Kaiser's Perspective:
11:16 AM - 1/1/2018
Slowly, I felt a faint stir of light against my eyelids. My consciousness returned with the softest sense of peace I'd felt in years. There was no pain, no residual panic, no immediate need to check for hunters.
I stirred my eyes open. The first thing I saw was Celia's smile, perfect and wide, illuminated by the faint, diffused light filtering through the tent canvas. She was still facing me, tucked in close, her hand resting gently in my hair.
The blanket was pulled right up to my chin, meticulously tucked around me as if I were some fragile child.
She looked exactly like a cat that had successfully captured her prey and was now guarding it jealously.
"Good morning, my honey," she chirped, her voice soft and sweet.
I felt a genuine, if rusty, smile touch my lips. "Good morning, Celia."
"How long have you been awake for?" I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.
She pouted, leaning her head against my chest. "Hmph. C'mon, where is my good morning hug?"
I sighed, but my arms reflexively tightened around her small frame. "Ugh. Fine. There."
"Thereee," she said, squeezing me happily.
I am getting way too used to this level of service. Being used as a body pillow is a familiar feeling I must forget.
"Now answer me," I repeated, trying to sound firm. "How long were you awake?"
"Just... a little while, okay?" she hedged, rubbing her nose against my chest.
I frowned, trying to peer around her. It was too bright for the usual pre-dawn patrol time, but the light was muted, almost golden.
It was already a broad day—wait, no. It wasn't just 'morning.' It felt like late morning.
What was the time?!
I tried to reach for my pocket watch, which I kept in my jacket near my bag, but Celia reacted instantly.
She gripped my arm and pulled me back, forcing my head to land squarely on the pillow.
"Don't move! You need to rest!" she commanded, her tone switching from sweet to firm Protector.
"I'm not a baby, Lia. And you're not my mother," I grumbled, pulling against her surprisingly strong hold.
She giggled, a warm, bright sound. She leaned down, her eyes sparkling with affectionate mischief. "I wouldn't mind that, Kai. You can call me mommy."
I stared at her, genuinely dumbfounded. I pushed her off with both hands and scrambled up to a sitting position. "Absolutely not! Where does that even come from!?"
She sat up too, cross-legged, the corner of the pillow gripped tightly in her hand. "Why not? I protect you, I tuck you in, I make sure you eat, and you listen to me when you're tired. It fits perfectly!"
"It fits perfectly in a criminal report, maybe," I countered, rubbing the back of my neck. "No. I am not calling the Queen of Curses 'Mommy.' That would violate my sanity."
"But it's cute!" she insisted. "Come on, Kai. Just once! I'll let you sleep in again tomorrow."
"Bribery? Really? I'm the one who should be bribing you to give me personal space!" I snatched the pillow from beneath my head. "Besides, I don't need a mother. I need an accomplice who is less annoying."
"I am not annoying! And you need me to take care of you, I saw your sleepy little eyes! You should be grateful!"
"Grateful? For being kidnapped? If you want to take care of me, go make me a coffee! No. Don't touch a kettle. You'll probably turn the water into acid."
"Oh, so I'm an annoyance who makes acid now?" she said, her red eyes narrowing in mock anger. She threw the pillow she was holding.
It slapped harmlessly off my shoulder.
"Hey! Watch it!" I laughed, throwing my pillow back. "You're getting emotional, Lia-Lia! Is the great Queen of Curses losing her cool?"
"You're calling me little names and being mean! Take that!" She launched herself forward and swiped her hand, sending a flurry of small, decorative tent pillows flying.
"Ha! Poor form, Princess! I am an elite combatant! You'll need more than soft objects to take me down!" I deflected a pillow with a forearm, grinning like an idiot.
"We fight like a married couple, Celia!"
"Maybe we are!" she retorted, tossing a bolster that nearly knocked my water bottle over. "And you, husband, are being incredibly rude to your wife!"
"Rude? I was forced to sleep next to you because of the blizzard! You're acting like I planned it!"
We laughed, panting, the tent suddenly feeling warm and chaotic.
