CHAPTER 55: MONSTER FOR STUDY

The spectral mist slithered between twisted roots and crumbling columns of a temple that even ghosts dared not name. In the absolute silence, a soft laugh echoed—melodic, brittle. And then, she appeared.

Sylha.

The ghost materialized in mid-air, as if she had seeped from the mist itself. Her body shimmered in opaline tones, translucent hair swirling around her face with a morbid beauty, as if death had been sculpted by artistic hands. Her eyes, opaque like orchid ashes, glimmered with something between fury and delight.

In front of her, lying among the rubble, was Liriel—the little traitor. The fairy slept, unconscious, wrapped in the tattered rags of what was once a noble tunic. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, oblivious to the predator hovering above her.

Sylha needed no orders. This was personal.

"You touched what wasn’t yours," she whispered, and her voice reverberated through the spiritual plane like glass blades cracking under pressure. "Now... you’ll learn."

With an elegant movement of her hands, the runes on her fingers lit up in crimson and amethyst. Ancient symbols spun around her wrists and spread like enchanted serpents. A dreamlike spiral began to form around Liriel—a silent, ancient, precise ritual.

She wouldn’t kill the fairy. That would be too easy.

Sylha preferred nightmares.

A mental prison began to take shape—not made of walls, but of memories and torments. Fragments of Liriel’s own mistakes were pulled from the ether: betrayals, lies, moments of weakness. Everything would become a mirror. Everything would be recycled. She would live in a loop, conscious, eternal.

Liriel opened her eyes. Terror came before lucidity. She tried to move, but was already paralyzed. The ghost’s voice invaded her mind like a cold needle:

"You are not worthy even of oblivion."

Sylha raised her fingers, and with a final gesture, sealed the fairy’s consciousness. The small creature shuddered, her eyes rolling in silent despair. Her body was awake—her mind, imprisoned.

Only then did Sylha pull away, smiling like a child who had finished a drawing too beautiful to explain.

In the central clearing of Barovik’s living chamber, Eren stood with arms crossed, eyes scanning the hall with the calculated calm of a rational predator. Beside him, Kaela growled softly, impatient. Morwynn hung his head low, his spider-like eyes blinking out of sync. Nyssa, floating serenely in her oval droplet form, glowed in a soft blue-green hue.

And then the mist thickened.

Sylha emerged among the undulating veils, spinning in the air like a torn veil from within the night. Her hands still trembled with echoes of the ritual, but the smile was clear. Exaggerated. Happy.

"I solved the little problem," she said in a dramatic tone, leaning in the air as if expecting applause. "The little traitor? I took her for myself."

Eren’s eyes narrowed, but not in reproach. Curiosity.

"Took... what do you mean?"

Sylha spun in the air, laughing as if she were the star of a show.

"She’s in a mental cycle. Trapped. Stuck in her own dreams and memories. An endless theater just for her. And more..." she snapped her fingers. "I brought a container."

She extended her hand and, with a delicate gesture, indicated Nyssa.

The slime seemed to shiver, but not out of fear. She already knew. She was already prepared.

With a graceful movement, Sylha projected Liriel’s sealed essence—a foggy sphere pulsing with fragmented images—directly into Nyssa’s body. The slime expanded slightly, as if absorbing a magical artifact, and then returned to its original form, with a dark glow emerging in the core.

An icon appeared on Eren’s HUD.

[Entity: Sealed inside Nyssa]

[Mental Prison Stabilized | Control: Sylha]

[Information Extracted: 71%]

[Dissolution Risk: 0%]

Eren kept his gaze fixed on Sylha. His tone was restrained, but there was something new in his voice: respect.

"You acted without being called."

"Oh, you yourself told me I could be creative." She crossed her arms, pouting. "I thought it was my turn to shine."

Kaela snorted.

"Just don’t get in the way."

Morwynn said nothing, but watched everything with hungry eyes, like someone analyzing the scene to paint it later.

Eren took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Good job."

It wasn’t as if they would need the little fairy in that state, but perhaps she’d be useful later on in that state. So arguing with Sylha wouldn’t be a good idea.

Sylha performed an aerial pirouette and dissolved into silver particles, diving into Eren’s shadow with a dramatic whisper:

"Call me when you want another piece in your little play, boss..."

The presence of Liriel inside Nyssa was almost imperceptible, except for the slight tremor in the slime’s core. She didn’t complain. She showed no discomfort. On the contrary—she seemed pleased to have contributed.

Eren, on the other hand, was deep in thought.

The extracted memories were there: mental maps of secret routes beneath Barovik, names of inquisitors, records of hidden meetings. "Guardian of the Eternal Flame." "Voice of Silence." Names that were now targets. More than that: the true function of the relic sought by Liriel.

The Absolute Contract.

They wanted to destroy it. Erase the system’s core. Turn the entire world into a spiritual prison—where bonds would be forced, eternal, manipulable by a handful of fanatics.

Eren clenched his fists.

