Grisla woke up. The passage of multiple days didn’t register, or have a real indication of how long he’s been stranded here, in a small den in the midst of nowhere, with scarce light so thin the cave would be darker than black, if not for the convenient luminance. He felt no stronger and had no different way of seeing the world. That rock was a rock, and his shoes were as soiled as ever. However, things were clearer than before; somehow.

The talismans glued to the walls had less than a days’ worth of energy. Had he stayed within Limbo another day, there would be no way he’d be aware of the danger approaching him. Speaking of danger…

He walked out of the formation’s concealment. There was a normal calm in him. If obliviousness took him, then this would certainly be his last moment alive. If obliviousness took him. Like he, the air was still. Stagnant, to a point where the air’s quality would be a concern. There’re stories of people running into a wrong corridor only to find themselves in a cloud of toxic gas; undetectable until it’s too late. But that wasn’t the worry. The cave was quiet, his body was quiet. And—that’s when he knows it’ll approach.

A shock went through him. Eyes shooting up—a thing was diving down. During a dodge, the pool within exploded, its water showering him.

Sneering, “We meet again.” he said.

To an observer he was a wacko talking to an imaginary friend. If you asked him, he would prefer that that assumption be true, for his troubles wouldn’t be so heavy in these past few days. Juva to the extremities; readied with a stance. He feels—no, knows that it’s time.

He’s ready.

Grisla rocketed himself to the enemy. If he were to say that he can ‘see’ souls, that would be a fib at the level of a child. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he has died honing his instinct to a level where his Spiritual Sense can be elevated to see them, he’s only gotten the faintest hint, an outline, of where an organism’s soul may lie.

A crisscrossed assault came at him, prompting a dodge.

Grisla delivered a 'Fourth Strike' to a point. Like a smudge on glasses. I may not be able to exactly pinpoint you, but…

“As long as I can evade you,” He backflipped. “There’s nothing you can do to me!”

The beast’s primitive intelligence was at full bloom. Enraged it has expended so much energy for so little gain over this past week, its swings were wild and encouraged by restlessness. He sidestepped another simple strike; to punish its mistake, he shattered a leg. A howl of pain more obnoxious than he’d ever heard cried out.

“You’re so noisy,” rolling his eyes. He proceeded to shatter the next.

This scenario has been done on repeat, to the degree that all of its patterns, idiosyncrasies and tics that were masterfully recorded and replayed by Seri became a dance with the crab he could do with his eyes closed, if he didn’t have anything at risk.

As known, he didn’t possess the striking power or techniques yet to slay the creature in one strike. With that known, the only way forward is a “death by a thousand cuts,” so to speak. A cacophony of martial yells and guttural roars filled the cave. For a time.

Later, he sat by a fire watching pieces of the creature buckle and sizzle underneath nature’s incinerator. Its real body without the invisibility was unimpressive, to say the least.

“Didn’t think you’d manage to do it,” A figure constructed itself behind him.

He took a gruesome bite out of his meal, “Neither did I.”

“So, what can you see?”

“I don’t know if it was a soul. Do souls look blurred?”

She paused for a moment. “No, not really. Then again, I can’t be an authority on this. I mean, if you think about it, there’s no way to prove that anything I see, or anything you see is real. Your red might be my blue, and vice versa,” she strolled to the pool, and put a finger in the water, “what we perceive as true reality, is in fact, not reality. Everything’s different from a perspective. Because of that, we may never truly know what ‘real’ or ‘fake’ is. I’m on a tangent, but what I can say is that your detection for souls is likely immature. I cannot verify if what you’re seeing is the real thing, or just a ripple.”

“I understand,” he swallowed. “Well, I’m not going to dwell on it anyway. The great thing is—I can see souls now! Kind of,” Grisla smiled. “If I can do that, then that means Ji Nan is in for something.”

“Still interested in killing him?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “He won’t allow me to leave this place alive, it’s only fair that I return the favor. Speaking of favors…”

Grisla turned his head. “What did you do, exactly?”

She didn’t answer him for a time. Preoccupied with her finger in the water, skating over its surface and often diving deep for no reason whatsoever. Her lips move, mouthing off voiceless words and short syllables. As though she were speaking to an imaginary friend of her own, closer than personal space could ever permit. Grisla’s observation came up with nothing to report. Disillusioned by what it couldn’t dig up, he retreated into himself. Waiting on her.

“…Grisla, how does it feel to be real?”

Taken aback, “What?” he said.

“Nothing,” for the first time, she showed a smile not worth writing beautiful sentences for, a tired thing that somehow managed to see the light underneath a smearing of rubble. And then—it was gone. Seri was Seri and she said: “They’re getting close to your trail.”

