Chapter 110 – Mort Kadavre Hood

’A new life.’

Morgan said it, heart pounding, waiting for her grandfather to answer. She had only dared to propose something so bold because of one single factor: the cause of her grandfather’s death.

From what she had seen on his tombstone, he had been killed by someone — or perhaps something — whose name had been left blank.

It had struck her as strange that even within the Burial Ground, the name was concealed. As if writing it were a kind of taboo.

But why?

She had thought about it briefly and still didn’t know why. And in all honesty, after some consideration, she decided not to care about the reason.

What mattered right now was that there was a real, tangible reason for her grandfather to want life again.

However, there was one factor Morgan had not accounted for.

’How would you do such a thing?’ Mort asked, his tone carrying something almost like amusement; the kind an adult might direct at a child who declares he will be a millionaire by twenty. ’Don’t believe, granddaughter, that the one speaking to you right now is my true self. This is nothing but a residual soul. One that will disappear before long.’

’What?’ Morgan stopped in her tracks, eyes widening. ’What do you mean, disappear?’

’Dear granddaughter, how can you be so ignorant about your own Path?’ The Past King asked with disappointment, only to pause as if remembering something. ’Ah. An oversight on my part. You are not Hood by both father and mother. So you did not inherit our Origin Pool. You do not walk the Death Path.’

’What does any of that have to do with the current situation?’ Morgan was growing restless.

This plan had been weeks in the making. She had sacrificed too much just to get her hands on the Linked Artifact.

She could not accept that it had all been for nothing. She could not stomach that.

She bit her lip, her black eyes deepening, darkening, and the room around her followed. In an instant, Morgan was standing in complete darkness.

Mort continued, either indifferent to or entirely unaware of the shift.

’Everyone walking the Death Path — more precisely those on the Necromancy and Soulmancy Branches — knows that the dead can only be summoned back with the tacit consent of Vorn, the Lord of Death.’ Mort explained, his tone patient. ’However, granddaughter, the souls and bodies of any Hood member are impossible to bring back to life. Vorn himself forbade it for all who walk the Death Path.’

Morgan nearly cursed aloud.

’Do you understand now?’ He said.

But the firstborn of the Desdemona was frowning heavily, not yet ready to concede.

She tilted her head, looking closely at the picture, watching its faint glow slowly diminishing.

’What about the part where you said you would disappear soon?’

’Ah, that.’ He said. ’My soul can only be maintained inside the Burial Realm. Out here, as I am right now, the power that kept my soul anchored to this world no longer reaches me. So, before long, I will die.’

He paused, then chuckled. ’Well, I am already dead. So perhaps more accurately, I will simply lose my last anchor of this world.’

Morgan went silent at those words, finding nothing funny about them, closing her eyes in quiet exasperation mixed with disappointment and something dangerously close to despair.

Her grandfather was speaking of his final death as though it were an inconvenience.

But Morgan could not accept that.

Not after everything she and Dorian had gone through to make this work.

And at that thought, her eyes snapped open.

She arched an eyebrow, thoughts crossed her mind in quick succession, then she twisted her face in irritation at herself.

How had she not thought of this from the beginning?

She was not walking the Death Path. She walked the Shadow Path!

And Vorn was not the god who governed that Path.

’I can revive you!’ Morgan said immediately, her confidence returning. ’I won’t use the Death Path, I’ll use the Shadow Path. Vorn cannot stop me.’

’Oh, but he very well can.’ Mort interjected at once. ’With difficulty, yes. But he can. And even if by luck — ah, who am I joking, luck doesn’t exist; that goddess controls all. But even so, if by some design the Lord of Death chooses not to act, you will have earned his anger regardless.’

Mort paused. ’Is that worth it, granddaughter?’

’Don’t trouble yourself with any of that.’ Morgan said, impatient now. ’Do you want another life or not? I will make you my Shadow Clone. I will discard my First and give you the spot. Now, I cannot stay here long and I am worried about my brother. So answer quickly.’

Mort did not answer quickly.

The Past King seemed wholly unbothered, as if his own life and death carried no particular weight to him.

He didn’t even appear motivated by thoughts of vengeance against whoever had killed him.

Which was strange, because thinking about it now, Morgan realised that no one had ever actually said the King was murdered.

Everyone in the Kingdom simply knew he was dead. How, no one could say. And the Hood had never spoken of it.

Now Morgan knew the truth of it, but her grandfather’s attitude troubled her greatly.

Finally, just as her patience was about to snap entirely, Mort answered.

’So be it.’ He said it like shrug. ’How, granddaughter, would you go about it? The Shadow Path was never something I knew much about. What are its Branches beyond Summons?’

Morgan brightened immediately. The shadows creeping along the room receded, as if drawn back by something.

