The blade never touched his skin.
It didn't need to.
A voice echoed across the execution hall—flat, rehearsed, empty of emotion.
"Acquire soul."
Those two words ended everything Severin Kael had been.
No cheering followed. No hatred. No justice.
Only relief.
The chains around his body dissolved into pale light, and the pressure that had crushed his chest for years vanished. For one brief breath, Severin felt light. Not free. Just… empty.
Then the world tore itself away.
Sound collapsed first.
Then color.
Then pain.
His thoughts stretched, thinning like threads pulled too far. The massive Soul Seal carved into his chest—once burning, once screaming—fell silent. Severin expected darkness.
Instead, there was white.
Not brightness. Not light.
White.
A boundless, textureless expanse, as if the concept of distance had been erased.
There was no floor beneath his feet, yet he stood. No sky above him, yet he felt watched.
He looked down at his chest.
The seal was gone.
No chains.
No brand.
No suppression.
For the first time since birth, his soul breathed freely.
A ripple passed through the white.
Something noticed him.
It emerged without motion—already there, already watching. A figure shaped like a person but wrong in every way. Smooth, featureless, glowing softly, as if carved from the idea of purity itself.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Yet Severin knew it was smiling.
"Severin Kael," the creature said.
The voice did not enter his ears. It appeared directly inside his soul.
"High-Rank Soul. Classified Villain. Soul Level: Unmeasurable."
Severin did not bow. Did not kneel.
He had done enough of that in life.
"So," he said calmly, his voice echoing strangely, "this is where heroes are born."
The white creature paused.
"This is the Soul Blessing Realm."
The words carried weight—history, worship, fear.
"Here, souls are purified. Balanced. Assigned."
Severin let out a quiet laugh. It sounded fragile, almost human.
"Assigned," he repeated. "Like cattle."
The white space trembled.
For the first time, Severin felt something from the creature.
Not anger.
Curiosity.
"You are not supposed to be here," it said.
Severin's gaze sharpened. "Then why am I?"
Silence stretched. In that silence, memories flooded him—auction halls soaked in incense, heroes bidding with calm smiles, royals drinking wine while souls screamed silently in crystal vessels.
The creature spoke again.
"Your soul should have been consumed."
Severin closed his eyes.
"So should millions of others."
Something cracked.
A fracture spread through the white, thin as a hairline, yet infinite. The realm shuddered, and Severin felt it—his soul, vast and dense, pressing against a space that could not contain it.
The creature recoiled.
"Impossible…"
Severin opened his eyes.
"You call us villains," he said softly, "but you built a world that eats its own people and calls it salvation."
The fracture widened.
The creature raised its hand—not threatening, not defensive. Almost… cautious.
"Your existence is an error."
"Then fix it," Severin replied. "Erase me."
Another pause. Longer this time.
When the creature spoke again, its voice had changed.
"I cannot."
The white realm pulsed violently. Symbols—ancient, divine—flared into existence and burned away just as quickly.
"Your soul has already passed judgment."
Severin felt something descend.
Not force.
Recognition.
"Severin Kael," the creature said, slowly now, "I will return you to your world."
His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
The creature tilted its head.
"Because if you remain here…"
The white cracked further.
"…this realm will collapse."
For the first time, Severin smiled.
A small, terrifying smile.
"And the power?" he asked.
The creature hesitated.
Then light gathered between its hands—condensed, heavy, alive. It pressed the light forward, and it sank into Severin's chest.
There was no pain.
Only growth.
A mark formed where the seal once was—but this one was different. No chains. No suppression. A small, incomplete symbol, like a seed buried in flesh.
"I grant you the power of a Blessed Soul," the creature said.
Severin looked down at the mark.
It felt… obedient. Waiting.
"This blessing will grow with you."
"Will it control me?" Severin asked quietly.
The creature did not answer immediately.
"…No."
That was enough.
The white realm began to collapse inward, folding like paper set on fire.
"Severin Kael," the creature said as the world unraveled, "do not force the world to face you."
Severin's voice was calm as the abyss opened beneath him.
"I won't," he said.
"I'll let it choose."
The white vanished.
Darkness surged.
And far below, bells rang.
Severin Kael opened his eyes in a ruined alley, the stench of rot and incense thick in the air. His chest burned softly—not painfully, but with promise.
He sat up.
Above him, banners fluttered.
**SOUL AUCTION — TONIGHT**
Severin placed a hand over the mark and laughed quietly.
"They're still farming," he whispered.
And somewhere, deep within his soul, something vast stirred—patient, restrained, capable of ending everything.
But not yet.