"Soul body, soul bound marketplace, soul gear. Soul soul soul, calling the prompts Mark like I want to doesn't seem right so from now on I'll be calling you Soul System since you develop a whole ecosystem of advancements, or a symbiote since you gain me benefits by taking what you want from me but a soul symbiote sounds…" Silver stopped and shuttered at the imagery inside of his head with a soft sigh.
He needed to explore outwards, and it was starting to get dark so he didn't think anyone would question him especially since he had the Spider Armor on. Gathering only the outer layer of what he was wearing before since he couldn't feel the cold anymore at all he left the room with one thought in mind, he wanted to find out about the other ability of his body which was to consume souls.
Walking out of his wooden shack he looked back at it trying to put its location to memory finding that nearly impossible with identical ones just a few feet to his left and right, so he made a stack of rocks in front of it.
Reflecting on the memories he acquired through soul tempering, Silver felt a pang of sadness at what he discovered. Friends? No one seemed interested in forming attachments before undergoing tempering of their bodies. Family? They had forsaken him, selling him off without a second thought. As for those who greeted him by name, there were only two: Yellow, one of his guardians, and the woman who had taught them how to read and write.
With a grimace, he sighed, pondering the supposed ease with which children were meant to make friends and forge social connections. How warped must their personalities become as they grew older? Focused solely on their own ambitions, willing to do anything to succeed. If the guild couldn't offer him a reason to stay once he revealed his tempering, he vowed to seize the first opportunity to depart.
He couldn't regard these people as civilized; he was effectively alone on a path that seemed uncharted, with little support to be found among them save for their ability to finance his journey forward. However, if the treatment of the children was any indication, he would have to pay a hefty price to sever ties with the guild. Yet, for the sake of his principles, it might just be worth it.
Walking along the dirt paths winding between the shacks, Silver observed a few children scraping bark off trees, their desperate attempts not only to advance their tempering but also to stave off hunger beyond the meager portions provided. Many of them appeared on the brink of malnourishment, their eyes devoid of hope, particularly the older ones nearing the age of ten, their expressions hollowed out.
He had to continually remind himself that he was barely in a better condition, so there was no justification for feeling pity for them at the moment. It was imperative to ensure his own well-being before considering aiding them. Utilizing the slight adhesion of his hands, he scaled one of the taller buildings, surveying the sprawling, slum-like community below with a contemplative gaze until he spotted what he sought. At the outskirts, a large furnace loomed, filled with freshly tilled earth and cloth bundles, presumably the bodies of children who hadn't survived these harsh conditions.
With practiced ease, he traversed the rooftops to reach the opposite side of the enclosed area, glancing at the lifeless forms on the ground before scanning the makeshift graveyard intended to hold the ashes of the deceased children. The graveyard lay at the edge of the community, a somber testament to the harsh realities of life within the slum. Rows of makeshift tombstones, fashioned from weathered wood and crude stones, marked the resting places of the departed. Scattered patches of wilted flowers and tattered ribbons adorned the graves, a feeble attempt to bring a semblance of dignity to the fallen. The air carried a faint scent of ash and decay, mingling with the acrid tang of burning earth, a poignant reminder of the constant cycle of life and death in this unforgiving place.
It didn't take long for him to spot small, floating specks of light emitting a pleasant aroma, a sight that both repulsed and intrigued him. Despite his inner conflict, he didn't hesitate to reach out and grasp one of the specks in his hand.
He wasn't sure how he was supposed to eat a soul exactly, but he tried the most obvious approach: grasping it and shoving it into his mouth. A cooling sensation enveloped his entire body, almost eliciting a moan of pleasure as it melted onto his taste buds, tingling each one with its flavor. Closing his eyes, he savored the sensation and taste, only to almost retch at how unexpectedly pleasurable the experience was. The faint feeling of hunger in his stomach dissipated, yet he wasn't fully satiated, prompting him to reach for another soul to taste once again.