’No time to explain the Shadow Path’s branches. My Shadow Clone is formed from a fragment of my own soul and my shadow, mixed together with the soul of my target. I don’t have time to complete the process here, so I will need you to enter my space ring. But first..."

She took out a Tier Six Soul Straightening Potion and spread it across the picture. The translucent liquid was absorbed, steadying Mort’s soul somewhat.

Without further words, Mort agreed to enter the space ring, intrigued by the prospect of a new life, though quietly wondering how Vorn would react when the act was done.

He personally didn’t care. He had already tasted death — and far worse — in his lifetime. Nothing could surprise or move him anymore.

Nothing but, perhaps — just perhaps — seeing again the family he had sacrificed everything for.

He exhaled with quiet, unspoken thoughts, and went inside.

Morgan exhaled in relief, then reminded herself she had to be fast before Mort disappeared entirely.

With that, she left her room and headed straight for the Hall of Welcomes to find her brother.

’Cass...’ She thought, worry threading through her. She would never forgive herself if anything had happened to him.

The original plan had never included putting the Heirs in true danger. But everything had unfolded in a way that still left even Morgan confused.

She shook her head and pressed on, her pace quickening.

’Please, be safe.’

In her worry, her speed increased until she became nothing but a blur of shadows.

...

Meanwhile, outside — roughly two kilometres from the Royal Palace — eight people walked as calmly as possible through streets thronged with people.

All eight shared the same brown hair and soft green eyes, as if they were one large family.

The street they moved through — or more precisely, the zone — was a particular one, known to most as the ReadyToGo street.

It was where numerous carriages lined up in orderly rows alongside their drivers, waiting for enough passengers to fill the seats before departing.

Each carriage had a makeshift sign at its front stating the destination, the price, and the number of passengers the driver would accept before setting off.

The family of eight walked in silence through the crowd, heading directly toward a yellow-white carriage pulled by two black horses of one of the Kingdom’s rarest breeds — the Ladoum — known for their endurance and calm temperament.

The sign in front of it read: Kurppe Kingdom. Passengers: 09.

Arriving before the carriage, the eight halted, finding in front of them a rather old man — white hair, bright brown eyes — staring back at them with lazy patience.

"Hello, sir." One of the eight, a woman with a bright smile, said. "Are you Sir Aziz?"

The old man looked them over in silence, then answered three breaths later, his voice a grunt. "Indeed, it is I."

The woman smiled wider. "Ah, perfect. We are the ones who made the reservation for Kurppe Kingdom."

"Nine passengers, I was told." He raised a weathered eyebrow. "You are only eight."

"The ninth fell ill this morning." Another chimed in. "We had no choice but to leave her behind. I hope that is not a problem, sir."

The old man fell silent, seemingly weighing this, then nodded slowly. "No problem indeed. That is simply how life is." He said, rising from his seat. "Anything can happen. Now jump in, jump in. I hope you all have your identity cards ready, the guards at the Kingdom’s gate show no mercy."

"We have everything, sir."

"Then what are you waiting for?" He barked suddenly. "Jump in, lads! Jump in! The road ahead is long and treacherous, especially lately, with the tensions between our Kingdom and Kurppe."

Understanding flashed between the eight as they exchanged glances, then stepped inside one by one, each silently praying to Vorn that everything would go well.

...

Helene, in the same small room inside the Church where she had met with Cassius days earlier, looked at her phone with a faint smile.

She had just been in the middle of a confession.

Now, just a moment ago, she had received a message from the Head Maid of Hood, informing her of the sad and painful deaths of the two sisters she had left behind.

Along with that, the Head Maid had shared news of the terrorist attack and summoned her for a discussion with the King and Queen.

Helene shook her head, her smile widening.

"I think we can return now." She said, looking at the woman seated calmly in front of her. "Everything went just as planned."

"Did Morgan succeed in her task?"

"It appears so." Helene nodded. "The Head Maid spoke of a terrorist attack. Nothing regarding Morgan."

"Good news, then. And Cassius?"

"That..." the High Priestess hesitated, her black eyes clouding with worry. "I don’t know, I’m afraid. Lord Seraph wanted to handle it himself. I was not permitted to act beyond what I had already done."

The woman paused, then shook her head.

"Knowing that bastard," she said, rising to her feet and letting her deep black hair fall loose down her back, "he will certainly not die from something like this."

She smiled, her purple eyes curving like a crescent moon.

"Well, in any case, there is no point in overthinking it. We will know everything once we arrive."

Helene smiled and drew her hood back over her head.

"Shall we, then, Lady Isolde?"

Isolde’s smile deepened.

"Lead on, High Priestess."

—End of Chapter 110—