Interconnected: Spliced Souls

With a sigh, I turned around and walked for about 40 minutes until I came to something more like a miniature favela-- it was a sort of a shanty, slummy area. Poverty and trash-filled allies, mixed with rotted food and decayed vermin. I probably spent about thirty more minutes wandering the side streets before miraculously coming across that...’Goatkin?’ The girl with goat horns and apricot-colored hair. 

She wore a thick, black robe and limped, dragging a naked foot across the filthy road since it didn’t seem like she could lift it. Tears glistened down her cheeks, bypassing open sores and fresh cuts degrading her face. Blood danced around her lips, quietly splattering to the ground in movements with her quivering.     

No doubt salty tears tinged her body with pain.   

Before I could say something, she turned down an alley—one with three doors leading into the building to the left— and struggled even more, eventually tripping over a trashcan lid she didn’t see. When she hit the ground and splashed into a puddle of gritty, chunky mud, she did not move.    

I raced from my sleuthing spot, flipped her to her back, and pressed two fingers against her neck.    

Servi?  

“Her pulse. It’s there, but it’s weak,” I answered Itarr’s questions as she asked them. I wanted to ask why I knew how to check for one. It could’ve been a hint as to my memories, but her life came first. Picking her up, I turned around to see why she ventured down this alley, and that’s when I saw a sign.    

Weathered, decayed, and nearly falling off the hinges, Cassidy’s Apothecary was etched into it. There were no windows to speak of— just a wooden door. But I knocked on it.    

They’re just squiggly lines and shapes... They aren’t the characters I’m familiar with, yet they’re totally decipherable.    

Servi, what is an apothecary?  

“A person that’s qualified to practice medicine. You come to them when you’re sick or hurt, and they help you,” I replied, knocking more furiously.     

Before I could holler for help, it swung open, revealing an aged woman in the middle of a mighty yawn with closed eyes. Her face had wrinkles and liver spots, but she and her dirty white coat seemed experienced and knowledgeable about their craft. It was just a feeling I got from looking at her.    

“Damn it, Lucy, you’re two hours late. You know what’ll happen when Nimyra catches wind of this. She came around twice asking about you, and I know she knows I’m covering for you.” The tone was bitter and spiteful but also carried an under-appreciated cautionary hint.   

She opened her eyes and did not expect to see me, let alone an unconscious Lucy. In the next breath, she retrieved a dagger hidden behind her hip and held the tip to my throat, pricking the skin until warm blood leaked out of me as if I were a dripping faucet.   

Servi, it does not make much sense to heal the wound whilst in front of her. I can halt your regeneration, but do not fear because, at its core, [True Immortality] cannot be disabled.  

That’s good to know.  

“You've got about three seconds to explain!” She growled like a lioness. Yes, she looked frail, but her weathered eyes held a fierce fire.   

“This is Lucy, right? A few hours ago, I found her getting attacked by this fat bastard in a suit. He had some other guys with him, and he beat the shit out of her,” I began to explain, telling how I threw a rock to stop them and ran away. “Then I was walking around and found her passed out in front of your place. Can you help her?”   

Cassidy, or the woman I assumed to be her, stared more vehemently before sheathing her dagger. “The fat fucker’s at it again, huh? I told Lucy she needed to stop seeing him. The money just ain’t worth it. Here, come on in. Take her to the examination room behind those curtains,” she said, wiping her brow. It didn’t seem like she was overly worried about Lucy, but no two people reacted the same to certain stimuli. 

I walked into the building to find something pitiful and sad. The ‘waiting room,’ or the lack thereof, was a lobby that fit the bare minimum of cleanliness. About 70% had actual flooring instead of dirty ground. The room was empty, though, with a few crudely slapped-together benches and a couple of chairs. A set of stairs led to the second floor of this wobbly building, but it was locked off with a rusty chain. At the far back sat a room separated from the front by the curtains Cassidy spoke of.    

She took the lead, and I followed, brushing through the curtains to find more proof of desperate poverty that wasn’t much different from the room I came from. At least the table was a table with a pillow and paper-thin sheets. I laid Lucy on it, then watched Cassidy walk to a set of cabinets nearby. I didn’t see much medicine, but she grabbed a glass bottle, a filled syringe, some thread, three slightly browned cloths, and a needle. She placed those on a cart with wheels, then rolled that to her patient.   

I just stood nearby and observed. The flickering warm glow of the lantern hanging above performed its task silently and admirably, applying a soft highlight to a room without windows.   

“Instead of standing like a dumbass, make yourself useful,” said Cassidy as Lucy’s blood accumulated on the table. While she did a little more preparation, I stripped Lucy nude and set aside her bloody clothes.   

Her back was covered with painstakingly brutal and thick whip injuries. I didn’t even know how she could walk with that, let alone the numerous faded scars of prior wounds littered around her upper arms and the back of her neck.  Cassidy told me to use a rag to clean her, and I did, but I used my ring as well since it was more effective. Itarr absorbed what I missed due to my inexperience.  

