With my polearm in hand, I decided to take the offensive. I shot down like a diving hawk and aimed a strike directly at the banshee. The spirit didn’t even move. I’d held some small hope that the magical nature of the weapon would be able to impart damage that mere physicality couldn’t. The polearm passed through the banshee's form with eerie ease, but then just like water, it reformed immediately.

  Never one to give up so easily, I waved the polearm through her form more than once. I even changed the shape of the head to deliver different types of damage. Through it all, the banshee chased me around the room. My attacks were less than ineffectual and I was mounting the best defensive battle I could, trying to keep her at bay.

  I expected my mage shield to slow her a bit, but the banshee passed through it as though it weren’t there. When her thick fingers reached out to grasp me, I felt cold go through my body. For an instant, the icy touch reached my heart and I froze up. It was like the very life was being sucked out of me. I battled the sensation with my life mana, but it wasn’t enough. Her pull couldn’t be resisted and a tiny fragment of my life was siphoned away before I could break contact with her.

  For a moment, I gave up on fighting and simply fled. The gate marking the other hallway was down now, and Samvek was nowhere to be found. So there was no escape. I had to deal with the banshee or die; perhaps worse as I didn’t know what would happen if she drained all of my life force out. Would I join her in haunting this dungeon?

  I needed a way to harm her. I began running through options. She couldn’t be stopped by physical attacks, even with a magical weapon… but wait. Maybe an elemental attack would do it. I focused on the weapon in my hands, or more specifically the crystal blade atop it. I called out to the lightning within it with the small amount of the same mana flowing inside of me. The blade began to spark as arcs of current ran up and down it and then all the way down the haft and over my hands.

  I spun mid-flight and cut deeply into the banshee with my now electrified polearm. For all my effort, I only got a clawing finger to my chest, which sucked out another small portion of my life force. Then I was fleeing again.

  I built up a bit of space and then conjured a series of three shields closely linked together as a triple pane window. When she hit the barrier, she slowed. It wasn’t much, but for the first time there was a bit of resistance. Hoping for the same result, I fired off a Mage Missile. The concentrated force energy blasted into her and the hole it created took ten times as long to fill in as those made by my polearm, but she still recovered.

  It would take hours of flying around in here to be able to whittle her down with force fields and mage missiles. I didn’t know if I had that kind of time, as I had no idea how many of her attacks I could survive. If only Nevin were here with that crown. It had an attack which could cause purely spiritual damage.

  Then it hit me. I might have a way to do this. I’d have to go back on the offensive and the ability would only last for forty-three seconds, so I needed to make it count. I braced myself for the pain and then stopped mid-air.

  She was on me in an instant, but my transformation took less than a heartbeat as I activated Spirit Walk. My entire form, including the weapon I was holding, phased out of the material world and became a pure soul construct. Just before she reached me, I brought my polearm down in an overhead, chopping strike.

  Before, the blade had passed through her without her even reacting. This time was very different. She screeched so loudly that—but for my new gloves—I might have dropped the weapon.

  I forced myself to bring it back up and began frantically cutting her into pieces. Each strike sapped something from her and I felt an odd combination of life and undeath mana leaking from her frame. She got one more attack on me before she was too far gone to respond. The pain was even more intense as I supposed being in a spiritual form likely made me more susceptible to her attack. Thankfully, my guess paid off, because it was apparent my attacks in this form were just as effective.

  I was panting as I shifted back into a corporeal form while still floating mid-air thanks to my flight spell. I couldn’t help but shake my head though. That still seemed too easy. Earth legends might not be a textbook to tell me about the undead Darje, but so far, the system’s means of quantifying monsters typically made sense. The drones were basically zombies, and the word ‘drone’ clearly implied a lack of agency and intelligence. The smolders and reavers were the same type of undead but of a higher order. The one was a wizard variant, while the other was more like an assassin or melee type.

  Banshees, on the other hand were generally considered to be more powerful undead, at least in every story and game I’d ever played. They weren’t particularly tough once you found something that would hurt them, but they were difficult to injure in the first place and had tremendous offensive potential. I already knew that, but for my Will being over 200, I would have succumbed to the keening wail.

  I hadn’t gotten XP either, which was always a dead giveaway. At least the system had that tell to work off. I dropped down to the floor, hovering just an inch over it. The precision movement was starting to come a little easier. I noticed that all of the circles on the floor were still lit up. I moved toward the dagger but it was once again surrounded by a force-field that I couldn’t seem to force my way through. This time though, the field was only over that singular pedestal.

  Next, I examined the sarcophagus and couldn’t see anything out of place. There was a faint lingering sense of cold and death in it, but nothing that I could really put my finger on. There wasn’t exactly a manual to guide me through using my expanded senses. Samvek provided some guidance, but his answer was often that I had to practice and gain my own understanding.

