After conducting several experiments on the corpse provided by Dr. Rose, we discovered a critical detail shared among unclassified-type metahumans.
Their hearts emitted a radiant glow—each color unique—when their abilities were activated.
Naturally, a corpse couldn't activate its ability on its own. So Dr. Rose, ever prepared, employed a more unconventional method.
She summoned a poltergeist.
Using sorcery, she anchored the spirit into the lifeless body, temporarily granting it motion—and access to the metahuman's latent ability.
As the summoning began, the black energy of death in the room intensified, swirling thick and slow like smoke underwater. The air grew colder, heavier. Some students instinctively took a step back, feeling the pressure coil around their chests.
But the moment the poltergeist fully possessed the corpse, the aura snapped back—returning to the same eerie, ambient death field we'd grown used to.
Then, it happened.
The corpse didn't regenerate.
Instead, it began to liquefy—slowly collapsing in on itself like wax melting beneath a flame. Flesh turned to thick, red sludge, bubbling and sloshing across the containment field.
All that remained was the heart, suspended perfectly still at the center of the liquefied remains. It pulsed with a deep, crimson glow—bright, steady, unnatural.
Around me, students flinched.
A few gasped.
Others edged deeper into the crowd, instinctively seeking distance from the gruesome spectacle.
Sorcery and magic are often mistaken for one another, but they operate on entirely different principles.
Sorcery, unlike magic, almost always requires a medium—a physical anchor or conduit through which the caster channels their will.
And yet, as I observed Dr. Rose's summoning, I saw no medium. No glyphs. No blood. No vessel.
So where did she store it?
Where did she keep the poltergeist before summoning it?
The corpse, now emptied, began to stitch itself back together. The liquefied tissue reversed its collapse, re-solidifying with uncanny precision until the body appeared just as it had before—lifeless, but intact.
The poltergeist had left.
But what unsettled me was what didn't happen.
There was no residual trace. No lingering malice. No flicker of deathly aura. The energy remained static, unaffected by the spirit's departure.
That's not how poltergeists behave.
Was it a summoning ritual she performed? If so, how did she manage it without a sacrifice? That's a core requirement in most forms of possession-based rites.
Was it promised a vessel?
No… that didn't make sense. A spirit wouldn't descend into a corpse without a sustainable bond. That would be suicide.
Unless… she bound it before we arrived.
I'd need to talk to Grunthar about this later. If I could learn the logic behind non-sacrificial summoning, it could prove... very useful.
Then again...
Learning sorcery alongside magic would be a reckless decision.
Pursuing both would stretch my resources—and time—far too thin. It would slow my ascent to the next realm significantly, maybe even stall it entirely.
There are prodigies, sure—those rare few who can walk two paths at once.
Some master both magic and sorcery. Others combine aura and beast mastery with frightening synergy.
But I was not one of them.
I knew my limits.
My abilities weren't born from raw talent—they were carved into me through rituals, barely earned through my sheer willpower. There's no delusion in me about being a genius. I'm a product of opportunity and survival, not natural brilliance.
Taking on a second path would be overstepping my bounds…
Wouldn't it?
Though… the 58th Shadow rose to power solely through technological mastery.
He didn't need magic. Or aura. Or sorcery.
He built his throne with intellect and invention alone.
Wait...
Does that mean I'm... unknowingly walking a dual path?
I looked down at the notes on my Codex, blinking once as the thought sank deeper.
Magic and tech.
The thought lingered like static in my mind.
But I shook it off.
Now wasn't the time for introspection.
I shelved the idea and forced my attention back to the class.
There were still secrets in this room waiting to be uncovered.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to uncover anything more about Dr. Rose's sorcery.
The class ended not long after, and the students shuffled out in a hurry, their minds already drifting toward food. The air of unease from earlier was gone—replaced by the more familiar, primal urge for lunch.
I moved slower.
My thoughts weighed heavier than my steps.
The matter of the artificial soul still eluded me, and now, thanks to Dr. Rose, even more questions crowded my mind. Unanswered. Untouched.
So many unknowns.
So little progress.
I sighed inwardly.
You know… I really miss the times when you answered all my questions. This is annoying.
For a moment, silence.
Then came the familiar voice, calm and timeless.
"You've grown enough to find those answers on your own. If I were to hand you every truth… would I still be an observer?"
Ryuk's voice echoed within me—not scolding, not cold, just... gently firm.
I smiled faintly and lowered my gaze as I stepped through the hall.
Right. Sorry for asking.
The sigh never left my lips, but it echoed in my heart.
"Reinhardt," I called out.
A pool of black liquid swirled into existence in front of me, rising silently like an inkblot escaping gravity.
"Bring Grunthar here after you finish your breakfast," I instructed calmly. "And check the library for any books on the 58th Shadow, if you can find any."
Without a sound, the black pool collapsed into itself and vanished.
I turned and quietly collected my breakfast—nearly identical to yesterday's. The only difference? The steak had been replaced with a slime-coated fish, its gelatinous sheen still faintly pulsing with leftover energy.
I made my way to an empty table and sat down, setting the tray before me.
A sudden motion caught my eye.
Wally leapt off my shoulder and landed on the table with a soft metallic clink. I watched, puzzled, as he rummaged through his internal storage and pulled out a small energy compactor.
He sat cross-legged on the table and pressed it to his core.
A soft hum filled the air as the device powered on.
Ah… so that's his version of breakfast.
I smiled faintly at the realization.
Is he… trying to mimic me?
Sylvia and Tom joined us soon enough, but the moment I saw their faces, I knew something was wrong.
Both of them looked… shaken.
I could understand Sylvia's reaction—after all, what we witnessed in Dr. Rose's lab was far from ordinary. The melting corpse, the glowing heart, the presence of a poltergeist… it was a scene not easily forgotten.
But Tom?
He wasn't even in our class.
He belonged to the School of Aura Users, and unlike most students, he was no stranger to corpses.
So why did he look just as disturbed?
"You alright?" I asked, eyeing him closely.
"I'm just reflecting on my ignorance," Tom replied flatly, his voice lacking its usual energy. "I can't believe I never realized how useful sorcery could be…"
There was no smile on his face. Just a strange, hollow stillness.
His tone was calm, but too calm—unnaturally calm.
"Hm?" I blinked, momentarily thrown off by his words. Oddly enough, I'd been thinking the same thing—about sorcery, about its potential. But something about the timing… the tone…
Then Sylvia spoke.
"Yeah…" she sighed, nodding slowly. "Watching Dr. Rose use it without a medium… made me realize how far behind I really am."
Her voice was subdued. Her expression?
That same eerily blank look Tom had.
My stomach twisted.
Something isn't right.
"She used it without a medium?" Tom asked again, this time with what should've been interest—but it felt too clean. Too controlled. "That's incredible. What kind of ghost did she summon?"
His voice carried no sarcasm. No wonder. No fear. Just… perfect curiosity.
Like a puppet reading lines.
I leaned back slightly, studying both of them. Their posture. Their blinking. Their silence between words.
This isn't just shock…
No.
Something is wrong.
"…Did you two always get along that well?" I asked, tilting my head slightly as my own expression mirrored theirs—blank, probing, calculating.