D.G. - Chapter 268 - THE SEED OF A SOUL

A gentle wind picked up speed and power, sweeping through the Valley of Melodies. It gathered up the falling leaves of the Unbroken into a swirling cyclone and ruffled Jiran’s hair, tickling his scalp.

“The great mother speaks, her breath graces my cheeks,” Knife lifted her hand, tasting the air with her fingers before gently touching her face, “Great Spirit Jiran brings change, and our faithfulness he will have in exchange.”

There was something special about the moment, as though the Timberlings' Mother really was there watching over them. Jiran’s smile turned soft as his hand landed on Knife’s shoulder, “I sure hope you’re right. The Unbroken-no, all Timberling have within them the potential to be as magnificent as she was.”

Their chins lifted a little higher at his words. They stepped closer, desire in their eyes and vibrant foliage blooming across their exposed bark. “Shall we?”

Knife nodded vigorously, “Yes, what do you require of me to bring success?”

“Lie down and close your eyes. Don’t try to stop the process,” Jiran doubted she could, but anything was possible with the Timberlings’ unique shared soul.

The others backed away and Knife did as instructed. Jiran created a slow-acting Mana Venom that would do its best to collect inside her soul-space. The only way it could do so was by finding the tap to her soul. Within seconds, he located the tap in her lower back. He released a second venom that devoured the first before collecting itself in the tip of her finger where he extracted what remained of the skill’s mana.

Now came the hard part. In order to enter her soul-space, Jiran needed to send his mana through the tap but the blockage at the end would obstruct him. Previously, he’d pushed through by forcing the other person’s aura into a tube. Like all the Timberlings, Knife’s aura was practically non-existent. There wasn’t enough of it to form the tip of a needle and if he did compress it that far, she could easily die.

Once upon a time, Jiran’s aura had sacrificed itself and if not for Lenton helping him restore it, he wouldn’t have lived long. There was no way he would risk a similar situation for any of the Timberling. However, Jiran knew this issue would come up and had long ago thought of a way around it.

Thanks to them sharing a soul, there was no difference between their auras. In theory, each aura was as perfectly viable to bypass the blockage and enter another’s soul-space as the next.

“Roll over Knife. The rest of you, come closer. I’ll need all of your help for this part. It might hurt… a lot. Try to bear with it, if you can’t take it anymore raise your hand and I’ll exclude you.”

They moved without hesitation, crowding around him. Their expressions held the kind of determination that let him know they would press on until they passed out or died before raising their hands. Each of their eyes was a reflection of the Fervent affinity they held for him. He could practically feel their faith in him; it was both stressful and flattering.

“Closer. The less distance between you and Knife, the better.”

They nodded, cramming into such a tight mob that there was little space that was not flesh, bark, or leaves. Jiran helped, gently holding them together with his aura. Then, he began. He forced their immaterial auras to comply, grouping them together into one compressed glob that he swiftly brought to Knife’s lower back.

The Timberlings locked up, overwhelmed by agony as he stretched their auras away from their bodies. They refused to shout, cry, or scream, standing perfectly still like the trees they resembled. Had even two made a sound, the resulting harmony would have been disastrous.

Jiran worked as quickly as he could, forming a funnel out of their auras. He shoved it down Knife’s tap, and within it, his aura flowed like living water. Within even that, his mana was poised and ready to breach into a Timberlings soul-space for the first time.

His makeshift funnel plunged right through the blockage. Jiran would have pumped a fist if there was room. His mana raced inside, spreading out to ‘see.’ As predicted, Knife’s soul-space was nothing like his, but not in his wildest dreams could he have imagined what waited for him.

Jiran’s soul-space was indefinable nothingness, a fog at the edge of a universe, the two separated by a wall of shimmering blue as vast as the soul it contained. Knife’s, and all too likely, each of the Timberlings’ soul-spaces, was like a whole new world.

Green skies stretched forever, both real and not at the same time. Directing his mana down, Jiran was greeted to dry, parched soul beneath, (not that direction held much meaning inside a soul-space.) His mana spread wider, thinning to cover more ground, and he quickly discovered an end to the soil.

Not understanding what he was feeling, Jiran took a gamble and instructed his mana to form a ghostly body with the same senses he experienced when inside his own soul-space. The endeavor was expensive, draining almost a quarter of his manapool; it was worth every drop. Jiran was immediately stunned by the beauty arrayed before him as he appeared at the soil’s end.

Like reaching the end of a flat world, a gaping chasm dropped away beneath him. Within its depths was a universe of stars no less dazzling than his own soul. All that existed between him and the oblivion of their soul was a thin layer of shimmering air no less inhibiting than a hot day’s heat haze.

Her soul wall is so thin I can see through it?!

Realization struck. Her soul wall, if it could be called that, was the ground itself and it was far from whole. Far in the distance, he spotted another land mass; a floating island hovering above a sparkling cosmos. Flying high, Jiran spotted dozens, hundreds of similar landmasses. Their soulwall was in itself, a series of floating islands bridged by little more than shimmering air.

