Cecilus stared up at the ledge far above him, then glanced between it and the dust elemental swirling faithfully at his side.
"So… I'm just going to shoot myself up there and hope everything goes perfectly?"
"It's excellent practice for what you'll need to do against the giant bloodcrow," the white devil replied, appearing with casual smugness. "Did you imagine a few gusts of wind from this little swirl would hurt it? You'll need momentum, force and impact."
Cecilus blinked. "Wait— You expect me to fling myself like a missile?"
"I'll explain the details on the way up."
The devil gestured to the dust elemental. "First, order your summon to launch you."
Cecilus stretched his legs under the guise of warming up but mostly to stall. Eventually, he sighed and gave the elemental its command.
A dense burst of spiraling dust exploded beneath his feet.
In the blink of an eye, Cecilus shot upward like a stone from a catapult. He soared past the ledge—briefly suspended in open air—before twisting sharply and throwing himself forward onto solid ground.
He tucked into a roll. It was nearly graceful.
Nearly.
"Gah! My ankle—!"
He clutched it while the dust elemental and white devil materialized beside him.
The devil pointed upward, grinning far too widely. "Long way to go. But before that… something far more important."
It floated closer.
"Fighting mid-air while gripping a physical sword? You'll drop it. Fracture your soul and bind it to the weapon. That way you can summon it—that blade will never leave your reach again."
Cecilus nodded, expression tight with pain.
He closed his eyes, tore a small segment from his soul, and envisioned anchoring it to the blade. A faint ripple passed through his core.
With a flick of his finger, his sword vanished, sinking into the depths of his soul world.
"Good. Let's continue."
Cecilus gazed skyward.
He hadn't climbed even a hundredth of the mountain. The peak loomed impossibly high, clouds curling like a barrier far above.
"Boost me," he ordered.
Another violent blast sent him up.
The ascent devoured the day.
He rose in leaps and bursts, resting only when his muscles trembled too hard to stand. The air grew thinner, the winds colder. By the time the sun dipped behind the ocean's curve, he found a narrow ledge and collapsed.
Cecilus lit a small fire and ate from his rations.
"We're barely halfway," he muttered. "How will we make the trip to the top and back in two days?"
"The return won't require climbing," the devil said calmly. "You will ride the crow back. Either you die at the peak… or you descend with the sky beneath you. Even if your friends leave, you will cross the ocean on wings."
"Friends," Cecilus said. "I wouldn't call them that. But I wonder... Darrin keeps insisting his son take over the ship. Why does he push so hard? What do you think?"
The devil tilted its head.
"Do you think I am a library of answers for every insignificant question you ask me?"
"It's just strange," Cecilus said. "Back in the city, Finnan was upset—really upset—about inheriting the ship. He hated the idea of taking over his father's trade."
"You assume emotional words reflect someone's entire mind." The devil's voice softened just slightly. "You are inexperienced. Hearing a person's surface-level thoughts—especially when emotional—means nothing."
Cecilus looked at him skeptically.
"So what, emotions don't matter?"
"They matter, but they lie far more often than truth does."
The devil's gaze drifted toward the fire. "Here. I'll give an example even you can follow."
It paused, then continued.
"There was once a boy who was a soul user. He lived alone with his father. Through gradual exposure to thoughts, the boy occasionally heard his father's darkest moments—moments his father never intended to share."
Cecilus listened silently.
"When his father was exhausted, or worn down, or grieving… stray thoughts would appear. Regrets. Longing for a different life. Wondering what might've been if he had not been bound to raise a child alone."
Cecilus stiffened.
"The boy assumed he was unwanted," the devil said. "Because every ugly thought felt like a truth. But that's not reality. When people are at their lowest, their minds fracture. They lash out internally toward those they love most. Most children cry over minor things, like their parents not buying them a toy. If a parent heard every anguished thought of there child, they would believe they were hated too."
The fire crackled.
"The boy's father loved him," the devil said quietly. "He devoted his life to him. No one devotes their life to something they despise."
"What happened to the boy?" Cecilus asked. "Did he ever realize his father cared?"
"Yes. After his father's death, he absorbed the man's soul. He saw the memories. Understood the truth."
"And then?"
"He died shortly after," the devil replied. "He never had much time to process it."
Cecilus stared into the fire. "That's… unfortunate. I wonder what it's like—to have parents."
He paused. "You won't tell me if mine are alive, will you?"
"I think your mother is alive," the devil said after a long silence. "But I'm not certain."
Cecilus narrowed his eyes. "So you didn't have a close relationship with my past self. Were you… an enemy?"
"Let's say I helped you when you needed it."
"And this soul collecting… it isn't just me being used as your puppet?"
"You have no choice, even if it is."
It didn't say it cruelly—just matter-of-factly.
Cecilus sighed. "What about Finnan? Do you think he actually cares for ships and the sea?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. But remove him from the waves long enough and he might long for them. People are not defined by the fleeting thoughts you hear."
Cecilus nodded slowly. "So I can't find a concrete answer."
"No," the devil said. "Not from thoughts alone."
The fire dwindled. Cecilus added more wood, then leaned against a rock and drifted into sleep.
The white devil remained.
It watched him with something almost like sadness tightening its features.
"If lacking empathy isn't enough to make you like Ramon…" the devil whispered, "then I don't know what kind of life that bastard lived. I cannot let him return."
Its voice cracked—barely audible.
"You're not strong enough. Not yet. And the loophole… I've prepared it for years. Dammit, Cecilus. I don't want to kill you. But you would take the power again. You already proved that you would before you lost your memory."
The devil vanished into the cold air.
Cecilus woke at sunrise, breath misting faintly. The temperature dropped with every upward leap. It wasn't freezing yet, but the air warned him it soon would be.
"The nest is at the peak," the devil's voice echoed in his mind. "You cannot surprise the crow. Engage directly. Your dust elemental should always be guarded. Have it boost you into the air while also slowing the crows movements. Throwing your sword might be effective as well since you can resummon it. But in order to have the greatest impact you should try to hit it while having the momentum from shooting yourself at it."
"And you're explaining this now?" Cecilus smirked. "Best time to tell you I'm scared of heights?"
"I can hear the thoughts of anxious people. There is no fear in you."
Cecilus looked away. "You still haven't answered why you make me stronger. I know the contract demands it, but why prioritize power over restoring my memories?"
He didn't speak the rest aloud:
The devil is hiding something. It knows more about me than it admits. It speaks of my past self like an enemy. But what can I do? Strength benefits me too. I'll play along—for now.
"A soul contract cannot be broken," the devil replied. "Its order is fixed. You must gain power before your memories return."
Cecilus sighed, then commanded another boost.
This time, the final blast carried him to the summit.
But instead of a craggy peak, a vast, flat plane stretched before him. At its center lay a massive nest—woven branches the size of siege towers.
Inside, a dark red crow the size of a building slept in curled, monstrous stillness.
As soon as Cecilus' boots touched the ground, the creature convulsed violently.
Then it burst.
A geyser of blood erupted outward, splattering the stones. The crow unfurled its wings, soaked crimson, feathers dripping as if freshly torn from a carcass. Its eyes burned with predatory rage.
It shrieked—a sound that rattled the clouds.
"Cecilus!" the devil shouted from above, its voice sharp. "The crow grows stronger the more it bleeds! Engage now!"
Cecilus summoned the dust elemental behind him. The earth trembled as he ran across the plateau.
His sword materialized into his grasp in a flash of soul light.
The fight against the giant bird had begun.