Jerry was stunned. What? he thought back.

Come on, kid. We don’t have all day! Just say yes already.

Who are you?

Speaking inside his soul was weird. Who was this person, and why were they asking to be revived? Jerry needed all the help he could get, but his mind went to the black dragon under the lake. He knew what it was, and it should never be revived.

I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not Desistos. I’m Ozborne! Come on, kid, for real. We’re in a hurry here!

Ozborne!?

Jerry blinked rapidly. The death water he’d summoned was slowly wilting away, but he focused on the voice inside him.

Now that he thought about it, he had indeed felt a strong soul deep inside the lake, and it couldn’t be the dragon; after all, when he’d approached it, it was clearly soulless. But, for it to be the legendary Ozborne the Cursed…

He knew who Ozborne was; everyone did: A famous necromancer of old, part of the Astralis Kingdom. One of his experiments had gone wrong, and the result was the Curse that plagued the Dead Lands, the Curse of Ozborne; though Jerry now knew that was misinformation. Who, then, was Ozborne, and why had he been falsely accused?

And, most importantly, what the hell was he doing here!?

Are you a good guy? he asked. I know you didn’t create the Curse, as everyone says. What are you doing here? Where are you?

Wh—Kid, be serious! You’re all going to die if you don’t hurry!

I am serious. I won’t revive a bad guy.

A short pause followed before Ozborne replied. When the Wizard Order created the Curse, I tried to stop them, but they made me their scapegoat. Arakataron killed me, but my soul hid in this damn death reserve. I’ll either find a way to revive myself or rot in eternity.

Oh! Are you a soul fish, too?

Yes, just bigger. More importantly, kid, I’ve been watching your fight. Every soul fish in this lake hates Arakataron with a passion, but even if everyone came out to help you, you are so unskilled it would he useless.

That’s not very nice.

But it’s true. I can help you! I know how souls fight! If you promise to revive me and provide energy for us, I can lead the soul fish to fight for you. We can defeat Arakataron!

Hmm… Jerry thought about it. I don’t know how to revive people.

I do! You just need to use the Prism to provide me with energy!

Oh, that’s easy. But still…you didn’t reply. Are you a good guy?

I am, by Desistos, I am! Just agree!

Fine then. Sounds good.

Finally!

Jerry smiled. Opposite him, Arakataron, who had noticed the changes in his facial expression, frowned. He did his best to win as quickly as possible, but unfortunately, he wasn’t in time.

Just as the snakes were beginning to overwhelm the mid-air flood, the lake water below rippled. Rows of white fins became visible. Jerry looked over with interest, and his soul perception caught a massive silhouette approach from below.

He gaped. Arakataron stared inscrutably.

On the stone island below, Boney managed to push back a monstrosity. “Haha!” he said. “Let’s go! For Mast—”

The waters parted beside him, raising waves that took him to the ground. A massive form exited the lake and flew up, making the entire battle paused again, and even Axehand and Arotaron took a moment to inspect the new arrival.

Arakataron simply said, “Ozborne… So, you’re still alive. We did not call you a cockroach for nothing.”

Jerry chuckled. “What soul fish, you liar? You’re no fish!”

And Ozborne, flapping his large tail in mid-air, laughed deeply. “I finally have hope! Prepare to die, Arakataron. Your time has come!”

“Master!” Boney screamed. “That’s a whale!”

Ozborne had called himself a soul fish, but when he emerged, he was a full-size whale. He was transparent and white, just like the fish, striking a deep contrast against the purple mists and dark waters. Moreover, he was huge; just like a whale, his form dominated the space and forced Jerry and Arakataron to fly further away from each other, letting Ozborne hover in the middle. He turned to face Arakataron, his massive form rippling with power.

In hindsight, Jerry should have expected it. Necromancers had souls vastly superior to normal people, and Ozborne was a legendary necromancer. Of course, his soul would be incomparable to the normal soul fish.

“This changes nothing,” Arakataron said slowly. “I defeated you twice, and I can do it thrice.”

“But I have the Prism,” Ozborne replied.

“Well, I do,” said Jerry, “but I’ll help you, yes.”

“Come on, kid. Enough talking. Fill us up!”

“Fill you up with what?”

“Your energy, of course! Let us fight!”

The whale turned to look at him with excitement, and despite its old age and battle fervor, Jerry found it cute. He grinned. “Let’s!”

His soul burst through the Prism’s protection and out into the world. So did Arakataron’s, and it was incomparably larger, but Jerry was no longer alone. The Prism’s blessing coursed through Jerry, and the waters trembled as school after school of fish emerged.

They were hundreds! Each fish was a soul unjustly taken, each fish a nemesis of Arakataron. Alone, they were weak, but together, they were a force to fear!

The fish blatantly ignored gravity to fly mid-air and swim around the whale, taking it as their leader. All of them were filled up with death water, courtesy of Jerry, letting them fight—otherwise, they could only stay inside the lake.

Jerry flew to land on the whale’s head.

“Wh—Kid! What are you doing!?”

“What? I thought we were allies.”

“But you can’t stand on my head!”

“Why not? You’re a whale. You have a big head.”

“But I—I’m a legendary necromancer! I ruled the world before you were even born!”