  That only left the book. I looked at the cover. It had letters etched in what appeared to be gold, but as I studied the book further the meaning became clear— Azirin’s Journal on Transcending Death. There was a clasp on the book, but before I undid it, I examined it further. The leather cover it was bound in made me uneasy. The ridges, texture and color was very familiar. I’d been fighting them long enough to recognize it, and I somehow doubted that it came from cows. Darje weren’t humans, but were clearly an intelligent race or had been. I didn’t like thinking that it was made from their skin, but now that I saw it, I couldn’t un-see it.

  When I opened it, I found that the text was readable, although concentrating on it for too long gave me the beginnings of a headache. The hours started to pass as I worked through it little by little. At some point in the process, Samvek had appeared and sat next to me. He didn’t say anything, but I was glad to know he was inside the trap with me, rather than laughing at me from the outside. Little by little I was able to understand parts of it, but the progress was coming too slowly and my head was really starting to hurt.

  Finally, I asked Samvek, “Will you keep watch? I need to sleep.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “You keeping watch or me sleeping?”

  He stared directly at me with a level of intensity that seemed to come effortlessly to him. “I’m already keeping watch, but you sleeping wouldn’t be safe.”

  I started to ask for an explanation, but then it hit me. “She’s inside me isn’t she?”

  He nodded. “That would be my guess. I can’t detect her anywhere else, but you haven’t gained a level and the gates are still sealed.”

  “So, is this like possession or what? Oh, and when were you gonna tell me?”

  “I won’t always be there. My job isn’t to hold your hand—it’s to make sure you grow. Every danger I save you from is a lost opportunity for you.”

  I narrowed my eyes and stifled a groan. I could see his point, but wasn’t sure if I had the time to deal with it. Since it seemed like he expected me to figure this out myself, I put the book down. I was sitting there cross-legged and turned my focus inward.

  My mind traced my mana channels until I reached my core. It was where I attuned mana. I could feel how the majority of the mana within me was shimmering with life. A smaller piece was fast and destructive, while also full of energy. The lightning mana stood out from the unattuned mana that still accounted for about a third of what was inside me.

  Then I saw it. At first it was like a shadow I saw out of the corner of my eye. I looked, but when I tried to focus; it sped away, always dancing on my periphery. I spent what felt like hours, but eventually; I was sure. There were black ribbons of nightmarish energy floating through me. Worse, the ribbons were seeking each other out and then merging. The larger they got the easier it was for me to detect them.

  The realization that the banshee's remnants were within me, weaving through my mana channels with a malevolent intent, sent a cold shiver down my spine. It was a sinister invasion, a violation of my very essence. A monster trying to kill me, or more aptly, a parasite trying to take over a host body. This was insidious. And it drove home how vulnerable I was to many things around me. Now, it was personal; life and death were always personal to the affected party, but this invasion felt so much worse. More importantly, this struck to the core of who I was. The shadowy ribbons of energy, dark and foreboding, seemed to slither and merge, growing stronger within the sanctuary of my core. The thought of this entity reforming inside me, taking control, was a nightmare I couldn't allow to become reality.

  I focused intently, trying to isolate the dark strands from my own mana. It was like trying to separate oil from water with nothing but my bare hands. The ribbons evaded my mental grasp, slipping away each time I thought I had a hold on them. Their presence was a blight, a darkness that sought to consume my light from within.

  Drawing on every ounce of my will, I began to channel my life mana directly towards the ribbons. Life mana, the antithesis of death, should have been the perfect weapon against the remnants of an undead creature. The shimmering green energy met the dark ribbons, clashing in a silent battle within the depths of my core.

  But it wasn't enough. The banshee's essence was tenacious, clinging to my mana channels with a persistence that bordered on desperation. It was as if the creature, even in this diminished form, refused to be banished so easily. As I realized this, insight struck, and drove home another connection. This wasn’t a battle between life and death—both were part of the same natural cycle. Undeath, however, was a perversion. A mockery of that cycle. What I needed to grant to the banshee was not destruction but freedom from this curse. A way to break her chains.

  Those ribbons within me were not just her mana, they were all that remained of her soul. The book gave me enough hints that I could deduce this female Darje had been the wife of the author, Azirin. Why he would do this to someone he claimed to love was beyond me, but maybe the book held more answers once I could understand more.

  I redoubled my efforts gathering my life mana and then laced in the lightning mana. Electricity was part of life. It flowed through our bodies, and was the spark within the brain that enabled actions and thoughts. With that concept in the forefront of my mind, I used the nature of lightning to combine with the life mana to create the spark of life.

  This combination, a fusion of life and lightning, created a vibrant, pulsating force within me. The life mana's nurturing glow intertwined with the raw, kinetic energy of the lightning. It produced a dazzling spectrum of light that coursed through my mana channels, eager to do my bidding. It almost reminded me of my immune system attacking a hostile pathogen.

  The remnants of the banshee's soul, reacted violently to this new energy. I felt her rage and then her sorrow deep down into my own soul. She writhed and twisted, seeking escape from the relentless assault of my combined forces. But there was nowhere to hide; my will dictated the flow of mana, turning my body into a battleground.

  As the battle raged within me, I focused on the essence of the ribbons, on the tortured soul that they represented. I whispered apologies, knowing that this being, once a proud Darje, had been twisted into something unnatural by Azirin's dark desires. "I free you," I murmured, infusing those words with the full force of my intent, pushing the mana harder. Intent was vital.

