The Red Wandering Soul
A red Wandering Soul drifted lazily into a tavern, hovering as if scouting the room before slowly approaching a mercenary in the corner nursing his drink. It began burrowing into the man's body. The mercenary's black soul gradually merged with the red Wandering Soul, twisting into a sinister dark-red hue.
Bang!
"Hey, more booze over here!"
The mercenary slammed his glass down hard, ordering another round, but there was something off about his eyes. Even the tavern owner seemed to sense it.
"You look plenty drunk already. Why not call it a night?"
"I'm not drunk. Just bring the damn booze."
"Not serving. Get out."
The tavern owner was no pushover. He stood his ground against the mercenary's aggressive vibe without flinching.
"Fuck! You looking down on me too?"
"Your tolerance? Yeah, that's fair game."
The other patrons chuckled at the owner's sharp comeback.
Shing!
"You son of a bitch!"
The mercenary suddenly drew his sword from his belt and lunged at the owner. For a drunk, his thrust was surprisingly precise—but the owner casually sidestepped it with ease, then cracked the mercenary's skull with the short club he'd been holding.
Thwack!
The mercenary crumpled unconscious.
"That's Frandel for ya!"
"Still kickin', huh!"
"Come back to active duty, man!"
A few patrons who looked like mercenaries themselves laughed and chimed in as they slowly rose and approached the fallen man.
"Who the hell is this guy?"
"Kinda looks like that straggler from the last caravan."
"Total trash. Hey, Rochi, help me drag this idiot out."
As the two hauled the unconscious mercenary out by his limbs, the tavern owner bellowed after them with a hearty laugh.
"Hurry back—I’ll have one poured for each of ya!"
I stayed in the tavern. Right after the mercenary collapsed, the red soul had slipped back out of his body. It was now prowling the room again, scouting for fresh prey.
[Is that an evil spirit?]
My guess was that this was what people called an evil spirit. What else could it be but one of those souls that possessed people and drove them to worse deeds? A thing like that was better off gone, I figured.
I approached the evil spirit and slammed into it, just like I had with my second brother's soul.
Squelch!
[Huh?]
No actual sound came out, but it absorbed into me far too easily anyway. A subtle surge of power followed, like strength welling up inside.
On the other hand, I worried I might turn into an evil spirit myself from absorbing one—but after testing it a few times, I couldn't latch onto the souls of living people like an evil spirit could. Nor could I absorb the souls of the living.
There are souls everywhere, even beyond Wandering Souls, Resentful Souls, or evil spirits. Not just humans have them—every living thing does. Out in the hills or fields, you can see countless souls rising into the sky like inverted snowfall as lives flicker out.
I tried absorbing them mid-flight, harvesting like a reaper. But the souls of tiny plants or insects were too insignificant; unlike with the evil spirit, there was no rush of power.
[Guess I need more evil spirits?]
If I kept bulking up like this, maybe I'd gain some real abilities. That was the hopeful thought.
While pondering all this, a few caravans rolled into the village. I eavesdropped on their chatter and latched onto one heading for the capital.
Along the way, a goblin pack ambushed us at night, sparking a fierce battle with the caravan's mercenary guards. It was closer than I'd expected. Goblins are cunning monsters—they don't attack unless they think they've got the edge.
The caravan had a decent number of mercenaries, but the goblins outnumbered them by far. Around forty goblins died in the clash, along with five mercenaries. In the chaos, one wagon got dragged off by the goblins.
I darted through the battlefield, swiftly absorbing souls. At first, I stuck to goblin souls, but then I wondered—what's the difference with human ones? So I took the mercenaries' too.
And in the process, I learned something else. A goblin soul or two didn't register, but after a dozen or so, vague fragments—like goblin memories—flickered into my mind. Hard to pin down exactly.
Come to think of it, I don't even have a head. So where are memories stored? How do I even think? Another mystery.
After twists and turns, we finally reached the capital.
Now that I'd hit the Academy and soaked up enough knowledge, could I finally move on to the afterlife? That thought crossed my mind as I wandered the massive capital like some country bumpkin, gawking at everything.
My viscount family's territory was smallish, but the capital was on another level—impossible to compare.
Best part of being a soul: I could snoop around without anyone batting an eye.
With so many people came hordes of Wandering Souls drifting about, Resentful Souls clinging to heads, and plenty of evil spirits. I absorbed every evil spirit I spotted.
