Chapter 115 - Who Was He Waiting For?

Rook did not remember how to speak.

This was unsurprising.

He had been a dog.

Etzel still found it inconvenient.

The preserved echo sat beside the central stone in the Soul Realm.

Sometimes it looked vaguely canine.

Sometimes it was only light.

Saeva had placed the stick beside it.

Apparently physical objects could not enter the Realm, but objects she had already claimed there obeyed rules Etzel had stopped pretending to understand.

“Rook.”

The echo moved.

Barely.

“Edran.”

Nothing.

Etzel tried again.

“Edran Vale.”

Nothing.

Saeva leaned toward the echo.

“Food.”

Nothing.

“Stick.”

Nothing.

“Etzel stupid.”

The echo flickered.

Etzel slowly turned.

Saeva looked delighted.

“That proves nothing.”

Orsik arrived.

Rook’s echo surged.

All humor vanished.

The pale shape rose from the stone.

Not manifested.

Not truly standing.

But the reaction was unmistakable.

It leaned toward Orsik.

Etzel stared.

Orsik stared back.

“I have never met him.”

“Apparently he likes you.”

“I have never met him.”

“Dog knows.”

Etzel looked at Saeva.

“That sentence is significantly more ominous than you intended.”

Rook’s echo pulsed again.

Etzel moved between it and Orsik.

The reaction weakened.

He moved away.

Stronger.

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Interesting.

“Do nothing.”

Orsik folded his arms.

“I was doing nothing.”

“Continue expertly.”

Etzel watched.

No memory arrived.

No vision.

No ancient battlefield.

Good.

After the resonance incident, he had no desire to fall into anybody else’s history.

Witness produced nothing.

Also good.

No flaw.

No exploit.

Just a mystery.

Etzel focused on what actually changed.

Distance from Orsik.

Position.

Soul Link pressure.

He asked Orsik to suppress his combat presence as much as possible.

No difference.

Armor off.

No difference.

Greatblade removed.

No difference.

Then Orsik withdrew partly from the active Soul Link.

Not severing it.

Reducing the surface resonance.

Rook dimmed.

Etzel’s pulse jumped.

“Again.”

Orsik restored the normal bond expression.

Rook brightened.

Saeva clapped.

“Dog knows.”

Etzel ignored her.

“He’s not reacting to you.”

Orsik looked down at the echo.

“The bond.”

“Yes.”

Something about Orsik’s connection to Etzel resembled something Rook remembered.

Not the same.

Close enough.

Etzel opened the Authority archive.

Edran Vale.

The record was terrible.

Early Rupture documentation had been assembled while cities were still losing power, transformed animals were multiplying, and nobody agreed on System terminology.

Edran had awakened during the first month.

Rank uncertain.

Level unknown.

Ability classification missing.

Several field reports called him a tracker.

Another used the phrase spirit-linked responder.

Etzel stopped.

“There.”

Orsik leaned closer.

The attached report was written by a medic.

SUBJECT DEMONSTRATED PERSISTENT SPIRITUAL LINKAGE WITH TRAINED ANIMAL.

Linkage remained functional despite visual separation.

Animal appeared responsive to non-verbal directional cues.

Range unknown.

System basis unknown.

Etzel read it twice.

“He was bonded.”

“Like us?” Orsik asked.

Etzel looked at Rook.

“No.”

He could feel the difference.

Rook’s unresolved bond was thinner.

Simpler.

It lacked the architecture of Limited Necromancer.

No Soul Realm.

No preservation structure.

Probably no summoning.

“But close enough that the soul remembers.”

That widened the world again.

Etzel disliked when the world did that without permission.

Soul bonds were not unique to Limited Necromancer.

Maybe his ability was an extreme form of a broader law.

Maybe Ancient Trees had always been handing out fragments of systems humanity barely understood.

Maybe Edran’s ability had created a partnership instead of ownership.

Etzel preferred that word.

Partnership.

He searched for Edran’s death record.

Nothing.

Missing-person record.

Yes.

Final confirmed sighting: Rupture Year One.

Location: Kestrel Exclusion Belt.

Hundreds of kilometers away.

Etzel opened the map.

The modern designation appeared in red.

HIGH-THREAT WILD ZONE.

ENTRY RESTRICTED.

Saeva pointed.

“Find.”

“No.”

She blinked.

“Find.”

“He disappeared seven years ago.”

“Find.”

“That zone currently contains things capable of turning me into educational material.”

Saeva frowned.

Orsik said, “Accurate.”

Etzel appreciated the support.

Then Rook’s echo moved.

All three turned.

The pale shape rotated toward the dark edge of the Foundation.

Not toward the archive.

Not toward Orsik.

A direction.

Etzel felt the unresolved thread tighten.

Once.

Then again.

The System appeared.

Etzel stopped breathing.

Orsik’s expression hardened.

“Alive?”

“I don’t know.”

Saeva pointed into the darkness.

“Find.”

Etzel ignored her with difficulty.

The bond could be responding to a place.

A surviving object.

Residual soul matter.

Another echo.

Or a living person.

He refused to choose the most exciting answer because it was exciting.

“Can you determine terminus status?”

The System waited.

Then:

Etzel laughed once.

Orsik looked at him.

“What?”

“The System has developed a sense of humor.”

Saeva sat beside Rook.

“Find.”

Etzel looked at the red zone on the map.

Seven-year-old trail.

Unknown bond.

A missing early Hunter.

And a Level Twenty Necromancer who had recently learned that not every mystery required immediate personal injury.

Etzel tried the name Edran again after reading the reports aloud. This time Rook’s echo did react, but weakly and only after Orsik’s Soul Link was active nearby.

That distinction mattered. The name alone was not enough. The old bond pattern plus the name produced a response.

Etzel wrote it down rather than celebrating. “Association,” he said. “Not memory.”

Saeva frowned. “Edran.”

Rook flickered.

“See?”

“I see something. I don’t know what.”

Orsik nodded. Etzel appreciated that nobody tried to turn uncertainty into revelation. Mysteries became dangerous when people loved answers more than evidence.

He closed the map.

“Not yet.”

Rook’s echo remained pointed toward the dark.

Waiting.