"Wait—"
The words slipped out.
"—how did you know?"
The moment they left his mouth—
He realized.
Mistake.
His eyes flicked upward.
And saw it.
That faint shimmer again.
Golden.
Inside Alaric's eyes.
A chill crawled down his spine.
Alaric smiled.
Not wide.
Not mocking.
Just—
Knowing.
He raised a finger.
Pointed slightly to the side of Arceus.
"It's because I can see it."
His voice was calm now.
Steady.
"The Spirit King."
A pause.
"Nemesis."
Arceus's breath caught.
"It's latched onto you."
Instinctively—
He turned.
Fast.
His eyes scanned behind him.
Left.
Right.
Nothing.
Just empty air.
Celia leaned slightly, her brows knitting in confusion as she followed his gaze.
"There's nothing there," she said, her tone uncertain, her eyes flicking between the two men.
Alaric waved a hand dismissively.
"You won't see it."
His voice carried quiet certainty.
"Neither of you will."
He tapped his temple lightly.
"Only spirit masters have the right sight."
His gaze lingered on Arceus.
Longer now.
Deeper.
"But trust me…"
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"…it's there."
A pause.
"And to think…"
His voice softened slightly.
"…after so many years…"
"I'd witness an innate soul of this caliber again."
Celia's eyes widened just a fraction.
The words sank in.
Innate soul.
Her gaze shifted toward Arceus.
Lingering.
Searching.
Alaric continued.
"Miss Vanessa…"
A faint nod.
"…was right to send you here."
The air changed.
Gone—
Was the drunken old man.
In his place—
Stood someone else entirely.
A man whose presence carried weight.
Experience.
Authority.
A sage.
Arceus said nothing.
His mind was still catching up.
Still rearranging everything it thought it understood.
His eyes flicked toward Celia.
She looked back.
Confused.
Curious.
But—
Something else lingered there now.
Something quieter.
More personal.
"Come."
Alaric turned.
Without waiting.
"There's something you need to do."
They left the Spirit Valley.
Step by step, they walked back through the cave, the golden light fading behind them, the warmth of the grass replaced once again by cold stone and stale air.
The transition felt abrupt.
Almost unnatural.
By the time they stepped out—
The world was normal again.
Too normal.
They climbed the stairs.
Each step creaking beneath their weight.
The sound echoing louder now in the silence between them.
Celia walked behind Arceus.
Quiet.
Her eyes—
Lingering.
On his back.
For a moment—
She smiled.
Without meaning to.
Since when…
Her thoughts drifted.
…did his shoulders look this broad?
She shook her head lightly.
As if dismissing the thought.
But it lingered.
At the top—
Alaric led them down a narrow hallway.
Dim.
Silent.
Until—
He stopped.
Before a door.
Marked with a simple red "X".
He knocked once.
Didn't wait.
Opened it.
And stepped inside.
They followed.
At first—
It looked ordinary.
A storage room.
Wooden barrels.
Old crates.
The scent of oak and aged wine lingering thick in the air.
Then—
The door shut.
And everything—
Shifted.
A shimmer passed across the walls.
Like heat distorting vision.
The barrels—
Faded.
The crates—
Disappeared.
The illusion—
Collapsed.
Revealing—
Eggs.
Dozens of them.
White.
Smooth.
Glowing faintly under soft light.
Different sizes.
Some no bigger than a walnut.
Some as large as a human torso.
Each one resting carefully on velvet-lined holders.
Arranged in perfect rows.
The air felt…
Sacred.
"This…"
Alaric spoke quietly.
"…is our restricted hatching chamber."
His voice carried a hint of reverence.
"The unbonded ones…"
He gestured slowly.
"…are stored here."
"Dormant."
At the center—
A stone platform rose.
Simple.
Ancient.
"Sit."
Arceus hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then stepped forward.
Each step echoed faintly.
He sat.
Cross-legged.
The stone was cold beneath him.
Alaric stepped closer.
Placed his hand—
On Arceus's shoulder.
A faint glow appeared beneath them.
Lines.
Symbols.
Circles.
