Episode-822
Chapter : 1643
"Stop tracking me," Lloyd snapped.
"Affirmative. Disengaging visual lock," she said, staring straight ahead again.
Lloyd groaned. "She's a combat droid. I built a combat droid. Mrs. Weaver is going to ask her how her day was, and she's going to reply with 'Target neutralized'."
"Lloyd," Mina said sharply. "Come here."
There was a tone in her voice. It wasn't her usual scholarly calm. It was the tone of someone who had found a knife in a haystack.
Lloyd was at her side in a second. "What is it? Did you find the spell?"
Mina pushed a large, leather-bound journal toward him. It was Anubis's final journal, the one he wrote just before he died. The pages were scorched, likely from the fire he set to destroy his lab.
"Look at this passage," Mina said, pointing to a paragraph near the bottom. The ink was faded, but legible. "I had to cross-reference it with three other texts to understand the context, but... I think this is it. This is why he stopped."
Lloyd leaned in. He squinted at the archaic script. His [All-Seeing Eye] helped translate the intent behind the words, but the meaning was heavy.
"Read it to me," Lloyd said. "My ancient grammar is rusty."
Mina took a deep breath. She read aloud, her voice steady but quiet.
"I have failed. The vessel is perfect. The Aethel-Quartz beats with a rhythm that mimics life. But the house is empty. I have called her name into the void, but the void does not answer. The Law of the Divine is absolute. Once the soul crosses the River of Silence, there is no bridge back. The gates are barred from the inside."
Lloyd felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. "So that's it? It's impossible? The System was right?"
"Keep listening," Mina said. "He didn't stop there."
She moved her finger to the next paragraph. It was written in a shakier hand, as if Anubis was trembling when he wrote it.
"But there is a shadow on the wall. A whisper in the dark. I have studied the energies of the world, and I have found an anomaly. The Divine Law governs the order of the world. But there is a place that exists outside of order. A place of chaos. The Abyss."
Lloyd’s eyes widened. "The Abyss."
Mina nodded and continued reading. "The Race of the Abyss... the Devils. Their very existence is a violation of the Divine Law. Their resonance is chaotic. It breaks rules. It corrupts reality. If the Divine Law is a locked door, then Abyssal energy is a battering ram. I believe... I fear... that the Devils possess the key. They do not obey the River. They hoard souls. To retrieve a soul that has departed, one must not pray to the gods. One must steal from Hell."
Lloyd stared at the page. The words seemed to burn into his retinas.
Steal from Hell.
He stood up slowly. He looked at the Spirit Jasmin in the corner. She was just a collection of mana and data. But somewhere, in some dark, terrible place, the real Jasmin was waiting.
"The Seventh Circle," Lloyd whispered. "The Devil Race. They aren't just invaders. They are jailers."
"It seems so," Mina said, closing the book. "Anubis theorized that the Devils use souls as currency or power. That means the souls aren't destroyed. They are captured."
Lloyd felt a surge of something hot and violent in his chest. It wasn't hope, exactly. It was rage. Pure, focused rage.
"She's there," Lloyd said. "She's not gone. She's a prisoner."
"It is a theory, Lloyd," Mina cautioned. "A theory written by a desperate, grieving man five hundred years ago."
"It's the only lead we have," Lloyd said. "And it fits. Why are the Devils invading? Why do they use Soul Catchers? They harvest us. They are farming us."
He clenched his fists. "I have to go there. I have to go to the Devil's territory. I have to find their... their bank. Their vault. Whatever they keep them in."
"You can't," Mina said. Her voice was the bucket of cold water he needed. "Lloyd, look at the map. The Devil's territory is on the other side of the continent. It is a war zone. You cannot just walk in there, knock on the door, and ask for a refund."
"I have the Aegis," Lloyd argued. "I have the spirits."
Chapter : 1644
"You are one man," Mina said. "And even if you could... even if you left right now, this second... it would take you weeks to get there. Months to find anything."
She pointed to the clock on the wall.
"Mrs. Weaver doesn't have months, Lloyd. She doesn't have weeks. She has tonight."
Lloyd looked at the clock. The hands were ticking relentlessly. Tick. Tick. Tick.
He slumped against the table. The adrenaline crashed. Mina was right. He had a long-term solution—a war against Hell itself. But he had a short-term crisis that was happening right now.
He couldn't save Jasmin's soul tonight. He couldn't bring the real girl back to say goodbye to her mother.
He looked at the Spirit Jasmin. The empty shell.
"So we have to lie," Lloyd said, his voice hollow. "We have to use the puppet."
"It is the only kindness we can offer," Mina said gently. "We give a dying woman peace. We let her believe her daughter is safe. And then... then you fight your war."
Lloyd looked at the Spirit.
"Jasmin," he said.
"Yes, Master?"
"Come here. We have work to do. And you are going to need to learn how to act like a human being in the next two hours, or I am going to lose my mind."
________________________________________
The transition from "researcher" to "acting coach" was jarring and deeply unpleasant. Lloyd stood in the center of his study, pacing back and forth like a nervous director before opening night. Spirit Jasmin stood in front of him, her posture perfect, her face blank.
"Okay," Lloyd said, rubbing his face. "Let's try this again. Jasmin, smile. You are seeing your mother. You love her. You are happy."
Spirit Jasmin’s face shifted. Her lips pulled back. Her eyes widened slightly. It was a smile, technically. But it was the smile of a shark that had just spotted a seal. It was too wide, too toothy, and completely devoid of warmth.
"Stop!" Lloyd shouted. "Stop doing that! You look like you're going to eat her!"
"Correction required," Spirit Jasmin droned. "Please specify the parameters of 'Love'."
Lloyd groaned. He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She felt solid, like diamond wrapped in silk.
"Love isn't a parameter," Lloyd said. "It's... look, soften your eyes. Don't stare. Blink. Humans blink. And when you smile, don't show all your teeth. Just... a little. Like you have a secret."
"Adjusting facial micro-actuators," the Spirit said.
She tried again. This time, the lips curved gently. The eyes narrowed slightly. It was better. It looked like a polite smile you would give a stranger at a grocery store.
"Better," Lloyd lied. "It's still creepy, but it's better. Now, the voice. You sound like a clockwork soldier. You need to sound... soft. Tired, maybe. But warm."
"My vocal synthesis is optimized for clear command acknowledgement," she stated.
"De-optimize it," Lloyd ordered. "Add... hesitation. Add breath. Don't say 'Affirmative'. Say 'Yes, Mama'. Say 'I'm here'. Try it."
"I am here," the Spirit said. It was still too perfect. Too crisp.
"Messier," Lloyd instructed. "Slur the words a little. Crack your voice. Imagine... imagine you are sad, but trying to hide it."
"I cannot imagine," the Spirit reminded him. "I have no imagination module."
"Just... copy me," Lloyd said. He took a deep breath. He thought about the real Jasmin. He thought about how she sounded when she was scared. "I'm here, Mama."
The Spirit listened. She tilted her head. Then, she repeated it.
"I'm here, Mama."
It was an exact audio replica of Lloyd’s performance. It was uncanny. It sounded human, but only because it was a recording of a human pretending to be another human.
"Okay," Lloyd said, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. "That will have to do. Now, physical contact. Your skin. It's too hard. If she touches you, she'll feel the diamond density. Can you soften the external texture?"
"I can modulate the surface tension of my spiritual projection to simulate epidermal elasticity," the Spirit said.
"Do that. Make your hand feel like a hand. Not a rock."
She held out her hand. Lloyd touched it. It yielded slightly under his pressure. It was warm. It felt... almost real. If you didn't look too closely. If you were blind, or dying, it might pass.