Finally, we both collapsed back onto the floor, scattering pillows like snow. I took the opportunity to dive for my jacket.
I pulled out my watch and flipped it open. I stared at the time, my heart thumping a quick, staggered rhythm.
11:28 AM.
I had slept for over twelve hours. The last time I had that much continuous, deep sleep was... I couldn't remember.
I snapped the pocket watch shut with a satisfying click, the sound loud in the sudden quiet of the tent. I looked up, my eyes narrowing slightly as I processed the scene.
She wasn't groggy. She wasn't stretching. She was sitting perfectly still, her red eyes focused entirely on me, brimming with an energy that didn't match someone who had just woken up. She must have been awake for much longer.
Maybe three hours?
She had just been lying there. Staring at me. Watching me breathe.
"Stalker," I muttered, the word slipping out dryly.
Celia blinked, feigning innocence. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You didn't just wake up. You've been watching me sleep like some kind of creepy stalker," I accused, leaning back on my hands. "What kind of weirdo watches a person sleep for hours?"
"I wasn't watching!" she protested, her cheeks flushing pink. "I was... ensuring you were safe! There's a difference!"
"Uh huh? Do I look like I need constant monitoring?" I scoffed. "Admit it. You were being a creep."
She puffed her cheeks out, crossing her arms. "Fine! I woke up four hours ago! Are you happy?"
"Four hours?" I stared at her, genuinely appalled. "You laid there for four hours doing nothing but staring at my face? That is concerning behavior, Celia."
"It wasn't nothing!" she insisted, her voice rising with that stubborn, possessive edge. "I had to stay close. The moment I move, the cold gets in. If I move, you might wake up. I had to protect you."
"I don't need protection during sleep—"
"Yes, you do!" She cut me off, her playfulness evaporating into cold, hard conviction. She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, her gaze intense.
"You pretend to be invincible, Kai. But when you sleep, you look... worried. Like you're waiting for a knife in the dark."
She placed a hand over her heart, speaking with a terrifying sincerity.
"I wanted to ensure you could rest without feeling that fear. I wanted you to know that the world stops when you close your eyes because I am watching it."
Her voice dropped, the Queen of Curses igniting behind her irises.
"I promise you, nobody will ever hurt you when I am here next to you. Not a monster, not a human, not a god. I will stay with you forever, and I will slaughter anything that dares to disturb your peace."
I looked at her, the sarcasm dying in my throat.
Four hours.
The last time I slept more than nine hours... I was six years old. I was curled up next to my mother, before the world went to hell.
Even around Elfie... I trusted her, yes. Her barriers were impenetrable. But even with her, I managed eight hours at best. I always woke up when the sun hit the horizon.
I always woke up anticipating an attack.
So why did I feel so safe around Celia?
It wasn't magic. Elfie's barriers were objectively stronger. But Celia... she didn't do anything like that.
She read me.
She is incredibly intelligent. Emotionally, she's terrifying. She must have watched me over these weeks of traveling—analyzed my posture, my eyes, the way my hand hovers near my dagger even when I rest. She came to the conclusion of my insomnia and decided to fix it personally.
Her care... It truly fascinated me.
I leaned closer to her, breaking the personal space barrier.
"Why do you care?" I asked, my voice low.
She blinked, taken aback by the proximity, but she didn't retreat. She took a deep, shaky breath.
"Because I love you, Kaiser," she whispered, her eyes searching mine. "More than anyone."
Then, her gaze darkened, the affection sharpening into that familiar, heavy obsession.
"And I won't ever leave you. You're mine."
I felt a smirk creeping onto my lips.
You're mine.
It should have been a threat. Coming from her, it sounded like the only truth that mattered.
She wasn't Elfie. She wasn't the childhood friend I remembered trusting. But she was someone my body had trusted without waiting for my mind to catch up. She was someone special to me, and for the first time, I didn't feel the need to analyze why.
So, I think this is a reasonable thing to do.
I leaned in closer, invading her space until I was right in front of her, looking down upon her.
