The air beneath a temple of a town in the Fran Kingdom didn't smell like divinity. It smelled of cold, damp stone, ancient dust, and the metallic tang of hidden iron. Evo walked several paces behind Kiel, his shadow stretching thin against the rhythmic flicker of the wall-mounted torches.
He looked down at his palms. They were steady. Too steady.
"I should feel like a monster, E," Evo whispered, his voice barely a breath.
"I watched Kiel crush a living thing under his boot, and I felt nothing but the warmth of the power it gave me. My memories are gone, but I'm certain a person is supposed to feel... something. Guilt. Horror. Even a flicker of hesitation. But it's all a haze, like I'm watching a play from the back of a dark theater."
[The 'why' is a variable you do not need,] the mechanical voice resonated within his skull.
[Your psyche is currently optimized for the E-System. You are simply the best person fitted for this kind of thing.]
"Is that a compliment or a diagnosis?" Evo asked, a cynical edge to his tone. He watched Kiel's back—the stiff, robotic gait of a man whose soul had been overwritten.
"If the world is a farm and I'm the leak in the economy, then why wait? Look at these halls. I could have Kiel strike down every acolyte we pass. If I Link every soul in this town, I could walk out the front gates as a king tonight."
[An inefficient strategy,] E countered.
[The Link is a whisper—a quiet change in the fundamental definitions of a single vessel. In a world governed by the Goddess's scripts, a few missing souls are rounding errors. But thousands of whispers eventually become a collective shout.]
"And you said she's listening for shouts," Evo mused.
[Correct. If you shout now, the Goddess will detect the anomaly. She will see the void in her recycling system where the experience should be, and she will crush the vessel—you—to reclaim the lost power. You must hold back until you reach the Capital. You should only shout when it is time to control this entire kingdom by taking its Queen. She is a nexus. To take her is to take the land that can protect you against her.]
"One big shout instead of a thousand small ones," Evo murmured. "Fine. Let's go see this 'Sister' and her harvest."
<<----------->>
The Lower Sanctum was a masterpiece of clinical cruelty. The walls were made of blinding white stone that seemed to glow with an internal, artificial light. In the center of the room, six stone slabs were arranged in a circle. On them lay the orphans—small, "Blank" children from the borderlands, their breathing slow and heavy, drugged into a deep, dreamless stupor by the Temple's acolytes.
Sister Martha stood over them, her white silk robes shimmering. Above her head, the gold script of the Kingdom's Blessing hung like a crown: [Sister Martha - Level 30].
Evo remained in the shadows of the arched doorway, watching through Kiel's eyes while his own physical body leaned against the cold exterior wall.
She is a dangerous masterpiece, Evo thought. Every movement is a seductive grace that masks the rot of this kingdom. To Link a mind like hers... she would cost more Stars than I have prepared. She is a weight that would break a lesser vessel.
[A logical assessment,] E replied.
[Her will is reinforced by her level and her faith. However, the cost of a Link is not fixed. It is a calculation of resistance. To weaken a person's subconscious or will through intense shock makes it easier to alter their reality.]
"You want me to break her before I Link her," Evo noted.
[Correct. By shattering her expectations and her sense of safety, you reduce the cost of the transition. You are not just commanding her; you are redefining her truth while she is in a state of psychic collapse. A broken shield requires less energy to bypass.]
Evo felt a cold surge of Evanescence in his chest. "Kiel, go to her. Let the performance begin."
<<----------->>
Kiel stepped into the light of the Sanctum. Martha turned, her sharp, beautiful smile widening as she saw the guard.
"Ah, Kiel. You're just in time," she purred, her voice a low, melodic hum that seemed to vibrate in the sterile air. She reached into the folds of her silk robes and pulled out a ritual dagger, its blade carved from a single piece of obsidian. "The children are prepared. Their potential is pure, unscripted by the Church's baptism. Think of it, Kiel—pure experience, free for the taking. No recycling to the land. Just... growth."
