Artificial Souls (2)

Since the academy had just sprung a surprise test on us, we were given a slight reprieve from studies—though only a partial one. Strangely, many students didn't even know the test had happened. There was no official announcement, no mention of it after the day passed, as if the entire ordeal had been quietly swept under the rug.

That ambiguity worked in my favor. It gave me just enough time to continue development on Prototype-Pixie. I now had three days—three precious days—to figure out how to replicate an artificial soul.

Of course, that didn't mean I'd forgotten about the 58th Shadow's circuits. I pushed forward on both fronts, juggling the artificial soul's framework while continuing my research on the Shadow's neural lattice.

And by the end of the third day… I had finally found a clue.

Not a solution yet—but a crack in the wall. And that was enough.

Sergeant Rex had hinted in our very first class that at higher levels, a weapon doesn't need a physical form. Fights at that scale—battles capable of endangering entire planets or igniting stars—aren't decided by the weapon, but by the wielder.

Which meant that if we achieved perfect resonance with the weapon we wield—by solidifying our purpose…

We become the weapon.

And the weapon becomes us.

In that state of absolute harmony, the weapon no longer needs a shape.

We define the weapon, just as a signature defines a soul. And in turn, it defines us.

And when I applied that same principle to Circuits—understanding that they, too, are a kind of weapon—I finally realized what I had overlooked.

"Just because the 58th Shadow was untalented in every Path he attempted, he forged a new one. And in doing so, he reached a state that most never touch in their entire lifetimes—even before he created his first artificial soul," I whispered, staring up at the ceiling of my room, a gasp caught in my breath.

Weapon resonance wasn't part of any particular Path. Though most commonly utilized by Aura users, even a mage's staff could be considered a weapon. Which meant… mastery didn't require talent.

Only resolve.

A clear, unwavering resolve.

"What is it that I want?" I whispered, sinking back into my chair.

"What reason do I have to plunge into this madness?"

"Is it simply to change this rotten universe?"

"Is it because I want to rewrite the story?"

"…Or is it merely because I'm curious about the ending?"

I waited for an answer to rise from within.

But silence met me instead.

...I still didn't know.

These clues weren't enough to push me to the next stage. Not yet.

I needed time.

But that, too, was a luxury I didn't possess.

A Guardian of Time… without time.

How ironic.

I had even failed to replicate Wally's artificial soul into Pixie. Which meant she couldn't be deployed to assist with Reinhardt's mission.

So be it.

I'd lend him a hand myself.

I couldn't afford to let this setback stall my progress. Not now. Not ever.

"Wally, send a message to Reinhardt and Risa. Inform them there'll be a few changes to the plan," I said, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "Reinhardt's squad will stay behind, except for Reinhardt and Grunthar. John will join Risa's team, and together they'll take on a B-rank mission instead of a C-rank one. Tell them I'll be accompanying Reinhardt for his B-rank mission."

"I have relayed your message, Father," Wally replied without delay.

"Thank you," I murmured, rising from my chair.

I wasn't exactly comfortable leaving John on campus for too long. He had a remarkable talent for attracting trouble, and without me around to rein him in, the odds of him causing a scene were dangerously high.

Add to that the fact he's a werewolf—forced to bottle up his instincts in a place like this, surrounded by rules, order, and a complete lack of bloodshed—and you're practically begging for a disaster. Prolonged restraint might very well drive him insane.

But sending him off on a B-rank mission alone? That would've been just as reckless. John's headstrong by nature, the kind who charges into the thick of things without a second thought. That's precisely why I paired him with Risa—her level-headedness would counterbalance his impulsiveness. A stabilizer to the storm.

As for Reinhardt's squad… their synergy was still a work in progress. Grunthar's recent addition had thrown off their rhythm, and they needed time to recalibrate. Keeping them back was the wiser option.

Besides, I needed to take on a B-rank mission with Syl anyway.

Two birds. One perfectly timed opportunity.

That aside, my Chrono-Sense had shown considerable improvement ever since I—or more accurately, Moriarty—managed to refine our control over Nether Vision.

In truth, it was his doing. He'd taken a peculiar interest in that subject over the past few days and delved into it with a focus that I couldn't help but appreciate… cautiously. But since no issues had arisen from his meddling—no side effects, no backlash—I allowed myself to ease the grip of my concern. Partially.

Still, we had taken a different path than most Sorcerers.

We hadn't made any contracts with death-touched beings to deepen our understanding of Sorcery, nor had we ever intended to. Instead, we chose to master this single facet—Nether Vision—and nothing more.

Of course, this meant abandoning the vast combat potential that Sorcery had to offer. But frankly, we were never interested in that to begin with. So it was no real loss.

Another reason I pursued this path was because Nether Vision granted me a deeper insight into the workings of artificial souls.

When Ryuk first explained them to me, I missed a crucial detail—one that now feels embarrassingly obvious in hindsight. Artificial souls, no matter how many thousands or even millions they slaughter, can never develop death energy. It's simply beyond their nature. They remain untouched by the essence of death.

That realization had far-reaching implications.

For one, it meant they could never be resurrected through Sorcery. They would never become vessels of undeath, no matter how many necromantic rituals were performed. However… as long as their soul remained within this dimension, they could still be transferred into a new vessel. Reborn—not through death, but through will and continuity.

That, in essence, made them the perfect counter to any Sorcerer.

It also explained why the Demon King Bune always fled whenever the 58th Shadow drew near. Among the 72 Demon Kings, Bune alone had embraced the arts of necromantic Sorcery—and thus, he understood the danger better than anyone.

"Father, I've developed a new method to accelerate the creation of Prototype-Pixie's soul," Wally announced suddenly, his voice crisp and clear.

I blinked, mildly surprised—not by the content of his words, but by the manner in which he spoke. It wasn't a question this time. It was a statement. A decision. There was something strangely human in that.

Were artificial souls... supposed to grow this fast?

"What is it?" I asked, intrigued.

"How about you give Prototype-Pixie an AI first—just like you did with me?" he suggested.

"How would that help?" I asked, leaning forward slightly, now genuinely curious where this was heading.

"While I don't fully understand how artificial souls are made," Wally began, "you created me twelve years ago as an AI first—one that later became a soul. Maybe it's not just the body that matters in forming an artificial soul... maybe it needs a mind too."

"...Huh. I guess having a son is actually helpful," Ryuk mused, mildly impressed.

"...Still feels a bit strange," Moriarty muttered, though the edge in his tone had softened—there was no longer that usual emotional distance.

"...Then we'll try it," I smiled, patting Wally gently on the head. As we turned back to our workstation, I felt something quietly shift inside me. "Let's put this theory to the test."