Celia's breath hitched. Her bravado faltered, replaced by a sudden, flustered shyness as she realized just how close I was. She met my gaze, her red eyes wide, waiting.
I slid my hand behind her back, finding the curve of her waist and pulling her flush against me. The movement was sudden, deliberate, erasing the last inch of distance between us.
"K-kai?" she stuttered, her breath hitching.
"Be a good girl and give up resistance," I murmured, my voice dropping an octave as I tightened my grip.
She instantly looked down, her bravado crumbling into a flustered, shy mess. She couldn't meet my gaze.
I wasn't having that.
I reached up, cupping her chin and lifting it until she had no choice but to look at me. Her red eyes were wide, trembling with anticipation.
"Eyes up here," I commanded softly.
"What… what are you gonna do to me?" she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.
My hand slid from her chin, trailing slowly up her jawline until my thumb brushed against her bottom lip. Her entire body quivered under the touch, a visible shiver running through her frame.
I leaned in, my lips hovering just inches from hers.
"I'm going to give you butterflies until you choke on them," I whispered.
I didn't wait for a response. I closed the gap, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but tentative.
She gasped, caught off guard, but her hesitation lasted less than a heartbeat. She melted into me, submitting completely, her body going soft and pliable in my arms.
I deepened the kiss, my hand behind her waist moving in slow, teasing circles against the fabric of her dress. She shuddered, a small, desperate sound escaping her throat. I slid my other hand from her cheek to the back of her head, tangling my fingers in her white hair, holding her in place. Not that she was fighting it.
When I finally pulled back to breathe, a thin thread of saliva connected us before breaking. I tried to move away, to give us both a second to recover.
But Celia wasn't done.
"I want you."
Her arms shot up, wrapping tightly around the back of my neck, and she pulled me back down, crashing her lips against mine with a frantic, starving intensity.
Oh my goodness gracious, this girl is crazy.
I let her kiss me, matching her fervor until her body was physically shaking with the sheer overload of excitement. When we finally broke apart, she was breathless, her face flushed a deep, ruinous red, her eyes dazed and glassy.
I lifted her chin again, making sure she was focused.
"You wanted to know how I felt about you, right?" I said, my thumb brushing her cheek. "I'll tell you, Celia."
I held her gaze, letting the truth settle between us.
"I like you."
Her eyes widened slightly, the red irises shimmering with sudden, overwhelming happiness.
"I want us to be more than just friends who like to take care of each other," I muttered, pulling her closer until our foreheads touched. "And honestly, with the amount of intimate moments we've shared… we've long been beyond just friends."
Celia made a sound that was half-squeak, half-sob. "I… y-you… really? Happy… so happy… butterflies… everywhere…"
She was rambling, her words tripping over themselves, completely short-circuited by joy.
I smirked. She looked like she was about to pass out.
Let's push her over the edge.
I leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear, my breath hot against her skin.
"Does that answer your question, wife?"
She went rigid, then dissolved into a steaming, stuttering mess in my arms.
I continued to escalate the butterfly assault, determined to make her mind go completely blank.
My fingers tucked the stray strands of her white hair behind her ears, a deliberate, slow motion that made her shiver. I let my hand drift down, resting it firmly on her thigh, feeling the muscle jump under my palm. I maintained eye contact, my gaze heavy and unwavering.
"Speak," I commanded softly.
"I... I c-can't... take it... anym-more..." she whispered, her voice trembling, breaking into tiny, fractured pieces.
I leaned in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"Does being Celia Everhart excite you?" I whispered, saying my last name next to hers for the first time.
Her body reacted instantly. A violent, electric jolt ran through her frame, and she let out a small, strangled gasp. Her hands clutched at my shirt as if she were drowning.
I didn't let up.
I moved my hand on her waist, pulling her even closer until there was absolutely no space left between us—claiming her. My lips trailed down her jawline to her neck, not kissing, just letting the warmth of my breath ghost over her sensitive skin. My other hand slid up her back, tracing the line of her spine with possessive slowness.
"Mwah," I said cutely, right against her neck.
