Quantifying the power of a soul wasn't easy. Measuring the amount of mana it held and could produce was probably the closest one could get to it, but Nick knew there was another element, even more fleeting, that simply couldn't be measured.

The question of one's existence's weight sparked many debates on Earth. Shamans, mages, sorcerers, priests, and various practitioners all attempted to answer it, each offering their own view that aligned with their beliefs.

It was a question for the ages: to unlock the secrets of the soul and harness its true power.

Nick was one of the few to have an intimate insight into that kind of esoteric power. He had been engaging with his soul in ways many would find profane, pulling and twisting at it to make more of himself.

And yet, even he had to admit he couldn't hope to understand everything.

That was made starkly clear as he felt the spiritual storm summoned by the Blessed Hunt crush and absorb the last thunderhoofs, obliterating even the lead matriarch, whose efforts to resist it melted away like snow on a hot summer day.

Nick would have celebrated his victory if he hadn't known what was coming next. Now that every single member of the herd had been killed and absorbed, only one step remained to complete.

He had to face the storm himself. To open and close his lightning gate, he needed to prove himself not just strong or smart, but worthy.

A magnificent form rose high above him, a creation of the souls the storm had gathered, which he knew represented the mighty thunderbird of legends.

It wasn't the real thing, no. That belonged to a different world, but his actions had brought about a construct that mimicked its role, and with all the lightning-aspected souls it had consumed, Nick wouldn't be surprised if this thing was just as powerful and terrifying as the real one.

Again, it flew overhead, and thunder boomed, shaking the earth and the sky alike, leaving him feeling like a newborn foal enduring its first storm.

There was an awesome quality to a Greater Ritual that couldn't be fully conveyed without experiencing it firsthand. It was the connection between the will of the caster and the will of the World to bring something into existence that otherwise could never manifest.

Instinctively, Nick wanted to shield himself, layering air and kinetic magic around his body in a desperate hope to survive what was about to happen.

But he didn't. He knew it would be useless, since the Blessed Hunt's magic far surpassed his, and any resistance would be seen as rejecting the ritual.

No, he had to face it directly, no matter how terrifying or counterintuitive it might seem.

Just like he had done during the first purification, Nick undressed even as lightning flashed overhead, illuminating clouds that hadn't been there just minutes earlier.

Everything that could interfere with the ritual's magic had to be removed, including his dagger, the owl figurine, the iron spatial ring, and even his clothes. The ritual is sturdy enough by now, but I'm not about to risk mana corruption after I've come this far.

By the time he finished undressing, the air felt charged with intent. It wasn't something tangible, as his wind senses couldn't detect it, but [Empyrean Intuition] saw it clearly.

The ritual was about to reach its climax. He had only a few seconds before it began, so he stepped away from his belongings, hoping the distance would keep them safe.

By the Thunderbird's third pass, he was naked in the grassland, and rain began to fall, softly at first, then suddenly intensifying into a heavy downpour, until he couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.

The heavenly water was cold as it hit his skin, and he felt as if it was stealing more than just his heat. Each raindrop seemed to carve new paths in his soul, digging deeper than any other magic could reach.

Nick's consciousness started to wobble. He knew he could resist the magic, as [Blasphemy] would trigger at the first sign of regret, but intentionally kept it from activating. Interfering in the middle of a Greater Ritual was just as likely to leave him crippled forever as to protect him, and somehow, he sensed the rain wasn't actually harming him but simply engraving new concepts into his soul, making him more by removing the excess.

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The clouds trembled as the thunderbird made its second-to-last pass through them. It had now covered the four cardinal directions, and only one final destination remained.

Lightning struck down, destroying the hill he had been resting on as he observed the thunderhoofs. It was close now, so close that Nick could feel its energy on his skin.

He couldn't help but shiver as the rain became harsher and harsher, and the grassland darkened until he could no longer see anything, just feel the storm changing him.

Power began to flow into his skin now, golden and pure, easing the pain in his soul from being so abused, and strengthening the growth he'd experienced, granting him new abilities. It didn't matter. Nick knew it was only a temporary pause before the final act.

Still, he couldn't help but groan as he felt himself become more solid. His [Arcane Circuits] consumed everything there was to give, leaving him feeling stuffed to the brim, until not a single drop could penetrate his skin.

A lull of silence followed. The rain suddenly stopped, and the winds ceased howling, as if the sky itself was holding its breath.

Nick looked up. He almost didn't, his mortal mind trembling at the thought of facing the representation of a divine beast directly, but he forced himself to.

If there was one thing that defined Nicholas Crowley, it was his stubbornness—his willingness to throw himself into any danger just to gain the slightest benefit, whether it was knowledge or power.

