Chapter 322: Expedition

Words : 1739 Updated : Oct 5th, 2025

The girl – who had reintroduced herself as Sol – opened her eyes, allowing Percy to examine their surroundings. They were alone, in an enclosed space. Smaller than any room he’d ever seen – barely large enough for a single person. In fact, it wasn’t even a room. There wasn’t a ceiling. The walls were made of fabric, stitched together at the top, held up by a metallic pole. They were sitting cross-legged on the ground, atop a bunch of rotting leaves and dried dirt, which only corroborated his guess. At first, he thought Sol’s people might be primitive, like the natives he’d met in the world with the floating cats. But that didn’t seem quite right. There were plenty of finely crafted objects in here. A stack of books by the corner. A pile of clothes next to that. They didn’t look like they’d been fashioned out of expensive materials like the Felmarans’, but they’d definitely been sewn by more skilled hands. Probably those tailors with the Weaving trait she’d mentioned. he asked. The girl spent a couple seconds in a daze, likely confused by his words. she chuckled. She frowned. Percy smiled bitterly. He had no idea why he’d failed to sense her signal before. Was it just bad timing? It wasn’t impossible – since the time his clones spent looking for a host barely amounted to a fraction of their adventures. Or maybe it had to do with the distance between the two worlds? After all, attracting a spectral fiend to Remior had been a challenge. he said. she replied in an accusatory tone. She didn’t sound angry though. Her voice was calm, yet Percy didn’t miss the deep sorrow hidden beneath the surface. He had no idea what had happened here, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt over it. she shrugged, getting up. Percy squinted as she left the tent. It was noon, a yellow sun shining brightly over their heads. A little too brightly, in fact, but otherwise not that different from Remior’s. Looking around, he noticed they were surrounded by several more tents, most of them no bigger than Sol’s. They were all woven out of a light grey silk, much like her clothes. Probably a staple of their culture. There were trees everywhere too, placing them in some kind of forest. Both the trunks and their leaves had a smooth metallic texture, reflecting the sunlight like mirrors. The glares were honestly quite disorienting for him, but he’d have to get used to it. Looking down at the rotting leaves beneath their feet, he noticed they were a dull grey colour, having lost their lustre. As Sol walked through the camp, Percy’s attention shifted to the other people they met along the way. The locals looked like humans, though their skin was pitch black, painting a stark contrast against their silver hair and the sclera of their eyes. They had no discernible pupils, making their gazes more unsettling than he cared to admit. But maybe he shouldn’t be one to complain about scary eyes. They all wore simple clothes like Sol. Skilfully made, but more practical than flashy. And they were mostly identical to one another’s, save for an odd symbol here and there that he couldn’t tell the purpose of. He was tempted to describe them as military uniforms. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Another glaring detail was that he could see all their souls! Perhaps not so surprising, considering that his host had a soul affinity, as did everyone else here. Still, he wasn’t used to having hosts with passive Soul Vision. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. He could see either one being the case. These people didn’t have Ea’s Decree – or any Decree, really – but it was possible they’d evolved built-in Soul Vision after countless generations of soul affinity users. Or maybe they were just trained from a young age to keep it on. Alas, it didn’t matter. As soon as the novelty wore of, he paid more attention to these people. He saw both men and women, but no children or old people. Whatever the purpose of this ‘expedition’ was, he was willing to bet they weren’t here for fun. Nobody bothered to greet anybody, but it didn’t seem to be due to a lack of manners. They all appeared busy, their expressions tense and their hurried steps filled with purpose. He kept his thoughts to himself, still unsure what to even think of Sol. She didn’t strike him as a bad person, but she did give him a vastly different vibe to what little he remembered of her. Maybe it was just his amnesia, but he felt something big had happened to her between his two visits. Eventually, she brought him to a different tent. This one was much larger, and appeared to serve a different function. A strange symbol vaguely reminiscent of an upside down ‘R’ was embroidered repeatedly along the fabric, though he had no idea what it meant. His