The Nature of Souls

A faint warmth pressed against his cheek. The sterile scent of herbs and bandages replaced the metallic tang of steam. For a moment, Luciel thought he was still inside the pod—but the gentle rustle of curtains and the creak of wooden floorboards told him otherwise.

His eyelids fought him as he forced them open, light flooding in. The ceiling above wasn’t the glowing surface of the translator, but the plain rafters of the infirmary.

“Where am I…?” He blinked, disoriented.

Just then, he felt an applied pressure directed on his stomach. There, Alice took a nap, her flaxen colored hair, glistened as the golden rays of the sun lit up the room as it began to set.

Slowly, he raised his right hand towards her resting head, combing her silky hair gently. Luciel recounted the past events that occurred beforehand—remembering what prompted him to be in such a state. As he was thinking, Alice began to stir slightly, unveiling her face towards him.

He then sighed, knowing that he won’t probably know what happened to him at this moment. Still confused at what led him to his position—he stared at Alice in awe, raking in the pure bliss of this moment.

Her lashes fluttered as she stirred once more, letting out a faint murmur before her hazel eyes slowly opened. For a second, her gaze was unfocused—then, when she realized he was awake, her breath hitched.

“Luciel!” she sat up abruptly—as if it was instant. Her cheeks still carrying the faint marks of sleep. Relief washed over her once worried expression, like a wave breaking through the shore. “You’re finally awake… I thought…” she murmured.

He offered her a faint smile, though his voice was hoarse. “Sorry if I made you worry,” slowly bringing her closer to an embrace.

Alice bit her lip, her eyes glistening, though she tried to mask it with a small, forced pout. “Idiot… don’t say it like that. Do you know how scared I was?”

Luciel hesitated, his hand still hovering near where her hair had been moments ago. “I honestly didn’t know what happened to me back there—All I know was I entered the pod, and then woke up to see your sleeping face…”

The silence between them was filled only by the faint chirp of crickets outside, the world slowing around the two of them.

“I really thought you died back there…” she said, letting out a small whimper.

Luciel then turned his gaze towards her—his eyes, full of curiosity. “Was it really that close…?”

“I did not expect for the machine to error at such a critical moment…”

“At the very least I’m fine… I have a strong will to live anyway!” he laughed, putting aside the probable dangers that could’ve occurred.

“You idiot!” she shouted, “If I wasn’t able to notice it—I would’ve lost you…” she sighed, her tears flowing out like a river. “Sorry I invited you to such danger…”

Luciel reached up, brushing away the streaks of tears from her cheeks with the back of his hand. “Hey… don’t apologize. You were the one who pulled me out. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

Alice’s lips quivered, caught between relief and scolding him further.

Before she could speak, the infirmary door slid open with a faint creak. A robed attendant stepped inside, carrying a tray of steaming water and herbs. “You’re awake… good. The council will want to hear of this.”

Luciel’s smile faded slightly. The warmth of the moment lingered, but so did the unease of what had nearly gone wrong.

Minutes later, the representative of the council entered his room in the infirmary. Luciel immediately felt the immense pressure imposed by them. They weren’t just frail researchers wanting to take light in such an event—they are members of the current council.

Among those who approached his bed was Alice’s father—Barund Sylvalen, a noble whose name carried weight beyond the borders of the elven domain. Known for crafting innovations so advanced that even human kingdoms had adopted them, his very presence commanded silence.

Walking beside him were the twins, Thjalven and Hjorven, their expressions as sharp and mirrored as their lineage suggested.

Barund’s piercing gaze flicked to his daughter, who still lingered close to Luciel’s side. His lips curved in something between a sigh and a knowing smile.

“What did my dear daughter do this time?” Barund asked, his tone was deceptively light with a hint of scrutiny.

Alice straightened instantly, flustered, her hands tightening around the folds of her skirt. “I… invited him to try the Soul Translator…”

“And it failed?” he leaned closer towards Luciel’s side, letting his curiosity take over. “Strange. He looks perfectly fine to me.”

“Well, he collapsed… and the readings were off—at least, at first.”

“The readings were off?”

