Chapter 164: Plucking
My soul looked like an old, worn-out shirt, with patches of new cloth awkwardly sewn over it to cover the tears. Though someone might describe it mundanely if they ever saw it, there was a particular horror to it. A malformed form lurked beneath the surface, twisting and writhing, trying to grab everything around it. It was as if my very essence was a grotesque entity struggling to hold itself together while reaching out for something more.
However, it didn't feel like I struggled to hold myself together; this was just its natural shape.
Just "looking" at my soul felt weird. It was that same hollow feeling of looking at my wound right after surgery. Such a primal fear.
Damn, was my own soul scaring me?
But just as I tried to observe the mess of my soul, the grime within the misshapen thing—like an infection holding it together—began to change. Once chaotic and erratic, my soul started to calm down, the frantic movements slowing to a gentle stillness. Gradually, it formed into a seemingly perfect sphere, smooth and unblemished. The grime that had marred its surface slowly disappeared as if expelled by some unseen force, leaving behind a pristine, glowing orb.
Huh? Why was this happening now? Or was this what always happened, and I was just catching sight of it for the first time?
It was as if just knowing about it was like a body finally recognizing an injury and going through the process of healing it. What a strange sensation.
But I couldn't dwell for too long on what was happening in my head because something important was happening outside, too.
The humanoid owl swayed, its feet uneven, and it looked like it would fall at any moment. Unintelligible moans escaped its beak, drool dripping down as it slumped to the ground. It was as if its mind had forgotten how to do even the most basic things. The once intelligent and cunning creature now seemed lost in a fog of confusion, its arms hanging limply at its sides as if it could no longer use the human-like appendages.