Mask of the Departed

The moonlight was illusory, casting a sheet of silver-white that illuminated the grim and cold landscape of Iron Peak Mountain.

Iron Bone was having a "friendly" exchange with the Lady of Death's messenger, hovering above the cliffside and cursing incessantly:

"Listen here, you disgusting thing that feeds on the eyeballs of the dead, he is the only son of Malik and the only heir to our clan. If you kill him, do you really think I won't storm your pathetic, godforsaken place with a bunch of my old friends?!

Release Kas immediately, or I swear I'll pluck every single one of your feathers out right now!"

"Caw~ Caw~"

The messenger ignored Iron Bone's provocation entirely, head held high as it looked down coldly at the mortals below.

"Damn it..." Morse's skull was shrouded in red light, clearly enraged to the limit, but the spirit that could easily crush Blood-Ash's black steel into jam was meaningless when facing the Lady of Death.

He sighed helplessly; this matter was indeed instigated by Kas, who had offended the existence in the Sorrow Mountains that demanded the most reverence.

Iron Bone drifted slowly toward the foot of the mountain, only to hear the cry of the raven again.

"Caw~ Caw."

He gave a violent start, flying up to the raven and widening his eye sockets as far as they could possibly go: "You mean, if Kas does not wake before the first ray of sunlight touches Iron Peak Mountain, his wandering soul will never be able to return."

The Raven Messenger nodded and flew to the summit of Iron Peak Mountain, waiting for the moment the moon would fade away.

"Damn you, you really are..." Iron Bone cursed incessantly, hurrying to Seneya's side, his tone grave:

"We have two choices now. The first is to hope the brat wakes up before dawn; otherwise, he will remain in this state forever.

The second..."

He hesitated to name the second option, causing Isidore, huddled in a blanket, to ask again: "My lord, the second is?"

"Soul-calling..." Iron Bone murmured, explaining to the slave who would have to shoulder the important task:

"The Rishiman People believe the soul within a human body has three natures.

First is the Master Soul, the foundation that sustains life, controlling consciousness, instinct, intuition, and emotion;

Second is the Wandering Soul, which can exist and move outside the body, drifting away during sleep, and can even travel to distant places to make contact with spirits.

Third is the Essence Soul... you do not need to know what that is."

"Now that Kas's Wandering Soul has made contact with the Lady of Death, we must hold a soul-calling ritual to drag him back into his body..." He paused, sighing:

"But soul-calling requires the blood of a blood relative. Malik is missing, and my current state makes it impossible for me to provide blood."

The light in Iron Bone's eye sockets flickered violently as he stared at the contemplative Isidore:

"You are merely a slave, but for the sake of my descendant, for the continuation of Zagwell... I may have to break some taboos."

"Roar~" Before anyone knew when, Seneya, her eyes glowing red, crouched beside Kas.

She precisely retrieved a wooden bowl from the luggage, her sharp claws slicing through her fur-covered wrist.

Blood dripped bit by bit into the wooden bowl, and she then attempted to lift Kas's hand, only to be blocked by Iron Bone.

At this moment, Iron Bone was like a beast protecting its young.

His gaze, like a torch, stared at Seneya as she reached toward his descendant, his voice raspy and threatening:

"No, I will not allow this to happen. Your curse will interfere with his potential to walk the path of the divine."

"Roar!"

Seneya let out a low growl, the red light in her eyes intensifying, the killing intent radiating from her no less than that of the legendary Iron Bone.

Her state was nothing like her usual foolishly cute self, and her attitude toward Iron Bone was even worse, like a stressed mother wolf guarding her pup.

The red light in Morse's eyes gradually dimmed, turning into a purple hue symbolizing sorrow. He let out a long sigh and released his restraint on Seneya:

"I... hope this is the right thing to do."

The werewolf lifted Kas's hand, gently bit through the skin, and sipped his blood.