Alice hesitated, her gaze flicking nervously toward Luciel before she whispered, “The baseline data was normal. The problem lies in his… soul archetype. That’s what triggered the error.”

Luciel then turned to both of them, confusion painted all over his face. “Soul arch—what…?”

Barund blinked, tapping his chin as though searching for the right words. “Oh, you don’t know what it is… uhm…” His brows knit, the explanation clearly on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s Luciel, Dad…” Alice cut in quickly, her tone half-scolding.

“Ah, yes—Luciel,” Barund repeated, nodding to himself as if trying to file it away properly this time. Then, as if nothing happened, he leaned forward with renewed interest.

Luciel shrugged helplessly. “Nope. Not a single speck of idea about it.”

“You see here dear Luciel, Souls are the fundamental unit of life in the universe, and it holds all information about oneself—Their personality, strength, memories, and affinities—if there are.” he explained, like a gentle father telling a story to his child.

“So… what caused the machine to have an error then?” Luciel asked once more, getting a gist of what happened, with Alice listening in as well.

“Souls have different types, based on their memories, and personality. Since you and Alice over here are reincarnated, that means the machine can read your memories—therefore classifying you as an incomplete soul.”

“Incomplete…?”

“Incomplete souls are basically souls that have regrets, or having a tainted past full of heinous actions.” Barund said gently. “In your case—it’s more likely regret.”

Luciel nodded faintly, his brows knitting. “I see… but why are people reincarnated at all?”

“Ah, now that is fascinating!” Barund’s eyes lit up, his tone swelling with the excitement of a scholar sharing a grand secret.

“Reincarnation is a cleansing mechanism created by the gods of this universe!” he told him, his tone full of interest and excitement. “Souls have a bank in the universe, where all souls mix in the sea of souls.” he continued.

“So souls are finite?” Luciel pressed.

“Finite, yes,” Barund admitted with a thoughtful nod. “But so vast in number, it may as well be infinite. That’s why sometimes people look alike, or share temperaments with others long gone—it’s the remnants of old echoes resurfacing. It also explains why some twins have different personalities.”

Luciel leaned back slightly, digesting the words. “This is… very interesting. It was never taught to me before.”

“Good to know, Luciel!” Barund smiled, before turning towards Alice. “And what did the machine output, my dear daughter?”

Alice hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “Well… it recorded a divine affinity in swordsmanship. But as for his soul archetype… the output was: unknown.”

Barund’s brows arched, his calm demeanor giving way to intrigue. “Unknown? Now that is… unexpected. A divine affinity is rare enough, but for the archetype to register as undefined…” He trailed off, his voice laced with both curiosity and concern. “That is a surprising result, if I say so myself.”

Luciel then paced his gaze between the two of them. First it was Alice, then Barund, and back. Words he can’t seem to decipher—too deep for him to understand.

“Anyway dear Luciel, I’ll now go back to the council to report this incident. Take care, and…” he leaned towards Luciel, whispering to him, “Take care of my daughter for me.”

Luciel froze, eyes widening slightly. As Barund pulled back with a faint smile and a polite wave, Luciel’s thoughts stumbled over themselves.

This prompted to Luciel a bit, hearing those words to come specifically from Alice’s father.

Did I just get an approval…?

Alice tilted her head, catching his reddened expression. “Why do you look so flustered, Luciel?” she teased, pinching his cheek until he squirmed.

“Stop it… it’s nothing…” he muttered, fumbling to hide his embarrassment.

“Hmph. If you say so. Let’s head home then, shall we?”

Luciel stretched, letting out a long breath before glancing out the window at the deepening night. He nodded, and together they left the infirmary, pausing now and then at the evening stalls to pick up fresh ingredients for dinner.

By the time they returned home, their hands were full, but their voices were light as they rested, talking about their plans for tomorrow and reminiscing about fragments of their past lives.

“What should we do tomorrow?” Alice asked, glancing sideways at him.

“I feel like doing some training,” Luciel replied.

“Well, our village is conducting a warrior training program. You could join that.”

“Guess I’ll give it a shot.”

“I’ll accompany you, don’t worry.”

“Then I’ll have to perform even better.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not exaggerating—it’s the truth!”

“Pfft. Whatever you say.”