“Well, next time, look less comfortable if you don’t want people on your head. Come on; this lets us work closer together, right?”

The whale sighed; a deep, trembling sound. “Fine,” it relented. “Have it your way. As long as you revive me later, all will be good.”

“Hihihi.” Jerry laughed. He was riding a whale—Boney would be so proud. “Let’s go, Ozborne!”

“Let’s go!”

The fish gathered around the whale, forming armies of soul power. Arakataron’s soul was arrayed before them. This time, it wasn’t just raw power; Arakataron was serious, and his soul formed into thousands of tiny soldiers. It split into different squadrons that moved independently, like a well-trained army under an experienced general.

Souls were invisible to most people, but in the thick of the mists, they weren’t! Two armies suddenly appeared mid-air, one made of little black soldiers and led by a lich, and the other formed of white fish and led by a Jerry-ridden whale.

Marcus pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Laura gaped. Horace laughed. Boney was starstruck, and he screamed, “You’re amazing, Master!”

Axehand grunted, his battle with Arotaron still going at full throttle.

“Attack!” Ozborne shouted. With Jerry’s support, his soul stretched out and connected to all the fish, controlling them as Arakataron did his soldiers. The two forces were similar in quantity, and Ozborne was very experienced. His skill could match Arakataron. This would be a battle.

The snakes were still fighting the flood to the side, but both wizards were focused on the soul war now.

The fish and little soldiers flew at each other. War erupted.

Jerry could only stand on the whale’s head and watch.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Just keep fueling us.”

Both Arakataron and Ozborne were supreme masters. Their troops intertwined in mid-air and fought in more places than Jerry could watch, let alone command. Each group of fish or soldiers would change shape quickly, flowing seamlessly from one formation to the next. Their shapes changed, forces moved from one battlefront to the other, and sometimes, the soldiers and fish even combined into one entity or transformed to different beings entirely.

Jerry saw ambushes and forts. He saw lions fighting whales. He saw sharks streak through the battlefield, and giants smash entire legions apart. Everything was small in size—each soldier was the size of Jerry’s hand—but the totality covered Jerry’s horizon.

I have so far to go…

At that moment, he admired necromancers—and, at the same time, he yearned for the future. He, too, would conquer magic. He would own such power.

Jerry’s soul was brilliant.

“Go, Ozborne!” he shouted. He was already madly funneling power into the army; coupled with supporting Axehand’s over-overcharging and holding Arakataron’s energy snakes back, he was already stretched to his limit. Any more and he would break.

Axehand and Ozborne were each fighting in one battlefield, along with everyone on the island below, but Jerry was the spine and root of everything.

The maddened war grew in intensity. Soldiers and fish fell left and right—the latter eager to give their lives against Arakataron—and the smaller the armies became, the finer their commander’s control.

The clashes accelerated and became sharper. The rate of casualties increased. The magnificent battlefield in the sky turned into a core of lighting-quick violence. Both armies dwindled at the same pace, but Jerry had backup. Not all fish had made it in time originally, and more kept rising from the lake.

Arakataron didn’t have that. His eyes were filled with darkness. Things weren’t supposed to be like this. He had scoured the lake repeatedly; the soul fish were not supposed to have a commander.

“Fine,” he spat out darkly. He grabbed a large red gem on his ring and crushed it, releasing a terrifying beast. It was made of black smoke and resembled a hyena, and it jumped into battle with a sickening cackle, destroying two fish in one move. It rampaged through the battlefield like an unstoppable giant, and for a moment, Arakataron was dominating again.

“No, you don’t!” Ozborne yelled. With a magnificent flap of his tail, he flew into battle himself, ramming into the hyena head-on. The two began ripping into each other with abandon, spectral blood and smoke flying everywhere. Ozborne’s colossal body was smothering the hyena, trying to crush it, but it was fighting back fiercely, and the pain was distracting Ozborne.

His control over the army wavered. The fish were pushed back.

“I got this!” said Jerry, who still stood atop the whale. His soul reached out into Ozborne, wrapping around it and taking on a large part of the pain. Jerry screamed—getting ripped apart by a hyena was no pleasant feeling.

However, it worked. Ozborne’s mind recovered, and the battle regained its balance. More fish were still arriving; they were winning.

Now, it was Arakataron’s turn to despair.

The battle between undead was still undecided. The energy manipulation battle was moving at a snail’s pace, almost suspended entirely, and restarting it needed time and focus he did not have. The soul war was losing.

In despair, Arakataron took a gamble. He temporarily forwent the soul war, enduring the loss to focus entirely on the energy snakes from before. Jerry’s flood was already weakened, and he was busy doing everything else; he could not help here. As the snakes suddenly doubled in fierceness, the water was torn in two and dissipated.

Arakataron’s heart was filled with glee, and Jerry’s with despair; in one decisive blow, the energy manipulation battle was over, and Jerry could not summon new water, not now. The fish were still beating up the little soldiers, but the snakes were about to tear Jerry apart. The fish—being soul forms—could not touch them.

“No!” Ozborne screamed.

“Master!” Boney screamed too. Arrows flew at the snakes from below but only managed to destroy some of them. They were energy forms, after all, and flying snakes; how were arrows supposed to stop them?

Jerry looked over, and he was helpless. The snakes opened their fangs wide and lunged.