A fortuitous encounter.
A free choice.
A monster of his own.
For a fleeting second, it felt absurdly simple, like stepping into a store and being told to take anything from the shelves without paying a single credit. The thought flickered through his mind, almost laughable, almost unreal.
But the weight behind it—
Was anything but light.
***
"Alright…" he whispered under his breath.
And stepped forward.
***
His foot pressed into the grass.
Soft.
Cool.
Real.
***
His heartbeat began to climb.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Then louder.
Each step forward felt heavier than the last, not because of the ground, but because of expectation.
***
Behind him—
Celia moved instinctively.
A step.
Then—
A hand caught her shoulder.
Firm.
Unyielding.
***
"You can't follow him."
Alaric's voice had changed again.
No laziness.
No humor.
Only authority.
***
"No one else is allowed inside the spirit selection boundary."
***
Celia turned sharply, her lips parting as if to argue, her brows tightening with instinctive resistance.
But the words never came.
***
Her gaze shifted.
Back to Arceus.
***
He was already walking away.
Further.
Alone.
***
She swallowed.
And stayed.
***
Out in the field—
The wind had quieted.
The restless movement of the spirits slowed, their translucent forms drifting around him like reluctant dancers forced into motion by an unseen rhythm.
They didn't approach.
They didn't welcome.
They simply… watched.
***
Arceus walked.
Slow.
Careful.
His eyes moved from one spirit to another, studying their forms, their faint outlines, the subtle flickers of emotion hidden in their movements.
Then—
He saw it.
***
A horse.
***
Its body shimmered in silvery-white light, elegant and proud even in death, its mane flowing like strands of moonlight caught in motion.
Arceus's eyes lit up instantly.
***
The system reacted.
***
Grade: Epic
Potential: Level-50
State: Spirit Remnant
***
His breath steadied.
"Oh…"
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Epic grade… and still level-50 potential…"
His chest tightened with excitement.
"Alright… this is the best one so far."
***
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Measured.
Careful not to startle it.
***
One step.
Two.
Three.
***
Closer.
***
Four feet.
***
The horse lifted its head.
Its hollow, glowing eyes locked onto him.
***
For a moment—
Everything stilled.
***
Then—
It screamed.
***
A sharp, lonely neigh tore through the air, piercing and hollow, filled with something deeper than fear—
Rejection.
***
And it fled.
***
Gone.
In a blur of fading light.
***
Arceus stood there.
Frozen.
His hand still half-raised.
His fingers curling slowly in empty air.
***
"…."
***
Back at the cave entrance—
Celia's brows drew together.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
"What are the chances… he'll succeed?"
***
Alaric didn't answer immediately.
He exhaled slowly.
Then—
"Either one hundred percent…"
A pause.
"…or zero."
***
She turned.
***
"There's no middle ground."
***
Silence followed.
Heavy.
***
"Only one in a hundred thousand plainfolk…"
Alaric's gaze remained fixed on Arceus.
"…has what we call an innate soul."
***
Celia's chest tightened.
A faint pressure.
Like something squeezing from the inside.
***
Her eyes darkened.
***
Time passed.
***
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
***
Forty.
***
Arceus kept walking.
***
At first, he was careful.
Observant.
Choosing.
***
Then—
He stopped choosing.
***
He approached everything.
Anything.
***
Wolves.
Birds.
Serpents.
***
Every single one—
Avoided him.
***
Some drifted away slowly.
Some recoiled instantly.
Some fled before he even got close.
***
Not one—
Came forward.
***
His steps grew heavier.
The grass bent deeper beneath his feet.
***
His breathing changed.
Slower.
Heavier.
***
His shoulders lowered.
***
The excitement—
Gone.
***
The confidence—
Fading.
***
A hollow feeling crept in.
Quiet.
Persistent.
***
"Forget it…" he murmured under his breath.
"I already have two legendary monsters…"
A bitter exhale escaped him.
"I don't need these anyway."
***
But his feet kept moving.
***
Not searching anymore.
Just…
Walking.
***
Then—
Something caught his eye.
***
A dip in the land.
Partially hidden.
Almost swallowed by tall grass.
***
A cave.
***
"…Hmm?"
His brows knit slightly.
"There's… an entrance?"
He slowed.
Curiosity flickered.
"I thought spirit monsters only roam outside…"
***
His steps turned.
Toward it.
***
Far away—
At the entrance—
Alaric's expression changed instantly.
***
"Sh*t."
***
Celia snapped toward him.
"What?"
***
His eyes narrowed.
Locked onto the distant figure of Arceus.
"Your friend…"
A pause.
"…he's entering that cave."
***
Her chest tightened.
"What cave?"
Her eyes searched.
Then found him.
A silhouette—
Disappearing.
Into shadow.
***
"What's in there?" she asked quickly, her voice tightening. "Why is it bad?"
***
Alaric exhaled slowly.
His tone dropped.
Lower.
Heavier.
***
"That's not just a cave."
***
"It's a prison."
***
Celia stilled.
***
"One of the three rarest spirit kings is sealed in there."
***
Her breath caught.
***
"A creature…"
His voice turned grim.
"…that can still attack humans."
***
"Other spirits avoid plainfolk."
A pause.
"This one…"
His eyes darkened.
"…doesn't."
***
Celia didn't wait.
***
She moved.
***
Fast.
***
But—
A grip caught her wrist.
***
Strong.
Unyielding.
***
"You can't."
***
"Let me go!" she snapped, struggling, her voice breaking through the calm like a blade. "I have to save him! I brought him here because I believed in him—not to watch him walk into a grave!"
***
Alaric tightened his grip.
***
"If you step in there…"
His voice sharpened.
"…every spirit will go berserk."
***
"They won't avoid you."
"They'll fight to possess you."
***
Her body froze.
***
"But—"
***
"I won't lie," Alaric cut in.
"He might get hurt."
A pause.
"Broken ribs. Internal damage. Maybe worse."
***
Her fingers trembled.
***
"But he'll live."
***
She looked at him.
Hope.
Fear.
Clashing.
***
"The spirit is bound."
Alaric nodded toward the valley.
"Ancient chains."
***
"As long as he sees the danger…"
A pause.
"…and runs."
***
"He won't die."
***
Celia's hands clenched against her chest, gripping the fabric of her jacket tightly as if holding herself together.
Her gaze locked onto the cave.
Unmoving.
***
Inside—
***
Darkness.
***
Then—
Light.
Faint.
Gold.
***
Arceus stepped deeper.
The air changed again.
Heavier.
Denser.
***
And then—
He saw it.
***
Chains.
***
Golden.
Massive.
Stretching across the cave walls like living veins, pulsing with ancient symbols that flickered faintly with restrained power.
***
At their center—
***
A creature.
***
A feline.
But not.
***
Its form twisted between shapes, its body half-smoke, half-solid, its silver eyes burning like twin stars filled with rage.
***
It thrashed.
Struggled.
The chains tightened.
Glowed brighter.
***
It saw him.
***
And hissed.
***
A sound sharp enough to cut through bone.
***
Arceus stopped.
***
Not because he was afraid.
***
But because—
***
His breath caught.
***
The system activated.
***
Species: Nemesis
Grade: Mythical
Potential: Level 90 (Quasi-God Tier)
State: Spirit – Sealed
Condition: Violently unstable, deeply bound, soul-suppressed. It will attack anyone who comes two feet closer to it.
***
"…Level… ninety?"
***
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
***
His legs trembled.
Not from fear.
But from the sheer weight of what he was seeing.
***
A Mythical.
***
A quasi-god.
***
Right in front of him.