With that flexibility, I made short work of the rest of the gargoyle army. When I was finished, I dropped down cross-legged, sucked in a deep breath, and focused my senses outward. I maintained the limits set by Samvek, but got the feeling that my mind was capable of more. After ten heartbeats of searching, I was comfortable that we were safe, at least for a while.

  I turned my sight and hearing back on and stood up.

  Samvek smiled at me. “Well done.”

  “Thanks. Harder than I thought at first, then easier than I could have imagined once I got the hang of it. I even learned a new Psi ability, although the system hasn’t named it yet. I’m still waiting on the notification.”

  I checked my status sheet again. As expected, there was nothing there, but I did find something that annoyed me. “After all that, I’ve gained less than 1% XP toward my next level. That doesn’t sit right.”

  That got a real belly laugh out of Samvek. “Oh, sometimes, you’re good for such a laugh, my friend. Don’t say that around Selena or she’ll mock you relentlessly. We’ve been here less than an hour, and you’re complaining because you haven’t gotten much XP? Gone are the days of you getting ten levels a day, my friend.”

  I shrugged. “I guess seeing is believing, but it still sucks. I’ve got a goddess out to kill me, probably worse. I need to get much stronger, like, immediately. Even if the system protects me from her for a little while, she’s an Architect of the System. I can’t count on that protection holding long.”

  “No, you can’t, but since when could you count on anyone else to protect you? Maybe when you were a child. I know you too well. Even before the system came to your world, you were a protector. You looked after your mother and Cece, and that’s a good thing. Ultimately, under the Heavens there are three kinds of people, although some would say there’s only two. There are those who need protecting, and those who do the protecting. Sadly, the third group is more prevalent than it should be—those who have the power to protect but only utilize it to take from others.

  “I’ve sat around listening to enough conversations between my father, Bahran, and others to know that as bad as our system is, there are other systems that promote that predatory stance much more effectively. The point is, either you protect, or you need protection. You are one who will always seek to protect.”

  I smiled at the compliment, but before I could say anything, I got the notification I’d been waiting for.

  A new Psi Ability has been quantified: Psionic Construct. This ability works in a similar fashion to force constructs, but is powered by Psi. Further experimentation is needed for better quantification.

  Continue to gather information for the Heavens. Learn how Psi is generated. Once you have achieved that, you will be rewarded.

  Rewards were good, but there was something about that notification which left me uneasy. Jay had stressed that Psi was unique to humanity, except where his actions had caused it to spread. He also insisted that it was independent of any system, not like the mana we depended upon under the Heavens. I wasn’t sure if he was completely right, because no matter how powerful he was, he was clearly biased. Jay was outside the system, outside every system, so he might not be privy to their inner machinations.

  I had already come to the conclusion that all energy was the same, only in different flavors. If dragons could produce mana, why couldn’t humans produce another type? What if Psi was human mana? The system was right about one thing. More experimentation was going to be necessary.

  I told Samvek about the new ability I’d gained. It was listed as level two on my status sheet, while Precognition was now listed at six.

  “That will do for now. I chose Psi because, of everything that makes you who you are, that was the one I understood the least. Honestly, I only hoped you’d see how far you could push the precognitive effect. I didn’t imagine you’d gain a new ability. But then, as Crag likes to say, the most interesting things happen around Forerunners.”

  I smiled. There were a lot of people back home that I already missed. “Something else. My reserves of Psi are almost depleted, at least as quantified by the system. If anything, I think it might be overestimating how much I have left. I feel dry as a desert bone inside.” As I spoke, I projected the relevant line from my sheet.

  Psi Seed: 205/4088

  “It’s not all bad news,” I said. “The total potential increased by about forty percent. How I can control this process is the big question. But I feel fried on this front now, so I think it will have to wait.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, we only have a few more hours, and I wanted to test other parts of you, anyway. I know your Hell class makes you uncomfortable, but for the next battle, I want you to use just that class, and of course your physical abilities.

  I took a moment to look over what I had to work with under the new conditions.

  Hell System Class: Soul Forger-Golem Molder (Legendary equivalent)

  Hell System Rank: Duke, vassal of Asmodeus

  Hell-Forged Resilience

  Vitae Reservoir: 15,000/15,500

  He was right. Even the name of the class made me nervous. Forging was a creative process, but using souls, or even making souls? That didn’t seem like something that someone as limited as me should be messing around with. I already stuck my fingers where they didn’t belong with Spirit Singing. But Samvek was right. I couldn’t continue to neglect entire portions of who I was simply because they made me uncomfortable.

  I scowled. “Problem is that I don’t exactly know what the class does. I’ve managed to use it in limited ways, like the satanic squirrel army, but I’ve barely touched on what the class can do.”

  “And that’s why we’re here to practice. I’ve already used my spatial awareness to determine that you’ve killed all the monsters on this floor, aside from the ones in the boss chamber. There’s a dozen or so gargoyles there, one much larger than the others.”