After consuming four souls in quick succession, he finally felt full and slightly bloated. However, he sensed his body growing more powerful already, the process of self-tempering accelerating considerably for a moment before coming to a halt. Roughly estimating, he speculated that consuming a hundred of these small specks of light could likely advance him to the next level of body tempering. According to the book, after undergoing eight such temperings, one could advance to the next stage and choose their path.
With another grab at the lights, he held another in his hand, staring at it, yet unable to force himself to eat another, feeling already full. "Soul System, can I sell this soul?" Silver pondered for a moment.
"Yes, would you like to sell?" the Soul System replied.
Silver nodded, watching the soul burn before him with a blue flame before vanishing. A window appeared, informing him that he had gained a soul coin.
He knew he couldn't exploit all the lights in the graveyard, as children weren't dying every day, and he wasn't aware of the conditions to create one of these souls and he needed to come back to eat them. However, something inside him understood that these were merely fragments, lingering after the soul's departure, which was the only reason he dared to consume the souls of fellow humans.
"What can I buy with 1 soul coin?" he inquired.
"Nothing, not even the soul of a fly costs only one. The soul of a fly costs exactly five soul coins. If you'd like to gather more fragments, I can reserve a fly soul for you for that 1 soul coin so no one else can buy up our stock," the Soul System responded.
With a frown, he used his hand to dismiss the window floating in front of him, knowing he was the only customer, so there was no way anyone could buy up the stock of fly souls, nor would it be useful to him at the moment, if ever. With a thoughtful expression, he pondered the spider armor he currently wore and shook his head. Every single soul could have a use, and he couldn't discount the fly soul simply because of the creature. He just didn't have enough information to work off, but buying a fly soul seemed to be a waste since he could extract one himself if he really needed to.
A sudden thought made him frown. "The way the system works, I can only get these souls through killing. Is the system pushing me towards becoming a murderer to acquire more soul gear?"
He had to find a way to advance without turning into a bloodthirsty battle junkie, living on the battlefield all his life just to grow stronger. It didn't sit right with him, coming from a civilized society where killing and fighting weren't the norm.
As the tempering continued within his body, albeit much slower than in the beginning, he slowly started to recall memories that were not his own—lingering attachments that felt like they once belonged to him. These were simple thoughts, like the taste of well-cooked chicken seasoned with salt, the feeling of freshly dried clothes, or the scent of soap when they received their monthly supply.
One memory stood out because it was so vivid, from one of the lights that seemed to be brighter than the others...
A burning hatred that lasted only a moment, and the flash of a child dressed in dirty clothes choking him for a single piece of bread that he held tightly in his hands defiantly. It was cold and hard, but he knew it could fill his stomach better than the broth could, and he hadn't had any meat in the past week due to bad luck when the lady poured the soup from the ladle, only getting small chunks of potato.
"Damien. That fucker…" Silver cursed, momentarily lost in the memory before snapping out of it.
"There... seems to be side effects to this method of tempering. If stronger soul fragments can cause me to witness the moment of their death, I can only pray for my sanity," he whispered, deciding that he had had enough for the day. Feeling emotionally drained, he quickly left the graveyard, wondering if Damien was still alive, or even how old this memory was.
If he were caught, he would be killed for destroying the guild's property and taking one of the other children's lives. This was one of the few deterrents preventing this place from devolving into a killing ground for resources.
However, there were many instances where someone was beaten by their peers for possessing something another wanted. Though it never went too far, and it was never repeated until the victim couldn't survive, just missing a meal or two. Especially if one received a nice piece of meat in their broth that day, if they couldn't defend it, one of the stronger, older children would take it. It was usually better to just give it up, so very few resisted if they couldn't fight back.
Walking back to his shack, he glanced at the two nearest to him, noting that one was vacant and the other housed a child with dirty blonde hair.
