Echoes of the Soul
Meanwhile, on the other side... Cream kicked the dungeon wall in frustration. Crunch. Crunch. Each time, the wall dented and then sprang back. She soon stopped. Her irritation had eased somewhat, and she'd gotten a read on the situation. Even with a Hero's strength, smashing through the dungeon walls wasn't easy. She could pulverize them if she poured in her power, but knowing it would be a waste, Cream held back.
[Hero?]
"Yeah."
She scanned her surroundings with hazy eyes. The Backside World's darkness couldn't obscure her vision, so Cream took in the two fainted humans and the Holy Sword emitting a faint glow. The Holy Sword was flickering more irritably than usual, as if resisting something. Cream picked it up and quietly asked,
"Feel them? The other people."
[No. Sorry, but they seem to be outside my detection range.]
Cream nodded silently, sensing the same. The thick darkness blanketing the entire dungeon blocked not just sight but all five senses. If it were mere darkness, maybe, but the space was severely warped and distorted, with the structure shifting constantly. No Hero could fully escape its influence.
Yet, she wasn't sensing nothing.
The Hero closed her eyes and quietly attuned to the faint pulse echoing deep in her heart.
"You're there."
It was the thread of their soul-bound contract. Something even skilled soul manipulators couldn't easily detect, but the Hero grasped it with her senses. Amid the twisting, scattering paths of darkness, if there was one unwavering landmark, it was the light of the soul.
[Pardon? Hero, what did you just say?]
"Nothing. Let's go."
No need to look back; she could hear the stumbling sounds of them rising behind her. As long as the Holy Sword's light guided them, they wouldn't lose her. Cream, eyes closed briefly to focus on that tender heartbeat in her chest, soon opened them and started walking. She still didn't know the dungeon's layout, but she knew the most important thing's location.
The others were too busy following her steps to notice, but the Holy Sword, always glued to the Hero's side, sensed her unconscious gesture. Her hand groped toward her waist, as if to grip a sword hilt. Naturally, her fingers grasped nothing.
[Hero, why do you...]
Watching those unconscious movements the girl herself didn't notice plunged the Holy Sword into despair at times. But once the disappointment faded, questions filled the void. What was it about this Hero? Why the obsession with that Cursed Sword? Like a child who'd lost her parents.
*
"Wh-what do we do?"
[What do you mean, what?]
Fortunately, the slime didn't seem intent on attacking us right away. It just undulated unpleasantly, filling the passage. But that alone was a major threat. I'd been sensing it for a bit—this dungeon's space was shifting. Dodging the slime and backtracking might trap us in an inescapable labyrinth.
"No attack intent for now, so let's rest here."
The leader made a decent call. The two adventurers unpacked in a spot somewhat removed from the slime but still lit by faint light. In the pitch-black darkness where even I couldn't see my own body, they couldn't risk opening their bags lest they lose their gear. Watching them soften hard jerky with spit was almost pitiful.
[Anyway, seen that ugly thing in a bestiary?]
Not my problem, though. They say don't bother a dog while it's eating, but I'm no dog, so I spoke to the mage stuffing his face with jerky.
"Guh? Yeah? What'd you say?"
[That thing up ahead.]
"Oh, yeah. Looks like a variant of a Flesh Slime."
I'd misjudged it with all the souls crammed inside, but yeah, that was it. The mage's tone was meek, his spirit broken. Flesh Slime, huh. As the name suggests, it's a slime made from organic flesh masses. It has slime-like abilities—regeneration, predation, division—but it's closer to a homunculus if you nitpick. Naturally, those don't spawn organically. Probably some demon contractor's handiwork.
[So, artificial dungeon?]
Man-made dungeons are a cut below natural ones born from world laws. Dragon lairs are exceptions, but this one's S- grade, not SSS. Who could whip up something like this?
[Elder Lich wouldn't bother with this hassle. Her lich minions' collab? Or the Murder Painter... oh, right, he's dead.]