They spread across the floor like living ink, weaving together into a complex pattern that pulsed with quiet power.
Celia stood at the side.
Still.
Watching.
Her lips slightly parted.
Her breath held without her realizing.
"I'll begin the extraction…"
Alaric's voice turned solemn.
"The Spirit King's essence…"
His fingers pressed slightly.
"It will enter an egg…"
A pause.
"The one it chooses."
Celia's chest tightened.
"And then…"
Alaric continued.
"…you'll offer a drop of your blood."
"Your bond is already formed."
"Your blood…"
A faint smile appeared.
"…will awaken it."
"And from that moment…"
"It will be yours."
"Forever."
Arceus sat still.
Too still.
His body didn't move.
But inside—
Everything was moving.
Fast.
Chaotic.
His heart pounded.
Loud.
Wild.
He didn't like this.
Not one bit.
The glowing symbols.
The hidden valley.
The unseen spirit attached to him.
And this man.
This old man.
Who could see what others couldn't.
Who knew too much.
His fingers curled slowly into fists.
What if…
His throat tightened.
What if this pulls Nemesis out of the system?
His breathing grew shallow.
What if… the shop loses it?
The thought hit harder than expected.
That wasn't just power.
That was—
Everything.
Too many unknowns.
Too many risks.
For a moment—
A strong urge surged through him.
Run.
Stand up.
Leave.
Now.
His muscles tensed.
Then—
He looked up.
Into Alaric's eyes.
Still glowing faintly.
Still watching.
And his thoughts shifted.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
Who…
His gaze hardened slightly.
Who exactly… are you?
His identity was a fog Arceus couldn't cut through.
There were too many blanks. No history, no clear strength, no way to measure how dangerous this man truly was, and that uncertainty pressed down on him like an invisible weight. Refusing might be an option… or it might be a mistake that ended with his body never leaving this room.
The thought lingered.
Uncomfortable.
Cold.
***
The tension coiled tighter in his chest.
Like a steel cable drawn to its limit.
***
And then—
Another realization struck him.
***
A quiet one.
But far more terrifying.
***
"There's… a cat spirit…"
His throat tightened.
"…floating above me."
***
Watching.
***
That thought alone sent a chill deeper than anything else he had felt since stepping into this place.
Not the cave.
Not the chains.
Not even the ritual.
***
This—
Was personal.
***
For a moment, his breath hitched.
Then—
He forced it.
***
In.
Out.
***
Again.
***
_Calm down.___
***
He closed his eyes briefly.
Reminded himself.
***
He wasn't empty-handed anymore.
He had Direwolf eggs.
A growing shop.
A system that was already changing his life.
***
Even if this went wrong—
Even if Nemesis changed—
He wasn't losing everything.
***
In fact—
This might be a gain.
***
A dangerous one.
But still—
A gain.
***
_Two versions…___
The thought crept in.
Slow.
Tempting.
***
_One in the system…___
_One tied to me…___
***
His fingers curled slightly.
***
He swallowed.
***
"I'm ready."
***
His voice came out steady.
Even if his thoughts were anything but.
***
Celia didn't speak.
But her eyes—
Never left him.
***
There was something in them now.
Expectation.
Worry.
And something softer.
Something that made it feel like this moment mattered more than it should.
***
Alaric gave a small nod.
Closed his eyes.
***
Both hands pressed against Arceus's chest.
***
Then—
He began.
***
The chant.
***
Low.
Rough.
Alien.
***
The words didn't sound like language.
They sounded like something older.
Something that existed before meaning.
***
The air changed.
***
It thickened.
***
A faint hum spread through the room, vibrating against the stone floor, crawling up through Arceus's legs, into his spine.
***
Then—
The mana appeared.
***
Purple.
***
It burst from Alaric's fingertips like threads of light, curling and twisting through the air, wrapping around Arceus's body in slow, deliberate spirals.
***
They moved like mist.
Like something alive.
***
The circle beneath them reacted.
***
The symbols ignited.
***
Light spread.
Brighter.
Stronger.
***
Until—
Almost everything was glowing.
***
Almost.
