"And if you ever use that thing on me again," he said, voice cold and unshaken, "I will know."
He didn't specify how, but Aziel understood. He had no doubt in his mind that Sora was speaking the truth. He would be a fool to think Sora would create something this dangerous without building safeguards against it, even if the one wielding it was his own father. He had simply been caught off guard this time.
But who was two say Aziel would not use it again to force Sora to do his bidding without question? It was certainly a possibility.
Esme led Aziel and his two guards toward the exit, leaving Sora alone in the room. The doors hissed shut behind them.
Silence fell. Moments passed. Sora flipped his hand over.
Then, another quill, identical to the one before, flashed in Sora's hand, shimmering into existence.
Its feathers shimmered faintly, but unlike the one before, these were pure black flames without the faint distortion of reality around them. The flames radiated no heat, neither did they burn. The quill radiated calm power rather than unstable might. He also brought out a fresh piece of parchment and began to write:
The Soulright's Quill does not work on me.
This was THE original quill, the true Soulright's Quill. The one he had given to Aziel had been a mere imitation, a carefully crafted replica carrying built-in limitations and consequences. That one extracted memories as its price, a safeguard to ensure it could never be abused without cost.
But the quill in his hand now, this one bore no such restrictions. It was flawless, pure, and free from consequence. It could rewrite existence itself without draining its wielder's essence, memory, or soul.
Sora had created two for a reason. He had given his father the counterfeit version deliberately. The imitation would satisfy the Emperor's ambitions, but it would never be strong enough to truly threaten him. Only he, Sora, held dominion over the real one.
He smiled faintly. "All in a day's work."
The quill vanished from his grasp, dissolving into thin air.
Sora exhaled softly, his gaze lingering on the place where his father had stood moments ago. Then, turning away, he made his way back through the bright corridors toward his laboratory.
The heavy doors slid open at his approach, revealing the vast, dimly lit chamber within. The scent of mana-infused minerals and alchemical reagents hung in the air.
Above the main platform, where intricate sigils glowed faintly on the floor, floated an object, an enormous egg suspended within a transparent incubation sphere.
Its surface shimmered faintly, veins of soft gold light pulsing from within, like the heartbeat of something alive.
Sora floated closer, the light from the containment glyphs painting faint reflections across his face. His expression shifted slightly, his usual detached calm replaced by something rare, curiosity tinged with quiet wonder.
This was the core he had been working on before. But in truth, it was far more than that. It was the egg of a Qilin, a creature thought to have vanished from the world countless ages ago.
The Qilin were said to be divine beasts, symbols of purity and balance, beings whose very presence could bend the flow of fate and cleanse corruption from the land. To mortals, they had become nothing more than myths and faded murals in forgotten temples.
This egg was the last trace of their existence in this world.
It had been discovered years ago in the depths of an ancient ruin, long buried beneath the sands of the Eastern Wastes. The adventurer who unearthed it had first believed it to be a stone artifact, its surface petrified, lifeless, hardened by the passage of countless millennia. But something about it had felt… different. Alive, somehow.
When word reached Sora's ears, he wasted no time. He bought it immediately, without bargaining, he paid whatever the man asked for immediately. From the moment he laid eyes on it, he had known what it was. And more importantly, he had known that it might still live.
He had been right.
With careful precision, he had begun to nurture it, channelling mana, altering the flow of essence around it, restoring the vitality that had been fading since the dawn of a forgotten age. Two years had passed since then, and the results spoke for themselves. The petrified shell had softened, and the egg now pulsed faintly with life. The creature inside was stirring, even if slowly.
Sora extended a hand, letting his mana flow gently toward the containment sphere. The incubator's runes brightened in response, their intricate web of energy merging with the faint glow coming from the egg.
"The reactions are stable," he murmured, his tone thoughtful. "The internal mana signature has grown stronger… It won't be long now."
His notes hovered beside him. He wrote with silent precision, recording each change, each reading. The faint flicker of light reflected in his eyes as the egg pulsed again, stronger this time.
"The core has begun to respond to living organisms on its own lately," he muttered, writing as he spoke. "That's likely a defence mechanism, to protect whatever remains inside. Meaning… the creature within is aware."
He paused, studying the subtle ripples moving across the shell. His lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "It's almost ready."
Hours slipped by unnoticed. The world outside darkened and quieted, yet within his laboratory, time seemed to stand still. The only sounds were the gentle hum of mana flowing through the incubator and the occasional scratch of Sora's pen across his floating notepad.
When at last he leaned back, the glow of the runes dimming slightly, the night had long since settled over the peaks.
"That should be enough for today," he said softly, setting his quill down.
At some point, Esme had returned. She was quietly tidying up the tables, putting away instruments and wiping down surfaces with practiced care.
"You can leave for the day, Esme," Sora said, descending lightly from where he had been floating.
"Yes, my lord." She gave a polite bow, her voice gentle but steady.