Chapter 115 – Continuity Error (3)
(Erynd)
I waited outside the medical room while Halden worked.
The Jarl of Medical—technically "Jarl of Biological Systems and Emergency Response," but everyone just called him Halden—had taken over Yue's care the moment she'd stabilized enough to move.
He was older than most of the Jarls. Mid-forties, maybe. Grey threading through his dark hair. Lines around his eyes from years of seeing things that required fixing.
He'd been a battlefield medic once, back during one of the border skirmishes the Empire liked to pretend hadn't happened.
Now he ran Yggdrasil's medical division with the same calm efficiency he'd probably used to triage dying soldiers.
I trusted him.
Which was good, because I was exhausted.
Twelve hours of surgery.
Twelve hours of holding a body together with mana and hope while Ethan cackled about "biological engineering" and Noelle prayed herself hoarse.
My hands still smelled like blood and preservative solution.
My back ached from hunching over the surgical table.
My brain felt like someone had taken it out, wrung it dry, and stuffed it back in slightly crooked.
Melody floated beside me, looking far too amused for someone who'd watched the entire process.
"You know," she said, "most people would take a break after performing medical miracles. Maybe sleep. Eat. Basic human maintenance."
"I'll sleep when I'm dead," I muttered.
"You've been dead. Multiple times. It didn't help."
I didn't dignify that with a response.
The door opened.
Halden stepped out, pulling off surgical gloves with practiced precision.
His expression was... complicated.
"Well?" I asked.
He sighed.
"Ethan's report was correct," he said. "Which is both impressive and terrifying. The Neo-Body Necrosis diagnosis, the organ replacement protocol, the blood type matching—all of it checks out. That boy is either a genius or completely insane."
"Both," I said. "Definitely both."
"Right now," Halden continued, "her soul appears stable in the neo-body. All biological systems are functioning within acceptable parameters. The healing magic integration is holding. She's alive, conscious, and remarkably coherent for someone who was literally rotting twelve hours ago."
He paused.
"But I have questions."
"I assumed you would."
He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall.
"Why did her body reject the shell in the first place?" he asked. "I understand the mechanical failures—missing organs, wrong blood type, sloppy construction. But the soul rejection? That's not standard. Souls are adaptable. They're supposed to inhabit whatever body they're anchored to. So why did this one start fighting?"
I considered how much to explain.
How much theory to expose.
How many cards to lay on the table.
"Halden," I said. "Where is the soul located? In the body, I mean."
He blinked at the question.
"The heart," he said automatically. "Everyone knows that. The soul resides in the heart. That's why heart death is considered true death—it severs the soul's anchor."
"And what about the mind?" I asked.
"The mind is... separate. It's housed in the brain, obviously. Consciousness, memory, thought. But the soul is the heart. That's basic theology."
"Is it?" I asked.
His eyes narrowed.
"My Lord, are you about to tell me something that contradicts centuries of religious doctrine?"
"Probably," I admitted. "The soul isn't just in the heart. It's also in the mind. The heart is the anchor—the physical tether that keeps the soul bound to the body. But the identity—the pattern, the consciousness, the thing that makes you you—that's distributed. Heart and mind. Body and thought."
I could see him processing.
"So if you transplant a heart—"
"The soul follows because the mind recognizes the body," I finished. "The pattern stays coherent. But if you build a new body—one that doesn't match the original template closely enough—the mind gets confused. The soul tries to inhabit it, but the mismatch creates dissonance. And eventually, rejection."
Halden was quiet for a moment.
"That's..." He stopped. Started again. "That's terrifying. You're saying a person's soul is just a pattern? That it can be confused? Tricked into inhabiting the wrong vessel?"
"Not tricked," I said. "But yes, confused. The soul adapts to viable bodies. But if the body is too wrong—if it lacks fundamental structures or has incompatible biology—the soul recognizes the mismatch and starts fighting. That's what we saw with Yue. Her soul was trying to inhabit a shell that was fundamentally broken. And the longer it tried, the worse the rejection became."
"Until it rotted," Halden said quietly.
"Until it rotted," I confirmed.
He ran a hand through his hair.
"Gods. No wonder she was dying. Her own soul was killing her."
"Not intentionally," I said. "Just... incompatibility. Like transplanting an organ without checking blood type. The body fights because it doesn't recognize the intrusion as safe."
Halden nodded slowly.
"That makes sense. Horrifying, but sense." He paused. "There's one more thing. Physical changes."
"What kind of changes?"
"Her hair," he said. "It's lighter now. More golden than the ash-blonde it was when she came in. And freckles. She didn't have freckles before—I checked the initial examination notes. Now she has them. Scattered across her nose and cheeks."
I frowned.
"Genetic expression correcting itself," I said slowly. "The neo-body was constructed to look like her original body. Or what the constructor thought her original body should look like. But now that we've fixed the underlying biology, made it stable and viable, the body is defaulting to its initial state. The genetic template the constructor used."