Daughter’s words from long ago tumbled through Jiran’s minds, “The soul cannot be damaged. However, the walls around it most certainly can. The body and the soul were never meant to commingle. They are linked, yet forever separate.”

No wonder their harmony can hurt me, and kills them in the process. When they use it, their soul is leaking into reality.

Outside Knife’s soul-space, Jiran was surrounded by suffering. He cast aside the random thoughts and distractions, focusing on what was important.

The mother said her soul was shattered, and she was definitely right. It’s not a straight up hole like in my soul, but damn it's close. Why does it stop them from ascendi—the sigils! Each tier, a new skill is imprinted on the soulwall by the system in the form of a skill sigil. There’s no way this shattered thing can hold a sigil! That’s got to be it!

Question is: how can I fix something like this? Why am I even thinking about it? I’ll just do it. Isn’t that the whole point of Mana Transcendence, to overcome the impossible?

With a snap of ghostly fingers, Jiran’s mana flowed into the soil at the edges of Knife’s island, expanding it in every direction. As he’d done hundreds of times before, his mana perfectly copied the composition of whatever her soulwall was, creating more and more of it. The boundary of her island grew, first by only millimeters, then by leaps and bounds as he opened a hole into Armament and a copious quantity of stored mana flooded into her soul-space.

He took his first step onto fresh soulwall. The ground was soft, imperfect in a way he didn’t understand, but it held.

What does it still need? Probably either time, or mana directly from Knife injected into it, forming aura and hopefully solidifying the ground, tying it all together. I’ll do a little more, then wait and see what happens.

Working as quickly as his mana would flow, Jiran bridged the gap between her island and those nearest to it. Then, he pulled his remaining mana back through Knife’s tap. As one, the Timberlings collapsed when he released their auras. They were panting and sweating, the leaves sprouting from them drooped as though sodden.

Knife flopped her head to the side, blinking up at him until she gathered the strength to speak, “What… did you do to me?”

Jiran’s jaw fell open. He wondered if there would be a noticeable difference, not at all expecting it to be so apparent.

If it's like that, then what about her harmony?

Picking another woman at random, Jiran pointed to her and Knife, “Sing a harmony.” Their surprise was quickly replaced with determination as they opened their mouths simultaneously, releasing a haunting note. The expected ripples of energy crashed into Jiran and the other nearby Timberlings but the effects were minor and he easily rebuffed them with his aura.

The eyes of every woman present widened so far as to appear unnatural. Jiran’s grin was just as huge, “Looks like it's working as expected.”

Knife grew more animated as her strength returned, “What is working as expected? Please, tell me what you did! It felt like you tore me apart, then remade me and now something is… missing? Less than before. I-I cannot explain it.”

“You still haven’t realized it?” Jiran snickered, his next words one more explosion dropped on the gathered womens’ rattled wits, “You’re not rhyming.”

“I’m not? I’m not! The compulsion is gone! How?” She sat up, crossing her legs and leaning toward Jiran excitedly. Some of the others were less enthused with the results.

Jiran wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. He hadn’t set out to take away what made the Timberlings unique. However, if their rhyming was a result of the damage to their soul, then he really had no choice. Leaving them at tier three indefinitely was a great way for their entire race to be wiped out. A casual attack from a tier nine or ten and they would be no more. He was determined to avoid such an eventuality.

He thought for a second before thinking of a way to explain it that she would understand, “Your soul is like a seed with a hard shell around it. That shell is full of cracks and I filled a few of them in. Due to the damage, your skills mix freely with your soul—the center of the seed—when they shouldn’t. Since you are healed, your harmony will only produce a regular strength effect for your tier.”

“That’s… Is that a good thing? I thought you set out to make us stronger, but I am now the weakest Timberling of all.”

Jiran’s hand landed on Knife’s shoulder reassuringly, “All problems grow worse before they get better. Once enough of the seed’s shell is restored, every Timberling will ascend a tier, doubling in strength and speed while gaining a whole new ability. Someday, you will each be as powerful as I am now. There is no doubt that discovering the problem and how to fix it is a good thing. A very good thing.”

Their conversation was cut short by a flare exploding high in the sky. Jiran stood tall, eyes dancing across the Unbroken, “It's time to go. After everyone has recovered, I’ll heal another of you. Can you walk?”

“I can walk, and now it is my choice how I talk,” Knife’s toes curled into the soft ground, reveling in the power of controlling her words for the first time in her life.

Hearing her rhyme of her own accord caused Jiran’s heart to swell. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes and he firmly pressed his lips together.

I’m not taking anything away from them. I’m giving them the power to choose who they wish to be. No, together, we’re creating who they will eventually become.

Jiran’s smile was warm, his affection laid bare for all to see, “I like that. You are Knife, and your rhymes are beautiful, full of life.” Knife giggled, the sound music to his ears. Straightening his back, Jiran grew serious, his voice iron, “Unbroken! To me! Enemies of our people have raised their spears to threaten what is ours. Shall we show them who we are?”

Powerful thuds from fists striking reinforced bark resounded through the forest. Jiran led the way toward the opening portals, while imagining how glorious the Timberlings combined war cries would be in the not-so-distant future.