Wandering Soul

Darkness filled the entire room. Even the blackness itself began to grow viscous, and every breath became extraordinarily difficult.

This time, because Alice was holding his hand, he knew that his hand had not betrayed him.

Yet he was even more confused. Did this count as an illusion?

Once again, he became lost, bewildered, and hesitant between reality and illusion.

Someone seemed to be speaking, but the voice itself had already lost its meaning.

Scattered, noisy, indistinct...

Aaron looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but increasingly felt that it was coming from everywhere.

Darkness stripped him of his sight, the noise weakened his hearing, and his sense of smell seemed to have vanished from becoming accustomed to the scent of spices. His sense of taste had long since been excluded...

Aaron suddenly felt that his body was extremely heavy, yet somehow light as well.

He tried to struggle.

To no avail.

His heavy flesh bound him like a cage, imprisoning a prisoner trying to escape and firmly restricting his restless desire to break free.

For some reason, his desire to escape grew increasingly intense.

It was as if some voice were guiding him in the darkness, calling out to him and encouraging him.

In his confusion, he rallied and struggled with strength that had appeared from nowhere. Then his body suddenly lightened...

He had escaped from the prison of his flesh.

He had no time to rejoice, for even greater bewilderment awaited him.

As he broke free, all sounds fell silent. Everything vanished, leaving only eternal darkness.

In the depths of the darkness, a solitary point of light flickered.

He knew that was him.

But what about the voice?

Where had the voice that guided, called, and encouraged him gone?

Time lost its chance to speak before the darkness. Aaron had no idea how he was supposed to measure it now.

Everything seemed frozen, yet also seemed to continue.

Was this still an illusion?

Aaron vaguely guessed.

But what was the deal with Sart's ritual? How had he managed to create such a huge commotion?

Wait, who was Sart? And what was a ritual?

He was slightly confused, then suddenly shuddered in alarm!

He did not remember who Sart was, but he knew that Sart was unquestionably an extremely important name.

His instincts were warning him, so he had to remember it!

He had to remember...

Sar... What was Sart again?

Saramimi?

It sounded delicious...

His thoughts began to scatter beyond his control. While he was distracted, the point of light symbolizing his soul continued to disperse. Yet after blooming came doubled emptiness, and the ball of light gradually dimmed.

He should never have picked up that coin!

Aaron struggled to recall, clinging with all his might to the scant memories he had left.

Wait, that coin?

Aaron froze. As soon as the thought surfaced, he saw a spinning two-colored coin in the seemingly frozen darkness.

At last, another color appeared in the monotonous darkness, and everything was about to change.

It was like time reversing. Countless points of light surged from the darkness and flowed back into the ball of light.

Everything seemed reborn, and the ball of light shone once more.

"Aaron, remember everything from today. Never forget that your surname is Albert."

In a daze, Aaron heard an extremely familiar voice. It was Old Albert's voice.

"Father, I will never forget." That was his voice—or rather, Aaron's voice.

"The glory of the family..."

Aaron's final memory was Old Albert's sigh. Then he felt himself falling.

The darkness below was dispelled, and he saw the scene beneath his feet.

He saw Alice trying to wake him, his soul already gone. He saw Sart rapidly scattering Spirit Powder, and he saw Lord Bals standing with a solemn expression, the metal prosthetic body on him glimmering faintly.

An invisible force tugged at him, attracting him and dragging him back into the present.

The weightlessness of his soul had not yet completely faded when he instinctively began to struggle. The sudden heaviness made him extremely uncomfortable, almost causing him to lose his balance.

Just like when he had first emerged from the Enlightenment Ritual, his mind was blank.

"Starlight Above, all things will eventually reveal themselves." Sart's voice rang out, unusually solemn.

"Starlight Above, all things will eventually reveal themselves." Another person's voice clearly passed through the wall and entered the room.

Azure light suppressed the darkness in the room in the blink of an eye. The originally dull, dark-red crystal became vivid again, and the nonexistent flames rekindled, causing the candlelight in the room to flare as well.

The constantly waving arms shrieked and retracted. In the end, all the darkness filling the room condensed once more into a bronze-colored card, silently floating above the table.

Sart wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, then turned to look at everyone. "The ritual is over."

"What happened?" Lord Bals asked with a frown.

"He made the worst mistake he could have made. He didn't release a marking ritual first, but directly chose to perform a prophecy ritual instead." A person pushed open the door and entered, speaking calmly. "Yet, senior, you were the only person to receive full marks in Ritual Studies back then. I truly never thought you would make such a mistake."

Senior? Sart was his senior?

Alice instinctively examined the newcomer. He had ear-length silver hair, pale green light flickering in his eyes, and a mocking smile on his lips.

He wore a linen robe almost identical to Sart's, with a small tower-shaped symbol marked on the right side of his chest.

"Siosand, you came."

He was clearly Sart's junior, yet Sart's attitude was not warm at all. There was even a hint of unintentional estrangement.

"If this is all you're capable of, senior, I think I need to inform the teacher. Perhaps he should replace you." He smiled courteously, casually sweeping his gaze over everyone in the room before nodding toward Lord Bals. "Esteemed Lord Bals, I am Siosand, a Silver Tier prophet of the Star Tower."

Sart replied coldly, "I didn't have time to prepare a marking ritual. That would only have given the other party time to prepare in advance."

"So you should have waited for me," Siosand replied. "As long as I'm here, you only need to perform a Marking School ritual. Following the soul imprint, I can find him directly, instead of leaving us in our current predicament."

Unable to bear Siosand's aggressive manner, Sart sneered. "You?"

"Could you solve this problem alone?"

"You..."

Seeing that the two were speaking with open hostility, Bals had no choice but to cough and ask, "So, what exactly is going on now?"

"That Heretical Cult believer may be a fallen one from the Gold Coin Path. When I performed the ritual, he sensed my presence as well and tried to corrupt us in reverse." Sart spoke lightly. "Of course, he failed, and I didn't fail either."

He paused and glanced at Siosand. "He really is somewhere in a sewer in Leyden City right now."

Thanks to Fen Powder, Steam Immortal Cactus, Nobody Understands Voting Better Than Me, and reader 20201228145555263 for the tips.

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But in truth, I'm craving recommendation votes and free monthly votes...

I'd be really happy if everyone could hand over your votes~

Also, I'll be getting a recommendation tomorrow. A trial recommendation...

So I'll add another chapter tomorrow,

As everyone knows, working 996 and writing 4,000 words a day, adding another chapter is already the limit...

As for the quality... TAT

Those who understand, understand...

If the stats don't pick up, this book will...

Though I really won't abandon it. (Too many people are supervising me with knives; abandoning it would be too socially fatal...)

("Ah, are you that pit god whose bottom has disappeared?")

Emmmm

But it's impossible to say I'm not even a little disappointed...

How should I put it? The pacing of this book may be slow beyond imagination...

I'll do my best to speed it up...

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