Chapter 501: Perfect Soul Form
Max sat alone at the edge of the Tower of Truth’s highest peak, legs dangling off the side, the wind brushing against his skin like a whisper from the heavens.
From up there, the Lost Continent stretched endlessly before him—an empty area of barren land around the tower, mountains, rivers, and scattered cities, veiled by thin clouds and golden rays of sunlight breaking through.
It was a sight few had ever seen, and fewer still could appreciate the way he did in that moment.
Yet, despite the beauty that lay before his eyes, Max’s mind was somewhere else entirely. His thoughts spiraled inward, returning again and again to the revelations Blob had whispered to him after his awakening.
The truth had come gently, like a slow drizzle—but each word carried weight enough to shake his core. Through Blob, he had seen it all.
The moment he and Freya had fallen from the sky as children, broken and lost. The Witch of the North saving him—not through healing, but through a bond, a thread of life tied between him and Freya.
She hadn’t saved him out of compassion, not fully. She had simply extended his time, not knowing whether he’d survive the consequences of his fractured soul.
Then came the revelations of Freya leaving him behind by tempering his memories, of the Witch’s experiments finally fixing his soul through an artificial soul, and finally, of Lucien’s silence.
All of it—every word, every decision made in shadows—was known to him now. At first, he had been furious, overwhelmed by the secrets and half-truths.