. Nothing remained inside his head. Just pure darkness.

  He lost?

  His head hurt like hell, as if someone had been holding some pipes and hitting him nonstop. And not only physical wounds. His mind rotated between two states: blankness and a medley of all the emotions that he could name, with anger being the most dominant. Annoying for sure, but at least he won. He had regained control of his body.

  Bouncy? He tapped his fingers on the ground, and the ground responded by pushing his fingers up a little. Since when did the ground become like this? If he remembered correctly, he must’ve been near the altar …

  Thousands of images bombarded his mind, jolting him up from the bouncing ground, which threw him off balance and dropped him onto a hard floor. Dirt sprang to life around him, floating in the air and blocking his view for a brief moment.

  That was right. That soul took control of his body. Black smoke? They were still here? Rabbits? When did rabbits even get here …

  Zalanir stopped thinking when the smoke slowly dissolved, revealing the hellhole that he was in. His fingers became concrete breakers as they kept on tapping his thighs from the sides. Even breathing became heavy and required all of his effort. His heart was being squeezed by something invisible, but even that couldn’t stop it from drumming inside his chest.

  Thumb! Thumb! Thumb!

  They were no rabbits. What he had killed weren’t mindless rabbits, but enforcers, cultists, and even hunters. Their bodies littered the ground. None was intact. An enforcer even got half of his head vaporizing, exposing …

  Blargh! He bent forward and vomited on the spot. There was even something yellowish white and slimy coming out that he shifted his gaze away from immediately. One look was enough.

  Cough! A sudden sound staggered Zalanir, making him jump to the side while blood and phlegm were still stuck on his mouth from the disrupted vomit.

  The captain? Zalanir ran up to the man laying supine with the kinky black afro. Well, not anymore, since one-third of it was gone. Something sharp had peeled that magnificent hair into a half dome, leaving the left side of his head with nothing but a bare area. His flying sword lay shattered on the ground, with only the hilt left in his hand.

  “Are you ok—” Zalanir extended his hand forward.

  “Hahaha.” Putrieta cackled, then followed with two coughs. “As expected from someone from the Second Ring. Didn’t take you long to consume his soul and assume the man’s memories.” Blood kept oozing out of his mouth, while his fingers continued to stroke the sword hilt. “Could you be generous in answering this loser’s queries? What are you? That black magic wasn’t something a normal creature could possess. What grade are you at? Why is someone as strong as you coming down here?”

  “Let’s rescue you first. Please hang in there. I will find some—”

  “DROP THE ACT!” Not only from his mouth, blood now even dripped out of his eye sockets and a new tear on his neck. “Is this even needed? You already won. But Wagenner is dead already. Haha, that’s right. He is dead, so how long can you stay here? Without a summoner, what can you do?”

  What? The prophet was dead already? Zalanir whirled around and stopped at a black bear the size of a floor laying on its back. Under its enormous arm was the prophet with his neck cracked open and tilted to the right. His eyes were still wide open, as if death had arrived too sudden for him.

  Zalanir remembered the soul killing the bear. Its savagery was still as fresh in his mind. However, he couldn’t recall facing the prophet. What happened? A situation when the elephants fought, it was the grass that suffered? Did some of that black smoke get to him, or was it the captain who delivered the killing blow?

  “I—”

  Without any warning, something snapped inside his head. His consciousness went blank, leaving him with no preparation and no reaction. The last sensation he could tell was that, in the same very frame, pain seized and ravaged his whole body from the inside out.

  ***

  Something fluffy snuggled his left fingers, its surface smooth like silk. Then, it moved up his arm, like a brush painting a solid line without any breaks on his skin.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Ah, ah, ah. It was now on his face, though different from the gentle feel, something wet and playful continuously touching his lips and cheeks.

  Slowly opening his eyes, the first thing he saw were two bundles of blankets tugged on top of the frame of a square, gray window. The right half was left open, inviting bright sunlight in.

  He lifted his head, wanting to know where this was, when an orange cat swarmed into view, pushed him back to the soft pillow, and continued its assault of licks and snuggles.

  So it was you … Zalanir tapped the cat’s back and scratched its fur, earning him some meows from the cute creature. If only he could maintain this serenity and play with the cat forever. Zalanir let out a sigh. Now that he was awake, memories flooded his mind, catching him up with the latest developments.

  He had passed away all of a sudden back there at the cultist lair while having a weird conversation with the captain. His body was good to go now, but what was that explosion of pain in the end? Did someone attack him? Was he being kidnapped again?

  What? Kidnapped?

  Jolting up from his position and accidentally throwing the cat off of his face onto the wooden floor, Zalanir raised his fists to the front of his face and straightened up his shoulders, but soon found it to be an overreaction as he was inside a warm, cozy small room.

  A clean table stood on his right, with an almost empty bowl staying on top. Some sort of yellow liquid lingered inside. Except for the single-person bed he was sitting upon and a normal door to the left of the window, there was no other thing inside this room. Really just a simple room that spoke nothing of kidnapping.