"If I’m going to use this system... it will be my way."

The monsters watched him. Each in their own way, silent, but aware that they were beyond mere tools. They were partners. Agents. Thinking variables, choosing, executing. Sylha hadn’t asked for permission. And that bothered him—and intrigued him.

"Smarter than I expected," he thought.

And then he smiled, just a little.

Because thinking monsters could be troublesome.

But they were the best pieces to win the game.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The Core Dome was awake.

The four thrones were occupied. Each raised on a thematic pedestal: bones and pulsing flesh for Biothermy, mystical circuits and rune seals for Chronogeometry, shattered mirrors and liquid shadows for Empty Theosophy, and a platform composed of fused spoils from defeated monsters for Wild Field Synthesis.

It was Kelna, the Mistress of Biothermy, who broke the silence.

She extended a fingerless hand—the arm was smooth, seamless, like freshly manufactured flesh—and tossed a shard of obsidian onto the circular table. The stone clinked as it touched the center, and immediately, a three-dimensional projection arose: the image of the captured fairy, sealed inside the translucent body of a slime with timid eyes and a gentle smile.

"The traitor has been neutralized," said Kelna, in a neutral voice, as if listing parts of a dissection. "And most notably... it was by someone outside our projections."

The orbs of the chamber glowed. The image rotated, revealing Eren Vale, standing behind his companions. A man with impassive eyes, taut skin, and a strategic posture. He wielded power but did not flaunt it—like a sheathed blade that only shines to kill.

"That is the ’someone,’" Kelna added. "He seduced her, exposed her, and delivered her soul to the very spiritual creature the Order considers extinct."

The throne of the Empty Theosophy shifted. Vaen, hooded, with half of his face made of black glass, let out a sound that could be surprise—or nausea.

"Vale... that name has resurfaced. It was recorded in the pulsations of the Living Labyrinth, in the attack on Antoril’s black market, and now... here. Again."

"Not only resurfaced," murmured Lorith, the Chronogeometer, with eyes replaced by liquid clocks, "he diverted the flow of the Judgment of the Ancients. We have records of local divine interference. Eren Vale is a living anomaly. A hole in our causal map."

Rethar, the wildling, chuckled softly. His skin was scaly, his arms covered by exoskeletons of different creatures. His eyes had vertical pupils.

"Maybe he just knows how to dance better than average. The system spins... but those who dance to the right rhythm survive."

Kelna crossed her legs and rested her elbow on an arm sculpted from white bone.

"It’s not just dance. He bonded with an entity called Sylha. Traces of her appeared in three distinct spiritual echoes: an active, non-contractual, deep and bidirectional bond. This... is no longer taming. It’s symbiosis."

"One of the extinct practices," murmured Lorith. "The one the Order of the Flaming Eye hunted until the twilight of the ancient pacts."

"This changes everything," Vaen concluded. "Sylha is an ancestor. A free spirit. This means that..."

Kelna nodded with a pale smile.

"It means Vale is playing with a weapon he doesn’t understand... or understands better than we do."

Silence. Only the sound of pulsing roots. One of the orbs showed a flash of Eren looking at Sylha during the sealing ritual. His gaze wasn’t one of fear. Nor of control. It was calculative—as one who watches a rare piece fit into a board.

"We need to decide," said Kelna. "Is he a threat... or an opportunity?"

Rethar sniffed, his claws scratching his own chin.

"He tamed a werewolf, a slime, a magic spider, and an ancestral spirit. That’s not taming. That’s forming a religion."

Vaen tilted his head, thoughtful.

"Or a cult."

Lorith sighed.

"A new bonding system could be born from this. With or without the world’s consent. If this leaks... we will be hunted. By him, or with him."

Kelna extended her hand again. From her smooth arm sprouted metallic veins, like circuits. She traced a pattern in the air. A glyph appeared at the center of the table—a communication seal.

"Then let’s talk to him."

"A test?" Vaen asked.

"An invitation," she replied. "But an invitation with a scalpel."

The other thrones nodded.

From the living wall, a creature began to emerge.

It was a living messenger, woven from pieces of ancient writing, artificial feathers made of enchanted silk, and psychic gears that spun like eyes. Its face was ambiguous, neither beautiful nor ugly—just interpretable.

The creature bowed before Kelna. She activated the final seal, implanting a code into its ethereal spine.

"You will take this to Eren Vale. Not as a threat. Not as a bribe. But as... curiosity. And the curious always respond."

The messenger glowed, vibrating in high-pitched tones, before disappearing into a magical rift.

Above, in the dome, the orbs reorganized. The system reacted.

[Special Mission: Establish Dialogue with Anomaly Vale]

[Objective: Observe | Offer Controlled Access | Prepare Loyalty Test]

Kelna then reclined in her throne, legs crossed, eyes half-closed. Her face was calm, but her tone carried the clinical sarcasm of a predator operating with a scalpel.

"Let’s see if Mr. Vale dances with science...

...or becomes another monster for us to study."