The single moon of Aldoria hung high in the ink-black sky, painting the marble balcony of my room in silver light. Crickets chirped outside, the air was still, and everything looked like the perfect picture of peace.
Meanwhile, I sat cross-legged on my bed, glaring at my little finger like it had just insulted my ancestors.
A faint orange glow pulsed beneath the skin — a coiled mark shaped like a twin-headed serpent, one head white, one black, intertwined like an eternal loop.
I squinted at it. "You know, if someone saw me right now, they'd think I've lost it. Talking to my finger like a lunatic."
The mark pulsed again. Once. Slow. Mocking.
"Oh, don't you start. You've been here for six hours, and you're already giving attitude?"
Another faint flicker.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Okay, fine. You win this round, cosmic worm."
The day's events replayed in my head like a fever dream. The ceremony had been dazzling — a festival of light, mana, and noble pride. Serenya had gone first, and the moment her palm touched the orb, the hall had erupted in brilliance. Ice, wind, and moonlight — a tri-elementalist with a rare lunar affinity.
And then, a spirit bond.
The nobles had practically melted in awe.
After her, a few other geniuses showed promise — some dual affinities, one rare bloodline resonance — but none had reached her level. The Darknorths' blood truly was terrifying.
Then came my turn.
The orb had blazed with fire and crystal — a vivid orange shot through with white veins. The light was sharp, almost dazzling. And then… came the wave.
A pulse of spirit energy so thick it silenced the crowd. No spirit appeared, but every elder present could feel it. The son of Darknorth had awakened a spirit.
A miracle.
A miracle I still didn't understand.
Now, sitting here under the moonlight, I let my thoughts drift.
"Okay," I muttered. "Let's break this down like a rational human being. My spirit's ability feels like a death substitution — if I die, it replaces me with a decoy body. I come back to life. That's… absurdly powerful."
I tilted my head. "Which means, either I'm blessed by the universe, or it's preparing me for something so ridiculously dangerous that this is the minimum insurance policy."
The mark pulsed again, faintly.
"Oh, great. So even you don't deny it."
The longer I stared at the glow, the more I felt it — that faint tug between our souls, a thread of connection. There was something ancient there. Not dark, not malicious, just… old. Tired. Timeless.
It made me curious — what exactly were spirits? I remembered reading about them once — not in this world, but in the original novel. And as if prompted by the thought, a memory surfaced — an excerpt from the Darknorth library I'd skimmed earlier while pretending to study.
That's when the Soul Current Theory popped into my head.
The Soul Current Theory
(A short bedtime story for people who overthink everything)
The world, it says, runs on a flow of existence itself — the Soulstream, an infinite current of cosmic energy that connects all life. Everything that breathes, moves, or even exists draws from it.
When something dies, its energy doesn't vanish. It simply returns to the current.
But sometimes, that flow hits resistance — strong emotions, unfinished destinies, or sheer stubbornness. When that happens, part of the current coils in on itself, condensing into consciousness.
That's how Spirits are born.
Not ghosts. Not gods. Just fragments of will made real — the universe remembering a story too vivid to let fade.
Over eons, those fragments gather shape, memory, and affinity — and when an awakened soul forms a bond, the Spirit gains a vessel to exist again.
The stronger the bond, the more the Spirit remembers its old existence — not me remembering it, but it remembering itself.
As we grow stronger, the connection deepens. Its powers evolve. Its past becomes clearer. And through that connection, I can feel the echoes — flashes of emotion, instinct, maybe even a sliver of the world it once ruled.
I exhaled slowly, tapping my glowing mark. "So basically, you're a walking ancient relic with memory problems."
The mark pulsed once.
"…And you're smug about it."
Another pulse.
"Fantastic. My first familiar is an amnesiac with an ego."
Still, the thought was strangely comforting. The ability — this Death Decoy — wasn't just some cheap cheat. It was the remnant of something greater. Some ancient power of preservation, maybe even defiance.
And that thought? That thought tickled something inside me.
Because it was too good.
"Oh no," I whispered, leaning closer to my glowing finger, "don't tell me you were some mythical immortal snake who spat in Death's face and lived to tell the tale."
The mark flickered again.
"Oh gods, you were, weren't you?!"
I grinned like an idiot, laying back on my bed. "Ha! I knew it! I have an ancient spirit! The kind that probably made gods cry and empires kneel! Oh man, protagonist who? I'm the real chosen one!"
For about ten glorious seconds, I basked in that delusion — until I remembered the part where I couldn't even control my own fire affinity without turning furniture into charcoal.
I glanced at the smoking remains of my desk.
"Right," I muttered, "chosen one with pyrotechnic issues. Great balance of fate, universe."
Despite my self-inflicted comedy, the truth was… I felt content.
This spirit — this mysterious snake — was strange, powerful, maybe even dangerous. But it was mine.
And for the first time in this world, I felt like I wasn't just walking through someone else's story.
I wasn't the background extra watching the protagonist shine. I was building something of my own.
The mark pulsed once more, softly — like a heartbeat in sync with mine.
"Yeah, yeah," I murmured, my voice heavy with sleep, "we'll figure this out together, buddy. Just… please don't make me die to test your ability, okay?"
The mark flickered, a faint warm hum echoing through my soul — neither yes nor no.
"…You're totally planning something, aren't you?"
No answer.
The glow dimmed as sleep began to pull me under.
Through half-lidded eyes, I gazed at the pale moonlight pooling on the floor and thought, Fine. Whatever ancient secret you're hiding, we'll uncover it together.
And with that, the noble heir of Darknorth — proud awakener, future headache of his family, and reluctant parent to a smug cosmic serpent — drifted into sleep, dreaming of power, destiny, and just maybe… a future that didn't belong to the protagonist.