"So she's... becoming who she was supposed to be?" Halden asked.
"Or who whoever made her wanted her to be," I said. "Hard to tell without knowing their intent. But yes. The body is correcting. Adjusting. Finding its natural equilibrium now that it's not actively dying."
Halden absorbed that.
"This is going to require extensive documentation," he muttered. "If this ever happens again—"
"It won't," I said firmly. "Neo-human construction is illegal for exactly these reasons. Whoever made Yue's shell was either desperate, stupid, or both. We're not going to see another case like this."
"You hope," Halden said.
"I hope," I agreed.
He pushed off the wall.
"She's resting now. Stable. I'll keep monitoring for the next week, but barring any unexpected complications, she should be fine. Better than fine. She's technically got a brand-new body. No accumulated damage, no old injuries, no wear. She's healthier now than she probably was before the transfer."
"Good," I said. "Thank you, Halden."
"Don't thank me. You and Ethan did the impossible. I just cleaned up afterward."
He headed back into the medical wing.
I stood there for a moment longer.
Twelve hours.
One life saved.
One impossible surgery completed.
And I still didn't fully understand what I'd just fixed.
Melody drifted closer.
"You're thinking too hard," she observed.
"I'm thinking the right amount," I said. "This whole situation is wrong. Neo-human construction. Soul transfer. Someone built a body, shoved a soul into it, and hoped it would work. That's not science. That's not magic. That's just... hubris."
"Sounds familiar," she said dryly.
I shot her a look.
She smiled.
"Come on, Master. You've been awake for thirty-six hours. Sleep. Before you fall over and I have to drag you to a bed."
"I'm fine."
"You're swaying."
I stopped swaying.
"I have things to do."
"You have a meeting in eight hours. You can sleep for six and still have time to look presentable."
She had a point.
I hated when she had points.
"Fine," I muttered. "Six hours. But if anything explodes—"
"I'll wake you," she promised. "Now go. Before Julia finds you and decides you need 'rest' her way."
That threat was effective.
I headed for my quarters.
Behind me, the medical wing hummed with quiet efficiency.
One crisis resolved.
Dozens more waiting.
But for now—for six hours—I could pretend none of them existed.
***
Three days later, Noelle arrived with Goldwynn.
I was in the underground medical bay—reviewing Halden's latest reports, making sure Yue's stabilization was holding—when they walked in.
Noelle first, hands clasped nervously.
Then Goldwynn.
I stopped mid-sentence.
Stared.
She looked... good.
Better than anyone who'd been in a coma for three years had any right to look.
Still thin—too thin, really, the kind of gaunt that came from muscles atrophying and body weight dropping—but her skin had color. Her eyes were clear. She moved with purpose instead of the fragile shuffle I'd expected.
"Master," Noelle said softly. "Goldwynn wanted to see Yue. To... to talk. If that's okay?"
I glanced at Halden.
He nodded.
"She's stable enough for visitors," he said. "Just keep it calm. No excitement. Her body is still adjusting."
Goldwynn didn't wait for further permission.
She walked straight to the bed where Yue lay propped against pillows.
Yue's eyes went wide.
"You're—" she started. "You're awake."
Goldwynn stopped at the bedside.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Just stared at each other.
Two women. One body between them.
Then Noelle's voice, soft and wondering:
"Wow. You look like sisters."
She wasn't wrong.
Now that they were both conscious, both present, the resemblance was striking.
Same height—both shorter than Noelle, maybe 155 centimeters.
Same ash-blonde hair with hints of brown, though Goldwynn's was longer.
Same freckles scattered across pale skin.
Same pinkish eyes—rare enough that seeing one person with them was unusual, two was almost unheard of.
If you didn't know their history, you'd assume family.
Close family.
Goldwynn raised her hand.
For a heartbeat, I thought she was going to slap Yue.
Her fingers trembled.
Then she placed her palm against Yue's cheek.
The other hand against Yue's forehead.
"Please," Goldwynn said quietly. "Let me have all the years you stole. Let us link again."
Yue's face crumpled.
"I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm so sorry. I didn't—I never wanted—I was just trying to survive—"
"I know," Goldwynn said. "I felt it. The fear. The desperation. The body falling apart and not understanding why. I know."
She leaned closer.
"So link with me now. Share it. All of it. Don't hide anymore."
Yue nodded, tears streaming.
She pressed her own hands over Goldwynn's.
And then—
Something shifted.
Not visible.
Not loud.
Just a pulse of connection that made the air feel denser for a moment.
Mana flowed between them.
Not transferring. Not fighting.
Just... sharing.
Memories. Experiences. Three years lived in two bodies simultaneously.
I watched their expressions change.
Goldwynn's anger softening into understanding.
Yue's shame easing into relief.
They weren't primary and secondary anymore.
Weren't original and copy.
Just two people who'd been forced into an impossible situation and were finally, finally finding equilibrium.
When they pulled apart, both were crying.
But it was the good kind.