  In response, my life sparked mana changed tactics. Rather than attacking, it coaxed and reassured. The ribbons began to dissolve, not with the violence of destruction, but with the gentle release of liberation. I could see sparks of light dancing through that dark energy, like twilight stars along a ribbon of night. What had once been a malevolent force within now shimmered with… gratitude. I heard a grateful sigh, and with that, the banshee's soul unwound from its undead bindings. The transformation was beautiful and sad, a poignant reminder of the cost of Azirin's ambition.

  As the last of the ribbons vanished, a profound silence filled me and then within that silence I heard the echo of a voice.

  “Thank you… what was mine, I give to you…”

  Chapter 25- Spirit Singer

  The words were still fading from my ears when the notification popped up.

  You have been offered a Darje Inheritance- Spirit Singer. Do you wish to accept?

  A few potential risks crossed my mind, but so far other than the Forerunner trait, the best thing on my stat sheet was the Inheritor trait, which I got through Uncle Dan’s means of passing on his position to me. So, I only hesitated an instant before accepting.

  You have inherited from an unrelated entity. Inheritance Trait has reached level 2.

  You have inherited from an alien entity. Inheritance Trait has reached level 3.

  You have inherited from a non-living entity. Inheritance Trait has reached level 4.

  Available inheritance slots have increased by one in each category. You are eligible to inherit skills, abilities, spells, items, and titles of the legendary level or lower. All inherited traits have the potential for spontaneous evolution.

  You have received the new active ability- Spirit Singing (epic): this ability allows you to soothe, guide, or otherwise moderately influence spiritual energy. This includes, but is not limited to natural spirits, elemental spirits, and even the spiritual energy of sapient beings. Raw spiritual energy will be much easier to coax than sapient souls. Your voice will be its guide.

  Synergy with Spirit Walk detected. When using both skills together, the duration of Spirit Walk will be tripled and the influence of Spirit Singing will increase from moderate to major.

  Perception will now be significantly more effective in detecting spiritual energy.

  Experience will be your guide.

  I’d heard myself singing in the shower and had no delusions about my voice. It fell somewhere between a honking goose and the sound of a toddler banging two pots together. Cece said it could wake the dead. She might just be right now.

  Samvek stepped up next to me. “Look me in the eye.”

  His hands seized my shoulders and the intensity of his gaze was intimidating, but I did my best.

  “No, don’t look away. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t even blink. I need to be sure.”

  His tone didn’t offer me any room to argue, so I did as instructed. It felt like he was peering through my eyes into my innermost being. I worried that if he found something he didn’t like, he’d end up hollowing me out.

  The moment stretched into eternity. Samvek's gaze was unyielding. It pierced into the very core of my existence. His eyes, usually a deep well of wisdom and strength, now felt like twin beams of scrutiny, searching for any trace of the banshee's essence within me. The air between us charged with a tension that made my skin prickle, every second under his gaze felt like an invasion.

  Yet as it progressed, I realized something. He was mostly examining my class core and mana channels. I could sense his presence there. I also realized that no matter how impossibly strong he seemed in the real world, inside my core, I could have effortlessly kicked him out. That would have led to a deeper problem of course. There was still a faint spiritual aspect to his searching, but it wasn’t anything like the banshee’s.

  The weight of his hands on my shoulders anchored me to the spot, a physical reminder of the seriousness of this inspection. I fought the urge to blink, to look away, to do anything that might break this intense connection. It was as if the very act of maintaining eye contact was a test of will, a battle of endurance between mentor and student.

  Silence enveloped us, a heavy, expectant silence that seemed to press down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The crypt around us faded into insignificance, the whole world reduced to the space between Samvek's eyes and mine. Time lost its meaning, each tick of the clock stretching into infinity, each heartbeat a drumbeat marking the passage of an undefined, unmeasured interval.

  Finally, mercifully, Samvek released me, his hands dropping from my shoulders as he stepped back. The sudden absence of his touch left me feeling oddly bereft, adrift after the intensity of his examination. I blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the afterimage of his gaze from my vision. My core almost felt like it had been refined in some way that I couldn’t put words too.

  "What was that about?" I managed to ask, my voice sounding hoarse and unfamiliar to my own ears. The question hung between us, laden with the weight of unspoken fears and unacknowledged possibilities.

  Samvek's expression softened, the stern lines of his face relaxing into a more familiar, contemplative look. "I needed to ensure that the banshee hadn't possessed you," he finally said, his voice low and measured. "Such creatures can be... tenacious, clinging to a host with a desperation born of their unnatural existence."

  "And?" I prompted, needing to hear the conclusion, the verdict of his inspection.

  He nodded, once, a short, decisive movement. "I am satisfied," he confirmed. "You are yourself, Silas. The banshee has left no trace within you."

  I snorted then, as a wave of relief washed over me. “I could have told you that. Once I broke her down, she left voluntarily. She even thanked me and left a gift.”