What is a living creature? A mind? Some matter? A collection of memories? If so, what need is there for a body?

  Every soulmancer knows that the things that make up your personality are captured in Neara, a category of soul energy. And as such, you can just pluck it right out of someone’s body and transplant it somewhere else. In fact, you don’t need to transplant it at all.

  Most of our bodies, at least the ones that breathe mana and ingest soulforce, are made of Mana and Aura and Neara. It is these energies that reinforce what is still a stringy mass of muscle fibers, organs, and ligaments into an unstoppable force that could survive a head-on collision with a bullet train. And once these forces take over the body—is the body needed?

  This question is as philosophical as it is irrelevant. The answer is no. It’s not necessary—and that’s what makes soulmancers so spectacularly dreadful.

  Those were my frivolous thoughts as I put my hand onto a gigantic traksa’s body. It was a strange and nostalgic creature. Four years prior, Kline had killed one of these “albino elks,” earning him a second evolution core and allowing us to fight back against second evolution entities. It almost killed Kline, but now, Kline was the one who killed it without blinking—and this one was a third evolution variant.

  How time flies.

  I lifted my hand, and the Aura in its body sucked out, like a cartoon soul leaving its body. The Aura I retrieved was its immaterial body—the body we eat in soul meat. I didn’t cleanse the meat. I didn’t butcher the meat. I pulled out all of the Aura in one grasp, recompiling its body in a white ghost of the eight-foot-tall elk that it was only moments before. In that state, it was just an empty body—like a doll—but once I reconnected the Neara I had also captured amongst its death—

  The white and purple soul force melded together, and the creature opened its eyes, took a gasping breath—and released a battle cry.

  I jumped out of the way as it blasted through the forest, breaking through rotting logs and smashing trees with its hollow, ghostly antlers.

  “Stop this!” Reta snapped. “You’re wasting your time. What beast will follow your instructions when you just killed them?”

  I turned to her. “A beast that wants to live.”

  “Or, you can just whisk away their free will and tell them to do whatever you want them to.”

  “I want to try.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. We’ve already wasted two days on this—I refuse to waste a third.”

  I turned to her. “Let me just talk to Aiden. These beasts are living. And since they are, he can—”

  “No.” Her eyes turned chilling and cold. “Aiden is bound to one enemy, and now he’s chasing after the daughter of another. He can be a Wraith—but you will not trust him with our secrets.”

  I looked away in frustration. I had the power to bring things back from the dead and allow them to live, but I had no means to convince them to live. That made sense. You may be alive, mind, body, and soul, but if you only exist when someone summons you, like you’re a fucking Pokemon—is there a point? Perhaps—but I needed to negotiate with them.

  In the meantime, the ghostly traksa slammed through a tree, then tried to run, but stopped when my soul tether ran out about half a mile later. No matter how much it wanted to live—it wouldn’t. It was a cruel reality—and I had no means to explain what was happening to it.

  That’s why I needed Aiden—to learn about beast contracts and communication. That said—

  Reta was right. Until the auction, Aiden had to report in every harvest to Brexton. And we would be naive to think Brexton would just let him go easily once that contract was over. It was more likely that right before the auction, Brexton would take their annual chat to interrogate Aiden with their bleakest techniques.

  Then, there was Railain—the scion of the first domain’s top beast taming and soul meat family. She had lost to Aiden in the Trial of Survival, losing the right to drop me my rewards, and had been bitter ever since. But as a Claustra and a budding charmer, Aiden had made it his mission, perhaps out of genuine interest or simply to take his mind off Kai Dairook, to charm her.

  He started charming her after the harvest, and he was making headway by the start of the winter. It had been two and a half months since then, but we kept tabs on the relationship through the help of Trigan, Wraithwood’s City Manager, and Ferna, our diplomat, who kept consistent communication with the Drokai in Helfine and Serenflora.

  Railain had been a point of controversy, as while she had a silence pact, which was a requirement to enter Wraithwood Village, she was not a Wraith.

  She also had relaxed requirements for not harming the forest.

