Chapter 77 Painful Memories: The Soul Transfer Ritual
The palace doors opened by themselves without any wind, and a crimson mist pulled Ancia directly into the palace before slamming the doors shut.
Inside the hall was a familiar magic circle. Ancia had seen the same blood-red magic circle in the secret chamber of the Black Pine Forest ruins. Now, the person lying in the magic circle had changed from Connor to Verion. His eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling slightly.
Ancia felt a chill run down her spine. "This magic circle... Marquis Moreno also used that magic circle before. He tried to transfer into Connor's body, but failed..." She made a quick decision and pressed the Shadow Messenger in her hand to summon Mortley.
Lionheart looked like an ordinary old man, but the eerie crimson mist emanated from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. His eyes were the same light gray as Vilian's, with only a tiny bit of crimson deep in his pupils.
The Lionheart smiled slightly, but his greedy smile immediately shattered his benevolence. "It's not a magic array, it's a soul conversion ritual. Since you're here, you might as well become high-quality nourishment. If I were to let the Eternal Codex burn completely, I would really be reluctant."
The Eternal Codex, which floated above the ceremony, had lost most of its luster; its pages were yellowed and brittle, and it was continuously channeling magic downwards.
The crimson mist transformed into sturdy ropes, forcibly dragging Ancia into the magic circle and imprisoning her at a node. Cold needles pierced her soul, frantically draining her magic power, which was then drawn into the ritual and mixed with the magic of the Eternal Codex.
Ancia's vision began to blur, the Lionheart King's laughter faded into the distance, the scene before her eyes twisted and spun, and her consciousness plummeted into a void. She seemed to be standing in a white palace, a palace that was empty, drafty, and without even walls.
A gentle breeze blew by, and several gray bubbles flew to her vicinity. Images flashed within the bubbles, seemingly showing human figures.
Ancia reached out her hand, and the gray bubble flew to her hand automatically. The moment it touched her palm, the bubble turned into a stream of light and pulled her in.
The scene before her eyes changed, and she returned to the garden she had just passed through. Little Vilian stood among the flowers, looking about five or six years old. He tried his best to straighten his back, but his face showed an overwhelming sadness.
Little Vilian stared blankly at the pit he had dug, in which lay a snow-white rabbit.
The lady-in-waiting stood behind him and reminded him, "You shouldn't keep pets; it will make you soft-hearted. His Majesty has ordered that killing your pets yourself is your extra lesson for today. It's time, Your Highness, we should go back to our history lesson."
Little Vilian's fingers twitched slightly, and the wind whipped up dust, covering the rabbit. He turned and walked into the palace, but his stiff legs gave way, and he fell to the ground, scraping his knee.
The female official did not help him up, and said coldly, "Your Highness, please stand up. You are the future crown prince of the empire and should not show weakness."
Ancia cursed under her breath and rushed over to help little Vilian up. No matter what, this was still too much for a child!
But her hand passed through little Verion's body, unable to touch the physical body. It was just a memory; she was powerless to change it, nor could she alter the past.
Ancia could only squat down beside him, repeatedly saying, "It's okay, it's okay, you can cry, they went too far!"
Little Vilian stood up on his own. There were some damp marks on the ground, whether from blood or from his silent tears, it was hard to tell.
After young Vilian stood up, the lady-in-waiting followed behind him, saying, "Your Highness, please mind your manners."
Little Vilian's figure became even more upright as he walked gracefully into the palace, but his dark gray hair had lost its luster and looked utterly dull.
Ancia clenched her fists, her heart filled with heartache. In her emotional turmoil, the light shattered, and the pain of having her magic drained returned. She briefly regained consciousness from the ritual, only to hear the Lionheart King continuing to chant ancient and obscure incantations. In her hazy state of consciousness, she found herself back in Verion's memory palace.
She reached out and caught a new gray bubble, actively drawing her consciousness into the flowing light.
The location shifts. In the Monster Mountain Range, young Verion is leading a few guards in a battle against a mid-level monster. As a minor, the magic circuits within his body are still developing and unstable, allowing him to unleash wind blades with insufficient power.
Young Verion struggled to evade the monster's attacks. There was a way to kill the monster, but it would require sacrificing the soldiers protecting him. He hesitated, then ordered his guards to surround the monster, resulting in a stalemate.
The Lionheart watched coldly from the sidelines, even intervening to drive away more magical beasts that surrounded Velion. He coldly rebuked, "Use everything you can. Only final victory matters. Your hesitation will become a slow poison, corroding the empire's vitality."
"Stop talking nonsense!" Ancia could no longer restrain herself and stepped forward to throw a punch at the Lionheart King. Her fist passed right through his face, and her breath was unsteady with anger. "What kind of skill is it to torture a child?"
Pain flashed in young Verion's eyes as more magical beasts surrounded him. If his performance did not satisfy his grandfather, everyone would die here today.
A flicker of hatred for his grandfather flashed in his eyes as he spoke with difficulty, "Captain of the Guard, I order you..."
Ancia: "Kindness is a precious quality of a king, Verion! No true king would be indifferent to his people!"
It was no use; on that blood-red afternoon, the real young Vilian did not hear her words of comfort.
As the light faded, Ancia returned to her memory palace. The palace itself began to flicker, as if it were about to collapse at any moment. Ancia's consciousness was being pulled violently, and the external extraction of magic power intensified.
She gasped in pain as gray bubbles flew into her hand on the wind, and a stream of light pulled her into the third memory.
Ancia stood in the magnificent palace, where the elderly Lionheart King sat on the throne, and below him stood Vilian and many ministers.