He stood up. “How? I made sure not to leave any traces behind!”

“Can’t fret about that. Deal with the now and whine later.”

Grisla nodded. He took the last morsel off the stick and tossed it, now walking beside her to the pool. In but a blink, his top was gone and he leaned ever closer to its edge. When he touched his sash, he paused. “Uhh, Seri?”

“What?”

Grisla tried to shoo her off with his hand.

Seri had a coy face, “You’re acting like a baby. You think I haven’t seen your—”

“Go home!” he yelled.

While soaking in the herbal waters he felt… strange, in a way. This could be the culprit as to why the crab was so powerful despite it not being a Shade Beast. Taking casual sips from the well over periods of, well, potentially decades could foresee changes that nobody could predict. How powerful would he turn out; had he been raised on these waters? He wondered as he played with a cup.

His muscles twitched as if they were breathing for the first time. That core of his? A ruined crystal ball it may be, but now, within these waters, it felt like it used to in the old days. Brimming with energy he couldn’t help but release in battle. When he willed it, the Juva exposed made the pool heat up, later with steam increasing his relaxation further.

It’s time.

Grisla went into the lotus position and turned his awareness to his core. His lungs pushed on a heavy boulder; face clenched and gritted teeth. After a breath, he opened his eyes—reached somewhere, and punched out. A crack resounded.

“There we go,” he sneered. “Fifth cycle of Soldification.” When he looked over, his Juva carried by the wind decimated part of the crab’s shell.

Not so far from the pool was his sack. When he pulled out ‘Seven Gates of Hell’, he immediately flipped to the page him and Seri were at previously. He stared at it, searching for something. No matter how hard he squinted his eyes, and blinked to reset his focus, nothing had changed. When disappointment made him want to close the tome, his fingers still graced the pages.

A tickle came to his eyes. The flawless white of the pages began to flicker, warp, and consume itself into some vortex. All this had happened in the matter of seconds, but after, Grisla’s eyes widened. It’s there. Bold on the page as if the ink was still fresh, was the symbol.

He passed the first filter.

By the fire, with the symbol looking at him, Grisla stared back.

“I can see it but,” he scratched his head. “What am I supposed to do next?”

He pressed his fingers to it on a hunch, but to no avail. After a pulse of Juva into the symbol, it replied with silence. If there was some other hidden message or scripture on the page, there weren’t any, or, if there were, he still hadn’t met the qualifications to see them yet. Some of it was true, he conjectured. Flipping past the symbol to see the rest of the book led him to face nothing but blank pages as usual. He sighed.

“Guess this’s as far as I can get on my own.” Grisla got up and reached for his clothes.

On cue, as he dressed, a blur appeared in his vision: A soul. Seri’s soul. Though, he was a little befuddled at what he saw.

Strange…

In Grisla’s short time of being able to see souls, there was some sort of a mold to their shape. ‘Course, they differed as they should because it’s a soul. Yet, Grisla saw there was some uniformity in it. He and the crab share similarities. But… Seri?

There was something… off in her shape. He noticed this.

Seri hesitated a moment. When she analyzed him, “You advanced?” she said.

He nodded. Grisla raised the tome, “Listen, you mind helping me out about—”

“You haven’t forgotten, have you?” She moved over to sit on a rock.

“Wha?”

“Master White’s orders.”

Grisla tightened his sash as he said, “…No, I haven’t.”

“I just wanted to hear the next step.”

“That can wait. My master’s order takes priority.”

He conceded with a grumble.

“The big guy asked for me to grab something right, a memento of his? Why would it be here? And why couldn’t he, y’know, just get it himself?”

“Everything with you leads to more questions than anyone could reasonably answer. However still, I will indulge you. Most obvious is that he’s requested of you because it is simply part of your duty to handle such things in this world, and, because you do owe him, after all.” She nudged her head at Grisla’s feet. “Second, is that there would be no limit to the troubles if, say, a large and mighty entity like him were to appear without rhyme or reason in a small backwater like this. Anyhow, it’s beneath my master to do it regardless.”

“So, what am I on the lookout for then?”

“He said a thing that’s ‘soft, small and nearly weightless.’”

“I thought I was mishearing things.”

“And you didn’t ask for clarification?”

Grisla’s shrug signaled Seri’s sigh.

“Big White wants me to find something based on a… description?” Grisla doubted. “Is that a riddle?”

“It’s what he said. Doubt all you like but orders are orders.”

“Don’t worry,” Grisla hurriedly packed up. “I’ll do as asked. Not because he told me so, but because his fightin’ style suits me perfectly. It’d do well to be in good standing with him when I hit Houtian, right?”

“Scheming up to receive more freebies? How shameless of you.”

“I won’t deny it,” he chuckled.