"Eeek! M-mhmm... ah!" Celia made a series of high-pitched, flustered noises, completely losing the ability to form words. She buried her face in my shoulder, shaking.
I gripped her thigh tighter, a silent command to stay put.
"Do you like it when I make the first move?" I asked, my voice low and teasing.
She nodded frantically against my shoulder, unable to speak.
"You're so beautiful when you're like this," I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "So cute. Just a stuttering little mess in my arms."
I kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "My lovely, obsessive wife."
Her breath hitched, and she made a small, dying sound of happiness. She was overwhelmed, her system overloaded by the sheer volume of affection. She went limp in my arms, her eyes fluttering shut as she practically melted.
"Yep, I win," I whispered, a triumphant smirk on my lips.
I held her close, feeling her heart hammering against mine, waiting patiently as she slowly, happily drifted back to consciousness in the safety of my arms.
I held her tight, the heat radiating off her blushing face feeling intensely intimate. I needed to ensure some distance for now… for my goals at least.
I tucked her closer, my hand moving from her thigh to the small of her back, my touch firm, subtly reassuring, and entirely possessive.
"Listen to me, Lia," I murmured, my gaze fixed on her overwhelmed eyes. "This is a massive step. I like you—I like you more than I've liked anything in a long, long time."
"But my focus… We have to deal with the primordial beasts, remember? That's the reason I'm here. That's my primary objective."
She tried to pull back, a flicker of hesitation and hurt crossing her face. "But… that has nothing to do with us! I can help you! I already said I'll protect—"
"I know, and I love that you're willing to," I cut in, my voice laced with affection, "but we need to do this first. I can't drag you into my world until the foundation is solid. It wouldn't be fair to you. It wouldn't be safe."
I paused, letting the implication sink in. I knew exactly how to silence her arguments.
I rubbed my lips against hers—a teasing, non-committal pressure that shushed her before she could even form another stuttered word. I pulled back slightly, looking directly into her dazed eyes.
"Will you give me some time?" I asked, my voice earnest.
"I want to change this liking into love for you, Celia. I want us to be more than just friends for now, but not yet a couple. I'm not ready for that big, binding step yet."
I leaned in, my voice a deep, rough whisper against her ear. "Be a good girl for me, Lia. Can you wait?" My fingers traced the sensitive points along her spine.
She shuddered, the last of her resistance melting into pure compliance. She tucked her face into my chest, hiding the redness, and mumbled something against my shirt that made my mind stall.
"Okay… daddy… I'll wait."
My entire body froze. I pushed her back slightly, looking down at her in utter disbelief, a comedic mix of shock and amusement warring on my face.
"What—What did you just call me?!" I demanded, trying and failing to sound stern.
She hid her face deeper into my chest, her voice muffled but sweet. "B-because… you're taking care of me. And you're telling me what to do. And I… I want to be obedient for you, Kai."
Her voice turned to a whisper of raw vulnerability. "I can be anything for you. S-strong, weak, or… or just good. And you're the first person I can be 'good' in a way that didn't feel like a punishment. You're… you're the boss of me. I l-l-love you so much..."
She sounded so genuinely earnest, so ridiculously devoted, that I couldn't even summon a proper rebuttal. The intense, yandere obsession was filtered through a layer of pure, adorable submission.
A wicked grin stretched across my face.
"Hmm. Now it's my turn to take revenge for that declaration of obedience."
I leaned in, cupping her face in my hands, and kissed her forehead with mock affection.
"Thank you for your obedience, Mommy."
Celia's head snapped back. Her eyes went wide, and she hit my chest—a light, confused smack that had zero force behind it.
"Stop! Stop talking! You should've stopped talking a while ago, Kai! That was too much!" She squeaked, burying her face into my shoulder again, overwhelmed beyond measure.
I held Celia until the last tremor of embarrassment subsided and she was breathing normally again. The air in the tent felt thick and charged, smelling faintly of Cursed mana and reckless affection.