Without the blood, dirt, and mud, she looks so innocent. Almost like a doll...  

Her neck had all the signs of strangulation. It appeared her chest couldn’t avoid anguish, either, since that was a naked palette for the fat bastard’s anger. The sides of Lucy’s pale breasts were scarred like her back and neck, but her pink nipples were black and bruised, which clashed against her pale skin. Her stomach was red and discolored from what looked like a series of clamps designed to pinch her belly. Blood oozed from her thighs and crotch. Her pubic hair was charred, like someone took a lighter or match to it.   

Her legs weren’t spared any sympathy. One of her feet looked crooked. Upon further inspection, when I gently tried to force it back into place and felt resistance, I concluded it was broken in four spots. 

The anger grew within me by the second at the horrors people could inflict on others.   

"There ain't no use gritting your teeth, girlie," said Cassidy as she told me to flip Lucy to her stomach. "I've told her time and time again that it ain't worth it to get involved with that man. Nimyra told her too, but she's too stubborn to listen to reason."

“Nimyra?” I asked.

“You new around here? It’s rare to find someone in this shit hole that hasn't at least heard of her name.” Cassidy's eyes widened with surprise as she delicately trimmed the ragged skin from the whip wounds. Her touch was hypnotizing, her hands moving with remarkable speed and agility—a testament to her old age and experience.

“You could say that,” I replied. “I hitched a ride, got off, and wandered around until I saw Lucy. Hey, who did this to her?”   

“Can’t tell you.”   

“You don’t know?”   

“No, I know. The queen knows. Everyone in the slums knows, and it isn’t a secret. But no one will utter his name because he has eyes and ears everywhere.”   

“He’s that strong?”    

If he has a powerful soul, perhaps we should acquire it? Itarr asked. This person is awful. Will people be upset if he ceases to be?  

“Not him, but the ones he surrounds himself with. If the rumors about him are true, raising an arm against him is equivalent to starting a war.”  

Does that change things, Servi? Whether it’s him or this other group of people, having their souls will be a boon.  

With some casual chatter, we spent the next 10 minutes in idle talk. Cassidy bemoaned her lack of supplies after finishing up Lucy’s back. Honestly, it looked much better stitched up. She would have to take it slow, though, since ripping the stitches at any point within the next three weeks would most likely lead to infection. When it came to her front, there wasn’t much we could do. Cassidy didn’t have any cream or ointment for the hand marks around her patient’s throat or the damage to her breasts and stomach. And she stitched the cuts to her thighs and crotch the best she could.  

She said if she had a healing spell, she could’ve done much more. When I asked if she knew anyone with one, she said it was useless because people were selfish. “The slums are here for those with no use to society. To those that civilization has given up on. The people here are waiting for death to claim them, but you find outliers with a spark of hope in their glittering eyes. Lucy’s one of them...”   

But what about her, Servi? Putting in the effort to save Lucy goes against what she claims.    

“C..assidy...? Is...that you?” Lucy’s eyes were still closed, but her lips trembled just enough to squeak out a quivering voice.     

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m here. You’re all stitched up.” Cassidy wrapped her wrinkled hand around Lucy’s pale finger, offering her support in this time of need.    

“Give...me the...shot...”   

“Nope. You almost died this time.”   

“What’s the shot?” Upon hearing my voice, Lucy found a source of strength just bright enough to demand I make myself known. And then winced and cried, causing Cassidy to flick her in the forehead.    

“Oi, you should be thanking her. If she hadn’t found you lying at my door, you’d be dead. Anyway, the shot’s something I mixed up. I call it phrine, and it ain’t something you need to concern yourself with. Lucy, I told you we don’t know the long-term consequences of using it. I promised Nimyra I wouldn’t give it to you. She’ll have my head on a platter—"    

“I NEED IT! It’s the only way... You wouldn’t tell her! You promised me! You said you were going to help me!” Lucy’s disposition changed immediately. She snatched the syringe from the cart and jabbed it in her neck faster than Cassidy and I could stop her. By the time I yanked it out, it was empty.    

Lucy sat up and took a deep breath, filling her lungs to their capacity before hopping down on her feet. One foot was clearly fucked up, but the Goatkin walked to her clothes as if she didn’t feel the pain or the fact she put all her weight on her ankle. 

“Lucy, what the fuck are you doing?! That foot’s fucked. Walking on it is just going to make it worse. You need to sit—”   

She interrupted Cassidy. “What’s your story? And I told you I’m fine. See? It doesn’t hurt.” She raised a leg, and her foot limpidly dangled like a piece of meat dangling from a stubborn chunk of fat. Her pupils looked stressed as they darted from left to right. The whites of her eyes were turning a slow, muddy crimson.   

