Chương 438: Necromancy and Undeath

Stepping through the Spire gate into Bastion's central war-room was like stepping back into the warm, familiar embrace of home. The starlight-blue spatial light faded, revealing Jeeves standing by the console, silver tray in hand, flanked by Anna, Crys, and Rexxar.

"Welcome back, Master," Jeeves bowed impeccably, handing me a glass of chilled fruit nectar.

"Your transition was smooth, and the long-distance emergency ping array performed flawlessly during your absence."

"It's good to be back, Jeeves," I smiled, taking a long sip of the nectar. Anna stepped forward, her silver eyes scanning my physical frame with perceptive care before a wide, relieved smile broke across her face.

"You look different in your return, as per usual, Eren. Your aura... it feels denser, but much smoother."

"My flame was honed and partially 'evolved'," I explained, adjusting my cloak as Crys and Rexxar joined us.

"And my soul gate expanded. I also brought back a massive trove of pre-Shattering archives." I spent my first three days back on Ferra re-engaging with my found family, my inner circle, and my students. I conducted a special lecture in the central Academy courtyard for my elite student cohort — Jared, Vesk, Talise, Toby, and several others. Standing on the high basalt terrace, I demonstrated the metaphysical difference between standard System Mana and uncompiled Spirit-Flame.

I summoned a small ember of my evolved [Voidflame] onto my palm. The black-red liquid fire now pulsed with glowing, golden veins of primordial soulfire, humming with a glass-shattering frequency that made the students' eyes widen in awe.

"System Mana is drawn inward and shaped into spells," I taught them, letting the golden-veined flame dance across my fingers.

"True Flame is pushed outward from your Spirit. When you cultivate an elemental affinity, don't treat it as a tool to be commanded; commune with its origin within your soul gate. I'm not sure if we'll ever be able to develop you Soulfire to the point of manifesting a Flame but we can always try." Jared watched the golden flame with wide eyes, taking rapid notes on his slate, while Talise and Toby practiced their non-linear wind-slopes under the watchful eye of the grandmasters Lord Borvo had sent from the Zenith.

Seeing the city thrive, seeing my students grow stronger every single cycle, reminded me why I fought so hard to protect this world. On the fourth afternoon, I gathered with Kasian, Leoric, and Jeeves in the Hall of the Chronicle to get a debriefing on how their decoding of the data-crystals I had copied from the subterranean Sanctum has been going. Kasian's spectral form floated over the central projection array, his ancient eyes flashing as gigabytes of pre-Shattering metadata streamed across his screens.

Leoric sat at the control console, his sleep-deprived, caffeinated energy hyper-focused as he ran diagnostic scripts on the Master's soul-weaving equations.

"Fascinating..." Kasian murmured, his spectral fingers tracing a complex runic equation displaying soul-gate geometry.

"Master Eren, the research slates you recovered from this Sanctum contain some of the most sophisticated pre-Shattering analyses of memory-lattice stabilization I have ever witnessed."

"What about the faction he mentioned?" I asked, leaning against the slate desk.

"The Onyx Choir. Are they connected to the Undead Synod or the necrotic factions we encountered during the Confluence?" Kasian paused, shaking his spectral head firmly.

"No. In fact, according to these archives, the Onyx Choir and the Undead Synod were bitter, blood enemies during the pre-Shattering era."

"Enemies?" I raised an eyebrow.

"They both practice dark arts regarding death and soul manipulation."

"They operate on fundamentally opposing philosophies, Master," Kasian explained, pulling up a historic comparative diagram.

"The Undead Synod creates puppets on a string. They take lifeless corpses, strip them of their original identity, and animate them using artificial miasma. Because undead constructs have lost their soul gates and star-cores, they cannot generate their own essence. They must attach themselves like leeches to a living host or a planetary Sanctum to survive." Kasian pointed to a section of the Master's notes detailing the Onyx Choir's tenets.

"The Onyx Choir, on the other hand, were elitist soul-architects. They held a deep, near-religious pride in true soul magic. They viewed the Undead Synod as crude, mindless butchers who desecrated the divine architecture of the soul. The Choir's entire philosophy revolved around preserving, weaving, and imprinting intact soul gates and memory-lattices within artificial or replicated vessels."

"So the Onyx Choir looked down on the Undead as beneath them," I summarized.

"Precisely," Kasian nodded.

"They viewed themselves as preservers of identity across reincarnation, whereas the Undead were merely scavengers animating meat." For two days, Leoric, Kasian, and I ran simulated soul-weaving tests on artificial quartz matrices based on the Master's corrected equations.

By applying a new philosophy — treating a soul's memory-lattice as a fluid, dynamic tapestry rather than a rigid geometric box — we managed to increase the memory-transfer stability in our simulations from twenty percent to over fifty-five percent. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. It was a massive breakthrough.

While I still had no intention of using the math to create hollow duplicates, the refined equations gave us a concrete blueprint to construct conceptual shields around my inner circle's soul gates, rendering them immune to memory-erasing Runic Parasites. On the sixth day, I visited the Cradle — Bastion's high-tier elemental training arena — to spar with Kaelen and test my evolved skills alongside Bennu.

The Cradle's floor was carved from reinforced magnetic slate, surrounded by heavy containment arrays designed to withstand nuclear-dense kinetic strikes. I stepped into the center of the arena, opening my soul gate to channel my evolved [Voidflame]. The black-red liquid fire exploded around me, its new gold-and-violet veins humming with primordial soulfire authority. Lucas stepped back, raising his shield in genuine awe.