  Oh, except for an angry cat, as it was hurling its paw in the air and growled at him. Chuckling to himself, Zalanir gently clapped his hands while saying sorry, then tapping an empty spot on his left. The orange cat showed some suspicion at first, but then it meowed and jumped to where he was again. Its nose sniffed his waist area and landed right on top of it, nuzzling its wet, pinky nose into his belly.

  The sight of the massacre got into his mind again, but Zalanir quickly dismissed it. To his defense, it wasn’t his doing. It was the soul that possessed him doing it with its black magic. That soul was certainly strong. If not for his journey into Verizss’ia’s mind, that could’ve been the strongest being he had seen up to date.

  That giant black bear had to be the equivalent to the birduomera and the stag. No, likely stronger, considering the scale of the ritual. But then, how strong was the soul that got summoned? The prophet was a C-grade, so perhaps it was C-grade as well, though Zalanir had an inkling it was stronger than that. While being possessed, he had the feeling everything inside that chamber was just toys for him to play with. He was fully capable of killing everyone.

  That being said, had anyone survived? The captain didn’t look too good back then, and what was the deal with him acting like that? He mentioned the Second Ring, didn’t he? This term again. Eiselen had also used it in her attempt to get Zalanir to her side back at the bat cave. The enforcers also seemed to place heavy emphasis on this. He had noted it down in his mind to find out what it was, but now he became even more curious about it.

  As for the thing he said about having no summoner — which Zalanir was sure was pointing at the summoned soul — he didn’t care that much. He had been able to keep the siblings alive all the time in his mind, and now that he had the lantern active, there was no way this could be an issue.

  Giving the cat some patting on the head, Zalanir projected his attention toward his mind, where a dark green mansion was floating in the deepest corner. It was a risky bet, but it had paid off even more than what he had hoped for. Not only did he catch the soul, he also got the perfect prison for it. No longer a crude cage made up of his energy, the two souls were trapped inside the first floor of the lantern. One of them rushed to him and rammed into the wall when he peeked over the window, but a green aura pushed it off with minimal effort.

  That would be the big one that possessed him then. Still as savage as he had recalled. Zalanir turned to the second one in a corner, separated from the other by a green wall. Its size was less than one-third of the big one, and it was shaking like a prey whenever the big one ran over. He had full trust in the lantern, but still, no reason to let them devour each other for now. He still had plenty of study and experiments to do, and keeping them separated would give him much leeway with what he wanted to do.

  Zalanir was about to pull out when something caught his attention. He had almost missed it if he hadn’t gone for a round to take in the marvelous sight of the lantern. Under the initial window that he had stood at was a third soul laying motionlessly on the floor. It was the smallest one, only half the size of the soul shaking in the corner.

  What was this? A detachment from one of those? Its color was the same as the other two, so that option was very likely. Did the soul automatically divide themselves after a certain period or something? But they wanted to devour the other?

  Zalanir formed another segment to keep it separated, but was surprised that one was already in place. He had no memory of seeing or doing this. Weird!

  “Oh, you’re awake!”

  A calm voice pulled him out of his assessment on the third soul and back to the world outside. Not many days that he didn’t hear what was coming from afar.

  A man in his 50s stood smiling at the door, his hand holding another bowl of the same type as the one on the table nearby. An earthy, strong scent of mushrooms took over the room and Zalanir’s nose, easily making his belly rioting. The cat was startled by that, jumping up and tilting its head at him in confusion.

  Zalanir smiled. It was good to see the familiar face of the chef once again.

  “Thank you for taking care of me!” Zalanir bent his head. It was pretty clear with Dakrua standing there that Zalanir had been in his care.

  “You have been sleeping for a long time. If you’re up now, take this for yourself.” Dakrua placed the delicious bowl on the table.

  “What happened … back at the lair? I wanted to help you there, but you just didn’t wake up.” Zalanir pulled the cat over and stroked its chin, but his attention was fully on the chef. He wanted to know what had transpired after he had passed out.

  “Rest first. Now that you’re awake, the council will call for your attendance soon. Then, we will know what had actually happened. I already gave mine, but as one of the three survivors, yours will be important.”

  “Only three? Who’s … the last one?” Zalanir couldn’t believe it. Out of all the enforcers, cultists, and hunters, only three survived the battle? So they all died by his hands? Zalanir trembled lightly at the notion. His hand stopped stroking the cat, earning him an angry meow and making it leave his lap.

  “Hiina. She was the one finding out that you are still alive.”

  “Oh, I’m glad that she made it.”

  Zalanir grabbed the bowl of soup on the table. Three pieces of brown and red mushrooms swam inside the yellow liquid.

  It was stressful enough already with all the killing. Only three people alive? Fucked that. He slurped the whole bowl in one go. At least he could give his stomach something to calm himself down. Food had always performed this function beautifully.

  “Where are we, by the way?” Zalanir asked after releasing a loud burp. Dakrua’s food was the best.

  “Yebin. Welcome to the city.” The chef smiled.

  ***

  End of book 1.

  We all have 24 hours a day. Thank you for spending some of that with me!

  What do you like the most in the first volume?