Duleryon stepped forward, closing the space between them with deliberate menace. His blue eyes—cold as glacial shards—bored into Ravix's with the weight of a promise.

  "I mean this, Ravix—if I discover you've betrayed us, I will kill you myself. And don't fool yourself into thinking you can best me."

  Lightning crackled at Thanason's fingertips, his jaw clenched tight. "Traitor? Are you accusing me of something?"

  Duleryon leaned in. "Not an accusation, Ravix. A guarantee."

  Then his Aura flared.

  Scarlet's breath hitched as a suffocating weight descended upon them. A shroud. A blanket of unnatural calm, dulling emotions—smothering them. The air grew thick, heavy with an unnatural stillness.

  She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth as she resisted—barely.

  The surrounding soldiers weren't as lucky.

  They stood motionless, eyes blank, their minds numbed to all feelings. No fear. No anticipation. No anger. Just… nothing.

  'So this is his Aura', Scarlet thought, straining under its oppressive weight. 'A man who can strip away the will to fight. How dangerous.'

  Then—

  "STOP!"

  The Aura snapped back, vanishing in an instant.

  Scarlet exhaled sharply, forcing air into her lungs. The crushing stillness lifted, and the soldiers—blinking rapidly—began to stir, confusion flickering in their eyes.

  She turned toward the voice—

  And froze.

  Officer Reftia stood at the entrance, breath ragged, her uniform tattered and streaked with dirt. In her arms-

  Arthur.

  His unconscious form was draped over her shoulder, his face deathly pale. Blood and mud clung to him, staining his clothes, but, somehow, his body remained unharmed.

  The fort became unnaturally silent, and then a buzz of whisper erupted.

  Duleryon's voice cut through like ice. "Reftia." His previous fury was gone, replaced by a calm far more unnerving. "Explain."

  Reftia approached Scarlet first, carefully handing over Arthur's limp form. The weight of his body against Scarlet's arms sent an unexpected wave of relief through her.

  He was alive.

  Turning back to Duleryon, Reftia straightened, forcing the exhaustion from her voice. "We were trapped in a dungeon, sir. It was my decision—I wanted to scout it for potential vulnerabilities, to see if the Empire could use it as an alternative route. While inside… Cadet Arthur saved my life. Repeatedly."

  Her voice wavered only slightly, but Scarlet caught it.

  "We fought until the bitter end and barely escaped. Arthur collapsed from severe mana exhaustion during the final battle, so I carried him back."

  Duleryon's eyes narrowed. "And the dungeon?"

  "Gone, sir. Sealed. I collapsed the pathway myself after the dungeon closed."

  Duleryon considered her for a long moment. Then, with a short nod, he turned away.

  "Good. You're exhausted. Submit a full report in two days." He walked a few paces, then paused. "Oh… and I suppose the boy did well enough."

  Without another word, he left.

  Scarlet let out a slow breath, adjusting Arthur's weight against her. Alive. And, judging by Reftia's carefully chosen words, he had managed to keep his identity hidden.

  'Good. That will buy us time.'

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Noah.

  Outwardly, he appeared calm. But his fists—clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white—told a different story.

  Scarlet smiled softly. 'They've grown close.'

  'Not that I didn't see it coming.'

  ….....

  Arthur's mind shattered.

  His consciousness splintered into fragments, tossed helplessly through memories that were not his own.

  He was five. Walking beside his parents. They promised to buy him a real sword!

  He was older now. A beggar, alone.

  He met Red. He killed someone.

  Red died.

  He found Red's sister. He joined the army. She joined, too. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

  The old man's family finally forgave him. It had only taken fifteen years.

  He was getting married.

  He was a father.

  Syar offered him an apprenticeship. He rejected it. Accepting meant giving up his family. Nothing—nothing—was worth that.

  He had to assassinate someone today.

  Had to poison another man's wife.

  Had to—

  Arthur.

  Arthur.

  The voice rang through the storm. His storm.

  He grasped at himself, forcing himself back together, clawing his way out of a mind that wasn't his.

  'I am Arthur.'

  SNAP.

  His eyes opened.

  And he was fighting.

  Goblins fell before him in a blur of steel and blood—each strike swift, lethal. Precise.

  Yet… it wasn't him.

  He was watching.

  Something else was controlling his hands, his body—his very instincts. Something had shoved him aside, leaving him an observer in his own skin.

  Then—

  A notification appeared.

  [USER IS REVERSING EGO CORRUPTION…..]

  CORRUPTION 95%

  USER'S EGO 5%

  [USER HAS GAINED TEMPORARY SKILLS]

  ADVANCED IMPERIAL SPEAR STYLE LVL 10 (100%)

  SHADOW AFFINITY (LVL 8 – 90%)

  'What?'

  He could feel the strength coursing through his limbs, the mastery in each motion.

  'How?'

  As if responding to his very thoughts, another notification blinked into existence.

  [Possession – grants User the abilities of those whose souls they have captured. The number of abilities depends on the level of ego corruption. The higher the corruption, the more abilities are given.]

  Conditions:

  If Ego Corruption exceeds 50%, User loses control of their body.

  To capture a soul, User must have an empathetic connection with the deceased.

  Cooldown: 1 month

  1/3 SOULS CAPTURED:

  JAMES SKELTER.

  Arthur wanted to laugh.

