Awakened: SSS Ranked Soul king

Bam

Bom

Bum

The sound of a partially blunt surface hitting against a fleshy conglomeration of vines resounded in the dark. Vine juices splattered in the air as a young man smashed against the core of a big tree sprawled on the ground like a lifeless body.

[You have slain Mythic Wane-Tree (High-Lord)]

[+2500 gene points]

He had long since killed this thing, but for some reason he found himself relieved by pummeling it into the ground. This monster had caused him a lot of pain—a dislocated leg, lacerations all over his body, a foggy mind, and exhaustion like no other.

It stressed him out, and killing it—body and soul—would be the only thing to grant him relief at this point.

Thankfully, after killing it thoroughly, he was finally able to relax as he fell to the ground in exhaustion and bliss. Killing this thing gave him not only gene points but bliss.

However, nothing filled him with as much joy and relief as he felt looking at the system screen in front.

[You have received an echo]

He had attacked this thing knowing full well that it might not end up well for him. This thing was clearly out of their league, having staved off the attacks of the fog. He even lost his sacred sword, which had been amped to the max against this vicious thing!! It could, in all honesty, very well have killed him. However, it paid off in the end.

His risk had paid off.

"A mythic echo, huh? Nice," he smiled and swiped to see his new echo.

[Waningmoon Mind-Root Charm – Mythic (High-Lord)]

[Description: The King of Souls besieged a descendant of the great calamities of the Raven's Keep, destroyed its very heart, and received its powers—the power of forgetfulness.]

[Effect: This charm gives the user the ability to control his general perception of a given target—5 minutes cooldown.]

"Ohh, a charm?" Guilliman frowned. These were a special type of echo that granted passive effects affecting not just the slayer but those around him. In fact, if not for the fact that his gauntlet could also be used in direct attacks, he would classify it as a charm too.

He couldn't lie, though; he was a bit disappointed—he was expecting something that could at least replace his destroyed sword. This was a real letdown.

However, a charm wasn't so bad… the description even sounded really nice. But before he could really invest in them….

"Hey, are you okay?" From below the carcass of the dead tree, Victoria's voice resounded as she looked at Guilliman seated atop it.

"Ehnn, could be better," Guilliman shrugged and climbed down. He was extremely exhausted; fighting two mythic beasts in such a short period of time was draining.

"Let me take a look at that leg of yours… maybe I can heal it," Victoria said as she crouched down to examine Guilliman's limping leg.

Her flames weren't just a weapon of destruction; they held a dual purpose beyond combat. While they could incinerate enemies and reduce obstacles to ash, they also possessed the remarkable ability to mend flesh wounds—knitting torn skin and sealing cuts with a warmth that soothed rather than seared.

Though her power wasn't meant for deep internal injuries, it was more than enough to accelerate natural healing and ease pain.

In his case, the injury wasn't a cut or a gash but a dislocated joint—a painful yet straightforward problem. The best course of action was to snap it back into place first, ensuring the limb was properly aligned before any attempt at using her flames.

"Hmm, did you snap it back in yourself?" Victoria asked, looking up at Guilliman with an amused expression.

Doing it yourself would be extremely painful, but she could understand why he would.

"Ehnn, sure," Guilliman smiled bitterly as his eye panned to Barthold's hulking figure slowly approaching them from a distance.

He had taken much more damage than he had in their fight with this harrowing beast, so Victoria healed him first. By all means, this kill should be his… but Guilliman would have to pay him back.

They were a team, after all.

"The others are here too," Victoria said as she looked into the distant darkness, where a bunch of silhouettes could be seen making their way down a flight of stairs toward them.

It was Jemie and the rest.

Without the pesky mythic tree meddling with their minds, butchering the plant folk had become much easier with the two cohorts joining hands.

.

.

.

"Hmmm, this place is less dangerous than I thought," Morgan smiled, looking around in the darkness.

There were a bunch of plants around, most of which were at the mutant or sacred stage.

But after the horrors they had faced over the past few weeks, these creatures felt almost underwhelming. They were still dangerous, capable of ending anyone who underestimated them—but compared to the towering monstrosities and relentless predators they had battled, they were nothing more than minor threats.

"It's for our own benefit, no?" Hamdel patted the young, unassuming man on the shoulder, sending over a bowl of vegetable soup.

"Thank you, Mr. Hamdel; we really appreciate it," Morgan said, nearly crying as he saw the bowl of fresh vegetable soup. It was great to eat something different for a change.

Especially since it wasn't made by that disaster of a chef, Victoria—they weren't really relieved at this moment any more than they had been since coming to this godforsaken forest.

"What do you think we should do? Immediately cross through the tunnels or rest a bit?" Not too far away from Morgan and Hamdel, Guilliman could be seen seated next to Victoria and the rest of the cohort members.

In front of them was a small fire burning in the dark, with a pot of vegetable soup emitting an aroma that was to die for; and not too far away, the tunnel they had been searching for all this while lay bare. It was their salvation, as the outside had become too dangerous to pass through.

"I don't quite know… if the fog comes back tonight and isn't gone, chances are without the mythic tree, it would immediately attack us.

But everyone here seems so exhausted and in need of rest; it's not like we know exactly what's in the tunnel," Victoria lamented, picking up a stalk of vegetables and placing it in her mouth.

She also couldn't lie that tasting vegetables once again was fulfilling. She also wanted to rest a bit.

It could be said that they were home free, having accomplished their goals, but now new considerations were popping up out of nowhere.

They really just wanted to rest.

"Hmmm, quite a predicament, but I don't even want to know what would happen if the fog meets us in this enclosed space," Guilliman said with a bitter look on his face. It was better to push forward; the fog was not something they could mess with. Even the mythic tree had half of its minions destroyed by the fog.

If it hadn't weakened them, Guilliman was sure killing this thing would be much harder. Leaving was the best course of action.

"Yeah… that's true, we should probably get a head start, in all honesty," Victoria said, looking up with a look of hidden fatigue burning in her eyes. She always tried to keep her cool, but he couldn't help noticing that she was but a child too—the burden of leadership was heavy.

"The light from above was already diminishing, meaning it was almost nightfall. Tell the others we are leaving now," Victoria finally said, turning to Guilliman with a bitter smile.

They needed to leave; that much was certain.

"Yes, Captain," Guilliman replied with a casual smile, saluting as he went to inform the rest that they were about to leave.

Staying here was no longer an option, so the two cohorts made their way toward the tunnels and slowly entered.

The next time they emerged, they should do so at Raven's Peak, very far away from here.

…..

As they left and night descended, so did the fog—rushing into the hall and pouring down the hole Barthold had created. It moved swiftly, almost hungrily, flowing into the underground like a tide seeking prey.

Yet the moment it reached the depths, it did not spread as expected. Instead, it halted, hovering ominously over the corpse of the mythic tree, as if drawn to it by some unseen force.

In the suffocating darkness, a new sound emerged—the sickening crunch of teeth rending flesh. Hidden within the fog, the beasts set upon the lifeless body, tearing into it with ruthless efficiency.

Their unseen maws devoured the remains, stripping it of its essence, consuming whatever power it had left. With each bite, the fog itself seemed to grow denser, as if feeding alongside them, strengthening its presence in the underground.

Thankfully, by then, the two cohorts were long gone, spared from witnessing the grim feast and becoming food themselves