Sanguine Paradise - Chapter 209

∼ Day 221 ∼

My domain receding, the darkness on the edges of my vision battled to consume my mind as all strength left my body. It was only with pure and unadulterated will that I managed to move my beaten body and keep my shattered soul from falling to pieces as I plucked the ivory spear that fell from high above.

[Heirloom of Imbuement]

-Do you wish to claim ownership and convert the heirloom?-

[WARNING – This choice is permanent]

[Heirloom will dissipate in – 4 minutes and 54 seconds]

[Yes/No]

Even with the information of the prompt directly projected into my mind, I still had an incredibly hard time focusing on it.

As the darkness crawled in, I didn’t even remember if I managed to accept the prompt before sweet, sweet unconsciousness took me. Drifting in and out of consciousness, for how long, I didn’t know, I remained untouched on the slightly wet grass of where I had collapsed. I knew I should be worried, being out in the open and so vulnerable with powerful individuals all around, but I simply couldn’t get myself to care really.

The agony of one’s soul being torn apart was nothing like that of the pain one’s body could suffer. Maybe it wasn’t more painful than what the physical had to offer, but rather, it was a part of you that you generally, never felt sensation or pain from. Therefore, the alien pain, unlike any other pain you’ve lived with for most of your life, was just that much more unbearable and tormenting.

As time drifted by, I absentmindedly noticed that my vision had returned and some semblance of coherent thought came back to me. It was at that point, with relief beyond any I’ve felt before, I realized that my soul had stopped its downward trend into dissipation and had actually healed a bit.

It was stitching itself back together, like my body would, just spiritually as opposed to physically.

But unlike my body’s regeneration, this was at a mind-numbingly slow pace.

Thoughts suddenly dashed, the figure of someone decidedly massive caught my attention like a vice. Crouching on his haunches over the decapitated corpse, the figure dwarfed the dead human.

I didn’t know or remember if he had always been there. I only now had enough presence of mind to realize it. And now I could feel his presence like a third sun glaring down on me.

In the state I was in, I couldn’t even beat off a goblin if I tried. Of course, it wouldn’t have been able to even scratch me anyways, but that was beside the point. What I meant was that I very well might meet my end here, weak and crippled – entirely incapable of fighting against it.

The figure rose to his full height, just once again displaying his ridiculous height as he even stood higher than Bob, the juggernaut of a Draugr.

He glanced over at the scorched earth where the other unfortunate individual who had been caught up in me and the god’s battle had been incinerated by the white flames, not even leaving ash behind. And then lastly, at me, beginning to close the distance with a casual gait.

The closer he came, the more I could make out with my muddled vision.

Inhumanly large and muscular, he was built like what all Mr. Olympias dreamed and strove to achieve. The figure’s physical prowess in his appearance alone left nothing to the imagination of this individual’s particular inclination towards sheer brutish might.

But even so, with his brawler-ish built and seemingly complete lack of weapons. Wielding nothing but fists and his bare feet as weapons by the looks of it. The figure radiated an overwhelming sense of mana pouring off him in waves.

It was almost like his magical power was literally pulsating in tune with the world and nature around him, the surroundings responding to his presence and fueling his seemingly endless reservoir of power.

When he was finally close enough for me to lift my head and inspect the coming beast, I finally understood why so many things about him seemed so familiar to me.

Light brown fur along his legs, arms, neck, and other places on his lightly-armored body, a mighty mane of brown hair, auburn eyes, and two round ears at the top of his head…

A beastkin.

Of the bear variety, eerily similar to Ursa.

Codex didn’t work to help me at all, unsurprisingly as this individual felt just as strong as Cain, if not stronger, purely from his projected aura alone.

As he approached, I sensed neither enmity nor empathy towards my sorry state. I knew there would be no reason for him to leave me alive, and I could feel the dread creep up my spine at the impending fate that lay await for me.

But as my mind raised through the muddled haze that clouded it, one thing came to mind, just as he had closed the distance between us to only a few remaining meters..

Summoning every single vestige of strength I could from what my body had regained during my unconsciousness, my body barely listening to my mind as my soul seemed almost entirely unresponsive, I feebly managed to get one hand, then another under me.

Pushing myself up with clenched teeth and a groan that escaped through them, I stared up at the beastkin’s curious countenance, the massive man having seemingly stopped to watch as I moved.

Lifting one hand, I bit into my palm, letting a weak stream of blood leave the bite marks. I couldn’t even use my mana or magical skills in this state so I had to be rather crude, at least more so than usual.

With the now bleeding hand, I pressed it down into the dirt, letting my blood run into the ground. As I stared into the face of the beastkin as I did the seemingly simple gesture, his eyes widened a bit.

For a moment, he stood unmoving, but as I didn’t break eye contact even as my body wavered under the load of just holding my own weight up, the massive figure shook himself out of his surprise.

