085 Seeking Soul Shards?

Teresa’s hands moved with a magical swiftness among the threads, weaving through strands as fine as gossamer in a blur that left only afterimages in the air. When the final tapestry slipped from her fingers, she froze as if someone had called a halt to a clockwork doll. Her hands hovered in midair, motionless, her head slightly bowed, still holding the posture of weaving. Yet, upon closer inspection, one could see a faint expression of loss on her face, and an aura of soft tranquility seemed to settle around her.

It was a long moment before Teresa finally let out a deep sigh and murmured, half in complaint, “I’m exhausted…”

“You deserve it!” Benita’s voice cracked like thunder, startling Teresa so much she nearly jumped up—oh, but she didn’t quite manage it. Having sat cross-legged for so long, her legs were numb, so when she reflexively tried to spring to her feet, her body refused to cooperate, and she toppled over awkwardly.

Seeing this, Benita couldn’t help a mixture of exasperation and laughter as she hurried over, grumbling aloud as she helped Teresa back up. Ignoring Teresa’s protests, she set about vigorously massaging her feet to restore circulation.

“Hmph, all numb, aren’t they? Hurting, aren’t they? Serves you right!” Benita taunted, half in mock anger, with a wicked grin.

At last, Teresa managed to escape Benita’s clutches. Rubbing her calves ruefully, she apologized, “Nini, I’m sorry. Once I get busy, I lose all track of time—have I really been shut away for nine days this time?”

“Ten days!” Benita shot her an irritated look. “We agreed ages ago that you’d come shopping with me to buy a gift yesterday, but you stood me up! I waited over an hour for nothing! So, what are you going to do to make it up to me?”

Knowing she was at fault, Teresa hurried to beg for forgiveness, showering Benita with compliments until, at last, Benita couldn’t help but laugh.

“All right, all right, as long as you’re not angry,” Teresa said, grinning sheepishly. “Didn’t you say you wanted to pick out a gift? Let me take a bath, then I’ll come shopping with you.”

Their shopping date had been arranged more than ten days ago, prompted by Benita’s great-uncle, the Duke of Sestane, who would turn seventy next year—a milestone birthday requiring a special gift from his younger relatives.

“Heh, I already have an idea for the gift~” Benita sidled up to Teresa with a sly smile, her eyes full of mischief.

A shiver ran down Teresa’s spine. She asked cautiously, “What are you plotting?”

“You just said you’d make it up to me, didn’t you? Well, now’s your chance to prove it~” Benita laughed, pouncing on Teresa with wild glee. Her peals of laughter rang out like a witch’s cackle…

…

The Adventurers’ Guild in Cervantes was as lively as ever. Although winter had driven down the number of hunters venturing to the northwest ice fields, this was the perfect time for expeditions across the border into the Beastmen Alliance. While skirmishes occasionally broke out between the Empire and the Alliance, trade among the common folk never completely ceased. Beastmen rarely entered the Empire due to their strong sense of territory, but many adaptable humans could penetrate deep into the Alliance, keeping trade routes open.

Winter was the season when the Beastmen Alliance was most deprived of resources, making it the busiest time for the northern trade routes—and, of course, the peak season for hiring guards and escorts.

Teresa scanned the task board, her eyes passing over row upon row of escort missions and self-recommendations from guards. She pressed her lips together in regret—if she were a combatant, she might truly be tempted to join one of these ventures. The chance to experience a whole new society was irresistibly appealing.

But alas, she was an alchemist. And not even a high-ranking one at that.

Regret aside, she still had business to attend to—Benita, that slacker, had actually asked her to make a triad magic tapestry for the gift, a daunting challenge for Teresa. That was why she was hurriedly stocking up on materials, preparing for a long period of seclusion and research.

Grumbling inwardly about Benita’s laziness, Teresa wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself and approached a self-service terminal. She inserted her adventurer’s card and began searching for the materials she needed. Line after line of consignment and wanted ads scrolled past, making her eyes spin. She was no stranger to this flood of information and handled it with practiced ease, scanning through at lightning speed and selecting the necessary ingredients. Once she had secured her urgent supplies, she leisurely browsed the listings, hoping for a bargain—sometimes anxious sellers would offer rare goods at dirt-cheap prices, and with a bit of luck, she could score a deal. Teresa wasn’t short on money, but a bargain was always welcome.

