The next day, I woke up early — well, early for me. The faint light creeping through the window didn't sting thanks to the clouds. I could feel its warmth pressing faintly against my pale skin, and though it made me uncomfortable, it wasn't enough to burn.
Old habits die hard. I greeted the handmaidens on my way out of my chamber.
They looked at me curiously, probably wondering why someone like me bothered to be polite. It was a habit I'd picked up from my time in Dracula's Black Castle — you didn't disrespect the staff there unless you wanted to wake up missing a limb. And though I wasn't sure these handmaidens were quite as homicidal, I decided not to test that theory.
After all, being courteous costs nothing.
---
My mind was elsewhere that morning.
I needed a new weapon memory.
My aspect ability was powerful in theory — but it had conditions, limitations that could easily get me killed if I didn't compensate for them properly.
First, I could only manipulate blood that was exposed to air. It had to be outside the body. That meant I needed my enemy already wounded before I could even start using it.
Second, even then, I couldn't manipulate their blood. I could only control the spilled blood — the kind that slicked the ground after a kill. Which meant it was more situational than I wanted to admit.
My only real success with it so far had been pure dumb luck. The centipede fight — blood everywhere, mouths open, timing perfect. And even then, I'd barely survived.
I needed a memory that could actually help me in combat.
Preferably one that didn't depend on whether my opponent decided to bleed that day.
---
The castle corridors were lively for once. People moved through them carrying crates, gossiping, or sharpening weapons. It was strange seeing life flourish in a place surrounded by death.
As I walked, I spotted movement near one of the inner courtyards.
A short — no, tiny — girl was being pushed around by a man who looked like he'd drowned himself in ale. I knew her.
Aiko.
She ran the gambling den in the lower part of the castle, one of those rare places where people laughed instead of screamed. She was clever, calculating — and judging by the glare in her eyes, absolutely done with the drunk man trying to shove her against the wall.
The idiot was a Pathfinder — I recognized his armor, the insignia on his shoulder.
And he was about to do something very stupid.
He grabbed her wrist and leaned in too close. I saw her flinch, but before she could react, I'd already summoned my shadow armor.
The black plates enveloped me in a whisper of darkness. My hand shot forward, catching his arm mid-motion. The armor creaked faintly as I strengthened my grip, forcing blood to rush into my arm muscles — a subtle manipulation, enough to make my strength unnatural.
He froze, his drunken haze momentarily broken by the shock of pain.
"Listen," I said, my tone calm but low. "You're drunk. You don't want to do something you'll regret later. Walk away."
He blinked at me, then slurred, "Who the hell do you think you are?"
His fist came flying toward my face.
I didn't think — I reacted. My own fist met his jaw with full force. The sound was sharp, final. His body snapped backward, smashing through the stained-glass window behind him, and he disappeared over the edge.
A second later, a dull thud echoed from below.
I exhaled. "…Well. That escalated."
The silence that followed was heavy. Then, the sound of boots — guards were coming.
Before I could decide whether to run or pretend ignorance, a small hand grabbed mine.
"Idiot! This way!"
Aiko dragged me down the hall, surprisingly fast for someone half my size. We slipped into a dimly lit room and she slammed the door shut.
I recognized the smell before I recognized the place — smoke, alcohol, and desperation.
Her gambling den.
She let go of my hand and immediately started pacing.
"You absolute idiot!" she hissed.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome for saving you from being assaulted."
"That's not what I'm mad about, dumbass!" She threw her hands in the air. "You killed a Pathfinder! Gunlaug's gonna shut this place down because of you!"
I blinked. "Oh."
She sighed, shoulders slumping. "...Thanks, though. For helping me. I owe you one."
"Apology accepted."
"That wasn't an apology!"
I smirked. "Didn't sound like a denial either."
She groaned and threw a rag at my face. I caught it, amused.
For a while, I stayed with her in the den. The lights flickered as the gamblers slowly trickled out, leaving the tables empty. She rambled on about her business — coin flow, trade deals, who owed her money — and I just listened.
It was… peaceful.
Eventually, the guards arrived to take her in for questioning. She winked at me on her way out. "Don't get caught,handsome you still owe me your soul shards"
I didn't know if she was flirting or manipulating me
The halls felt colder after that.
I made my way toward the eastern wing — the Memory Hall, where traders sold their gathered treasures. Along the way, I bumped into Kai.
"Hey! There you are!" he said, cheerful as ever.
I sighed. "You always sound like we're old friends."
"Well, aren't we? We survived the same mess yesterday. That counts for something!"
He fell into step beside me, talking endlessly — about music, his travels, his fanclub. I didn't interrupt. His voice filled the silence well enough.
When we finally reached the shop, I stopped dead in my tracks.
It was run by the fattest man I'd ever seen in the Dream Realm. And I mean that with no offense — just pure observation. I didn't think fat existed here.
The merchant grinned at us, several golden teeth gleaming. "Welcome, gentlemen. Looking for something sharp or something shiny?"
Kai immediately wandered toward the clothing section. "Something shiny!"
I ignored him and browsed the weapons.
Swords. Spears. Bows. Every kind imaginable.
But my eyes settled on one thing — a crossbow. Sleek, black, and compact.
It reminded me of home.
Dad used to take me to the shooting range on weekends. Said it taught patience and precision. I never realized how right he was until now.
I picked it up and felt the faint hum of power inside it.
The enchantment was simple — the weapon's power scaled with how much blood you gave it.
A perfect match for me. A terrible one for anyone else.
"Four soul shards," the merchant said, watching me.
I gave him a flat look. "Two."
He chuckled. "Four."
"Two," I repeated. "And I won't tell the guards you're selling illegal unregistered memories."
The smile on his face froze.
"Two it is," he said quickly.
I handed him the shards, and the deal was done.
Kai walked up beside me, wearing a tunic that was, admittedly, stylish — but useless.
I frowned. "That thing's not armor."
He beamed. "Nope! But it looks good, doesn't it?"
"It looks like it'll get you killed."
He shrugged. "Then I'll die fashionably."
I sighed. "Suit yourself."
He struck a pose. "See? Even you think I look good."
I didn't dignify that with a response.
We left the shop together, his tunic glimmering faintly under the lantern light, my new weapon strapped across my back.
It cost me two soul shards — All the soul shards I had.
So much for me and Effie staying comfortably for another week.
Still… as I felt the faint thrum of the crossbow against my back, I couldn't help but smile.
It wasn't much. But it was mine.