The three returned to the mansion quite late. The sky had begun to hint at the early edges of a new morning—meaning they arrived around 11pm. August decided he wanted to stay outside a little longer, in the vast stretch of emptiness that surrounded the mansion. It was quiet, save for the occasional whistle of the wind. The stars above shone brilliantly, making the night feel almost like a retreat—but in truth, his thoughts were heavy, focused solely on how to become stronger. Every path his mind wandered down only intensified the urge to hunt.
'I thought the city would be swarming with corrupted souls… but it seems not. Or perhaps we're just not exploring deeply enough?' he wondered, sighing heavily as he clenched his fists tighter.
Eventually, he picked up the headset he had bought earlier and, an hour later, finally went back inside. He went straight to the phone that had been given to him. Switching it on, he began following Carla's steps to connect the phone to the headset and start playing music.
He managed it quickly and tried searching for songs online, but none suited his taste—something dark, with a touch of pop. After spending quite a bit of time looking, he gave up, dropped the phone, and leaned back against the wall of his room… and there, he drifted off to sleep.
***
Quite early in the morning, a faint whisper crawled into August's mind—low, menacing.
"Wake up… Time to engage. Wake up!"
His eyes snapped open. In that instant, he realised he was drenched in sweat, despite the cool night air that had lingered for hours. He quickly checked his stats—his soul heat hadn't shifted an inch, yet his body temperature was clearly raised.
He tore off the soaked shirt clinging to him and took a deep breath. This was only the second time in his entire life he'd experienced something like this. The last time had been when he was barely ten years old—he'd nearly died back then. No one had ever figured out what caused it.
Now, though, his body appeared to be calming down. His heart still pounded against his chest as though he'd just run a marathon. But the most unsettling part was the voice. That whisper.
'…Something is going on,' he thought, rising to his feet and pulling open the window. Morning light flooded into the room, accompanied by a soft breeze. In the distance, birds chirped faintly.
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. It was Young, calling him out for breakfast and mentioning that Reeds was around. Without waiting for a reply, Young wandered off towards the bathroom, a white towel lazily draped around his waist.
After their usual routines, they met with Reeds in the main parlour. He had, in turn, brought along a large box brimming with weapons and battle gear.
"Phew. That was quite a heavy one—just kidding. Anyway, choose your preferred style of weapon, something that'll suit you in battle," Reeds said, wiping his brow in mock exhaustion. "At the moment, I believe you lot have the luxury to roam the city. Most areas in Camden that were swarming with corrupted souls are currently being covered by other Exalteds... unless, of course, you'd prefer to venture further out into London. Though, I must warn you, most of those places are quite far from here, so Camden remains your best bet."
He smiled, expecting a response, but received none.
The three of them gathered around the box, rummaging through the assortment of weapons: short swords, gauntlets, soul daggers, soul katanas, sea chains, and several others—each of them too finely crafted to choose lightly.
Soul Daggers were small, curved blades that shimmered faintly, even in darkness. They were forged in the ruins of the Hollowed Monastery, an ancient mountain temple whose monks attempted to cleanse their inner hatred by sealing it into metal during a forgotten civil war of the soul arts.
The Forgotten Civil War of the Soul Arts refers to a hidden conflict that occurred centuries ago, far from the public eye, among early pioneers of soul manipulation. It was not a war between nations—but between philosophies.
One faction, the Order of Purity, believed render energy should only be used for healing, enlightenment, and restraint. The other, known as the Crimson Hand, sought to weaponise render energy for warfare and domination, arguing that inner power was meaningless unless it could be wielded externally.
The conflict raged in secrecy—its battles waged in isolated valleys, ghost towns, and under sacred temples. One such place was the Hollowed Monastery, where monks of both sides once trained together until civil war broke out within its walls. In desperation, they sealed fragments of their souls into weapons to gain the upper hand, giving birth to cursed instruments like the Soul Daggers.
When the war ended, no victor remained—only forgotten ruins and cursed weapons scattered across history, echoing the war's spiritual scars.
The daggers, now laced with cursed soul runes, synchronised with the wielder's spirit energy, their Render. When they pierced flesh, they inflicted not just physical wounds but internal soul lacerations—causing delayed regeneration and gradual stamina drain. Ideal for assassins and scouts, they thrived in ambush and precision strikes but faltered in long battles.
Soul Katanas were sleek, long blades of darkened steel that glinted crimson under light. These weapons were originally crafted by the Exiled Smith of Akuresai, a master blacksmith banished from his nation after his soul-bound techniques were deemed dangerous and unnatural. Akuresai itself was a fallen far eastern country known for blending martial tradition with spirit-channeling techniques. The soul katanas carried his legacy: weapons that resonated with their wielder's inner will. A swing could cut through both body and aura, displacing an enemy's soul long enough to cause disorientation. Best wielded by those with calm minds and sharp technique, the soul katana offered precision, but not forgiveness.
Sea Chains, by contrast, were unlike anything else—damp, cold to the touch, and always slightly shifting, as though remembering the depths. They were forged in the Drowned Quarter, a cursed district of old London swallowed by unnatural tides during the Cataclysm of Blackwater.
The Cataclysm of Blackwater was a devastating supernatural flood event that occurred roughly 70 years before the current timeline. It struck an area of old London now known as the Drowned Quarter, an abandoned district near the Thames that was once a hub of experimental spiritcraft and underground rituals.
The Cataclysm began when a powerful ritual—intended to purge a swarm of corrupted souls sealed beneath the city—went horribly wrong. Instead of purging them, it ruptured the spiritual fabric of the region, allowing a violent tide of soul-infused water to rise unnaturally from the earth and engulf the entire district. This water became cursed—forever alive, heavy with hatred and whispers of the drowned.
Many Exalted died trying to contain it, and the area has remained sealed off ever since. Weapons like the Sea Chains were salvaged from the prisons and labs submerged in the flood—still imbued with the power of those broken rituals.
The chains of the weapon were originally used to bind spirit-haunted prisoners, those whose rage and despair threatened to rupture reality. When wielded, they moved with eerie fluidity, wrapping, crushing, and binding enemies in bursts of hydraulic force. Infused with hydromantic energy, they could release pressure waves capable of stunning foes. They were excellent for crowd control and holding corrupted creatures in place, though difficult to master without a strong, stable spiritual rhythm.
A weapon like this was particularly suitable for Young, given that his soul core was born of darkness, granting him ritual-based abilities. August, however, stood frozen before the Soul Dagger. For some strange reason, he felt a profound connection to it—one he couldn't explain.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, his eyes briefly flickered with darkness—followed by a sweep of white smoke that cleared just as quickly. It felt as though the weapon resonated with something deep within him.
Then, without warning, the system interface blinked into view:
[Would you like to add (+) the Soul Dagger to your Arsenal?]
[Compatibility]: 98%
[Reward]: Boost in body stats by 5%
He stared at the message in silence, his grip firm on the dagger. Glancing down at the weapon, a subtle grin tugged at his lips.
'Yes,' he answered inwardly.
As soon as he confirmed, the dagger began to vanish—its form disintegrating into dark dust before their eyes. He blinked twice in disbelief. So did Reeds. Carla and Young, meanwhile, were already gaping.
Their expressions darkened with astonishment, eyes wide with shock.
"You've unlocked the system?!" the two shouted in unison.
"Huh?" Reeds looked from one face to the other, utterly baffled.