At this time, Verion was already similar to the Crown Prince we would later meet, except that his face was a little more youthful, and he was probably fifteen or sixteen years old.
Faced with the disaster, he proposed a somewhat naive plan, which favored the common people over the royal family's contributions and the resettlement of civilians.
King Lionheart publicly rejected his proposal, rebuking him mercilessly, "How naive, Vilian! You disappoint me. When did I ever teach you to put the interests of the royal family after the interests of the people? The royal family represents the face of the empire; failing to uphold the interests of the empire is a sign of incompetence. As the heir to the empire, you are far from qualified!"
The surrounding ministers fell silent, all lowering their heads, not daring to look at the expressions of the Lionheart and Vilian.
The Lionheart's cold tone shattered Verion's ideals, and the last glimmer of light in his eyes gradually faded, turning into empty obedience.
Verion spoke softly, "Yes, Your Majesty, I will reconsider the proposal."
Ancia ran to Verion's side, trying to block the contemptuous gaze from above. She gritted her teeth, "Don't listen to him! That old scoundrel is afraid of death and has gone mad. You will be the most wise monarch in the history of the Augustinian Empire. Your people will be classified as the happiest generation after the war in the epilogue. They will pray for you when you are sick and heed every decree you issue. You are a benevolent and excellent king!"
Even though she couldn't touch him, Ancia wanted to give him courage and support his decision during that moment of reprimand and humiliation.
As she spoke rapidly, scenes from her memories flickered silently, and Verion's empty eyes briefly focused for a moment.
As the light faded, Ancia returned to her memory palace, unable to forget Vilian's eyes, which were gradually turning gray.
The pain of her magic being almost depleted overwhelmed her. She gritted her teeth, focused her mind, and began to actively pursue the gray bubbles, gathering them together.
"Velion! Answer me!"
"Vellion!"
The search seemed endless, and in her hazy consciousness, she finally sensed a faint breath.
The surrounding scenery coalesced once more, and in the white palace of memories, the current Verion stood before Ancia.
Verion's gaze changed, his gray eyes looking at Ancia with a complex expression. Everything around them shattered, leaving only the two of them standing in the collapsing memory palace.
"Why are you doing those useless things? It's just a memory."
The gray bubble that Ancia had gathered turned into Verion's hand. She hadn't expected that all her encouragement and comfort would be perceived by the person in question. Feeling a little embarrassed, she tried to pull her hand back, but couldn't. Verion held her hand firmly.
She stared directly at Vilian, her dark eyes gleaming with lingering anger. "I did what I wanted to do. Why ask so many questions?"
"Ignore what that old thief said; he's no different from a demon. I just want to tell you that you are not alone. Many people care about you, whether it's your sister Eve or the people who are looking forward to your ascension to the throne. They will stand by your side."
Verion's dim gray eyes gradually brightened, and in the crumbling and disappearing palace of memories, he asked one last question.
"And you? Can you do it too?"
Ancia nodded without hesitation, "I will, as long as you don't die here and wake up!"
Verion chuckled softly, and amidst the violently flashing scene, Ancia only heard his relieved reply, "Okay."
The white light flickered erratically, and Ancia's consciousness gradually faded. The pain of having her magic drained struck again. She weakly opened her eyes, and the ritual patterns beneath her began to change. Verion's body was trembling, his fingers gripping the ground tightly, his face contorted in agony.
The Lionheart's body lay on the ground, his expression serene.
The soul transfer ritual has begun.
Exhausted, Ancia crawled over with difficulty. She watched Velion intently, his expression shifting between pain and unwavering determination. She pulled out a calming potion that could replenish his soul power, poured it into Velion's mouth, and whispered encouragingly, "Velion, don't lose to him..."
As her voice faded, Verion's fingers trembled, and the ritual runes began to flash wildly, hissing and crackling, the magic sometimes flowing backward and sometimes backward.
Verion's expressions shifted more frequently, rapidly switching between anger and astonishment, as his young and aged souls fiercely battled for control of his body.
After a massive surge of magical energy, Verion's eyes snapped open, his grey pupils clear and gleaming.
"Get out!" he hissed hoarsely.
The soul conversion ritual was instantly reversed; the runes began to shatter, and the original magic flowed back into the Eternal Codex at an even more ferocious speed.
"No!" Lionheart screamed in agony. The ritual had backfired, and his aged body had become even weaker. He tried to turn into a crimson mist and escape.
Just then, a ghostly figure emerged silently from the shadows, and Merrith's dagger pierced Lionheart's heart with pinpoint accuracy.
Lionheart stared in disbelief at Merrith, the black dagger in his chest severing his last breath. He opened his mouth, then slowly collapsed to the ground, unwilling to accept his fate.
The once wise monarch, the hero who led the empire against the invasion of the demon race, transformed into the very race he once despised under the fear of approaching death, and died in that same way, leaving behind only his blue-purple blood.
Murtrie picked up the magic-depleted Ancia, his deep voice filled with lingering fear, "I'm too late, hold on, I'll take you back to find Pastor Maria."
Ancia shook her head. "No, any earlier and he would have been on guard. Now is just right..." She looked at Verion, who had fallen into a coma again, lying amidst the broken ritual patterns, his face tired but peaceful.
Verion is safe.
The place was filled with demonic energy and the stench of blood. In the distance, the sounds of mages and guards being alerted could be heard, and magical fluctuations were rapidly approaching.
They couldn't be discovered by anyone else, Ancia urged in a low voice, "Hurry up..."
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