Chapter 45
The second descent began in silence.
Kael entered the water without hesitation this time. Fear still lingered, but he did not fight it. He acknowledged it, then pushed it aside, focusing solely on his aura. The cold bit deeper than before, the pressure heavier, but he forced his aura to spread evenly, wrapping around his body like a thin shell.
He reached twenty meters.
His body trembled. His aura wavered.
And then it broke again.
Reiro pulled him out before panic could take hold.
The third attempt came soon after.
Then another.
And another.
Kael failed repeatedly that day.
Sometimes his aura cracked under pressure. Sometimes his thoughts scattered. Once, he lost focus for a breath too long and nearly sank again. Each failure was brief, brutal, and unforgiving.
By nightfall, his body ached and his mind burned with exhaustion.
Reiro said nothing. He only pointed back to the pond.
On the second day, something changed.
Kael no longer fought the water.
He let the pressure exist. Let the cold seep in. Instead of forcing his aura outward, he shaped it slowly, adjusting its density, thinning it where resistance grew, strengthening it where the pressure crushed hardest.
Twenty meters.
Then twenty-five.
His ears rang. His chest tightened. But this time, the aura held.
He surfaced on his own.
Later, he descended again.
Thirty meters.
His vision blurred, but his mind remained steady. The fear was still there but it no longer ruled him.
By the end of the second day, Kael stood at the pond's edge, soaked and shaking, yet upright.
He had not reached the bottom.
But he had stopped sinking.
"This is enough," Reiro said at last. "For now."
Two days ago, the pond had nearly killed him.
Near the end of the second day, Kael stepped forward once more.
He took a deep breath and dove again.
Ten meters.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Thirty-five.
His best depth yet.
The pressure increased sharply no longer linear, but overwhelming. Still, Kael maintained his aura, his body aligned, his mind steady.
"It's still hard," he thought. "But not like before. I can go further."
While Kael trained beneath the pond, far away
Jean and James crossed a deserted land with their soldiers when shadows passed overhead.
Veyraks descended.
They were thin, hollow-bodied flying predators whose stretched wings hummed like vibrating glass, their ribbed forms slicing the air in silence while cold pressure, metallic screeches, and the faint sting of draining aura announced their approach long before their glowing eyes struck.
"Capture them," Jean ordered. "They'll be valuable assets."
Their camp lay nearby. James remained behind as Jean headed toward the command tent.
Before leaving, Jean paused.
"James. How long until we reach the Maze?"
James didn't answer immediately. His gaze lifted toward the circling Veyraks, then shifted to the horizon, like he was measuring distance with instinct instead of sight.
"Without help?" he said. "We'd wander until our supplies rot."
Jean's eyes narrowed. "Then speak clearly."
James exhaled once.
"We need the Golden Path," he said. "Not a road. A place."
Jean's expression didn't change, but his attention sharpened.
"In the old records," James continued, "the Golden Path is a navigation shrine built by Vincern D. Allen. It doesn't guide your feet. It gives you the map."
"A map to the Vincern Maze," Jean said.
"Yes," James replied. "A true route. One that doesn't loop or lie. The Maze is surrounded by shifting land. Ordinary paths fold back on themselves. But the Golden Path can imprint the correct direction into a soul-marked chart."
Jean was silent for a moment.
Then he asked, "How long?"
James tilted his head slightly, counting.
"We still have to cross the ocean," he said. "And after that, there are regions you can't rush. But once we reach the Golden Path and obtain the chart, it will reveal a land route that avoids the worst distortions."
Jean's gaze stayed steady. "Numbers."
James gave a small shrug.
"From where we stand," he said, "thirty-eight days. If nothing delays us."
Jean's eyes hardened. "Break it down."
James didn't smile this time.
"Ocean crossing and recovery days," he said. "Then the Golden Path. Then the land route it reveals."
He paused once, then added the part that mattered most.
"The land route will take twenty days," James said. "It's the fastest route that stays on stable ground."
Jean's jaw tightened.
"Use more resources," he said. "Spread our men. Shorten the time."
More Veyraks gathered in the sky.
"Take care of them," Jean said. "And don't kill them."
James sighed. "You're no fun. You'll never get married at this rate."
He chuckled softly, then added, "You know, people think souls are all the same."
Jean didn't turn back. "And?"
"There are two kinds," James continued. "Most souls are born after death with no memory of their past lives. They grow naturally in the Soul World, shaped by time and experience."
He glanced toward the sky, where the Veyraks circled.
"And then there are the rare ones," he said. "Souls that are not reborn, but transferred. They die in the Human World and awaken here with purpose."
Jean paused slightly.
"Those with immense energy," James went on, "or those burdened with sins that demand atonement."
Jean resumed walking.
"Talk less," he said. "And help our men. Don't let them waste their energy."
James sighed. "See? No appreciation for philosophy."
"James," Jean muttered without looking back, "one day you will also be satisfied the way you want."
The mages raised barrier magic as the Veyraks attacked.
James stepped through the barrier as molten lava erupted toward him.
"Oh," he said calmly. "Lava-type Veyraks. Rare."
He hovered midair, absorbing the attack effortlessly. Energy surged through him as he smiled.
James' soul ability allowed him to absorb enemy attacks and convert them into power magic, sword force, or imagined constructs. The greater the imagination, the greater the cost.
He met the Veyraks' gaze.
One by one, their eyes dulled.
They fell asleep midair.
"Boring," James sighed as they dropped.
The mages quickly formed massive water bubbles to catch them safely.
Four Veyraks lay restrained.
"Will I ever get excited in a fight again?" James wondered.
[Back to Kael]
Kael descended deeper.
Forty meters.
Fifty.
His body screamed. His vision blurred. He had been underwater for hours. The pill's effect was weakening faster than expected.
At fifty-five meters, his senses began to fade.
"No… not yet."
"I haven't even started," Kael thought weakly. "My brother… I won't fail."
He clenched his fists and sharpened his aura, compressing it tightly around his body.
"Stay calm… or I die."
He forced himself upright.
At last, he reached the bottom.
The bedrock.
Kael increased his aura's weight and settled down, sitting against the crushing pressure.
"I have to let my body endure this," he thought. "Let my mind quiet itself."
"For everyone waiting for me… I will return."
He began to meditate.
Above the pond, Reiro waited.
A bird landed on his arm.
"What did you see?" Reiro asked.
The message came through instinct and soul.
"A group of men capturing creatures in the desert land of Ciel. They are here with purpose."
Reiro nodded.
"So that's why I felt uneasy."
He offered the bird a soul fruit.
"Well done."
As the bird flew into the night sky, Reiro turned back toward the water.
Waiting.
"I believe in you, Lord Kael," he thought.