Translator: Pai_
A week had passed since Solif’s return.
While handling the affairs of his own house, Turan also visited Varaha through the jade mirror whenever he had ti to observe the affairs on that side as well.
Publicly, it was under the pretext of strengthening control over Varaha and helping his fatigued friend from frequent expeditions, but in truth, it was to keep an eye on whether Berit might try anything suspicious.
Of course, Berit had no apparent reason to suddenly betray him.
Her father, Rahman, the new head of House Zahar, had already been replaced with soone else, and even aside from that, it didn’t seem like she had ford any deep bond with her father.
But still, you never know.
Turan, persistently engaging in conversation with Berit, who openly found him annoying, confird that even after months apart, her affection for Solif had not waned, which gave him peace of mind.
“So, did you really co all this way just to see these docunts?”
“No, I ca to ask for the underground prison keys.”
“Ah... I heard about that. Here.”
Receiving the keys from Berit, Turan, just like Armania had done, led the White Elf with her face covered by a hood down into the underground.
Skipping all procedures, it wasn’t long before he stood before the thirteen White Elves who were imprisoned in Varaha’s dungeon.
“Princess!”
“Are you unhard?”
“Yes. I’m glad to see you all looking well too.”
Just as he said, the appearance of Nia and the White Elves hadn’t changed much from the first ti he saw them.
Living in an underground prison and receiving just enough food rations was no different from how they used to live.
Of course, there were so signs of emotional hardship from being apart, but in that regard, the White Elves seed sowhat superior to humans.
Instead of just showing his face and pulling her away imdiately, Turan allowed the White Elf princess and her retainers to talk about what they had been through.
Anyway, there wouldn’t be much trouble if word got out that they were conducting comparative research on necromancy and soul magic.
If anything, the problem would start with people escaping and spreading the word that House Parsha and House Varaha were secretly breeding White Elves.
“This should be enough, right?”
“Ahh, just a little longer…”
“There’ll be another chance next ti, so let’s stop here for today. It’s better to end things with a bit of longing.”
At Turan’s gentle persuasion, Nia wore a look full of regret on her face white as marble, then soon nodded.
She slumped her shoulders and bowed to her retainers.
“Then everyone, I’ll see you again next ti. Please stay healthy until then.”
“Please take care of yourself, Princess. We will make sure you can get out of here one day...”
To say sothing like that so boldly with Turan standing right beside them, what on earth were they thinking?
Then again, perhaps they were just saying it out of politeness without any real sincerity.
From the beginning, it was difficult for them to escape surveillance, and even if they did, they probably knew that there wouldn’t be any aningful outco.
At least here, they were given food consistently, but if they ended up hiding in a cave sowhere in the mountains on their own, could they even eat once a day?
Perhaps understanding that, Nia had beco much more cooperative since returning to the underground prison of House Parsha.
Now, she even showed the occasional smile to Rida, who was researching necromancy with her, and had beco noticeably more proactive, as she subtly remarked during her break.
"I trust you haven't chard that foreign woman."
“Of course not.”
Turan burst into hearty laughter at her teasing joke and checked the results that had co out this ti.
The technique Rida had previously experinted with, mimicking the unique soul possession thod of necromancy through soul magic, had now been properly compiled so others could follow it.
“Well then, give it a try. I’ll help you if sothing goes wrong.”
“I’ll be in your care.”
Turan gave her a slight nod, then turned his gaze to the middle-aged man trembling right in front of him.
He had been the leader of a group of bandits who had set up a hideout in the mountains north of the Gray Zone and engaged in slash-and-burn farming until recently.
“Mmph, mmph, mm-mm!”
His mouth had been gagged, so it was impossible to know what exactly he was pleading.
Then again, what would be the point of knowing?
Whether it was a plea for life or a curse, hearing it would only sour the mood.
Using a familiar thod, Turan extracted the spirit form and applied the technique Rida had taught him.
He rembered she said to imagine his own spirit form becoming soft and fluid like a liquid, rather than a solid.
