Chapter 150.1

The first thing Turan encountered upon entering the Jewel Box was the librarian, who was using the space near the entrance as a library.

An old spirit who, since the establishment of House Parsha, had been deeply immersed in absorbing new knowledge through various ancient books from the Gray Zone.

He spoke curtly to Turan, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Did you bring another one to torture?”

“If the conversation goes well, there might be no need for torture.”

“Just don’t make too much noise.”

Though he spoke that way, the librarian had once silently encouraged Turan when he had been frustrated after failing to extract information from Cadrum.

At this, Turan gave a sheepish smile and bowed his head.

After passing through the section with the library, and walking past the prison where Cadrum, still unresponsive like a corpse, was held, he finally came upon the massive cell where Reshion was confined.

“You...”

Reshion, the family head of House Varaha, had his spirit body tightly bound with long and thick gray chains.

It was a manifestation of the magical restraints once used by Varaha nobles to imprison Solif, which Turan had seized after killing them.

Looking into the still inhuman face of Reshion, Turan said,

“You don’t even have a mouth. How are you speaking?”

"Is that what you're most curious about?"

"I have many other questions too. But right now, that’s what I’m most curious about. What exactly are you?”

“Reshion Varaha. The family head of House Varaha. Or rather, I was. Now I’m dead and merely a wraith.”

At Reshion’s self-deprecating words, Turan let out a brief laugh, then hardened his expression.

Even in his this state, Turan’s face looked somewhat grim when he wasn’t smiling. Now, with the spirit’s sharp vertical pupils and aggressive features, he looked even more brutal.

“First, let me make one thing clear. I know you people have a technique where you fake unconsciousness by giving up awareness.”

“So what?”

“The moment you try to use that to get out of this, I will shred your soul into pieces so finely that no method can ever restore it. That’s advice for your sake. If you’re waiting for your comrades to come save you, don’t even bother.”

Souls are supposed to be immortal.

That’s what the Soul Magic Book teaches, and while it is true, it’s also false at the same time.

A true soul, the True Self, consists of a spirit body that cannot be erased by any means, but it can still be shaken and disturbed in countless ways.

In other words, even if Turan decided to rip Reshion’s spirit body into fragments smaller than soul shards, it would still be Reshion.

But a spirit body that can no longer think like the original self, bearing only the name, would hold no meaning.

Unfortunately, it was hard to tell whether Reshion felt fear from those words.

Since both were spirit bodies, it was difficult to read emotions through scent, and his overly alien facial structures made visual analysis equally hard, unlike with humans.

Fortunately, Reshion’s response a moment later was positive.

“...If I cooperate, what do I get? An eternal life sentence in this prison as a soul?”

“I’m not sure if existence as a soul can be called life, but depending on the value of the information you provide, I can guarantee better treatment.”

As he said this, Turan lightly snapped his fingers, and the environment inside the prison instantly changed.

A warmly blazing fireplace, a cozy armchair, a wall filled with bookshelves and well-bound books, grilled cod glazed with honey, and steamed pork so tender that the meat fell off the bone by itself.

As the master of the Jewel Box, Turan could reproduce objects he had experienced firsthand in this way.

“A life of living in comfort, eating delicious food, and enjoying entertaining things. You could say it’s a rather materialistic kind of pleasure... but it’s better than being shredded to pieces and killed or trapped in an empty prison forever, right? Though I’m not sure if you can even eat with that mouth.”

When he snapped his fingers again, everything from moments earlier disappeared as if it had been an illusion, and the space returned to its cold prison state.

Clearly, nothing had changed from just a moment ago, yet perhaps because the heat of the warmly burning fireplace had vanished, the air inside felt far colder than before.

“And, though this is truly a worst-case scenario, if the battle out there turns against us, we might temporarily release you. As part of our combat strength, I mean.”

According to past experience, while there were individual differences among the god's possession vessels, even when they possessed the bodies of moderately ranked mid-tier nobles, they exhibited powers several levels stronger than their hosts.

If it was Reshion, who had once held the position of family head of House Varaha, he would be at least as powerful, if not more.

In an emergency, he could certainly be used as part of their fighting force.

Of course, the body he would possess would essentially have its personality obliterated, so they would have to select from among the most heinous of criminals...

If the situation became truly dire, conscripting Reshion in that manner could be an option.

“Of course, for that to happen, there’s a lot you need to tell me first. Like how to create a soul base, or how to enter the base located here in Varaha...”

“You haven’t found it yet?”

“I’ve just entered the Temple of the Sun.”

In reality, after entering the Temple of the Sun, Turan had scoured it until nightfall and still found no trace. But he feigned confidence.

He assumed Reshion wouldn’t be able to perceive the passage of time very sensitively within this prison anyway.

After a moment of silence, Reshion spoke in a low voice.

“Very well. However, I expect you to keep your promise. Just as I respect you, I hope you will respect me in return. Turan Parsha.”

Perhaps because he now considered himself part of a deal, Reshion, who had just been speaking in a blunt tone, reverted to his original, refined way of speaking.

At that repulsive display of calmly putting on a mask, Turan nodded with an expression devoid of amusement.

“Fine. Then let me start with this. What are you? Why does your spirit body look so different from a human?”

“The price of that question?”

Instead of responding to the counter-question, Turan lightly snapped his fingers, tightening the chains.

With a cracking sound and a suppressed groan, the prison echoed.

“Trying tricks from the start, are you? You seem to be mistaken, this isn’t a trade for information. It’s an investigation of a prisoner’s identity.”

"Ugh......your hand is, quite heavy."