The kind that came from something breaking open and letting light in.
I stepped forward.
Placed a hand on each of their heads.
They both looked up—eyes red, faces blotchy, utterly wrecked.
"You're both too short," I said.
They blinked.
"What?" Yue said.
"You're shorter than Noelle," I continued. "And she's tiny. How old are you two?"
"Nineteen," they said in unison.
I stared.
Looked at them properly.
Both were... small.
Not just short. Small.
Slight frames. Delicate features. And completely flat-chested in a way that would've made Tamara feel smug.
Ash-blonde hair—more golden on Yue now after the genetic correction, darker brown on Goldwynn.
Freckles like someone had scattered gold dust across their noses.
Pinkish eyes that caught light strangely, almost luminescent in certain angles.
Hair just long enough to brush their collarbones.
They looked like they should be in an Academy somewhere, studying basic magic, not caught in soul transfer experiments and three-year comas.
"Nineteen," I repeated. "Both of you."
"Yes," Goldwynn confirmed.
"And you—" I looked at her. "You were a mage before this happened?"
"Tier three," she said. "Almost tier four. I was working on a breakthrough when... when everything went wrong."
Tier three at nineteen.
That was... good.
Not exceptional, but solid.
Most mages didn't hit tier three until their mid-twenties.
But in the original timeline—the one I remembered from the game—Goldwynn had been tier seven by age twenty-five.
One of the most powerful mages of her generation.
And here she was.
Nineteen. Tier three. Just waking up from a three-year coma.
The timeline had shifted.
Hard.
Whatever had caused the soul transfer, whatever had broken her progression, had derailed everything.
She should have been studying at the Academy.
Should have been advancing rapidly, gathering power, becoming dangerous.
Instead, she'd been trapped in a coma while her secondary self rotted in a broken shell.
Interesting, I thought. Very interesting.
"Master?" Noelle's voice pulled me back.
I refocused.
"Right. You two." I looked at Goldwynn and Yue. "You're both staying here."
They exchanged glances.
"Staying?" Yue asked.
"Yes. You already know Yggdrasil exists. You've seen the underground, the medical facilities, the organizational structure. We can't let you leave without either joining properly or having your memories wiped. So. What do you want to pick?"
Goldwynn's eyes narrowed.
"That's not much of a choice."
"It's the only choice I'm offering," I said. "You're talented. Both of you. One body between you, two souls with overlapping experiences, and a unique perspective on magic and biology that could be useful. Stay. Learn from Ethan, Julia, Halden. Contribute. Or leave and forget everything."
Silence.
They looked at each other again.
Some wordless communication passing between them.
Then, simultaneously:
"We'll stay."
I nodded.
Patted both their heads.
They were really short.
My hand practically covered their entire skulls.
"Good," I said. "Welcome to Yggdrasil. Try not to die again. Halden hates paperwork."
Yue laughed weakly.
Goldwynn's lips twitched into something almost like a smile.
And I stood there, hand still resting on their heads, and wondered:
How does someone go from tier three to tier seven in six years while in a coma?
The answer was: they didn't.
Not naturally.
Which meant something else had happened.
Something the game hadn't explained.
Something this timeline had interrupted.
I pulled my hands back.
"Rest," I said. "Both of you. We'll start integration training next week. Until then, recover. Read. Don't blow anything up."
I turned to leave.
Stopped.
"And Goldwynn?"
She looked up.
"Yes?"
"When you're ready," I said, "I want to know exactly what you were researching when the transfer happened. Every detail. Every theory. Everything."
Her eyes sharpened.
"Why?"
"Because," I said, "I think whatever you were working on is the reason you ended up like this. And I want to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."
She held my gaze for a long moment.
Then nodded slowly.
"Alright. When I'm ready."
"Good."
I left.
Melody followed.
"Two more recruits," she observed. "Your collection grows."
"They're not collectibles," I said. "They're people."
"People you're keeping," she pointed out. "People you're integrating into your organization. People who'll probably end up devoted to you within six months."
"That's not—" I stopped. "Is it really that predictable?"
"Master, you saved both their lives. Fixed an impossible medical crisis. Offered them purpose and safety. They're going to be devoted. That's just how humans work."
I sighed.
"I'm just trying to help."
"I know," she said. "That's why it keeps happening."
We walked in silence for a moment.
Then she added:
"Also, did you notice they're both really pretty? In that 'tragic waif' way? You have a type, Master. Just saying."
"I do not have a type."
"Sure. That's why half your Jarls are beautiful women who worship you."
"Julia and Zoe are competent—"
"And beautiful."
"Tamara, Lyra, and Noelle are—"
"Beautiful."
"I hate you."
"No you don't."
She was right.
I didn't.
But I was starting to suspect my life was spiraling in directions I couldn't control.
Two more women.
Two more people I'd saved.
Two more souls who'd probably end up tangled in whatever mess I was building.
This is fine, I told myself.
The lie was getting weaker.
But I kept walking anyway.
What else could I do?