  “That’s where we’re going?”

  “Eventually, but not yet. Right now, we’re going to take the time for you to use a portion of your Soul Forger class that you haven’t touched upon, at least to my knowledge. I recorded the class description when you projected it for me earlier, so let me show you what I’m talking about.”

  A moment later, he was projecting one of the paragraphs of my class description back to me.

  As a Soul Forger, you will be able to shape the souls of allies and foes in ways which will affect them physically and spiritually. You can draw upon their power, but also use it to enhance others. Many of the abilities of a Soul Eater remain present with this class, but only one who shows restraint may become a Soul Forger.

  “Um, okay. I’ll admit, that description gets my mind going, but it isn’t exactly something I can use against these gargoyles, is it?”

  He clapped me on the back. “You aren’t going to use it on them. You’re going to use it on me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Soul Tinker

  I didn’t respond for a long moment as I stared at my mentor, waiting for him to tell me he was joking. But I knew he wasn’t. I trusted Samvek implicitly, but in some ways, this was the biggest ask he could have come up with. “And what if I’m not comfortable with that?”

  “When have you ever been comfortable? Were you comfortable when you became a Forerunner? Were you comfortable when you were forced to make life and death decisions on alien worlds? Or when you had to quash certain elements of resistance on Earth intent on mass destruction? Your entire life should be making you uncomfortable. In fact, I know it does. You wanna know how I know?”

  “Mentor insights?”

  He chuckled. “Sure, but no. I know because I’ve seen how much more light-hearted you are here. For the first time in a long while, no one is truly depending on you. Yes, Tad can use our help, but you haven’t developed a sense of responsibility for this world. You will, certainly. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t, and that’s both the greatest and the saddest thing about you. But for the moment, at least, you’re enjoying the freedom.”

  “Okay, fair enough. But shouldn’t you be the one asking the obvious questions about how this might affect you?”

  “No, because neither of us have those answers. That’s the point of this exercise. What we do know is what sort of man you are. Look at that description again.”

  I read it again, sentence by sentence, including the other parts he hadn’t projected. My eyes kept coming back to one line.

  Only one who shows restraint may become a Soul Forger.

  I’d like to think I’d shown restraint. I wanted power, sure. It was necessary for my continued existence and for my ability to protect those I cared about. But I didn’t want unlimited power. That might be the biggest difference between me and the Hell System—otherwise I would have taken it up on its original offer.

  “So, you want me to try to enhance you?”

  “If you can. But more than anything, I want you to learn. The system gave you a quest to learn more, but that shouldn’t be necessary for you to see the need. Sometimes, you’re like a child handed a blade with a molecular-level edge, running through town waving it as if it were a stick. The chances of you chopping off a leg are too great, either yours or someone else’s. You need to understand what you’re capable of.”

  There was no arguing with that. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I have a condition. I want to use Spirit Singing. It’ll give me a better sense of what I’m doing.”

  “Fair enough. It is my soul I’m asking you to work on, so I’m not gonna be the one to argue against precautions. Just don’t let it prevent you from learning about your Hell System class.”

  I nodded. We both sat down cross-legged across from one another with our knees touching. I began to sing softly, the sound low and steady, and the world seemed to lean in to listen. Spirit Singing hadn’t always come easily to me, but I’d been using it for so long and it had become such a core part of my build that it was second nature now.

  The tone settled the space around us, smoothing the jagged edges of tension and fear. Samvek closed his eyes and let his breathing slow, offering no resistance at all. The notification I got was alarming, but I forced myself to stay on task.

  Samvek Rayden has opened his soul to you. All innate resistances have been voluntarily dropped. This is a show of absolute trust. Will you prove worthy, Architect?

  Spirit Sight opened naturally as the song deepened. Samvek’s soul came into focus, not as a single shape, but as a layered structure of strength, discipline, and scars earned over decades of hard living. I could see where training had etched deep grooves into him, where habits and reflexes were reinforced until they became as physical as the muscles and tendons that produced them. There was nothing fragile there, but there were places worn thin by constant readiness.

  He was truly a man worthy of admiring, and I felt a swell of pride that he was my mentor. I realized I likely wouldn’t even be alive today but for his guidance when I so desperately needed it. That alone pushed me to want to succeed for him. His opinion of me mattered as much as my own father’s had, but there was more to it than that. I wanted to repay him a fraction of what he’d done for me.

  I considered the words of the system notification. Most of the messages I’d received since arriving in this universe had felt impersonal compared to what I was used to. There was so much guesswork happening. I’d almost glossed past this one out of reflex, but something about the personal address pulled my attention.

  I was certain of something—the system was always trying to guide me to specific outcomes. At first it had resisted me being influenced by other systems, but then somewhere along the way, it seemed to have come to the conclusion that there was something to be gained from playing nice. I think it was when I became an Architect. Ever since then, the system had treated me as a valuable resource.