"By the Primes, Eren... your fire feels like a sun collapsing!" Bennu, who was perched on a high stone archway above the arena, let out a loud, triumphant screech. The Phoenix Bird swooped down, his golden-red plumage blazing as he hovered beside me, eager to inspect my newfound power.

"Look at this, Bennu," I smiled, holding out my gauntleted hand as the golden-veined flame danced across my fingers.

"I refined the soulfire aspect in a subterranean core." Bennu landed on my arm, leaning his head close to inspect the flame. He let out a soft, pleased chirp, clearly thrilled by the immense entropic density of my evolved fire. Then, Bennu took a deep, inquisitive sniff of my aura. Instantly, Bennu's golden eyes widened in shock. His fiery feathers puffed out, turning a violent, angry crimson as he let out a sharp, ear-splitting screech of absolute outrage!

Bennu flapped his wings frantically, hopping off my arm and landing on a nearby stone pillar, glaring at me with furious, betrayed eyes. I blinked in utter confusion, holding my hands up.

"Bennu? What's wrong? Why are you mad?"

"You smell like another Phoenix!" Bennu sent frantic telepathic squawks with an angry, disbelieving frown.

"You had another avian spirit try to leave a soul-imprint on your aura!"

"A soul-imprint?" I frowned.

"I didn't feel any imprint." Bennu screeched again, hopping from foot to foot on the pillar, pointing a feather at my chest. Anna laughed softly, shaking her head.

"Bennu says it's a phoenix-only soul-scent — a subtle aura marker that celestial birds use to claim a partner or mark a bonded cultivator. He says you carry Bennu's mark, and some unauthorized, impudent bird dared to brush its feathers against your cloak!" I stood in the center of the arena, scratching my head as I remembered Squeak, the tiny golden Phoenix Anima who had perched on my shoulder for weeks in the subterranean Sanctum.

Squeak had constantly nuzzled its golden head against my cloak while eating pastries.

"Bennu, listen to me," I said gently, stepping closer to the pillar and keeping my tone warm.

"The bird you sense wasn't a real celestial phoenix trying to bond with me. It was an Anima — a tiny guardian spirit named Squeak who was left alone in a subterranean vault for thousands of cycles." Bennu stopped screeching, tilting his head, his angry crimson feathers smoothing down slightly as he listened to my voice.

"Squeak was built eons ago to guard an ancient library," I explained, showing Bennu a memory-projection of the tiny, thumb-sized golden bird hovering inside its gravity bubble.

"Its Master left thousands of years ago and never returned. It was completely alone in the dark until I found it. It wasn't trying to challenge your mark, Bennu; it was just lonely, and it really liked jam pastries." Bennu stared at the memory-projection of tiny Squeak. The Phoenix Bird's furious, jealous posture completely melted away. Bennu let out a soft, gentle coo, his golden eyes filled with deep sympathy.

Having spent centuries trapped in a dormant state before meeting me, Bennu understood the terrible, suffocating pain of loneliness better than anyone. Bennu swooped down from the pillar, landing gently on my shoulder, and nuzzled his warm, fiery head against my cheek in a quiet, apologetic gesture.

"It's alright, buddy," I chuckled, gently stroking Bennu's golden feathers.

"You're still my number one Phoenix." Later that evening, I met with Kasian in the Hall of the Chronicle to review his progress on locating the Onyx Choir's coordinates. Kasian pulled up a series of ancient sector maps on his projection screen, his spectral face carrying a thoughtful expression.

"Master Eren, we have encountered a slight roadblock regarding the faction's location."

"What kind of roadblock?" I asked.

"The name 'Onyx Choir' was not their public, official title," Kasian revealed.

"According to our cross-referenced pre-Shattering databases, 'Onyx Choir' was merely a private codename assigned to them by the Sanctum's Master in his personal journals. Their actual, historical title in the archives was different. It will take us several more weeks to isolate their true spatial signature among the outer sectors, which should also give enough time for the Spires to recharge." I looked at the floating sector maps, then let out a quiet, relaxed breath. I wasn't disappointed by the delay.

In fact, I welcomed it. I had just expanded my soul gate, evolved my [Voidflame] to an Origin-tier cataclysm, and brimmed my internal [Void-Battery] with pure quintessence. I didn't need to rush into another high-stakes infiltration immediately.

"Take your time, Kasian," I said, offering the ancient spectral elemental a calm nod.

"We have plenty of work to do right here on Ferra." Over the next few days, I settled into a comfortable, deeply satisfying routine in Bastion. I spent my mornings training my elite students at the Academy, my afternoons collaborating with Leoric and Kasian on soul-gate protection arrays, and my evenings sharing home-cooked meals, drinks, and warm laughter with Anna, Crys, and my found family on the high terraces of the townhall.

During my private cultivation sessions, I practiced with my evolved [Voidflame], mastering its golden veins of primordial soulfire and exploring the immense, destructive potential of my expanded soul gate. My power was growing stronger, smoother, and more refined with every single rotation. I sat on the balcony overlooking the glowing lights of Bastion, my star-cores spinning in a deep, hyper-stable rotation, my optical arrays flashing with a starless black fire.

I would be ready for whatever threat the High Courts, the Void Emperors, the Onyx Choir or anyone else would bring to our door.