The pale glow from the glowstone lamp bathed the room in a dim, steady light, casting long shadows that stretched along the walls. The night's chill crept in from the outside, but I barely noticed it.
All my attention was locked on the black book resting in my lap.
I ran my fingers over its rough, aged cover, feeling the slight ridges and imperfections beneath my fingertips. Its texture has been worn down in places from age. The animal-hide binding looked ancient, and its deep black cover now faded in spots, revealing hints of the underlying leather. Yet, despite the book's obvious deterioration, the polished sphere in the center remained pristine, smooth as glass, as if untouched by time itself.
I tilted the book at different angles under the light, examining every inch of its surface. Hidden markings, engraving, symbols, notes, runes, or anything that would give a clue on how to activate this so-called 'family heirloom' Granny had given me. But nothing much came to my attention.
Since it refused to respond to my mana, it meant one of two things.
One, the book required something specific to recognize its designated user, like a matching key to open the lock.
Two, it was already bound to someone else, meaning I'd have to eliminate its previous owner to claim it.
Given my circumstances, the first seemed far more likely.
But what was it?
Despite smearing my fingers and palms all over the book, I had no success.
I brought it close to my face, ensuring I was visible under the glowstone's light, tilting it at multiple angles to see if it reacted to my face, my presence, or even my breath.
Still nothing.
I narrowed my eyes and tried the next logical step.
Bringing it even closer, I widened my eyes and stared directly into the polished sphere, focusing so intently my vision blurred and my eyes began to sting from dryness.
A drop of moisture pooled at the corner of my eye, then slid down my cheek.
Yet there was no response.
Not even a faint reaction.
I tapped my fingers against my lap, glaring at the book.
What was I missing?
Then a lightbulb struck me.
I brought the book close to my mouth and announced firmly.
"Choose the light."
Silence.
I clicked my tongue.
If there was some sort of passcode, that should've been it. Granny had been reciting it like a broken record since as old as I could remember. From the bedtime stories she used to tell to the long theology lessons she gave, it was a phrase that wormed its way into everything. If this book needed some hidden verbal command, that phrase was my best bet.
But nothing happened.
The black book remained lifeless, showing no change.
I rubbed my forehead in frustration.
Finally, with a sigh, I shifted my grip on the book. I held it firmly in my left hand, then positioned my right hand directly above the polished sphere.
And without hesitation, I wordlessly activated 'Split.'
A thin, stinging tear appeared on my palm. Warm blood welled up from the wound before a single droplet slowly rolled off my skin and splattered against the sphere.
I held my breath, and my grip on the book unintentionally tightened as I stared intently at the droplet of blood on the polished sphere. I didn't want to do this until now because it wasn't just about activating the book anymore.
The blood lingered on the polished sphere, glistening under the dim light. Then, as if an invisible tongue had licked it clean, the blood vanished.
A resonance pulse thrummed beneath my fingertips, a faint but unmistakable response.
I exhaled slowly.
It worked.
But instead of feeling satisfied, the reaction left me with mixed feelings.
Had Granny taken my blood in the past and set up the book to recognize me? She could easily have done that, just like she could have taken any other biometric data without my knowledge. And, knowing Granny, she wouldn't have hesitated if she thought it was necessary.
It would be creepy as hell, but all I could do was give her an earful later for being invasive and not giving a damn about my privacy.
But… what if she hadn't?
What did that mean?
Could I be… related to her by blood? Does she know who and where my parents are? Was she hiding about them from me?
And what about my demonic ancestry? Was it responsible for the absence of my parents? Were they alive? Dead? Taken care of?
Would I ever meet them?
Or… did the demon blood come from her side?
I felt my thoughts spiraling, so I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath.
It didn't matter.
Granny was my family.
Whether or not we were biologically related was irrelevant.
She had raised me, nurtured me, and done everything she could to push me forward in life. That was enough. All I had to do was return the care she'd given me and soar above everything in life as she wished me to.
As for my parents…
I had spent my whole life without them. If I ever met them, they'd ultimately be strangers to me, no matter the situation. I'd cross that bridge when the time came.
I would patiently wait for Granny to lay it out when she is comfortable. Until then, all these thoughts need to be buried inside. My past isn't what I should focus on right now, but rather on how to shape the future I desire using the present I have been gifted with.
I deepened my spell.
The small tear on my palm widened, and warm blood trickled down my skin in steady drizzles before splattering onto the polished sphere.
The reaction was instant.
The black book came to life.
Dark, thorny vines erupted from its cover, writhing like living creatures as they coiled around my arm with unnatural speed. A sharp sting shot through my skin as the vines pierced my flesh, their jagged thorns sinking into my veins like hungry leeches.
I tensed, but I didn't resist.
If this thing was dangerous, Granny would've warned me on her note.
