Episode-1029
Chapter : 2057
The vortex in the center of the massive obsidian gate spun violently, a storm of grey mist that separated the living from the lost. Lloyd Ferrum stood before it, his hand pressed against the cold, unyielding chest of the Spirit Jasmin construct. He had just made the decision that would change the trajectory of his life forever. He had chosen to rip out his own potential—the seed of godhood that resided in his soul—to buy back the life of a friend.
The moment the transfer began, the pain hit him.
It wasn't a physical pain, like a broken bone or a burn. It was deeper. It felt as if someone had reached inside his chest, bypassed his heart, and grabbed the very essence of who he was. It was a cold, sickening sensation of loss.
"Warning," the System Administrator’s voice echoed in his mind, sounding more urgent than Lloyd had ever heard it. "User is attempting to export a core component of the Soul Architecture. This is the Sovereign’s Spark. Removal will permanently cap your growth potential. You will never reach the Sovereign Stage. You will never be a god. Do you wish to proceed?"
"Shut up," Lloyd gritted out through clenched teeth. "I already told you. I don't want to be a god. I want my friend."
He pushed. He didn't push with his muscles; he pushed with his will. He visualized that bright white star in the center of his being—the energy that made him special, the energy that allowed him to defy physics and logic—and he shoved it out of his body.
The white light flowed down his arm like liquid fire. It moved into the diamond doll standing in front of him.
The reaction was instant. The hollow construct, which had stood frozen and dead just moments ago, suddenly arched its back. A low, humming sound filled the vast cavern, vibrating against the black glass floor. It was the sound of a vessel being filled with too much power, too quickly.
Lloyd’s knees buckled. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, and incredibly weak. It felt like he was bleeding out, but instead of blood, he was losing his future. He was losing the ability to become stronger than he was right now. He was accepting a ceiling on his power in a world where power was the only thing that guaranteed survival.
Above him, the massive stone face of the Great King Satan watched with burning, sun-like eyes. The Titan didn't move, but the air around him grew heavier with curiosity.
"Interesting," Satan’s voice rumbled, shaking the dust from the invisible ceiling miles above. "Humans usually claw and scrape to gain even a fraction of that power. They kill for it. They betray for it. And you... you are pouring it into a cup as if it were water."
Lloyd didn't look up. He couldn't. He was focused entirely on the transfer. "It's not water," Lloyd gasped, sweat dripping from his nose onto the black floor. "It's currency. You said the Archive demands value. Here is the value."
But the Sovereign’s Spark wasn't enough. The Archive, that terrible library of lost souls, was greedy. It needed a map. It needed to know exactly which soul to retrieve from the billions swirling in the mist.
"Memories," Lloyd whispered. "You need to know who she is."
He opened the floodgates of his mind. He didn't just send energy; he sent data. He sent feelings.
He projected the image of Jasmin as he first saw her—a terrified maid hiding in the corner. He projected the memory of her bringing him tea in the middle of the night when he was working on blueprints, her smile small and shy. He remembered her hands, rough from work but gentle when she tended to his wounds. He remembered the smell of the honey-cakes she liked, the sound of her humming in the laundry room.
He sent the memory of her bravery in the carriage to Altamira, shaking with fear but refusing to leave his side. He sent the image of her diamond form standing in the courtyard, catching the spear that was meant for his father.
"This is her," Lloyd broadcasted into the doll, into the gate, into the void. "This is Jasmin. She is loyal. She is kind. She is the Shield of House Ferrum. Find her."
Chapter : 2058
The process was agonizing. Sharing these memories felt like tearing open a fresh wound. He had to relive the grief of her death a dozen times in a single second. He had to feel the guilt of failing her, the anger at himself, and the desperate hope that this crazy plan would work.
The diamond doll began to glow. At first, it was the pale blue light of the System, but then it began to change. As Lloyd poured his own Void Potential into it, the light turned darker. It turned dense and heavy.
The construct started to convulse. Its diamond skin, which had been clear and transparent, began to cloud over. It wasn't becoming dirty; it was becoming solid. It was absorbing the ambient light of the underworld, drinking it in.
"The anchor is set," Satan rumbled. "The Archive feels the weight of your sacrifice. It recognizes the shape of the soul you seek."
Lloyd felt a tug. It wasn't a physical pull; it was a spiritual hook. The energy he had pushed into the doll reached out into the grey mist of the gate. It searched through the chaos of the afterlife.
It snagged something.
Lloyd gasped as he felt the connection snap into place. It was like fishing in a dark ocean and suddenly feeling a massive weight on the line.
"I got her," Lloyd whispered, his voice trembling. "I have her."
But pulling her back was the hardest part. The Archive didn't want to let go. It held onto the soul with the grip of eternity. Lloyd had to pull. He had to use his own life force as the rope.
His vision began to blur. His arms felt like they were made of lead. The warnings in his head were screaming now.
"Critical Warning: Soul integrity dropping below 50%. User is in danger of spiritual collapse. Cease the transfer immediately."
"No," Lloyd shouted, his voice echoing in the empty dark. "Pull!"
He poured more. He gave up the memories of his victories. He gave up the pride of his rank. He gave up the cold logic of the Major General. He poured raw, unfiltered human emotion into the connection. He poured love—not romantic love, but the deep, abiding love of a family member for another.
The diamond doll began to change rapidly now. The transparent crystal turned a deep, smoky grey, then a midnight blue, and finally, a pitch black. It wasn't the black of charcoal; it was the black of deep space, sparkling with tiny, internal stars.
The material was changing. It was no longer simple diamond. The intense pressure of Lloyd’s Void Potential and the resistance of the Archive were compressing the spirit into something new.
"Black Star-Diamond," Satan observed, his voice tinged with genuine surprise. "A material denser than anything in your world. You are forging a vessel that cannot be broken, human. You are making sure she never shatters again."
Lloyd didn't care about the material. He just watched the face of the doll. The blank, featureless expression was starting to twitch. The mouth opened slightly, drawing in a rasping breath of the thin, cold air.
The connection was almost complete. The soul was at the threshold.
"Come on, Squirrel," Lloyd whispered, using the nickname he only used in his head. "Come home. Breakfast is waiting."
He gave one final, desperate push. He felt the last dregs of his Sovereign potential leave his body, a final payment to the cosmic toll booth. He felt a part of himself snap away, gone forever. He would never be as strong as he could have been. He would always have a limit.
But as he fell to his knees, completely drained, he saw the chest of the black diamond figure rise.
It took a breath.
It was a ragged, hitching breath, like a swimmer surfacing after nearly drowning. The hum of the machine stopped. The grey mist in the gate settled.
Lloyd stayed on his knees, his hands resting on his thighs to keep himself from falling over. He looked up at the figure standing before him. It was Jasmin, but it wasn't. She was made of black starlight now. She was a statue carved from the night sky.
But then, the eyelids fluttered.
________________________________________
Silence filled the cavern at the root of the world. The roaring of the magma ocean far below seemed to fade away. The only sound was the harsh, ragged breathing of Lloyd Ferrum and the soft, tentative intake of air from the figure standing in front of him.