Reborn with a Necromancer System - Chapter 60

Chapter 60: Lesson Two – The Binding of Souls Chapter 60: Lesson Two – The Binding of Souls Tethering a soul to a body was something Kai already knew.

But Orlin had far more to teach.

“Souls can be bound to more than flesh,” Orlin explained, placing a rusted dagger in Kai’s hands.

“Try this.” Kai frowned.

“A weapon?

Why?” “Anything without a soul can hold one, provided it is strong enough.

This can be weapons, armour, even children’s toys.” Orlin reached into his robes and withdrew a small glass jar.

Inside, something churned.

A wisp of spectral energy, pulsing with faint light.

The soul within scratched at the glass, desperate, clawing at the container’s walls with unseen fingers.

“This,” Orlin said, shaking the jar slightly, “is your subject.

Bind it to the dagger.” Kai hesitated before taking the jar, the cold glass pressing against his palm.

The soul within twisted violently, sensing its fate.

He glanced at Orlin, who merely gestured for him to proceed.

Kai exhaled and focused, reaching out with his necromantic power.

He pried open the jar, allowing the soul to seep out in curling wisps of energy.

Then, carefully, he extended a tether from his mana to the soul, guiding it toward the blade.

The moment the tether snapped into place, something went wrong.

Heat surged in his palm.

Flames erupted from the dagger’s surface with a violent roar.

Kai yelped and hurled the weapon away.

The rusted blade clattered against the stone floor before exploding into embers, leaving behind only molten slag.

He instinctively shielded his face, feeling the wave of heat sear past him.

Orlin sighed, waving a hand to dispel the lingering embers.

“And that is why you do not use inadequate vessels.” Kai coughed, waving away the smoke.

“A little warning would’ve been nice!” Orlin chuckled.

“You survived, did you not?

Consider this a lesson.

If a vessel is too weak, it will reject the soul violently.

Sometimes, it simply shatters.

Other times… well, you just witnessed one of the better outcomes.” Kai’s stomach twisted.

“And the worse outcomes?” “A soul improperly bound can rupture, warping the object and anything nearby.

It could consume you.

Corrupt your mana.

Or,” Orlin’s grin was entirely too amused, “turn into something unpredictable.” Kai scowled.

“Great.

And here I thought necromancy couldn’t get more dangerous.” “Oh, it certainly can.

But,” Orlin tapped his staff against the ground, and a more refined weapon floated casually toward Kai.

A steel shortsword, polished and well-balanced, “this should be more suitable.

Metal is dense and far more stable.” Kai took the sword carefully.

It was cool to the touch, and unlike the rusted dagger, it didn’t feel like it would combust in his grip.

He thought back to the many souls he had accumulated, considering which would serve best.

Then he smirked.

Troy.

The inquisitor he had slain in the Halls of Sorcery.

His soul had remained within Kai’s grasp, filled with spite and fury.

There was something poetic about forcing an inquisitor to serve him in death.

He wove the binding spell carefully, tendrils of necromantic energy curling from his fingers.

The moment he reached for Troy’s soul, resistance slammed against him.

The spirit writhed, rejecting his command, but Kai tightened his hold.

“No escape,” he muttered.

“You belong to me now.” A final tug, and the soul sank into the sword.

At first, nothing happened.

The weapon remained still in his hands, but a strange, crawling sensation prickled at the edges of his mind.

The sword suddenly grew heavy.

‘No, not just heavy.

It’s wrong.’ The metal pulsed, vibrating softly, almost like a heartbeat.

A whisper slithered through the back of his mind, faint but insidious, like someone breathing just behind his ear.

He stepped back.

Something was still alive in there.

Something beyond his control.

Kai swallowed hard, his instincts screaming that he had made a mistake.

The murmurs from the blade grew louder, coiling around his thoughts, pressing against his mind with ghostly fingers.

And then, it lunged.

Kai barely dodged in time as the sword shot toward him, slashing at his chest.

He stumbled back, cursing.

“What the-?!” A voice rasped from the blade, cold and filled with malice.

“You dare trap me in this wretched thing?!” Troy’s voice.

His soul still held onto its rage, its hatred.

He wasn’t obedient.

Orlin watched, entirely unfazed.

“Just because you bound it does not mean it is loyal.

A soul has memories, grudges.

You should’ve considered that.” Kai snarled and flung his hand forward, unleashing a bolt of raw magic.

The sword twisted in the air, dodging with unnatural grace before coming at him again.

The murmurs from the blade grew louder.

Troy’s hate radiated from within.

“I will have my vengeance, necromancer.

I will cut you down!” Kai’s mind raced.

The weapon was too strong.

The soul retained too much of itself.

He needed to break the bond.