"Why're you muttering to yourself like that?"
The mage, belly full and energy restored, glared venomously again. I cleared my throat awkwardly.
[All done eating?]
"Yeah. Time to move... but..."
He trailed off. Backtracking was out, so they'd have to smash the flesh blob—but that wasn't feasible. Mages have weak personal combat and the lowest firepower among warrior-mage-priest combos. The warrior leader was better off, but even he couldn't hack through that thick meat with his skill level.
Actually, I'd already thought of one way.
[Want help?]
My gentle offer made the mage shudder in horror.
"H-how?"
[Haha. Seeing my juniors like this stirs some pity... I'll help. Throw me at the slime.]
The mage eyed the 5-meter-high passage-filling slime, then me. For reference, I'm standard arming sword size; without effects, not intimidating. Sealed as I am, I can't toggle effects anyway. Not the most trustworthy look.
[Hey, don't gawk like that. I'm Carbalt. The legendary Cursed Sword that shook the world! Trust me, bro.]
"Ugh, fine."
Whether spooked by "legendary Cursed Sword" or disgusted by "bro," he grabbed me like a bug.
"You sure?"
"No other choice."
Brushing off the leader's concern coolly, the mage hurled me at the slime. Contrary to my bravado, I plunged straight into it with a splosh.
No dramatic scene of me erupting in black darkness to cleave it in two. Duh—I'm sealed.
"Ack?!"
The mage's voice from outside didn't faze me. This body's made of Solium, god's flesh metal. Unless it's opposing holy power, nothing here's destroying me. Seeing I wasn't dissolving in the churning rot inside the Flesh Slime, it switched tactics. Its massive body compressed me. Flesh sheared off my blade without care, hugging till I dulled, while the hilt endured monstrous muscle pressure.
You could say it like this: 'The slime gripped my hilt.'
Phantom Dominion (SS-)
BOOM! The Hero's seal met its condition, shattering into pieces as the embedded holy power exploded with ferocious aggression. The Star God's lightning engulfed me and the slime impartially. Amid the crackling currents searing my body, I unleashed my power through the stinging pain.
[Come forth!]
The souls the slime had greedily swallowed but couldn't digest or use—mere rotting weights—answered my call. The Flesh Slime tore apart, and I took heavy damage too, though not as bad. I immediately "consumed" the absorbed souls. The melting hilt solidified, cracks in the blade refilled with black metal. Souls are the most precious currency. Using them enabled near-instant repairs.
[Whew, that's nasty.]
Once my body was whole, I clicked my tongue. No wonder the explosion felt weaker than expected. The slime absorbed most of the shock, sure, but the seal itself was designed that way. Lower power for semi-permanence. Still, it'd take hours for the seal to reform. Till then, I could fulfill my swordly duties.
[How's that? Pretty badass, right?]
"Whoa..."
To these guys unaware of the context, it'd look like I one-shot the slime. Amid the scattering holy power remnants, I saw their stunned faces. The mage was just shocked, but the leader's expression twisted with something else. Makes sense. Seal broken—temporarily, my Cursed Sword power was back.
I whispered slowly to the leader, inaudible to the mage:
[The ultimate sword's right here.]
"D-don't tempt me, Cursed Sword!"
"Jack? Did that sword do something again?"
[Don't you wanna wield me?]
Yet, hesitating, the leader didn't grab me right away. His level's decent, and my weakened state meant no instant domination. Whatever. They had no choice but to take me.
[Smart choice. Think you can escape without my power? What if another enemy shows up?]
Resolution hardened in the leader's eyes after a pause.
"Jack!"
"Sorry, Emily."
The mage yelled, but her feet stayed planted. Deep down, she knew I was right.
"I trust myself. And you. Our will, the time we've spent together. That's not something a mere Cursed Sword can steal."
"Jack..."
"So, Emily—trust me too?"
What a melodrama. Facing the lover's steely gaze, the mage could only nod. He cautiously reached out.
And gripped me.