The vines tightened, drinking deeper, blood pulsing through them. I felt my blood being siphoned, pulled in greedy gulps by the book as if it were a parched beast at an oasis. My fingers twitched, gripping the black book tighter as the sphere darkened like a black liquid metal, absorbing more and more. For a moment, I considered trying to rip it off.
But then it stopped as abruptly as it had started. The black book froze, but its thorny vines remained, latching onto my hand.
The pause didn't feel like an end because I could feel a faint shuddering of the book in my hand.
Something was building up like a calm before the storm.
Suddenly, the polished black sphere erupted with an eerie, dark glow, pulsing like a heartbeat. The pages fluttered wildly as if caught in an invisible storm.
Dark tendrils of mist shot out from the book. They coiled around me like serpents, tightening, constricting, before forcing themselves down my throat.
I gagged, eyes going wide as the inky mist forced its way down my throat, pouring into me like a liquid shadow.
A gut-wrenching pull yanked at my very being. My breath caught in my throat and my vision blurred. The world around me tilted, spinning violently, and then everything faded into an ethereal haze.
I felt weightless.
Then, disconnected.
The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever known.
It wasn't pain or pleasure. It was simply…otherworldly.
For a brief moment, I was everything and nothing all at once.
Then my senses snapped back into place.
A powerful vertigo hit me. My ears rang with faint whispers, voices overlapping in layers, speaking languages I couldn't understand.
I forced my eyes open.
Everything around me was distorted, bathed in a shifting haze of unnatural colors, woven together like an ever-moving tapestry of strings.
I blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but my perception was off.
Trying to grasp anything around me became a monumental challenge.
But soon the distortion slowly settled, though faint traces of intermixed colors still wove through the surrounding things and a low, persistent buzzing continued to linger in my ears, but it was tolerable.
I looked around and realized I was no longer seated on the futon but was standing. Immediately, my eyes went down.
Correction, I wasn't standing; I was floating.
My body was down there.
But I wasn't.
My physical form was still seated on the futon, my arms resting in my lap, and my head tilted slightly downward. I was completely still.
A bolt of panic shot through me.
But then I noticed the slow, steady breathing of the chest and the rhythmic beating of my heart.
I was 'alive'.
Just… separated.
I took a shaky breath, not through my lungs, but through something else. I relaxed myself and tried to assess my situation.
I was floating in the air.
I looked down at myself, only to find that I didn't have legs. Instead, a faint, misty wisp tail extended from my lower torso, stretching back to my physical body, keeping me tethered.
I lifted my hands.
Except they weren't hands. Wisps of purple energy shaped like hands floated where my real ones should be.
If I'm not mistaken, this might be the 'Ghost form'. The ability to separate spirit from the vessel and manifest it in a material plane.
That explained the strange perception. I was seeing, hearing, and feeling things as a spirit, not through my physical senses.
If I am not wrong, re-entering my body, would probably snap me back to normal and cancel the ability.
But should I?
What if the ability has some time constraint or limit that makes it hard for me to activate it again? I should use this chance to understand this ability and get the hang of its powers before canceling it.
I tried moving.
My ghostly form wavered, drifting unsteadily, like a feather caught in a breeze.
I tried again.
This time, I floated forward closer to my own face.
I took a long moment to observe myself.
Damn, I'm handsome.
Even like this.
A smirk tugged at my nonexistent lips. Then, shaking my head, I refocused.
I examined my vessel. I glanced at my hand, my actual hand, and saw that the thorny vines from the black book were still wrapped tightly around my wrist. They were bloodied, but not critically injured.
It didn't seem like something that needed immediate attention.
Satisfied, I was excited to check whether spirit senses could reveal anything about the system or the peculiarity of my vessel.
I concentrated, increasing my attention.
Nothing.
No status screen. No colors. No mysterious tattoo markings.
This was quite disappointing, considering I expected something to be revealed about my cheat. Unfortunately, I couldn't even perceive the tattoo behind my clothes, much less infer anything about it.
Ultimately, a spirit is just a projection of fundamental information about someone or something brought forth by interaction with mana. If my spirit can't perceive anything, it either means my senses are not enough at a complex level to understand them, or the system was simply too powerful to block out anyone from probing it.
I shook my head disappointingly and changed my focus to checking other things.
I floated higher, testing my control.
The moment I moved, I felt the air push against me.
Even the faintest shift in the atmosphere sent me drifting.
It was like trying to walk on the surface of water.
Testing further, I reached for the glowstone lamp on the wooden table beside the futon.
I could see. Not just the glowstone lamp, but the rune script etched inside it. I tried to touch the lamp, but my fingers passed through.
Of course. As a spirit, I am a mere ethereal projection of information about my entire being. I had no physical weight and my touch was feeble on its own.
But then I focused again, concentrating all my presence to solidify at my fingertip. This time a faint resistance met my fingers as I pressed against the lamp's surface. It wasn't strong, but it was there.