Or destroy it.

Fire surged from his palm, a concentrated inferno of searing mana.

He directed it at the sword, pouring all his frustration and power into the attack.

The air between Kai and the sword exploded in extreme temperatures.

The steel glowed white-hot.

The blade let out an unholy screech as the soul within writhed in agony.

Cracks formed along the metal, and in an instant, the entire sword liquefied into molten slag.

“I curse you, Kai Tensen.

May you never know peace.” The manor’s chamber walls blackened from the sheer heat, and smoke billowed around them.

Kai coughed violently, realizing a second too late that he had nearly set the entire room ablaze.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the flames vanished.

Kai turned, blinking.

Orlin had raised a shimmering barrier just in time, shielding the entire chamber from the destruction.

The old man sighed, lowering his hand.

“And this is why you practice in controlled environments.” Kai panted, glancing at the puddle of molten metal.

“Yeah?

Well, next time, maybe I won’t pick a spirit that wants to kill me.” Orlin smirked.

“A wise lesson indeed.

But tell me, Kai, do you understand the weight of what you have done?” Kai furrowed his brows.

“I destroyed the soul, right?” Orlin’s expression darkened.

“No.

You unmade it.

That inquisitor will never find peace, nor be reborn.

That is a final death, the kind most fear above all else.” A chill ran down Kai’s spine.

He had thought necromancy was about control, about bending death to his will.

But now he understood-this power went beyond mere servitude.

It could erase existence itself.

Orlin continued, his tone quieter.

“Some consider this a crime against nature.

Others a mercy.

Necromancers must weigh practicality over morality.

You must decide which path you walk.” Kai ran a hand through his sweat-drenched hair, exhaling.

He had learned much today-about power, about risk.

He was beginning to understand that necromancy was not just about control.

It was about respect.

About caution.

And most of all… About knowing when to destroy what should not be bound.

Kai and Orlin made their way back toward the main floor of the manor.

The air in the underground chamber still crackled with residual heat and magic.

Orlin led the way, staff tapping against the ground in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Kai remained silent, turning over the experience in his head.

The way the sword had trembled in his grip before turning against him.

The sheer hatred that had radiated from Troy’s soul, twisting the weapon into something hostile.

Had he been too reckless?

Too eager to prove he could do it?

They emerged into the grand hall of the manor.

Orlin finally broke the silence.

“Disappointed?” Kai exhaled sharply.

“Frustrated.

I thought I had it.” “You did, for a moment,” Orlin said, stepping toward a long, dust-covered table.

He traced a finger across the wood, gathering a fine layer of gray.

“Binding a soul is one thing.

Binding it properly is another.

And binding it in a way that ensures obedience?” He flicked the dust aside.

“That is mastery.” Kai crossed his arms, scowling.

“Then what did I do wrong?” Orlin turned, his gaze sharp.

“You underestimated the soul.

Troy was no common wraith, no forgotten spirit lingering in the void.

He was a man of conviction, a warrior who died with purpose.

His will was strong enough to reject you.” Kai frowned.

“Then what’s the point?

If strong souls resist, why even bother trying?” Orlin’s smirk was subtle but knowing.

“Because the rewards outweigh the risks.” He motioned toward the distant staircase leading further into the manor.

“If you master soul binding, you will no longer simply be raising the dead.

You will be forging power.

Imagine weapons that grow stronger over time, artifacts that house souls capable of guiding, or destroying, their wielders.

Such creations have changed history before.” Kai’s breath hitched slightly at the implication.

“You mean legendary weapons.” Orlin inclined his head.

“Exactly.

Some necromancers have done more than bind souls to objects.

They have created sentient weapons.

Blades that whisper secrets, staffs that hunger for magic, armour that remembers every battle it has endured.” Kai’s fingers twitched at his sides.

The idea sent a thrill through him.

“And how often does that go wrong?” Orlin chuckled.

“Far more often than it goes right.

A soul too powerful, too unruly, or simply too twisted can warp its vessel beyond control.

Some creations have devoured their wielders.

Others have turned on them at the worst possible moment.” He glanced at Kai, his grin widening slightly.

“You’ve already had a taste of that tonight.” Kai shuddered, the memory of the possessed sword’s lunge still fresh in his mind.

He could still hear Troy’s voice, filled with rage and malice, promising vengeance.

“So if I tried again…” “You’d need a soul that wants to be bound,” Orlin interrupted, his tone suddenly serious.

“Or one that fears oblivion more than servitude.” Kai nodded slowly, his mind already turning over the possibilities.

If he could find the right soul, if he could forge something truly powerful… CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Jhaydun Goodbye, Troy!

We didn’t need you, anyway.

Is anyone going to miss Troy?

I think not.