  'Of course it'd be you.'

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Ever since Officer Skelter's death, he had come to realize just how remarkable the man was. His past, his family, his sheer will.

  And yet, Arthur thought, I never even knew him.

  Then—

  His body paused.

  Arthur snapped his attention away from the notifications.

  The battlefield was silent. The goblins lay dead at his feet.

  And yet… his body wasn't done killing.

  Ikaris gleamed in his hand, its tip aimed directly at—

  Officer Reftia.

  Arthur lunged.

  Ikaris spun in a deadly arc, his hands wielding it with masterful lethality—yet they weren't his hands.

  Reftia barely dodged, eyes wide. "Snap out of it, Arthur!" she bellowed, voice sharp with urgency.

  But Arthur wasn't the one in control.

  'Shit. Why is Skelter trying to kill her?'

  Then—understanding hit him like a blade.

  James Skelter had been the Dog of the Empire. A man who slaughtered rebels for years. And now? His instincts saw Reftia—a rebel—as his enemy.

  Arthur clenched his mind like a fist, pushing against the force holding him captive.

  [Corruption Reversing…..81%… 78%… 75%… 74%…]

  It was hard.

  Skelter was a man who had lived a full life. He had a wife. A child. A reason to keep going.

  Arthur?

  He had nothing.

  No reason to live. No purpose, except—

  Except that he wanted to.

  A memory flickered through the chaos.

  Officer Reftia's voice.

  A quiet conversation.

  A dream.

  "I want to be a traveling author."

  And then—he smiled. Actually smiled. The lips on his face twitched, the expression tiny...yet real.

  [Corruption Reversing…..55%… 50%… 49%… 40%…]

  [User has regained control over their body.]

  Error.

  [Insufficient mana. Possession skill deactivating…]

  Arthur's body shuddered, the attack halting mid-swing. His limbs trembled, his grip on Ikaris loosening as he stumbled backward.

  Reftia didn't move.

  She watched him.

  Warily.

  Arthur exhaled, then dismissed Ikaris. The glow in her eyes softened, if only slightly.

  "Are you back?" she asked cautiously.

  Arthur gave a weak smile—

  And collapsed.

  …...

  Arthur awoke with a groan.

  Light streamed in through the window, warm and golden. His body ached—a dull, bone-deep exhaustion settling into every muscle.

  'Huh. I'm in bed. Am I in heaven?'

  Then, Mat's snoring rattled the walls.

  Arthur sighed.

  'No, not heaven.

  Hell.'

  He groaned again, rolling over. Honestly, why did it feel like he lost consciousness and woke up in bed every other day? People were going to start thinking he had some sort of princess complex.

  He sat up. The sheets rustled.

  And that's when he realized.

  He was naked.

  Arthur froze.

  Then, in record time, he yanked on a pair of army trousers and a shirt, shaking his head. Sleeping without armor for once had felt nice—very nice. But waking up like this? Not so much.

  Judging by the quiet outside, it was either early morning or the squad had been given a day off. Either way, he wasn't about to waste the rare peace.

  And… if he could, he wanted to find Officer Reftia.

  He owed her an apology.

  Big time.

  First, he had nearly gotten her killed. Then, she'd been stuck watching over him for a week. And after all that? He'd almost killed her himself.

  Arthur sighed, ruffling his hair. Yeah. I was a complete liability in that dungeon.

  The memories flickered—mortifying and persistent. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake them.

  He hesitated at the door.

  'Hold up… if I go to her barracks, is she going to think something weird?'

  Actually… wait.

  'Where even were her barracks?'

  He frowned, debating whether this was a terrible idea. "Should I just go back?" he muttered under his breath.

  "Who are you looking for?"

  A voice—calm, measured, female—cut through the quiet.

  Arthur turned, startled.

  Officer Reftia stood behind him.

  Dressed in full uniform, her white hair spilled freely over her shoulders, stark against the crisp fabric.

  "For you," he said before he could think better of it.

  Her dark eyes studied him. "And why's that?"

  Arthur winced. "Because you saved my life a dozen times and I, uh… almost killed you."

  She smiled. Not mocking. Not bitter. Just… curious.

  "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

  Arthur hesitated.

  "Can I say no?"

  A pause. Then, she nodded. "Sure. You saved my life, too, after all."

  For some reason, that response made his throat feel tight.

  But then—

  She asked, "Just tell me one thing, Arthur. Who is James Skelter?"

  Arthur stiffened.

  His breath caught. "How do you know that name?"

  Reftia's expression didn't change. "Your mind was weak. I tried using my abilities. It didn't work." A slight tilt of her head. "All I got back was a name. James Skelter."

  Arthur slowly relaxed.

  So, she didn't know the truth. For a second, he had worried she had uncovered his real identity.

  He considered her question. Who was James Skelter?

  A soldier. A killer. A husband. A father. A man so deeply entrenched in the Empire's bloodstained hands that even in death, his instincts still fought for it.

  Arthur exhaled.

  "I…" He met her gaze. "I'm not sure right now."

  She didn't press. Just nodded.

  Arthur smiled. It felt real. But deep down, he knew—it wasn't.

  'One day', he thought. 'One day, we're going to try to kill each other.'

  The knowledge settled heavily in his chest.

  It was sad.

  But that was the hard truth of it. They were enemies. And the day would come. When something would have to be done about that.