She held the dagger out, handle-first. "Do it. I want to watch the moment the power leaves them."
Kiel took the dagger. His fingers closed around the hilt with robotic precision. He turned toward the first child, a small girl with tangled hair.
Then, with a sudden, violent twist, Kiel lunged.
He didn't strike the child. He drove the obsidian blade toward Martha's throat.
"What—?!" Martha shrieked.
The Level 30 priestess was caught off guard, but her reflexes were honed by years of "harvesting." A flash of gold light erupted from her skin—a Holy Shield, a manifestation of her abilities. The dagger skittered off the shimmering barrier, leaving a trail of sparks.
"Kiel? You dog!" Martha's face contorted, the mask of beauty shattering into a snarl of pure rage. "You dare? I gave you everything! I shared the harvest with you!"
Kiel didn't answer. He couldn't. He lunged again, a Level 15 guard throwing himself against a Level 30 wall. Martha raised her hand, her palm glowing with a blinding, incandescent heat.
"Burn," she hissed.
A pillar of holy fire engulfed Kiel. He didn't scream—Evo had suppressed his vocal cords—but the smell of searing flesh filled the room. Even as his body blackened, Kiel pushed forward, trying to reach her.
The shock on Martha's face was profound. Her loyal pet, her tool, was trying to murder her with a blank, mindless intensity she couldn't comprehend. Her mental composure fractured. She wasn't just fighting a guard; she was fighting a reality that no longer made sense.
Finally, with a scream of frustration, Martha unleashed a wave of kinetic force. Kiel was slammed against the white stone wall, his ribcage collapsing with a sickening crunch.
As the light faded from Kiel's eyes, the "Recycling" began. The Kingdom's system reached for his power to return it to the land.
Not today, Evo thought.
He reached through the Link at the moment of Kiel's death. He intercepted the transition, pulling the raw energy of Kiel's Level 15 soul directly into his own chest. The heat was immense.
[Experience acquired from Pawn death. Converting to Evanescence...] [Conversion successful. 5 Stars of Evanescence gained.]
Evo stepped out from the shadows into the light of the Sanctum.
Martha was panting, her golden script flickering wildly above her head. She stared at Kiel's charred corpse, her eyes wide with terror and confusion.
"How... why did he..."
"Because he wasn't yours anymore," Evo said softly.
Martha spun around, her hand rising to strike, but her mind was already a ruin of shattered expectations. She looked at Evo—a Level 2 peasant.
"You," she gasped.
"Me," Evo replied. He didn't shout. He whispered. He took every Star of Evanescence he had just harvested from Kiel's death and poured it into a single thread of energy. He didn't try to overwrite her entirely; he didn't have the power for a total wipe according to E's estimates.
Instead, he performed a Subversion. He slipped into the cracks of her broken composure and rewrote the definition of her devotion.
[Link established: Subversion Protocol. Success Rate: 48%. Results: Partial.]
Martha fell to her knees. The obsidian dagger clattered to the floor. She gripped her head, her silk robes rustling against the stone. For a moment, her eyes remained sharp, her intellect intact, but the context of her world shifted.
She looked up at Evo. The rage was gone. The confusion was gone. In its place was an intense, almost frighteningly lustful devotion. She didn't see a prisoner; she saw her only Truth.
"My Lord," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I didn't understand. I see now. The harvest... it was all for you."
Evo looked down at his new 'Pawn.' She wasn't a robot like Kiel. She had her autonomy, her sharp mind, and her Level 30 power—but her reality was now tethered to his existence.
I see, my control over this ability is still quite low.
"Stand up," Evo commanded. "We're leaving."
As she rose, brushing the dust from her silk, a sharp, clinical notification popped up in Evo's vision, overriding the golden scripts of the room.
[Notice: First Objective Issued.] [Objective: Reach the Capital of the Fran Kingdom. Control the Queen.]