A Hundred Souls

Normally, this would be the perfect time for someone to remind me to stay calm. After all, this was supposed to be the moment when my emotions finally returned to me.

But ironically enough, I was perfectly calm. As I had expected, even this horrid scene before me wasn’t enough to awaken my old person. Perhaps, the human known as Tatsumiya Renji had already died, and the “me” right now was just like Duna had stated — an evil god that cared about nothing but his own satisfaction.

As for what that satisfaction was, I couldn’t tell.

I stepped forward, lightly touching the stained glass with my scaly hand. As my reflection showed in the tube, the remains of Reiko’s face mixed in with my own, creating an appearance that was almost human. But, just almost was all that it could achieve.

“What happened here?” I asked, unchanged in my tone.

“She was…”

“My sister, right? The woman known as Tatsumiya Reiko.”

“We never knew her name,” Duna shook his head. “But considering that you recognized her, I assume that would be the case.”

“What’s with the tube?” I continued like a machine. “Or rather, how did you guys even have these things? This certainly doesn’t look like a product of your civilization.”

“Remember how this war has been going on for millennia? This is one of Drizzle’s legacies of that past,” answered Duna. “They’ve been perfecting this summoning ritual for thousands of years. It never worked properly before, of course… until she arrived.”

“And you knew about this how?”

“Take a look over there.”

Following his direction, I circled around the large tube. The liquid inside had masked the scene behind it when we came in, but now that I was closer, everything was clear.

There was a single, broken chair. On the chair, however, was a lump of charred coal representing something very similar to a human skeleton. Considering the shreds of burnt cloth around it, I’d guess that there was indeed a person that had perished here. And seeing that the cause of death was likely by lightning, it wasn’t hard to guess who the perpetrator was.

“Kana did this?”

“Well, yes, but actually no. It’s… complicated.”

“Who is this anyway?”

“That is… well, was the King of Drizzle. And the one who orchestrated the whole ritual. I’m sure you’ve probably deduced it yourself already, but I’ll say it again…”

“Yeah, I figured that out more or less. Continue either way.” I nodded, ready for the ugly truth to finally be spilled.

It was simple reasoning, really. Thinking back when I was first brought here by Kana, and it all made sense. I was attacked and seemingly killed, or at least heavily injured. The next thing I woke up, I was in this world, and my body had already assumed some of Vritra’s features.

But the most important thing that I had missed… was the fact that this tattoo on my arm was called a “Stigma” — the same name as what the residents of this world had called the monsters that attacked them.

Duna took a glance at me. After knowing that I was ready, the man finally told his tale.

“Drizzle’s summoning system hinges on the existence of Indra. From ancient times until now, they had always tried to harness the power of the Stigmata for themselves — essentially creating artificial wielders from the original’s power. However, as you can already see, that plan had failed miserably; since all of the wielders were originally citizens of Drought, all that this nation had was a useless vajra that they couldn’t even use.”

Knocking on the large tube, he continued.

“And this thing is the main proof of that. It’s an alchemy tube made for human experiments — the magicians of Drizzle tried their damndest to extract the power, but all ended up in vain. Soon enough, they came to the conclusion that humans of this world just weren’t compatible — or at least, humans of Drizzle, that is.”

“So you went for the natural conclusion.”

“Kind of. At first, Drizzle kidnapped people of Drought to experiment. They theorized that only Indra’s blood in Drought’s citizens would be the trigger for a Stigma’s power to manifest. In a way, they were right — the only native wielders were from Drought, after all. But the result didn’t transfer to Drizzle at all. Directly modifying them didn’t work, nor forcing them to copulate with Drizzle’s inhabitants to produce half-breeds.”

“Hold on,” I interrupted. “I thought the Drizzle citizens were turned into monsters?”

“Uh, no? They were killed by the monsters. Well, most of them were, that is.”

So I was wrong in my initial guess.

“Continue,” I said.

“... Drizzle was stuck. At least, until…”

Duna took a few steps forward, and reached towards the burnt corpse. On the ground was a large book, and while its cover bore the same charred exterior as the poor skeleton next to it, the pages were, luckily enough, only mildly burned, molded, and torn.

… The book wasn’t in great shape at all. But at least it was legible.

On the first page, there was my answer. A page detailing the existence of other worlds.

“No one knew where or how Drizzle got its hand on this thing,” continued Duna. “But after some experiments, their summoning became surprisingly effective. First, it was just a few light objects. Then, it was larger objects. Light animals. Heavy animals. And finally, humans.”

Flipping to another page, he continued.

“However, it’s not entirely successful. Human experiments on the otherworlders became… less than satisfactory.”

On the pages, even if they were burned and torn, and I couldn’t read…

I blinked once. Twice. Three times. I was wrong. Or rather, I was wrong until now.

I could understand these letters. These words, which were all once foreign to me. When I was supposed to only be able to speak and hear through this slit of the throat that Kana once gave me…

“What’s wrong?” Duna asked, seeing me clearly flustered.

“I… can read these.”

“Hm? I thought you were always able to?... Well, it doesn’t matter now,” shrugged the man. “It’s probably just your assimilation growing.”

I rolled up my sleeve. He was right. The snake tattoo had already turned mostly black up to around half the tail length now.

“In any case,” Duna continued. “I guess I don’t have to explain what happened afterwards.”

“... Yeah.”

I could see it clearly in the book. Results of otherworlders having a stronger affinity for the magical power within the Stigmata. On how each of these humans could also be used as a battery for transferring and containing the Stigmata’s power towards others. In other words, Earthlings were both vessels as well as power for the citizens of Drizzle to use.

And so, they decided to hold a massive summoning ritual. A hundred souls would be gathered from Earth, fueling their transfer process, and creating their very first Stigma wielder in Drizzle — their key to defeat Drought in this endless war.

But, nothing went according to their plan.

As the hundredth soul was summoned, the spell overloaded. Instead of fusing to call forth a single Stigma, the massive energy from a hundred souls burst within the original bodies themselves. Each of them bore a failed version of awakening… and transformed the bodies as well.

I could vividly imagine it through these pages. How each person’s bones crackled. How their skin ripped apart. How unknown sludge poured out of their bodies, forming around them. How they solidified into body parts that one could only see in their wildest nightmares.

Each of those monsters that we had fought until now was the life of an Earthling, taken away from them and transformed into one such beast.

But the hundredth soul was different. Her body didn’t turn into a monster.

Instead, it rotted and melted on its own, turning itself into the very same green liquid that was inside the summoning tube. Meanwhile, the powerful magical energy of said soul was also something else — as the final piece of the ritual, it had somehow gathered a portion of all 99 souls that came before it, and resulted in a much stronger existence.

An existence born out of a lightning strike. But that lightning wasn’t aimed at Drizzle.

“I see…” I spoke. There was still no sadness in my mind, but my body naturally shook. “Reiko was the hundredth soul in your ritual. And she…”

“... Was the trigger to the Indra Stigma’s awakening.” Nodded Duna.

“But why keep the remains of her body?”

“As for that…” the man hesitated for a bit. “It was Kana’s idea. At first, I thought it was because your sister’s mind somehow resided within her. But now I know it’s not the case. You see, it’s because this green liquid…”

Before Duna could finish his sentence, the giant tube glowed an inexplicable green hue. The light was so strong, it was close to blinding even for me. Had it not been for Duna pulling me away, I would have been stunned from the flash alone.

As the light cleared, however, no words could be used to describe my shock.

There was a person lying on the floor. But I could recognize those features anywhere.

A slightly short height for men his age. Larger size as well. A head of gray hair, mustache, and face weathered by the years. That suit and cane.

“... Chief?”