As it was his first ti, it took a bit of effort to get the hang of it, but thanks to Rida’s well-organized instructions and her constant guidance at his side, it wasn’t long before he could enter that state.
“All right, go in now.”
The mont he entered through the space between the man’s brows, Turan could sense the man’s spirit form from very close.
Compared to his own, it was vague, seemingly not even fully materialized, and utterly weak.
With a slight gesture, he expelled it and took over the position, and imdiately, a horribly heavy sensation enveloped his entire body.
‘Ugh…’
A pounding heart, labored breathing, and the pain in his limbs from being bound tightly and cutting off circulation.
These sensations were what ordinary humans typically experienced.
When had he last felt this helpless?
At that mont, a voice echoed through his blurred vision, now filled with tears.
"Is it done, Parsha family head?"
At Rida’s question, Turan nodded once, then shook his head twice from side to side.
It was the code they had established to confirm that possession had been successfully achieved.
Once the gag and ropes were removed, Turan slowly rose and loosened his body with a few light stretches.
“It really makes realize again how weak a normal human body is…”
“I was also startled when I went in before. It’s been nearly three hundred years since I started using magic, so it’s no wonder I can’t recall what it felt like.”
Generally, wizards began perceiving magic around the age of ten.
Once awakened, even the weakest knight could exhibit brute strength capable of beating a bear to death barehanded.
Of course, even powerful nobles could beco temporarily as weak as ordinary humans when their magic was completely depleted, but how often did such a thing happen?
After practicing moving in other humans' bodies several tis like this, Turan asked Rida.
“Once I leave, will this man’s soul return to its original state?”
“Yes. In soul magic, possession involves extracting the contents of the opponent’s spirit form and inhabiting it. In necromancy, however, you suppress the spirit and take command.”
“In that respect, I suppose it’s a bit better.”
“But in exchange, unlike soul magic possession, you can’t fully embed yourself into the body. For that, you’d have to use the thod the half-elves used.”
The thod used by the half-elves of Varaha and Ruvan was not about subduing and taking control of the soul, but rather, completely infiltrating and rging into the soul itself.
By doing so, the soul chain would link to the new body, allowing a complete body transfer. However, the soul chain connected to the original body would be severed, causing the original body to die.
“So it’s ti to co back now. I’ve already done plenty of direct testing myself, but I’m afraid sothing might go wrong.”
“Yes.”
Understanding her concern, Turan extracted his spirit form from the body and returned to his original body.
The shift from a powerless ordinary person’s body to the body of a family head with imnse magical power brought an overwhelming sense of contrast.
It was on par with, or perhaps even greater than, the ecstasy he had felt when absorbing the magic power of the Great Sea Serpent in the past.
For a brief mont, he thought he could understand why the fallen gods had beco practically addicted to body-swapping.
But then, Turan felt a strange and unsettling sense of dissonance.
‘This is...’
It felt as though sothing had slipped out from inside his body.
As if a piece of a well-assembled puzzle were missing, there was a tangible sense of incompleteness.
He barely had ti to consider where that sensation was coming from when the bandit who had been used for the earlier experint suddenly opened his eyes wide.
“Oh, he woke up faster than I thought. I’ll go ahead and finish him off-”
“Wait.”
Turan quickly stopped Rida and silently observed the bandit's eyes.
As if the previous desperate pleas for life had been a lie, the man’s face now radiated absolute serenity.
And those two eyes gazing steadily at Turan.
They reminded him of Midan, the magical beast hunter, and Obil, the pyro executioner, clear, unnaturally pure eyes that felt uncanny.
“Library.”
“Library? Who are you?”
As if he hadn’t heard Turan’s question, the bandit stared at him silently and repeated again.
“Go to the library. As soon as possible.”
With those final words, the bandit’s body collapsed as if crumbling, and sothing faint and unclear flew out.
A soul fragnt, like those Turan had confird several tis before through the librarian, shattered pieces of a god’s soul.
Before he could even retrieve the jewel box, it flew straight into Turan and rged into his spirit form.
*****
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