The gods were an integral part of the world. Niamizu in particular was fraught with their machinations such that even the simplest farmer knew about the gods. Whether it was exalting them as supreme beings, or seeing them as a sort of way to gain techniques and classes, the fact of the matter was that gods had inserted themselves through all aspects of Niamizu.

Minamoto saw them as meddling bastards with too much time on their hands. Though, his opinion was more or less ignored when concerning the lesser informed populace. It made sense, in a way. Normal citizens didn’t have access to much information, so the gods who seemingly offered weak people a way to become stronger and achieve their dreams or help them out of a dangerous situation were seen as benevolent saviors. Sure, there were the odd ones out who were actively despised by the public, but for the most part gods were seen as a net positive.

Yet, Minamoto would die before anyone convinced him that they were positive for the world. Even people in higher positions agreed with some of his opinions about the gods, but they chose to push aside their opinions for the benefits that gods could bring to the table.

After all, gods were the sole reasons why dungeons existed. Successful kingdoms and empires are the ones that take full advantage of this, giving their chosen allies the position of a patron deity or fulfilling their wishes directly. Of course, if those wishes align with the kingdom’s own, that only makes the deal sweeter.

A disgusted sigh came over Minamoto as he stared at the scene in front of him. It was always the same whenever he entered a dungeon. He couldn’t stop his technique and class from peeling back the physical world’s skin and letting him see a world not many could claim to perceive.

The spiritual world. The world where the soul resided.

Many highly respected Exorcists and Priests had long studied the spiritual world, desiring to find out the secrets of the soul. Obviously, it was a slow and almost impossible process. Not because they couldn’t figure anything out, but because most were not able to look into the spiritual world. It required someone to be a high enough class or have a very specific technique that directly affected the soul.

Minamoto was the latter. And he despised this ability that had been thrust upon him. Every time he used it, he always felt a daunting guilt. A gnawing feeling that ate at him at every moment.

He felt it again. A tingle down his spine informed him, and his guilt rose once more. Someone’s life had ended and all he could do was sense it through his skill [Share Senses].

Minamoto couldn’t stop it as his technique activated. A branch of the purest white extended out from behind him. It wasn’t physical, and he doubted anyone could perceive it, much less see it. The branch existed within the spiritual world, but his technique let it cross over for the briefest of moments into the physical one.

It crossed the distance to the nearest wall faster than Minamoto could see, piercing through the wall without leaving a trace. Nothing could affect it, but at the same time, it couldn’t affect anything without a spiritual presence. Then, the branch wrapped around something. Minamoto couldn’t see it but he felt it instantly.

He turned away as the branch reeled in a struggling soul. The dying thoughts of a man. It dragged it back to Minamoto, and the old Exorcist tried not to pay attention as the soul screamed, crying out for help and cursing Minamoto’s name.

If he could stop it, Minamoto would do so without any hesitation. Instead, he just tried his best to ignore the familiar feeling of growing stronger as the tree inside his soul grew under the nutrients the soul provided.

He threw his focus on the dungeon around him. He knew it was supposed to be an expansive cave system that opened up into different sections of fog-covered clearings. However, his perception of the spiritual world changed that directly.

The stone walls were replaced with ever changing faces. They opened their mouths in silent, distorted screams that never reached him. Below him, he saw an endless ocean of blood; his every step sending ripples throughout the entire roiling sea. Above, a moon shone down, illuminating his surroundings despite him knowing that he should be underground.

It was disorienting. Minamoto often couldn’t tell the difference of the physical world between the spiritual, so his steps were a bit slow. Measured. He couldn’t miss a single detail less he let more of the soldiers Nishimuro had lent him die.

Dungeons were always like this. They combined the aspects of the monster and its patron god, but the exact specifics were never really expanded on mainly because no one really cared about them. Minamoto knew them, though.

The interiors of dungeons were always larger than they seemed. It was partially because the so called gods were only able to affect their own world, or more importantly, the spiritual world. As such, it made sense that dungeons partially existed within the spiritual world. That sounded rather impossible, but there was one thing that linked normal creatures to the spiritual world and the physical world normally. The channels Life Energy normally flowed through.

Dungeons were essentially just massive Life Energy channels for the gods.

That had connotations to it that Minamoto actively ignored. There were many others who worried that dungeons were just strongholds for the gods to descend and take over. Yet, the fact that there had been zero cases of such a thing happening despite the dungeons existing since first instance the gods made contact several millennia ago made this worry rather baseless.

Still, if it could ruin a god’s day, Minamoto didn’t mind destroying dungeons every time he found them.

After walking for so long, he grew tired of the scenery around him. The faces that distorted around him were once unsettling, but now they were nothing but an annoying backdrop; even the blood sea below his feet barely gave him more than a second glance as he was more worried about it staining his clothes.