  The reason we allowed her to join Wraithwood was because we needed someone to bring hundreds of beasts for breeding and husbandry. As enticing as hunting was, it could lead to rapid depopulation, as skills like Wood Wide Web, alongside Kline’s Warp Step, could find and kill any second evolution beast within miles of us in minutes. If we went down that road, Areswood would suffer.

  We needed sustainable food. Crops. Cattle. Foraging. It couldn’t just be meat.

  Therefore, we hired an expert who would set up our operations. It was necessary—but it had obvious drawbacks.

  Now, the addition of Railain had become a blessing for me, since I wasn’t running the risk of Aiden’s jealousy, but it was bad for the village.

  Aiden was a good man. He wouldn’t hurt the village unless he had to. That’s who he was, and I trusted him—but his habits… were concerning. He was far happier than when I met him. He was a gloomy loner back then. Now, he was charming, well-respected, and growing daily. I loved that. It just sucked that it came with baggage. That water he was drinking when he first arrived had turned to actual alcohol, and his charm came with poor decisions. The Claustra taught him a good many things—and he had collected all of them—the good and the bad.

  Yes, Aiden was a good man, and I trusted him—but he was a liability, and I had to cut him out.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Just like everyone else around me.

  It was bleak, but true.

  People could know what I was doing, but they couldn’t take part or get close to it. I was a leader, a queen, a general, a guardian, and a god’s disciple. These things were exclusive. And while Malo and the Dantes had grown drastically once they combined daily threading and soul meat into their diets, they were still limited. There was a massive gap between the second and third evolutions, and I would be a third-evolution equivalent soon. Once I reached it, there’d be no one but me and the third evs we selected to keep me company. And how long would they last?

  Not very long. Soon, I’d be alone.

  In a desperate attempt to avoid that fate, and, okay, perhaps also for stupid, hormonal, impulsive, who-the-fuck-knows reasons, I unloaded a request that armies would kill for, and a hundred million hawks' worth of cores and soul meat, onto someone I had known for three months.

  If that scene proved anything, it was that I really needed to let my emotions cool before making decisions. Since I was calm as still water, I could look at the situation with Aiden logically.

  “Okay,” I said. “I won’t ask Aiden.”

  I sucked the traksa back into my chest, and summoned it again. Before the elk could run, I pulled Nearan pathways right out of its skull and added my own. Now, it was a soulless puppet.

  I had it walk around in circles.

  Kline hopped onto its back in his cat form and lay down, as if this mighty third evolution beast was now a glorified pillow. Little shit.

  “Do either of you take things seriously?” Reta asked.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “I just pulled that thing's brain out and created one on the spot. I’d say that’s pretty serious. I think the word you’re looking for is focused, and the answer is no.”

  “You’re just going to admit that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I asked. “I’m a soulmancer—and I can’t do anything without a second evolution core. That creature might as well be a pillow.”

  Soul armies were only as powerful as their tether. The beasts I absorbed couldn’t use magic. If I wanted them to use magic or techniques or anything—I needed to do that myself.

  I had a core and techniques that could store third evolution creatures, but they might as well be mindless grizzly bears from Earth. Terrifying there, useless here. At least against the enemies I was facing.

  “No, it’s not a pillow,” Reta said. “And yes, we’re working on your core. But until then, you need to make do with what you have. And that’s this. Now focus on creating your soul beasts, do drills—”

  “But they’re worthless,” I said. “One day, I’ll have a second evolution core, and then, I’ll make one. But until then, I’m just going to waste years learning magic that won’t help me. If you want to do this—help me with Dreamscape.”

  Dreamscape was similar to soulmancy in that I could bring any illusion to life with mana. By animating the Mana and solidifying it, I could make dreams a reality. And like soulmancy, where I could throw a shalk’s soul into a plant and bring it to life, I could inject mana into things.

  Such was the power of an epic-grade magic.

  It still had limitations. Dreamscape could create an illusion of a beast and make it use magic, but you would need to be able to use that magic. Reta did this with Hadrian. She didn’t know Hadrian’s magic—she just created the illusion she did by using ice magic. In that case, she was limited in what she could do.