We finally separated, the space between us now defined not by physical distance, but by the weight of the kiss and the absurd promise of the future. We needed to recalibrate. I took my seat back down on the rolled-up blankets, and she mirrored me, sitting cross-legged. The howling wind outside had softened, a low, consistent drone that provided a strange, comforting silence for us to process our next steps.
I reached for my bag. "Right. The world hasn't stopped just because I got a good night's sleep. We need to move. Sylvaris is waiting, and I'm already half a day late."
Just as I started to secure the straps on my pack, Celia tugged gently at my sleeve, stopping my movement.
"Kai." Her voice was quiet, but there was a new, steel-like determination beneath the softness. The flirtatious mess was gone, replaced by the calculating Queen.
"Before we go," she began, looking at the floor, "I listened to you. I will give you time. I will wait for you to change 'liking' into 'love.' But I need something, too. Something solid."
I raised an eyebrow. "Solid? Lia, I just admitted to liking you and called you the 'Mommy' of my dreams. What more do you need? A signed contract?"
She looked up, her red eyes burning with serious intent. "Yes. Essentially. I need a Soulpack."
I felt my spine straighten. A cold sense of caution, far greater than any monster encounter, swept over me. "A Soulpack? Celia, what are you talking about? That's old, obscure ritual magic. Where did you even hear about that?"
"I read about it," she admitted, shifting slightly.
"In a hidden text in the Tower of Shadow—an optional reading for high-tier Cursed mages. It's an archaic bond between two souls who believe their devotion is absolute. And if you're going to be out there chasing primordial beasts and getting yourself injured," she leaned closer, the jealousy clear in her eyes,
"I'll feel pressured and uneasy. I'll worry about every single person who looks at you."
"A Soulpack isn't necessary for reassurance," I reasoned, rubbing my temples. "I can give you a promise. My words are usually pretty good."
"But your word can be broken, and a promise doesn't alert me when someone tries to hurt you," she countered, her logic sharp as ice.
"A Soulpack ensures our souls are tethered. If you are ever in mortal danger, I'll know instantly. That's the only way I can rest without you."
"Lia, you know what Soulpacks are," I said, my voice hardening slightly.
"They are binding for two souls. It is not like a marriage certificate; it's a permanent entanglement. If it doesn't work, if our souls reject the forge, it can cause problems—deep, spiritual damage. We're talking about catastrophic side effects."
"I know," she said, her expression entirely serious.
"And I'm willing to take that risk. If my love for you isn't pure enough to bind our souls, then I deserve to be damaged. But if it works," she tilted her head, a dangerous conviction in her smile, "then you're truly mine forever, and nothing can take you away."
I stared at her, genuinely floored by the sheer, terrifying commitment. She was offering her soul as collateral.
A Soulpack. It was more than a binding contract; it was a cosmic gamble. In this world, the true definition of a Soulpack—sometimes called an Eternal Pact or Soul-Link—is not just forged between two people who love each other, but between two whose souls possess an inherent, powerful, and complementary resonance. It had nothing to do with emotional closeness or shared history. It was purely spiritual alignment.
I remembered the notes on it:
A successful Soulpack ensures a profound, two-way, non-verbal communication. It not only alerts the significant other if their life is at risk (a crucial benefit for a life like mine), but it also ensures they share certain gifts. Sometimes it's a boost to existing power, sometimes a transfer of a unique physical gift, or sometimes a slight merging of magic types.
However, the failure rate is astronomical. 96% of Soulpacks fail.
Why? Because the Soulpack doesn't care about the romantic quality of the relationship. A couple could be the most romantic, most physically intimate pair in the world, but if their inherent spiritual pathways conflict, the pact fails.
It tells one, or both, that their love—or at least the nature of their devotion—is false or incompatible at the deepest level. The souls reject the love. The resulting backlash leaves both parties spiritually crippled, sometimes for life.
And Celia, The Queen of Curses, was willing to stake her entire existence on it.
I narrowed my eyes. This was the most serious proposal I'd ever received.
Since that time.
As my mind whirred through the risks and rewards, Celia moved.