Row after row she scrolled, her vision blurring, when suddenly a particular keyword flashed before her eyes, jolting her out of her stupor. She stared fiercely at a line in the wanted ads—

Seeking ten soul fragments. Will trade material goods.

Soul fragments!

Someone was actually openly seeking soul fragments!

Her thoughts racing, Teresa clicked on the ad without thinking. The words “soul fragments” stood out boldly on the screen, almost causing her to overlook the small note beneath—

Note: Ownerless fragments, no independent consciousness.

Ownerless, no independent will? The note piqued Teresa’s curiosity. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she closed the screen, retrieved her adventurer’s card, and stood there pondering for a moment. Then she headed out, mounted her horse, and instead of riding toward Maple Garden, she turned south toward the city.

“Soul fragments?” Mumu looked at Teresa in surprise, clearly not expecting such a question from her.

“Yes, I saw someone looking to buy them at the Adventurers’ Guild market today. Isn’t the soul supposed to be forbidden territory? Why is someone openly soliciting soul fragments? And what does ‘ownerless, no independent will’ even mean?”

“The soul is forbidden territory in terms of soul laws,” Mumu explained, used to Teresa’s endless questions. “Only those of the third tier or higher in strength can even perceive the workings of soul laws. If anyone else tries to study them, their mental force collapses and they eventually go mad.”

Teresa had expected that answer, but still shivered when Mumu delivered it in such a cold tone.

Seeing this, Mumu’s long whiskers curled upward in a catlike smile. He continued, “As for soul fragments, most refer to residual soul energy left after a soul dissipates. Over time, this energy is refined. While it can’t be used to comprehend soul laws, it can help alchemists improve the spirit of their creations—though that’s a skill only high-rank alchemists possess. Some mages also like to use soul fragments as spell components.”

“As for ‘ownerless, no independent will,’ that describes the nature of the fragment. Once a soul fragment is bound to someone, its potential energy drops when separated again. Both alchemists and mages prefer unbound fragments—alchemists for ease of use, mages for the increased power of fragments with will. Does that make sense?”

Teresa tugged her hair, scrunching her face as she looked at Mumu’s feline features. In the end, she nodded with a resigned sigh.

Mumu, seeing her acquiesce, puffed out his chest and declared, “Good. As your reward, you get all the weeding duty today.”

He flashed a catty grin and darted into the forest—Teresa knew he was off to nap in the treetops.

She rolled her eyes, plucked Chirp, who was swinging from her hair, and placed him on her shoulder beside Caw, who was preening his feathers. Lost in thought, she began to weed the entire courtyard.

Teresa had no idea that, in the nearby manor, an old man was stroking Mumu’s glossy fur, his normally impassive face softened by a rare smile.

Preoccupied, Teresa didn’t play around with Chirp and Caw as she usually did. Instead, she focused on her chores, clearing all the weeds by noon before impatiently riding back to Maple Garden.

☆☆☆

On the immaculate alchemy table lay a scattering of pale golden fragments, while between Teresa’s palms hovered a small orb suffused with a faint blue mist. Through the hazy glow, one could just make out the outline of a wolf, drawn in a few simple lines, curled up inside the orb—though, truth be told, it looked much like a dog…

Teresa’s spiritual sense probed deep into the orb, noting every subtle change until her mind grew weary. Only then did she withdraw her senses, pinching the bridge of her nose in thought.

In her understanding, a spiritual construct was the sum of spirit and puppet, the key components being the soul fragment, the alchemical puppet body, and a totem (or certain magical runes). Of these, the totem or rune was the most crucial in how it was chosen and used.

How to use a totem or rune as a medium to link the soul and the puppet body? That was the primary problem she needed to solve.

The orb was the spirit vessel of the little golden wolf. According to its own explanation, the vessel consisted of three layers, though Teresa could only discern two at her current level. The innermost layer was soul energy guided by the wolf totem; the next layer out was the “spirit channel array” maintaining the energy supply. The most critical, outermost layer—the array that connected the soul and puppet body—remained a mystery she had yet to unravel. (To be continued)