Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 785

Chapter 785: Fusion Mechanics [Bonus]
[Elite Soul – Veyrin]

Type: Archer

Soul Rank: 1

Fusion Progress: 0.000 / 1000

I raised my hand.

A flood of light surged outward as I selected and summoned a hundred thousand Level 1 civilian souls. They were dim, flickering things—barely more than whispers, really—but together, they became a thunderous storm rumbling in the air.

“Let’s see if a hundred thousand nobodies can build a prince,” I murmured.

The entire storm collapsed inward in a dazzling burst of pale-blue light. The resonance was subtle but steady: no grand shockwaves, no bursts of power, but a silent, consistent force as the souls funneled into their new host.

The Codex responded.

[Fusion Progress: 0.000 → 33.333 / 1000]

I raised an eyebrow. I knew that the math was more or less in line with the previous experiment, but the fact that the souls of a large city’s worth of citizens gave only a 3% progress toward the next rank was hard to wrap my mind around.

And yet, curiosity still prodded at me.

What if a different Elite Soul had a better affinity for the fodder? Did the soul’s archetype matter at all when the source was too weak to contain a combat class?

To test it, I summoned another hundred thousand Level 1 souls—identical in level and potency—and repeated the process, targeting Eve this time. The fusion took them in just as cleanly.

[Fusion Progress: 0.2 → 33.541 / 1000]

Only a minor increase in the amount gained compared to Veyrin.

So, based on my data gleaned from my two test subjects, my findings indicated that no, there was no hidden multiplier. Any marginal benefit from affinity only activated when the source had something more to offer. For cannon fodder, it didn’t matter who the target was. Though, of course, to solidify this theory, more tests would have to be conducted once I acquired different Elite Souls.

To clear the soul clutter, I began compressing my reserves. With the same motion, I summoned all remaining Level 1 civilian souls, save for three.

The basement under Vex’s mansion lit up like I’d just set off a massive amount of fireworks all at once as over one million spirits coalesced in the air.

I placed them all into Veyrin.

[Fusion Progress: 33.333 → 371.359 / 1000]

Trillions upon trillions of tiny white particles began to drift from Veyrin’s body, rising in silence like dust caught in sunbeams. They shone with a faint light as they rose upward, spiraling toward the heavens in a slow, unending ascent.

The cleansing.

I watched them with folded arms and a small smile tugging at my lips.

Maybe Lilyanna wouldn’t have to throw a hissy fit after all. I wasn’t stealing her souls; I was doing her job for her. Picking up the slack. Processing the backlog. Expediting judgment.

Hell, I was practically a glorified garbage man. A custodian cleaning the filth from the world, soul by soul. The lionkin scum had spent their lives distributing pain and bloodshed to all unfortunate enough to come across their paths. Truth be told, they were nothing but a waste of oxygen that dragged the world down with them, as far as I was concerned. Now, even their deaths served a purpose.

“I recycle,” I murmured, watching the purified fragments fade into the sky. “Green necromancy. Environmentally friendly with a strong focus on sustainability ”

I grinned wider, still staring at the fading light. Somewhere far above, the ‘Shepherd of Rebirth’ would be receiving a large shipment of souls that was already pre-cleansed, pre-packaged, and ready to go.

“You’re welcome, Lilyanna,” I said, placing a hand over my heart and offering an exaggerated salute to the sky. “Keep the line moving, my fellow recycler. Let’s be good colleagues, you and I. And while you’re at it, think over your decision to deny me the Healer class, will you?”

“It’s time for a refill…” Vex muttered dryly as she began walking back toward her stock of lionkin blood wine—or whatever it was called. As soon as she heard my sacrilegious words aimed at the divine entity she thought to be something akin to what the Soul Records is in reality, her brain needed a break. It would take her some getting used to before she could accept it, by the look of things.