More monsters crawled out of the walls, exiting from the open mouths of the faces. He knew that they were walls, but the feeling of revulsion was hard to put down.

Face Stealer Centipedes charged him in droves. Their bone-white exoskeletons stood out from the blood red he saw the floor as their legs propelled them forwards. Minamoto closed his eyes immediately, listening to the monster’s steps on the floor.

Face Stealers were a rather dangerous Life Rank E monster. If any of the weaker Samurai ran into them, Minamoto would find it encouraging if they survived. Especially now, when the soldiers were without a commander; their classes wouldn’t be able to gain bonuses from being actively led by someone.

For him, enemies below Life Rank D were just extra bodies. His spells couldn’t really affect enemies in the physical world, but he still wasn’t that helpless.

He reached into his sleeve and felt something poke free from his skin. A spike of pain shot through his head as he grabbed onto the thing poking through his skin and smoothly pulled it out. His hand held a white branch, and he waved it around, getting flashes of the hall and the centipedes with each movement.

Life Energy flowed through him, going down his arm and into the branch. They twisted through his veins as he felt them enter small channels in the branch, and the smell of nature hit his nose. Suddenly, he could see again. His eyes were still closed but the branches and brambles could see for him. Vague images of the giant centipedes came to him as his conjured branches wrapped around them, squeezing the monsters hard enough that their carapace cracked and shattered the next second. His vines easily tore them to pieces, ripping them apart like how a child ripped grass from the ground, and finally, he was able to open his eyes to see clearly.

He paused as he saw the familiar faces locked in screams and blood covered floor. Well, clear enough.

All of a sudden, he noticed the blood around his feet changing color. It slowly darkened and bubbled, boiling from something unknown. Contrary to the imagery, Minamoto smiled as he knew the cause.

He looked up and pinpointed the source of the corruption. Walking down another hallway was a group of five. Minamoto could see their souls clearly, overlapping their physical body in a way that would give anyone a headache of double vision.

“Minamoto! Man, am I glad to see you!” Minamoto smiled as the owner of the voice rushed down the hallway at the sight of the old Exorcist. He could only see flashes of the man’s face and body, but he doubted they were that different from his soul.

Which was rather odd.

Normally, Minamoto perceived people as their physical and spiritual selves at the same time, letting him see a bit about the person before he even knew them. It was… depressing, in a way. This let him always know when people lied to him, or when people hid behind masks to get closer to him, and when those with kind words and faces were only focused on how his special skills could be used. However, as odd as his friend’s soul was, the young man wore his emotions on his sleeve; only hiding the things he found most embarrassing.

David was originally a worry for him; a danger he thought he needed to keep an eye one. However, spending time with the young man had only reminded the old Exorcist why he chose to leave and become a wandering Exorcist in the first place. He always wanted to give just as much as he took. Even when the Toshiki’s nobles tried to force his inner tree to grow.

“It is good you made it fine, mister David, I grew worried when I realized you used the Shikigami I gave you.” Minamoto said, grabbing the young man’s outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. He ignored the odd face that suddenly appeared on David’s face, staring into the blonde haired man’s soul that looked startled and concerned at the same time.

Minamoto smiled, trying to be comforting to whatever had happened. It was obvious that some new skill had changed David somehow. He could see some inklings of change in his soul; little indecipherable points of spaces that surrounded him that distorted constantly, refusing to take a solid shape. The old Exorcist focused more on the seeds of potential that existed within the young man. That was something he had seen before. The Mask of Flesh skill jade; one of the rarer skills that could drop from the Face Stealer Centipedes or other creatures with some transformation qualities.

He frowned, remembering the difficulties described in the use of such a skill. “Don’t worry, that’s supposed to happen for such skills. They are a little difficult, but I am sure you can adapt.”

“Riiight…” Minamoto smiled as the young man whispered, “And he says he can’t read my mind. I call hacks. Cheats. I am slightly jealous.”

Minamoto paused as David’s soul reflected his words somewhat, showing a yearning of some kind. He had seen similar cases. Others shared that similar yearning wherever they witnessed those stronger than them, but Minamoto knew that David’s desire for strength was never really this apparent. Something had changed in the young boy. It hadn’t set in yet, like most changes in character, but it was the notion that the boy could change from his current situation.

He smiled, looking as the Samurai behind David watched their interaction with unconcealed fascination. Their souls were simple; only showing worn and chipped swords in the case of the Samurai and a campfire in the case of the Exorcist. However, there were signs of corruption. A black, twisting boil that seemed to grow in odd places on each of their souls.

Minamoto hid his worry as he looked at David. He was truly alien in more than just his origin. There was hope that these people could help his friend grow, but he knew just how hard it was for people to change.

For now though, he decided it was time to end this dungeon.