After absorbing a few dozen, I felt it—a sense that I could do something. My experiments produced a shocking result: by channeling all my soul force into a full-force impact, I could knock over a salt shaker on the table.
It took half my power for that alone.
[Still, keep absorbing evil spirits and souls, and I'll get stronger. A few hundred more evil spirits, and maybe I could topple a chair instead of a salt shaker.]
I consoled myself like that, but what good would such power even do? A pointless experiment delayed me a few days, but I finally entered the Academy and started attending lectures.
Even the first-year classes were high-level. My memory was sharp, but my comprehension wasn't genius-tier. Not dull, either—but this place gathered noble kids prepped from home or commoner prodigies. High standards were inevitable.
Still, I was thrilled. I could only spectate practicals and listen in on theory classes, but absorbing advanced knowledge from top teachers was enough. No grades to stress over, after all.
I studied day and night. By day, I'd slip into appealing lectures; evenings, I'd hover over students previewing or reviewing in the library or dorms, gleaning what I could.
A semester flew by. Then I hit a snag: Academy breaks are long. Two months each for summer and winter. No home to go back to, though.
After the closing ceremony, students vanished in a flash, leaving the Academy eerily empty. I figured I'd sightsee the capital and floated out—only to spot the distant royal palace and have an epiphany.
[Why didn't I think of touring the palace?]
Living habits had me thinking places like that were off-limits for riffraff like me.
I veered straight for it. How many in the kingdom get to casually stroll the palace grounds? Nobles only, probably.
I could indulge without interference. Heartless, but my chest thumped anyway as my royal palace tour began.
It exceeded expectations. From the entrance, gleaming full-plate knights stood guard—armor I'd never even seen back home. The palace gardens overflowed with exotic, breathtaking flowers and trees.
Passing maids put the village tavern wench—our local beauty—to shame; every one was stunning.
Then I saw the king. Peering over paperwork in his study, he was... underwhelming. A hint of dignity, maybe, but utterly ordinary. Not just looks—his soul was plain too.
Observing Academy talents had taught me this: souls vary subtly by talent and ability. Professors' souls were larger than students', regardless of color. Prodigy kids had faint halos. Special gifts, I figured—true genius.
The king's soul? Average size, no shine, standard gray hue.
At dinner, I saw the queen, princes, and princesses. The queen's soul dwarfed the king's. The royal kids were mostly average—except one with a massive dark-red soul.
The crown prince was possessed by an evil spirit. How he passed for normal was a mystery. Big original soul holding it at bay?
I wanted to purge it, but couldn't absorb during possession—tested that already.
I started tailing the crown prince, hoping for a shock to dislodge it.
But who was gonna knock him out? Days passed with no luck.
Come to think of it, whether he caused trouble or not was none of my business. Motivation waned; I resumed palace sightseeing.
I found secret underground passages, peeked into forbidden vaults (grape-sour grapes), ogled treasures. Unintentionally, I overheard court rumors and secrets.
"Sob sob sob!"
I hovered before a maid crying in her room. Word was, she was the crown prince's personal attendant. They'd been intimate, whispering sweet nothings—until he suddenly dumped her and fired her.
Evil spirit's doing, obviously.
"Your Highness... sob!"
[Stop crying and smack him upside the head—that's how you save him.]
I muttered it, knowing she couldn't hear.
"Gasp! Who's there?"
The maid suddenly scanned the room.
[Huh? Can she hear me?]
One of those spirit mediums?
"Wh-who's there?"
Uh, what do I say? Free-floating soul? Academy dropout grudge? Sightseeing Wandering Soul?
[Just a passing soul.]
"Passing soul, sir... how can you speak to me?"
That's my question.
[You a medium or something?]
"No. My grandma had those gifts, or so I heard—but she passed before I was born."
Bloodline, huh.
[No idea how you hear me. First human who's ever caught my words.]
"First time hearing a soul for me too. But what you said earlier... hit the prince's head?"
I explained: crown prince possessed by evil spirit; needs big shock to shake it loose.
She wept awhile longer, then stood with grim resolve.
"So he didn't abandon me. I'll save His Highness!"
[Is that really wise?]
Even if she knocked him out and saved him, would she survive? She'd be hauled off for execution.
"If it saves him, I'll do anything."
[You'll die. His guards'll lop your head off before you even swing.]
"It's fine. I have a plan."
She looked confident—unsettlingly so. But I had no way to stop her.