Imitating me, he too bit into his palm, taking one knee as he similarly pressed his hand to the soil and offered up his blood to the dirt.

It wasn’t long before the exchange of gestures was over as the large beastman got back to his feet and looked down at me with a completely new look in his previously stoic and uncaring eyes.

“The spirits thank you,” He spoke, his voice as deep and powerful as you would’ve imagined from his stature alone.

Collapsing and rolling over to the side so that I laid on my back, I couldn’t help but let a small amount of relief flood me. Even though I didn’t know if this gesture had saved me or not, I at least could hope.

“How come a monster knows of my people’s shamanic offering gesture?” He asked, cocking his head inquisitively down at me. “It is generally not something taught to outsiders,”

“I-” I tried to speak, but my voice was hoarse and weak, a cough interrupting me. “A-a friend taught me.”

Quirking an eyebrow at me, he didn’t hide the skepticism in his auburn eyes.

“An Ursine… taught a… monster of our rituals?” He asked awkwardly, seeming to try and not sound too insulting.

I was very well aware of the almost irreparable rift between the Enlightened and the Monsters. So if I explained to this beastkin that I had just used one of the things Ursa had taught me to convene or offer to the spirits, something taught by a very possible previous member of this person’s people that had been outcast as merely a child, I wasn’t sure the outcome would be a favorable one.

And by favorable, I mean one that wouldn’t leave me in more than one piece if he were to be angered.

“Y- cough* Yes…?” I coughed, sounding decidedly hesitant.

“Who?” He asked with narrowed brows.

Not liking his reaction, I tried to break eye contact.

“I don’t…” I tried, but as he pressed me for an answer by taking one firm and intimidating step towards my prone form, I lifted a weak hand in acquiescence.

Resigning myself to whatever fate lay in store, I took a breath.

“Ursa, her name is Ursa.” I said with a sigh, letting my hand drop.

And just like I had expected and worried about, the beastkin’s big eyes turned even wider like saucers.

He was clearly in shock as that name meant something to him, proving that this very person was one of the same people that had cast out Ursa. Leaving her to survive in the wastelands as but a child, alone all the way into her adulthood. Living away her life as a lonesome hermit.

“She’s… alive?” The beastkin finally asked.

Hesitance, as opposed to anger, was something I could appreciate so I quickly provided an answer.

“Yes, very much alive,” I explained.

The large beastkin’s gears seemed to whirl at the implications with his own thoughts and memories playing back in his mind. He just stood there for a few moments, lost in thought and staring out into the distance.

But just as I expected a barrage of more questions and so on, I saw his jaw and fists clenched once – his entire demeanor of shock and surprise washing away with one deep breath.

“Your soul is in tatters, seems like you had quite the battle,” He stated, glancing my sorry body up and down.

Before I could say anything, the beastman produced a vial of some light blue fluid from what I guessed was his [Ring of Holding]. The vial was no bigger than my own index finger and I couldn’t sense anything special from it.

He crouched before me, holding the miniature vial in comparison to him, between two clawed fingers.

“This will help you restore your soul,” He said.

“That can heal my soul?” I asked skeptically at the seemingly inconspicuous vial.

It was not that I didn’t believe that there existed a plethora of things in this world that could do practically anything you could imagine under the sun. It was just that to my senses, the liquid inside that vial was no different from water.

“No, it will help you restore your soul. Nothing physical can directly interact with the spiritual, so there are no soul healing potions. But this will center and calm your mind to become more in tune with the spiritual rather than heal your soul. From there, you can restore and put back your own soul. You have to be quick though, lest you let it be and the damage becomes permanent before soon.”

I didn’t have time to ask any further as the massive beastman abruptly uncorked the vial and forced the contents down my throat, making me sputter with surprise.

“Why… cough-cough* -are you even helping me?” I sputtered around the liquid once I had drunk it all, not able to protest any further to him putting unknown concoctions into my body.

“It is not I that is helping you, but the spirits,” He explained simply, his demeanor changing back to the one I had originally seen him wear. “This is a gift from them as you seem to have garnered some favor with the ancient souls. The spirits can be benevolent when they wish to be, and I am but a medium.”

“I-I don’t feel anything,” I said as he got to his feet, once again towering over me.

He didn’t answer, making the empty vial disappear.

But as I was about to ask again, I stopped myself as I felt suddenly odd. Oddly weary, much more than I already was.

“Wait… am… am I supposed to feel this… uh-tired?” I was slurring at the end, feeling a bit as if I had just downed an entire bottle of sleeping pills that hit me like a truck.

“It takes a little time to set in after the weariness, but you’ll know when it’s time to mend your soul,” He explained simply.

Vision swimming even more so than before, I barely had time to ask one last question as darkness encroached on my mind for the umpteenth time in the last twenty-four hours.

“Wia-wa… whas… your – name….?” I muttered almost unintelligibly.

“Orca,” He said simply, the name cutting through my weariness just the instant before everything went dark.