  So what was it trying to guide me to now? Despite its occasional penchant for the dramatic, I had to assume it didn’t want to waste words, especially so far away from its own jurisdiction. So by calling me Architect, I felt like it was implying that there was a way for me to use my occupation here. Therein lay the problem. I was an Architect of the System, specifically the Heavens System. We weren’t under the Heavens currently, so how would that apply?

  I did what I generally did in a situation like this. I filed it away, but at least I didn’t save it for future Silas. This was going to be relevant, but I was going to have to wait for more clues. If it was important enough, the system would guide me.

  As I sang, faint flashes of color flickered at the edges of my vision. At first, I thought it was an afterimage, or some quirk of the Fey System leaking through, but the lights returned again and again. I’d seen the same with various magical items since coming here, but always out of the corner of my eye. This time, they seemed to be responding to Spirit Singing in a way they hadn’t back at the inn. Maybe it was a matter of concentration—there was definitely more spiritual energy on floor 277 of the Endless Dungeon than there had been in Basetown.

  I took stock of what I was seeing. The lights were small, quick, and flighty, never staying still long enough for me to pin them down. Each pulse was a response to the rhythm of my song, brightening when the harmony held and dimming when it wavered.

  I didn’t try to reach for them. Instinct told me that forcing attention on whatever they were would break the delicate balance I was building. Instead, I adjusted my singing, testing how changes in pitch and cadence affected Samvek’s soul and the space around us. The colors drifted closer when the song was gentle and steady, then scattered when I pushed too hard. Whatever they were, they felt alive… mostly. It was like they were fragments of souls rather than complete souls.

  The Hell System side of me stirred with a quiet pressure, urging efficiency and extraction. I could sense how easy it would be to take, to pull strength directly from Samvek’s soul and add it to my own. My mind didn’t linger on such obtrusive thoughts. I’d happily create a bond between us, but I wouldn’t take from my friend without giving as much or more in return. I leaned harder into the singing, using it as an anchor to keep myself from slipping. To deny that a temptation was rising in me would have been to deny that I had a class from the Hell System. I’d accepted it as a trade-off, thinking the upside would be better than the bad parts, but I’d always known that temptation was going to come with it. Asmodeus didn’t strike me as a charitable benefactor, even if he might keep his word.

  The space between us felt charged but stable, like a held breath. Samvek remained completely open, trusting me without reservation, and the weight of that trust settled heavily on my shoulders. It was up to me to learn what I could, then prove what I could do.

  I mapped Samvek’s soul carefully, layer by layer, letting Spirit Singing guide my perception. There were clear anchor points where his sense of self was strongest—places where loyalty, duty, and restraint had fused into something nearly unbreakable. There were also stress lines, not weaknesses exactly, but areas that had borne too much weight for too long. They hadn’t failed, but they had thinned, stretched by constant vigilance and the refusal to ever step back.

  The Soul Forger instincts pressed harder as I observed those places. I could feel how easily I might reinforce them by drawing power from elsewhere, or worse, how simple it would be to siphon from Samvek directly and smooth those stresses by theft instead of craft. The class made those paths feel natural, almost obvious, and that scared me more than the complexity of the task itself. Power without friction was dangerous, especially when it came wrapped in temptation.

  I returned to tinkering with my song, this time closely watching how Samvek’s soul responded. When I softened the melody, the stress lines eased slightly. When I pushed the harmony sharper, his core brightened and tightened, becoming more focused, but also more rigid.

  The flashes of color continued reacting in noticeable patterns alongside those changes. That confirmed my earlier suspicions. I was certain now that the flickers of light weren’t passive. They responded to harmony and imbalance the same way anything would—anything alive. I didn’t understand them yet, but their behavior reinforced my growing certainty that souls, systems, and whatever this world called sprites were all part of the same spectrum rather than separate categories. That realization made me slow down even more.

  I took another moment to simply observe, resisting any urge to act. Samvek’s soul didn’t need reshaping, and it certainly didn’t need extraction. What it could benefit from was reinforcement, not by altering its nature, but by helping it bear the weight it already carried. But before I could proceed, I needed to understand the cost of touching another soul, both to him and to me.

  I let the song taper off just enough to give us space and opened my eyes. Samvek was still there, still open, still waiting, and the calm on his face made the decision feel heavier rather than easier. I drew in a slow breath and said quietly, “I think I know what I want to try, but I need you to understand something first. I can’t be sure what this will do, but I’m confident it won’t take anything from you unless you allow it.”

  “I allowed it the moment I sat down,” he replied, voice steady and unguarded. “If you need my consent again, you have it. Do what you think is right.”

  It was too serious of a moment to laugh, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “I couldn’t have grown up in the US in the 2020s without receiving multiple lectures about ongoing consent. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Then you are safe.”

  “That doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences,” I said. “For you or for me.” I felt the Vitae within me stir at the thought, thick and finite in a way mana never was.