***
One spot—
Remained untouched.
***
Above Arceus.
***
There—
Nemesis hovered.
***
Silent.
Still.
***
Its form translucent, yet impossibly clear, its silver eyes glowing like distant stars, watching everything without emotion.
***
Waiting.
***
Alaric's voice deepened.
The chant grew heavier.
The air pressed harder.
***
Then—
He moved.
***
His left hand rose.
***
"Spirit Cutter Sword."
***
The words cut through the chant like a command.
***
Mana gathered instantly.
***
A blade formed.
***
Pure energy.
Etched with glowing runes that crawled across its surface like living script.
***
The sword hummed.
Sharp.
Hungry.
***
He raised it.
***
Then—
Brought it down.
***
Slow.
Precise.
***
Aimed not at flesh.
But at the invisible thread.
***
The bond.
***
The connection.
***
Between Arceus—
And Nemesis.
***
But—
***
At that exact moment—
***
The spirit moved.
***
Not fast.
Not dramatic.
***
Just—
A casual swipe.
***
_Pow.___
***
The sound was soft.
Almost unimpressive.
***
But the result—
Wasn't.
***
Alaric's body launched backward.
***
Like something had struck him with overwhelming force.
***
He crashed into the wall.
***
_Thud.___
***
The impact echoed through the room, cracks spreading from the point of collision like veins across stone.
***
The sword—
Shattered.
***
Fragments of light scattered and vanished into nothing.
***
The purple tendrils—
Collapsed.
***
Gone.
***
The circle—
Dimmed.
***
The ritual—
Stopped.
***
Celia gasped.
Her eyes widened, her body instinctively stepping forward before hesitation caught her mid-motion.
"What the…?"
***
She froze.
Caught between moving and staying.
***
Alaric slid down the wall slowly, his body dragging against the cracked surface until he hit the ground.
***
A mark—
Burned into his chest.
***
A paw print.
***
Charred.
***
His hand trembled as it reached for it.
***
"It… refuses…"
***
His voice was hoarse.
Barely holding together.
***
"The Spirit King…"
A weak breath.
"…refuses to be your companion."
***
Arceus's eyes snapped open.
His breath came out rough.
Uneven.
***
"Uhh… what do you mean?"
***
***
Downstairs—
***
The tavern remained quiet.
Dim.
Still.
***
Veronika leaned against the counter, stirring her drink lazily, her eyes half-focused on the glowing tablet in front of her.
Numbers.
Inventory.
Routine.
***
Then—
***
_Thud.___
***
A dull sound echoed from above.
***
She paused.
Her brow creased slightly as she glanced toward the ceiling.
***
"What the hell…"
***
Her fingers hovered over the screen for a second.
***
Then—
She shrugged.
***
"…not my problem."
***
And went back to work.
***
***
Upstairs—
***
Silence.
***
Heavy.
***
Thick enough to feel.
***
Arceus remained seated in the center of the faded array, his brows drawn together, his chest rising slowly as the glow within him disappeared.
***
Above him—
Nothing could be seen.
***
But something—
Was still there.
***
Alaric pushed himself upright with a wince, brushing ash off his robes, his movements slower now, more careful.
***
"That…"
He exhaled.
"…was unexpected."
***
His voice was rough.
***
"It's been decades…"
He muttered.
"…since a spirit king struck me directly."
***
He looked at Arceus.
His eyes narrowing.
Not with anger.
But with something else.
***
Curiosity.
Concern.
***
"I don't know whether you're fortunate…"
A pause.
"…or unfortunate."
***
He shifted slightly, still holding his chest.
***
"Most spirit remnants…"
His gaze drifted briefly toward the eggs.
"…want to be reborn."
***
"To escape."
***
"This state."
***
Then—
He pointed.
***
At Arceus.
***
"But this one…"
***
His voice lowered.
***
"…doesn't."
***
"It wants…"
A slow breath.
"…to stay."
***
"Latched onto your soul."
***
Arceus stiffened.
***
The words hit harder than expected.
***
"What does that mean?"
***
His voice came out tighter this time.
Less steady.
***
Less certain.