  But soulmancy changed that. With Dreamscape, I could recreate a beast’s mana channels as well—and that would change everything.

  Reta didn’t think so.

  “Not this again,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Yes this again,” I said. “Why not? Listen Reta. This beast is real.” I patted the traksa’s side. “Its voice box vibrates—so the beast can screech. It screeches because it has a mind that tells it to. Its brain works. It can talk. It has a personality.” I rubbed its snout. “And just like Nearan channels remember physical actions and memories—it has to remember magic. So if I can recreate its mana channels, it should be able to use its native magic. Think about it—an army of soul beasts that are indistinguishable from real beasts. Yes, you call that beast taming—but if beast taming were powerful, we wouldn’t be doing this. We’re doing this because we can control beasts, so they can’t die, so we can hold an army in our chests. And if we could do that with beasts… that magic’s stronger than yours and Brindle’s put together.”

  “Yes, it would be,” Reta said sarcastically. “If you could replicate a dead beast’s mana channels.”

  “Something we both know is possible,” I said. “I can feel my mana channels—that means I know them. Beasts will remember. It’s just a matter of finding it.”

  “I also know space travel is possible,” Reta said. “It’s just a matter of finding out how.”

  I deflated. “I know, but… don’t you think it’s worth it? This is miracle magic, Reta… if we do this… we will exceed Brindle’s legacy within a hundred years. I have his magic, your teachings, and now this… Don’t you… want to try? Not because we need it but because it’s worth it?”

  Reta studied me. Then, her eyes glided to the left in thought. My heart rattled against my ribs, hoping, praying, yearning for her to approve. She said:

  “Two weeks. If you can find the Nearan channels for recreating spirit channels in two weeks—I’ll help you. You don’t need to recreate them. You don’t need to copy them. You just need to find them. If you do that, I’ll help you.”

  My eyes lit up, and I nodded.

  “But,” Reta said with cold emphasis. “If you don’t, you’re following my teachings. You’re going to forget about this freewill bullshit you’re entertaining and start acting like a soulmancer.”

  I paused, winced, and nodded solemnly.

  “Good. Don’t forget about the Cailain ceremony,” she said. “It’s coming up.”

  Kline looked at her and sneered, and then lay his head back on his paws. Neither of us wanted to take the next dose of Cailain. It was the regenerative elixir that Elana helped me make out of the flower I got in Misty Row. At present, my body could get stabbed, and it would heal. But it didn’t heal bone quickly. The next round would do that. By the third round, my limbs would reattach and even grow back over time. When it was completed, someone would be able to blast my head off, and the mixture of healing and my Nearan record would allow me to grow it back. That said, there was a long way between here and there. And with every dose, it would get harder.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  Reta left, and I studied my elk puppet. “Right after I sucked your brains out…” I grumbled. I sucked the traksa into my chest and Kline fell to the Earth, yowling.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” I cried. I forgot Kline was sleeping on the traksa.

  Kline huffed and turned his head away. “Oh, come here!” I said, trying to pick him up. He ran. I used Moxle Dilation. He warped. I found his portals. He dodged. But the thing that was amusing was, despite being faster than me, he always put the portals near me. He wanted to be caught, and when I picked him up and he yowled and hissed and huffed, he gave up easily and let me hold him against my breast. Kline was and would forever be the only man I needed in my life.

  It was time to find a new beast. I had two weeks to put Dreamscape into use and fulfill my dream of having an army of real magical beasts in my chest. If I could, it would be a boon. ‘Cause while I had an ultra-powerful Kyfer core, and a super weak soul core, and my third-evolution puppets were weak as second-evolution beasts. It wouldn’t do. I needed to make them stronger—and my soul core was going to take a long, fucking time to evolve.

  This was all or nothing—and I planned to succeed.

  Enjoy the bonus chapter! Book 5 starts on Monday. And as you're noting from this ramping pacing, it's going to be nonstop. Let's goooooooooooooo!

  https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B0DPJDRPWH?maas=&ref=