I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 623: The Soul Realm

Jack sat on the throne of Floor Twenty-Five, the cool stone offering a final anchor to the physical world before he departed for a realm that existed beyond normal reality.

The Dark Prism Crystal rested in his palm.

It was small, roughly the size of his thumbnail.

Black as obsidian but with an internal structure that caught light in ways glass never could. Faceted surfaces that seemed to shift and realign depending on the angle, creating patterns that his eyes couldn’t quite track.

The System notification had been clear about the requirement.

[Dark Prism Crystal from Umbral Lotus required inside your body for astral projection to the Warden Realm]

Jack examined the crystal for another moment, turning it between his fingers as he considered the mechanics. How exactly did one get a crystal safely inside their body?

Swallow it like a pill and hope it didn’t tear something vital on the way down?

Cut himself open and insert it surgically?

’The System wouldn’t require something impossible,’ Jack reasoned. ’If it says the crystal needs to be inside me, there must be a method that doesn’t involve catastrophic internal bleeding.’

He placed the crystal on his tongue.

The sensation was unexpected. The crystal no longer felt solid. The hard edges that had pressed against his fingers moments ago softened, becoming almost liquid.

Not melting exactly, but transforming into something his body could process.

Jack swallowed, and the crystal slid down his throat with surprising ease, smooth and cool like drinking water that had been stored in a cellar.

There was no discomfort or pain, just the odd sensation of something foreign traveling through his esophagus and settling somewhere in his chest.

Then warmth bloomed, but it wasn’t a burning intensity of fire magic or the electrical charge of lightning.

It was a pleasant warmth that spread from his chest outward, flowing through his torso like heated honey being poured into a container.

The crystal had dissolved completely, its essence dispersing through his body and settling into his tissues.

He could feel it there, present in ways that transcended simple physical sensation. As if part of his soul had been marked, tagged with something that would allow passage to places normally forbidden.

[Requirement met: Dark Prism Crystal integrated]

[Gray Key activation now possible]

[Warning: Astral projection will separate consciousness from physical form. The body will remain vulnerable during the absence. Ensure a secure location before proceeding.]

Jack glanced around the throne room.

Empty except for him.

The massive doors were closed. The castle’s defenses would prevent intrusion from anything short of a full-scale invasion.

He reached into his system storage and withdrew the Gray Key.

The metal felt cool against his palm, its surface covered in engravings that seemed to pulse faintly now that the crystal had been integrated into his body.

Jack pressed the key against his chest, directly over his heart.

The sensation was identical to the first time he’d attempted this.

His flesh parted like water, opening without resistance to allow the key passage. The metal slid through skin and muscle and bone, phasing past physical barriers that should have been solid.

Then it settled. The key had entered his soul directly, bypassing the material world entirely.

Warmth pulsed from the insertion point, spreading through his chest in rhythm with his heartbeat as if the key belonged there, as if his soul had been designed specifically to house this artifact.

Jack turned the key, and reality tore apart.

The throne room didn’t fade or dissolve.

One moment, he sat on a stone that had supported Soul Wardens for millennia, and the next, he stood on obsidian that had never known warmth.

The transition was violent, disorienting, like being ripped from one world and thrown into another without warning or preparation.

Jack’s boots touched down on black glass that stretched in every direction, perfectly smooth and reflective enough to show his face staring back at him from below.

The sky above was wrong, not dark like night, but absent of light in ways that transcended simple darkness. N

The environment was devoid of any celestial or artificial illumination.

The air tasted stale, like breathing in a tomb sealed for centuries, only now cracked open to admit oxygen that immediately corrupted itself as it mixed with whatever had been trapped inside.

’This is the Soul Realm, ’ Jack thought, his hand instinctively moving toward where Oscar should be strapped to his back.

His fingers found nothing.

The artifact that had become an extension of his combat style didn’t exist here.

Jack’s jaw tightened as he reached for his system storage.

But there wasn’t anything there as if nothing had ever been stored there in the first place.

’Everything stayed with my body,’ Jack realized. ’Weapons, consumables, equipment. All of it remained on the throne with my physical form.’

He looked down at himself. The clothes remained: dark pants, boots, the shirt he’d been wearing. But the Mask of the Soul Warden was absent from his face. The Chain that usually hung around his arm had vanished.

Even the artifacts bound to his position couldn’t cross into this realm.

’Because this is spiritual space,’ Jack reasoned. ’My body sits on Floor Twenty-Five. This is just my consciousness, my soul, transported to a place that exists outside normal reality.’

The realization should have been unsettling. Being stripped of every tool and weapon he’d accumulated, reduced to nothing except whatever power existed within his soul itself.

But Jack felt calm. Focused even.

If this realm wanted to see what he was without external assistance, he’d show it.

Movement caught his attention. A figure approaching from the obsidian wasteland ahead, walking with steady purpose across the reflective surface.

The individual initially presented as unremarkable. Of average stature, approximately five feet ten inches, with a lean physique and an underlying strength.

Dark hair cut short. Features that would be unremarkable in any crowd. Nothing that would make him stand out.

But his eyes were different.

They glowed faintly, a dim light that pulsed in rhythm with something Jack couldn’t identify.

Not bright enough to illuminate the surrounding darkness, but present enough to be impossible to ignore.

The glow showed weariness, exhaustion that had settled so deep it had become fundamental to his existence.

He wore robes that might once have been impressive. Dark fabric that had probably been rich and well-maintained centuries ago. Now they were tattered, with edges frayed and material showing signs of wear.

The man stopped ten paces from Jack, his glowing eyes tracking across Jack’s form with an assessment that felt clinical.

The examination of someone who’d seen countless others stand where Jack now stood and knew exactly what to look for.

”Another one,” the man said finally, his voice carrying across the stillness with perfect clarity despite speaking barely above conversational volume.

”They keep sending people to claim Malakai’s legacy, and every time I wonder if this will finally be the one who doesn’t disappoint me.”

His tone suggested he expected disappointment.

Jack met the glowing gaze without flinching. ”And who are you to judge?”

”Kael.” The name dropped into the space between them like a stone into still water. ”I was the Soul Warden who came after Malakai. The one who inherited his throne and domain and spent two hundred fifty years trying to understand what he’d built.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. ”When did Malakai disappear?”

”Over seven thousand years ago,” Kael replied, his expression unchanging. ”By the time I claimed the position, he’d already become a legend. A story that previous Wardens told to inspire or intimidate, depending on their temperament.”