Good, as long as my spirit grows stronger I can improve it. Then I lifted myself, floating to the mirror. I wanted to see what was reflected so I could understand what information defied my entire being.
But nothing.
The mirror reflected only the room.
I wasn't there.
I hovered in place, exhaling in silent amusement.
It made sense.
I was a ghost.
With a slight grin, I happily floated around the room, enjoying my flight until I paused at the window.
Outside, the night mist curled through the air like creeping tendrils. The estate grounds stretched out below, veiled in a thick fog.
I hesitated before carefully passing my hand through the threshold of the window.
Fuck. Cold! Too cold!
I yanked my wispy hand back instantly.
In my current form, it felt like the outside air would rip me apart. I was too weak to withstand anything, so the result was only natural.
Still, why was it cold around here this much? Just like the first day around here, the estate was comparatively colder than the rest of the village.
After thinking about it a bit, I moved close and squinted into the mist. The mist was too much for me to see anything naturally, but now the senses in this state made me see what was outside.
Cold white mist covered everything in the estate as far as my eyes could see, but I still spotted something peculiar.
There on the route near to the pond, I could see a rune script etched on something, likely on one of the trees. It stood out like a beacon in the dark sea, easily identifiable and standing out from the rest. And the chilly mist concentrated highly on that place, then the rest.
Sigh, if not for the darn cold, I would've studied it going outside.
I made a mental note to check it later.
Okay. So outdoor exploration? Not happening.
The likely next step, explore indoors.
I stepped out of my room, passing directly through the wall like mist through an open door.
The sensation was… unnatural.
For a brief moment, it felt like my entire form was being stretched thin, as if I was passing myself through the gaps in the wall that the naked eye cannot perceive, before snapping back into place.
Once I was through, I looked around, curious about my surroundings.
And then I froze.
I had to double-check what I was seeing.
The room across from mine was covered in runes.
The walls were etched with a vast number of intricate rune scripts in an orderly arrangement, like a Spell Array. They glowed faintly in the dim light and shifted ever so slightly, as if alive.
What the hell?
I had assumed this room was empty, yet this…?
I guess it wasn't some random guest room then.
What was it?
A treasure vault? A hidden chamber?
I hesitated. A part of me knew I should just leave it alone. Respecting privacy and all that.
But then again, it wasn't like I was stealing anything. No harm in taking a peek, right?
I drifted closer, inspecting the runes. They were unfamiliar, layered in complex patterns beyond anything I could recognize.
I frowned.
I had no real knowledge of spell arrays, and even though I couldn't sense any obvious danger, I had no way of knowing if passing through would trigger something.
Would they expect a spirit to snoop around this deep in the temple grounds? I doubt it.
After a moment of hesitation, I braced myself and went through.
The room inside was nothing like I expected.
It wasn't a storage room or a vault filled with valuables.
It was a bedroom.
Spacious. Well-furnished. The scent of lavender and faint traces of medicinal herbs lingered in the air.
In my spirit vision, I could see a silhouette coiled in dark blue sitting on the bed. I squinted hard to get a better look at the person under the light from the glowstone lamb.
It was Rafaella.
I stilled.
It had been over an hour since she left my room, yet she hadn't slept.
She sat on the edge of the bed, hunched slightly forward. Her upper body was bare except for a thin bra, her lower half covered by a thick blanket.
Her eyes were red.
Her face was a mess of tears.
She clutched a crumpled tissue in her trembling hands, her shoulders rising and falling in uneven breaths.
She was still crying.
What the hell?
I drifted closer to know more.
That's when I noticed the bruise on her upper right arm. A deep bluish-purple mark that was stark against her fair skin. I couldn't see it clearly to confirm how long it had been since she got the injury. At least it seemed she had applied some sort of salve over it.
Is that the injury she got from falling off the cart? But why was she here? Where was Alvin? Shouldn't they be together?
What's with the spell array sealing off this room? And above all, why is she crying like the world has ended?
The more I thought about it, the more questions piled up, but before I could make sense of anything, Rafaella suddenly froze.
Then she turned.
Her red-rimmed eyes locked onto me.
Her brows knitted together, her expression shifting from grief to confusion.
Shit.
Even if she wasn't actively focused on the vessel, she was still an Awakened.
Her spiritual perception was sharper than a normal person's.
I needed to leave. Now!
I immediately pulled back, drifting through the wall before she could fully process what she sensed.
Back in my room, I floated in place, trying to piece together what I saw.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
Was she still crying because I was leaving?
No.
That didn't seem right.
Whatever was bothering her had already been festering.
My announcement probably just triggered something deeper.
Crap, rather than changing my mood I came in full circle. Let's try to sleep for now. I will see through what needs to be done tomorrow.
Right then, the book moved.
I turned just in time to see it act up.
The polished sphere at its center pulsed violently, and a swirling vortex of black mist spiraled inward.
Before I could react, a powerful force yanked at my spirit, dragging me in, and then-
The world vanished.
#####
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