She extended her hand and pulled Cursed energy—black, viscous, and ancient—from the air. It pooled between us, intermingled with a faint, shimmering crimson color drawn from a tiny, unnoticed cut on her thumb..
The writing, carved in little blood and black ink, solidified into a small, floating construct that slowly drifted down to the middle of the blankets between us, ready to be activated. It shimmered, a tangible contract drawn directly from her soul and blood.
The challenge had been presented.
The tent grew strangely dark as the Cursed ink pulsed with light. The air tasted metallic, sharp with power. Only the ethereal glow of the Soulpack document and the soft radiance of Celia's concentrated mana illuminated the small space between us.
I tried one last time, my voice grave. "Celia, listen to me. This isn't a game. If this fails, your soul will be—"
"It won't fail," she cut in, her red eyes burning with absolute certainty. "I will take the risks. I will risk my soul. You are my love, Kai. Nothing can be truer than that."
The parchment, hanging suspended in the air, suddenly flashed, the characters settling into a legible form of the ancient Cursed language. It was a beautiful, devastating testament to love and fate, written in her blood and the black mana of her pacts.
I leaned in, reading the text, and felt a familiar, chilling logic in its romantic cruelty.
The Soulpack, as the document explained, transcended simple emotion. It was built on the tragic, beautiful mythology of Anima Sol, or the Twin Soul.
The Soulpack of Anima Sol
The contract spoke of Soulmate Connections that weave throughout the cosmic threads of time, spanning across the Celestine, Asura, Valerion, and Elysium realms. Not every person finds their Soulmate in a single lifetime; most are merely fleeting acquaintances or incomplete tragedies.
The document claimed that a true Soulpack could only be forged when two souls, after centuries of parallel existence, finally recognized each other's inherent resonance. They could have been lovers in a past life, rivals in another, siblings in a third, but their spiritual core remained tethered.
The text was heartbreakingly beautiful, reflecting a deep, almost cruel sense of cosmic romance:
"It is the vow of Souls whose love stories were incomplete, stolen, or taken from them across endless cycles of reincarnation. The pack offers a promise: in this life, their love will be secured and whole, defying the wheel of fate that separated them before."
The risks, however, were written in bold, unforgiving strokes of dark ink:
Rejection of Truth: If either soul harbors a fundamental, active Falsehood in their devotion—a core conflict between their spoken love and their spiritual self—the pact will shatter. The resulting psychic schism would damage both souls, potentially dissolving their memories or crippling their magical abilities permanently.
Shared Burden: The pact enforces a two-way, life-link. Any catastrophic wound, mental trauma, or magical exhaustion suffered by one will be acutely felt, and potentially shared, by the other. There is no immunity for the observer.
Conflict of Existing Ties: The contract warned that the Soulpack demands complete, singular devotion. "The soul will not accept the division of its ultimate bond. Any existing, true spiritual tie will result in a violent, and likely fatal, cascade failure."
I stared at the parchment, my mind wrestling with her logic. She had romanticized the most dangerous spell I knew, using it to validate her obsessive love.
"Celia," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "This is insane. The rejection rate is over ninety percent. Even if my soul wanted to bond, the chance of failure is astronomical. It's not a question of how much you love me; it's a question of spiritual alignment."
"I know the math," she said, calm and collected, "but numbers don't define the truth of my love. If my soul is damaged, then it means my devotion was flawed, and I deserve it."
She extended her trembling hand toward the hovering parchment. "I'm ready, Kai."
I looked at the document, at her hand, and at her unwavering red eyes.
There was no way out. Not without shattering her trust and probably her heart, which, given her previous meltdown, might be just as dangerous as the Soulpack itself. And there was a ridiculous, terrifying part of me—the part that had slept soundly for twelve hours—that wanted this to work.
I leaned forward, placing my finger next to hers.
My fingers touched the Cursed construct, and a cold dread unlike any fear of death washed over me.
This is bound to fail.
Because I already had a Soulpack. With the person I cared the most about in this life, ever honestly.
The Soulpack with Elfie.