The child was using a small amount of water to shape a pile of dirt with a stick. He seemed young, around five years old, so Silver approached quietly, observing the child's efforts to create stick figures in the ground—one with a dress, the other wielding a sword in a battle against what could only be described as a circle with legs.
It took a moment for the boy to realize he was being watched, and he hurriedly stood up with a pained expression. "I... I'm sorry for wasting water," the boy stammered out.
"What are you drawing?" Silver moved closer, kneeling down to examine the dirt creation with a curious expression.
"My father... He was a town guard." The stick pointed to the man with the large sword shyly, but the boy seemed eager to show off the dirt drawing. "Once he protected mom when we were walking from a large pig."
"Your father was a town guard? What are you doing here then?" Silver tilted his head, curious about why the boy had been sold to the guild if he had a family he seemed to care about.
"There was a fight in the place where adults go at night, and he didn't come back after that. Mother cried for weeks… She couldn't afford to feed both of us." The boy's face darkened momentarily, his eyes welling up with tears.
Silver studied the drawing for a long moment before nodding. He couldn't apply the tempering method he had developed for himself, but if he could obtain the proper materials, he could easily help someone else. "How would you like a lightning body?"
The boy's eyes lit up at the prospect, then he became wary. "I don't have anything to offer you."
"Don't worry about offering me anything. You just have to keep what I'm going to do a secret, something you can't tell anyone," Silver reassured him. He wasn't acting purely out of kindness; he knew that this child could potentially pave the way for him, if he had a more traditional body.
Without waiting for the child's reply, Silver walked off, leaving the child confused. The boy looked around before starting to draw on the ground again, a worried expression on his face. He didn't know what the older kid wanted from him, but if he could really get the lightning body, he would owe him greatly.
Moving swiftly and silently like the night, Silver knew his actions would get one of the guardians in trouble. He chose one he didn't know personally, slipping into his place while he was asleep. Finding the other materials was easy, given that this guild was designed for refining artifacts.
Hoping his knowledge was correct and he could rely on what he had learned in school, which he thought was useless, he remembered the construction of a device called the Baghdad battery.
Silver began to assemble the materials needed for the Baghdad battery. He first located a three suitable clay jar, examining it carefully for any cracks or imperfections. Satisfied with his choice, he placed it on a flat surface, ready to commence the crafting process.
Next, he retrieved the silver rod and copper tube he had acquired. Handling them with care, he inspected their lengths and ensured they were free from any tarnish or corrosion that could hinder their conductivity.
Taking the clay jar, Silver carefully inserted the copper tube into the center, making sure it was positioned upright and secure. He then inserted the silver rod into the tube, ensuring there was no contact between the two metals to prevent any short-circuiting.
Once the metals were securely in place within the clay jar, Silver poured the grape juice into the jar, filling it until the metals were submerged but not touching the liquid. Grape juice, with its acidic properties, would serve as the electrolyte needed for the battery to function.
With everything in place, Silver sealed the clay jar tightly, ensuring no leaks or spillage would occur. Once the process was complete, he knew it would take some time. However, looking at it, he could sense the faint wisps of essence floating into the air from around the battery.
Making two more of these batteries, he returned to the child, carrying the three jars wrapped in cloth attached to a rope. "Take these three and hide them under your floorboards. The essence should still flow out of them much like it does from the wood around you."
He set the three cloth-wrapped jars next to the child, unwrapping one to reveal the clay jars underneath. "Be careful with these; they're easy to break." After a moment's thought, he realized that the child wouldn't be able to carry them easily as they were too heavy. "I'll... put them under your floor. You can't carry them."
After placing the jars under the child's floorboards, Silver pressed the boards back into place, using the cloth to push in the nails. He then looked at the child and said, "Be diligent and make your father proud, okay?" Giving the child a reassuring smile, he brushed off the dirt from his clothes. "What's your name, kid?"
"Gaven," the boy replied, reaching out his hand in greeting. They shook hands before leaving the shack together.