Now, why did I give Veyrin the entire stock of my weak souls? Because most of the lionkin were brutes with a warrior-esque fighting style. Meaning they should provide Eve with higher fusion efficiency. There weren’t many rangers among their ranks, thus it was better to bolster Veyrin with the mass of civilian souls.

The [Necromantic Codex] activated itself as page after page began to dissolve, the blue ink of names evaporating into nothing. It was a silent exodus of a million souls who had been quietly erased and processed.

A minute ago, my Codex had been bloated, unwieldy.

Now it was sleek. Lighter. Emptier.

Only about two hundred thousand names remained, and all of them stood apart from the rabble I had just dumped into Veyrin’s soul. These souls had lived just long enough, fought just hard enough, and killed just viciously enough to matter, becoming level 2 or higher.

They were stronger. Denser. Worth more.

And that meant one thing: Eve was about to have a feast.

The [Necromantic Codex] floated before me, suspended in the air. Despite my mass recycling, its pages were still engraved with a nearly endless list of names. Even with most of the weak ones fed to Veyrin, the codex still contained more pages than I’d preferred.

‘Too bloated. Give me a proper summary of the remaining souls in inventory.’

With a mental push of intent, I willed the tome to shift. The current page faded into light, and the paper curled backward on its own, like wind-blown parchment. Dozens more turned in rapid succession until they stopped on a fresh page. At the top, neat text appeared as if being typed out by an invisible hand.

[Soul Inventory Summary – Lesser Souls]

Below it, rows of elegant script began forming into a categorized table. The codex was obeying, sorting my horde of souls not by name, but by level range, just like I’d envisioned. It did the work for me, skipping past the mess of names and diving straight into usefulness.

(Picture)

I nodded with satisfaction as my eyes scanned the clean breakdown. This was what I needed: order. Not just a book that displayed a mountain of random souls, but a toolkit. Something I could wield with surgical precision.

The sheer number of level 2–9 souls dwarfed the rest, just as expected. Most successful civilians and weak warriors should reach a few levels even with their civilian classes, such as Aurora, who was level 5 when we met, despite being an Alchemist who never once collected XP by killing. Merchants, thieves, and even prostitutes could obtain classes that were designed to help them with their profession. As such, any person talented in their craft (that was recognized as a profession by the Soul Records) had the chance to level up at least a few times.

I willed the Codex to invest the souls I needed—low-level Warriors whose Potency stat averaged fifteen. I chose to use ten thousand of them.

The selected souls spiraled upward like a vortex, drawn into a swirling storm above her waiting vessel after I cast [Soul Fusion].

[Fusion Progress: 33.541 → 430.218 / 1000]

I glanced back at the Codex, mentally calling for another round. This time, I made some calculations and chose 14,250 more Warrior souls of 15 average potency, selecting from a pool of 10 to 25 potency warriors. The 10 potency holders were level 2 warriors, while the 25 potency holders were level 12.

The Codex obeyed, flicking to the right entry and highlighting the appropriate pool of names.

Another surge of souls merged together to form a blue orb that moved toward Eve before vanishing into her body.

[Fusion Progress: 430.218 → 1000 / 1000]

The moment her bar hit max, the transformation began.

Eve’s thus farm expressionless, motionless form shuddered violently. Her frame was engulfed in bright spectral light, then sharpened like a lens sliding into focus. Her features grew more defined. Where once she had been a ghostly blur with bare silhouette, now her face held significantly more recognizable details: a stern brow, full lips, strong jawline. Her posture straightened, and properties of the armor she wore in her final moments began to coalesce across her limbs, regaining a portion of their physical color and hardness.

Unlike her equipment, however, her skin remained the same muted soul-blue. She still didn’t speak, didn’t show emotions, and held no trace of her former self’s memories or personality. But she no longer looked like an eerie ghost. She looked like a proper soul warrior.

[Elite Soul – Eve]

Soul Rank: 2

Type: Warrior

Fusion Progress: 0 / 2000

I extended a hand toward her. “Punch my palm.”