connection to his hosts always gave him some understanding of their language – the letters and words they used on a daily basis – but that didn’t include symbols they ran into less frequently. Most notably, the pungent scent of iron emanated from inside, filling their nostrils. “Rei, is this a good time?” “Sol? Is that you?” “Yeah.” “Sure, come in. We were just finishing up here.” Before Sol even got the chance to enter, a man staggered out of what Percy assumed was the medic’s tent, his left arm ending in a stump just below the elbow. The wrappings were frayed at the edges, damp with an orange liquid – an odd colour for blood, but maybe so was red. The whole mess was slung in a crude linen sling around the man’s neck. His face was ashen – well, just a slightly lighter shade of pitch black, really. His jaw was clenched tightly from the pain, his features tired. Sol gave the poor guy an empathetic nod before entering the tent, where they found a woman washing her hands in a basin, trying to scrub the orange liquid off her skin. She looked to be in her twenties, but even with an Orange core, she could easily be a lot older than that. Her hair was the same silver colour as everyone else’s, but it was straight and barely reached her shoulders, whereas Sol’s was wavy and hung a bit lower than that. Turning around, the woman raised an eyebrow upon looking at them. “Girl, did you cut your soul up again? How many times do I need to tell you it’s bad for your health?”Rei asked, her tone harsh but full of worry. Sol rolled her eyes. Or well… Percy thought she did. He had no clue what the point of that would be without pupils, but it felt the same as when did it. “. Everyone cuts their soul up . Hell, ’ve done it too, haven’t you?” “Once or twice! In our ! Not every week! And we do it because we to absorb our fiend!” Sol sighed. “It’s not like I did it for fun... Actually, that’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could help a friend of mine.” Confused, Rei scanned the place, looking for a third person. “In here.” Sol said, pointing in the area around her neck with her thumb. That was where the largest part of Percy’s wisp had taken ‘root’. Tilting her head, Rei stared at her for a while, likely examining her with Soul Vision. It was only a few moments later that she gasped, probably noticing the extra soul sitting inside her friend’s body. “Is that…?” Sol nodded. “Holy shit! When you told me you let your weird, talking fiend go, hoping it would come back on its own later, I thought you were nuts! You’re telling me, it returned of its own volition?! Or wait… is it another one like it?!” Sol was about to reply, but Percy beat her to it, finding Rei’s words more than a little irritating. “Hello, I’m Percy. I very much hope Sol made it clear to you that I’m a spectral fiend. I’m a person. A ” His outburst seemed to startle the medic for a moment, but she regained her wit soon after, her expression shifting to curiosity. “Fascinating… Never seen anything like it. But does it even anything? Sounds like too much trouble if all it does is talk.” Percy wanted to rub his temples, finding it impossible to communicate with this woman. Forcing himself to calm down, he opted out of the conversation again, letting Sol do the talking. “I don’t know. He promised me a bunch of cool stuff the last time around, but he’s lost his memories. Either way, you know our rules – I to at least try to make the most out of my trait. Any chance you can fix him?” “I can give it a shot.” the woman shrugged. Turning around, she opened a satchel sitting behind her, sifting through her stuff, looking for something. Percy grabbed the opportunity to consult with his host again, suddenly feeling a little unsure about all this. While he’d love to recover his memories, he was hesitant to trust a person who kept referring to him as ‘it’. The bloody saws, syringes and bandages he saw scattered all over the tent didn’t inspire much trust either. Besides, was this woman even capable of helping? Only a tiny piece of his predecessor’s wisp had made it to Remior, before getting diluted inside the rest of his soul. Then, Percy had fashioned hundreds of clones after that, over the span of several years. He couldn’t help but wonder whether his lost memories even existed. Hell, even Micky hadn’t been in that poor a state. Granted, the damage his friend had taken had been just as bad, but at least Percy had shoved directly into the crow… Sol chuckled, noticing him staring at the bloody saw. Soon, the woman found what she had been looking for. Percy’s eyes widened as he realized how similar her approach was to what he’d tried to do for Micky. Rei was holding a musical instrument, vaguely reminiscent of a harmonica.

Chapter 322: Expedition

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