After the light around her faded, her fully healed body came into my view.
She was beautiful.
(Host, stop drooling at her body and look at her soul’s condition.)
"Hey, I wasn’t drooling over her body, and I can see her condition. Jokes aside, do you think I could use my Devour and Synthesis to heal her soul?"
(Yes... you could do that, but it will be very dangerous. You will be basically taking the remnants of her soul, which are scattered around this realm, and putting them together like a puzzle. You will see her memories and could lose yourself in them.)
"Wow, no pressure, huh?"
I walked toward her, took out a mattress from my inventory, gently laid her down, and immediately started scanning her soul fragments scattered throughout the realm.
The fragments were everywhere. Tiny, scattered echoes of what was once a fierce and indomitable soul. Each fragment carried her memories, her emotions, and her knowledge. It was what made her whole.
I placed my hand on her chest.
I saw her soul. It was badly fractured and just barely stable, thanks to the elixir.
"Pixia," I whispered, but her voice was already serious. Different from her usual self.
(Analyzing... Her soul integrity rate is 38%. You need to at least bring it to 50% for her soul to naturally start healing.)
I nodded and immediately started using my skill.
"Devour."
My mana surged outwards, weaving through the hall. I absorbed her memories, emotions, thoughts, and pain scattered across the realm.
"Synthesis."
I brought her fragments together and started carefully integrating them into her soul. Doing so was a challenge even for me. Bringing them together was no easy task. I was immediately met with resistance.
Her soul rejected it at first, instinctively pushing away anything foreign. It took effort—slow, careful threading—to show her that these broken essences were hers.
As I did so, my vision blurred, and I was no longer in the legacy realm; instead, I stood on a battlefield filled with countless corpses.
There, at the center, stood a woman with an indifferent expression on her face. Her crimson hair flowed with the wind, and her yellow eyes were distant and cold. She held a sword in her hands, which was covered in blood.
Another memory:
She knelt in front of a young girl who was barely alive, her face filled with tears.
"Sorry, my child... I was not strong enough to protect you."
The girl smiled, reaching up. "You were always strong... Mother."
My breath caught. Mother?
I knew it was her memories, and I couldn’t afford to lose myself in them.
Another vision:
She sat on a throne, her expression blank, all empty. But beneath it, I saw what she had hidden. It was an overwhelming amount of pain and loneliness.
I gasped, falling back into my body.
(Host, soul synchronization is at 44%. She’s stabilizing, but the remaining fragments are resistant. The trauma anchors them.)
"Then we walk back right in. I’m not leaving her like this."
I dove back in.
This time, I stitched in fragments of her discipline—her unwavering training, the nights she spent honing her swordsmanship under the moonlight, the way she corrected her stance with a single glance.
Each memory pulled at my own soul, making it feel heavier, threatening my own soul.
Even then, I pressed on.
The next batch was the hardest: her humanity.
Flashes of love—brief, rare moments with her daughter. Glimpses of laughter long buried. Her own moments of vulnerability.
She had buried these deep.
"Come on, Synthia," I muttered, voice hoarse. "You don’t have to carry it all alone anymore."
The fragments quivered. Then slowly, like a flower opening to sunlight, they drew toward the core of her soul.
Pixia’s voice came in, softer now.
(Soul integration is at 62%. Good job, Host. She is no longer in danger. Her soul will gradually heal over time.)
"Phew, that was intense." I wiped the sweat off my forehead.
(Yes, it was. I am surprised you have not fainted.)
"Same."
I lay beside her, exhausted but also relieved. I watched her sleeping with a peaceful expression on her face. Her breathing was steady, and her soul was no longer chaotic.
Some time later, she stirred. Her eyes opened. They were sharp, even when she was weakened.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Why what?" I asked her, my hand resting on her chest.
"Why... Why do you insist on saving me?"
"Do you want the honest answer or—"
She slapped my hand away and glared at me.
"You better be honest with me."
"Okay, I’ll be honest with you. At first, I just came here to meet you and maybe get your legacy, but then, when I was healing your soul, I saw your memories. I saw everything you went through. After that, I changed my mind. I know it sounds selfish, but I actually want to give you a new life, where you can live with love and happiness."
Throughout the time I was speaking, she kept looking at me with an unreadable expression.
"You saw my memories."
Her gaze hardened.
"I didn’t intend to. It was necessary to save you. And it’s not like I’d mind knowing everything about you," I said in a flirtatious tone.
A scoff left her lips. "You’re still trying to flirt with me, even though I could cut you in half right now. Either you’re brave or foolish."
"I like to think of it as being irresistibly charming."
Both Pixia and Synthia were stunned by my shamelessness and decided it was not worth their time to say anything. That hurt my feelings, you know.
Anyway, back to the serious topic.
"I want you to train me."
I asked in a serious tone.
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me.
"You want me to train you?"
"Yes. You are the Sword Empress. You are one of the greatest warriors to ever live. If I want to be stronger and protect everything that matters to me—I need to learn from the best."
My voice was serious and filled with conviction.
She was silent for a moment. Then her expression changed, just a little. It was amazement, or maybe curiosity.
"You do realize what you’re in for... right?"
"Yeah, I do. Pain, blood, and a lot of yelling. Probably a few sword swings to my beautiful face."
(Host, you need to keep your narcissism in check. Just look at her face—she’s probably thinking about whether she should cut you in half or not.)
Her lips twitched at my remark, but she didn’t say anything about it. She looked at me for a long time and then finally said,
"I’ll take your head the moment you get distracted in training."
"And I’ll die a happy man, having gotten a nice view of your body."
She sighed, clearly questioning her decision not to kill me.
"Fine," she said at last. "But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you saved me."
"Wouldn’t dream of it."
She stood, stretching slowly, her movements smooth and deadly. Despite everything, her posture was still impeccable. She was still the Sword Empress.
"We begin tomorrow at dawn. If you’re even a minute late—"
"I’ll show up an hour early with breakfast."
She paused at that.
"...Breakfast?"
"I’m an amazing cook, you know. Part of my charm."
She rolled her eyes. "We’ll see."
I watched her walk away, her long crimson hair flowing behind her like a cloak of fire. Her soul was still fragile, her heart still burdened—but she was alive. Whole. And maybe, just maybe, starting to trust me.
And as for me? I couldn’t wait for training to begin.