And maybe it wasn't the noblest trait. He knew he wasn't exactly a knight in shining armor. But did that really matter? Were all the hunters who went through a version of this before him noble of spirit?

He doubted it. No, what the Blessed Hunt sought wasn't just pure virtue. It was skill, power, and, most importantly, it was an understanding of oneself.

There was nowhere to hide here. As he was about to be hit by what should have, by all rights, obliterated him, Nick didn't cower. He was who he was and would face the consequences head-on.

Golden light bloomed as the thunderbird tore through the clouds, turning night into day.

It's majestic. That was all Nick could manage. As large as a whale and made of pure energy, it folded its wings back as it descended upon him, releasing a screech that echoed through the ether.

Nick opened his arms, welcoming the challenge.

"Bruno was never one to mince his words," Aleister hummed as he tapped Nick's paper, indicating where he'd gone wrong.

"For someone to go so far as to let himself be burned alive for his convictions… The man wasn't just a powerful occultist. He was a true idealist. He had more than one chance to save himself, you know? But he never even considered it. Foolish and brave at once."

Nick nodded along. His grandfather always seemed to go on tangents when the subject of their lessons was about the old masters of the occult, speaking of them as if he'd personally known them.

"Did he want to send a message? I know many others felt that the church's grip was weakening at the time, with all the innovations and the growing power of worldly authorities," he asked. Giordano Bruno had been ahead of his time as a cosmologist who proposed that the stars were distant suns surrounded by their own planets, and that those same planets could potentially support life.

That had put him at odds with the church, but it wasn't until he started teaching metempsychosis, the transmigration of the soul after death, that he went from being an annoying philosopher to a danger.

Nick also knew him as a powerful esotericist, capable of casting rituals on his own and harnessing his followers' faith to strengthen his spells.

That was in the late 16th century, back when mana still filled the atmosphere enough to sustain casting without reaching for whatever scraps one could find via unsavory methods, but it was still very impressive.

Why am I remembering this now?

The thought was hazy, as if it belonged to a different time altogether. Nick was just an apprentice learning from his grandfather, wasn't he? There was nothing wrong with being curious about such a polarizing figure.

No, I already went through this. I remember asking about the transmigration of the soul, and grandfather answering that while it was certainly possible, there was no way to interfere with such celestial mechanics.

Nick felt that was even more absurd, but there was a quick way to check if he was losing it. Or rather, to figure out what kind of craziness he was experiencing. Hearing voices wasn't normal, even for an occultist. Unless they were holding a cursed object, in which case, it was perfectly normal.

"Grandpa, why was Bruno so obsessed with the transmigration of the soul? I get his complaints about eternal damnation and the Trinity, but this seems like a strange obsession."

"Why, because the palingenesis of the soul means that it is not only immortal, but also mutable! For something to be both... The power that could be gained by handling the soul directly would not only allow a practitioner to cast without relying on external mana but also to keep growing infinitely! But then again, he failed in his task, and so did everyone else. Celestial mechanics of that level are simply not for mortals to mess with."

Nick blinked, watching his grandfather's figure go through the same motions he remembered from another life. That was enough to confirm the voice's assertion, and as if that realization was all he needed, everything around him faded into smoke, leaving him in a void of colors and movements he couldn't begin to understand.

Slowly, as he floated there in the ether, memories began to resurface. Setting up a Greater Ritual, his family becoming barons, traveling through the grassland to hunt demons, religious strife, a dungeon, exploring his new powers, making friends with two girls, and finally, the first memory of his new life: the Class ceremony.

He could distinctly remember waking up on the cold floor, completely disoriented as New Nick and Old Nick merged together, but what had come before that?

"I am the deep shadow. Do not look for me, fools. Such a deed is beyond you. Only the greats can hope to see me."

Those words echoed in his mind. There seemed to be an impenetrable haze blocking his memory beyond them, but thanks to the memory he'd just experienced, he recognized it as a quote from Bruno's works.

What exactly had he been doing that caused his reincarnation? There was a ritual, and some kind of mistake. But was it really? He had successfully reincarnated, after all…

Golden light started to dominate the swirling ether, and he realized the ritual wouldn't wait for him much longer.

The thunderbird was gone, merely a construct built from his understanding of Omaha traditions, but its purpose persisted.

Nick, confident with his new understanding of who and what he was, smiled as the pressure ratcheted up.

There was nothing else to fear. After all, all of this had been his will.

The ether burned with the intensity of hundreds of souls, but it had no effect on him.

Nick finally stopped being passive. It just isn't who I am.

With a smile, he focused his mind on the wild power and began pulling it under his control.