The blood flowed bit by bit from the werewolf's arm into the wooden bowl. When it was full, sorrow flickered in Seneya's eyes; she pried open Kas's lips with her claws and poured the bowl of circulating, brimming blood into the Dreamwalker's mouth.

While Seneya prepared the necessities for the soul-calling ritual, Morse lowered his voice and spoke to Isidore: "Southerner, can you draw and carve?"

"A little." Isidore nodded; he knew this was a critical juncture. If Kas died, his own life would be in extreme jeopardy.

The werewolf handed the blood-filled wooden bowl and a blanket to Isidore, then dropped to all fours and sprinted into the distance under the moonlight.

With the raw materials for the ritual items prepared, Morse looked at the plain, unadorned blanket.

"Very well, use the blood to draw a Golden-Branch Giant Antlered Deer on the blanket. It can be as ugly as you like, as long as it's a deer."

"A deer? I'll try my best."

Time was pressing. For the sake of his life, Isidore prepared to draw directly. The moment his index finger dipped into the wooden bowl, a bone-chilling cold seeped from his skin into his marrow.

The chill spread, as if it were the maw of a giant serpent, freezing his marrow into ice shards and causing his soul to stagnate in death.

He looked up at Morse, intending to say that the blood was strange, but seeing the deep, ink-like black-red light in Iron Bone's eyes, he knew that saying anything would be useless.

His gradually numbing fingers drew an extremely abstract deer on the blanket; the curved antlers looked like overlapping caterpillars, and the body resembled a monkey with twisted limbs.

Seneya returned quickly, carrying a round log. Her claws flashed, sending large amounts of wood shavings flying as she carved the log into a board, then cut it to the size of a human face and poked three distinct holes into it.

"A mask, carve any mask you can."

Isidore took his short blade and quickly worked the rough wooden plank. His craftsmanship was quite good; with just a few strokes, he added a nose, ears, and eyebrows to the mask that previously only featured eyes and a mouth.

"Blood, smear the mask with blood."

Blood stained the mask crimson. As Isidore stared into the dark red visage, the rough, cold grooves where the blood flowed made the hollow eyes seem as if they could peer directly into his soul...

What kind of bizarre and terrifying witchcraft was this?

Suppressing his revulsion, he held up the mask and asked, "Is there anything else that needs to be done?"

"Put on the mask, raise the Soul-Summoning Banner, and walk to the summit of Iron Peak Mountain."

"What?" Isidore froze, looking up at the cloud-piercing Iron Peak Mountain, momentarily stunned.

He had never dreamed that he would become the officiant of a soul-summoning ritual.

"Isidore..." This was the first time Morse had addressed the Southerner by name:

"I will tell you a secret... if you wish to leave the Sorrow Mountains alive, the only way is to snap the golden branch of the Ancient Oak of the Her Tribe. Your master must grant you freedom and promise to send you back to your homeland.

You need only follow my instructions, wear the mask, and walk to the peak of Iron Peak Mountain, and I will tell you how to bypass the spirits of the Sacred Forest and touch the Ancient Oak."

Compared to Iron Bone, who seduced courage with hope, Seneya was much more direct; her sharp fangs and claws glinted coldly in the moonlight.

A low growl filled with killing intent urged Isidore to set off quickly, or she would kill him the moment the first light of dawn appeared.

"Very well, but I hope you keep your promise."

"Iron Bone never lies."

Isidore squeezed his eyes shut and tentatively hung the mask over his face.

He opened his eyes to find hundreds of hideous warriors clad in Black Steel plate and chainmail standing on the soil of Iron Peak Mountain, staring at him with cold indifference.

He tried to pull the mask off, only to find that the mask, which had no leather straps to secure it, seemed to have adhered to his face, merging with his skin and refusing to be separated.

Iron Bone floated before Isidore, likewise staring at the Black Steel Warriors:

"Ignore them... you have donned the Mask of the Departed and become a living man walking among the dead."