“My story doesn’t matter. But you were with that guy, right? Behind the building with the false exit?   

“What’s it to you, bitch? What I do is my own business. Don’t give me that judgmental stare,” Lucy harshly replied, her voice growing slightly guttural.      

“I’m just here to apologize for not doing more—”   

“WAIT?! You’re the one who made him do this to me?! You threw that fucking rock?!!!!!” Lucy hobbled over and grabbed my collar. “Do you know what you cost me, you stupid bitch?! I was about to get a thousand dupla, but you fucked that away! You goddamn self-centered fuck!”   

“It isn’t my fault! I didn’t know what the fuck was happening,” I replied, not at all threatened by her adverse behavior. I’d already died twice, so fear had no place here. At this point, death was just a temporary acquaintance. Cassidy stepped between us when she saw Lucy form a fist.    

“Oh, and you thought you had to be a hero? Next time, fuck off, and don’t play the bitch in shining armor because this is what you get!” Lucy shouted, falsely claiming I took sick pleasure in her agony because I wanted to feel a faux sense of heroism. “YOU’RE THE REASON I’M LIKE THIS! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO PISSED HIM OFF!!!! Give me 1,000 dupla! Give it to me right the fuck now!!!”   

Before I could reply, someone loudly knocked at the door and shouted obscenities. “Lucy, get your ass out here! Your patron specifically demanded you wouldn’t seek healing as part of your punishment! Come out here and face your punishment! You have ten minutes before we burn this shit hole to the ground!”   

“FUCK!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!! THAT’S SIMONE!!!! LOOK WHAT YOU DID!!!!!! GO! GO OUT THERE—” The Goatkin suddenly clutched her chest and spewed blood from her mouth. Urine flowed down her legs, and she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. She croaked, lifting an arm out to the sky, then it limply fell. Cassidy rushed to Lucy and flipped her to a recovery position so she wouldn’t choke on her vomit.    

“This is my fault, huh?” I whispered, looking at Lucy’s weakened state. The apothecary did her best to stabilize her patient as she pulled a second syringe from her coat. Wasting no time, she jabbed it in her neck and began to perform chest compressions.     

Do not say that. If I were in your shoes, I like to believe I would’ve helped her as well.   

“There’s a secret exit built into the wall behind me! Go grab the wheelchair—"   

“No. If Lucy wants me to handle this, then…” I replied, closing my eyes and sighing. Cassidy pleaded with me, but it failed. “I tried to do something nice, but it backfired. The least I can do is clean up the mess I caused. Stay here. I’ll handle it.”   

“H—Hey, you can’t fight—” Ignoring Cassidy, I left through the curtain.   

The door was kicked in, and the same men I saw with that fat bastard were chilling outside in the alley. All four had weapons, but none wore armor. They oddly looked at me once I stepped through the threshold.     

“Get the hell out of here,” demanded the one called Simone. At least, I thought it was him. He was the tallest and held a dagger with a red blade in a backhanded grip. He was annoying to look at. “We don’t have any business with you, but we could always use another plaything while the boss takes Lucy.”   

“Please, you idiots can’t handle me. Why don’t you go jerk each other off before you die?” Venomous insults flowed through my veins. More than anything, I wanted these pissant annoyances dead and their souls inside my ring.   

“Tough words from a mere bitch,” growled Simone. “Go ahead, hit me. I’ll let you get the first—”    

I shrugged my shoulders and slapped him, but the dagger I stored earlier found a home in my hand the moment before making contact. It pierced him right through the ear and brain, and I dropped to the ground to force the knife down and through the bottom of his chin, jerking with all my strength. Thick, hot crimson sprayed me, but I was already moving to the second target as Simone’s soul found a new home.      

Suddenly, his carcass vanished from my peripheral vision.    

Servi, leave the bodies to me. Just focus on the fight.   

“Got it!” I said, immediately using an earth spell called [Stone Pillar]. I’d gotten it and a few others from Simone, but this was the most useful. Just thinking of it caused a piercing pillar of rock to rise from the ground, stabbing the second sick bastard through his crotch until the tip emerged from the top of his head.   

Bits of brain and skull profusely leaked, staining his suit crimson.  

He was dead, but before his soul reached my ring…   

The third foe managed to find his courage within those frightened eyes. He stared at my bloody appearance and the blade that stole his friend's life. The sword he had by his side left its scabbard sharply, and the top half of my head was sent scattering inside Cassidy’s shop.   

Yet I remained standing. Even with the lower half of my face, I still moved because my senses were working fine. I didn't have any eyes, but that didn’t matter. The foolish bastard pissed his pants, but the fourth idiot snuck around from the rear and jabbed his spear through my chest.    

He jumped backwards to make some room while he prepared to use a skill, but a curved rocky pillar pushed him towards me. I skewered him through the side with my crimson dagger. Instantly, bright, powerful flames exploded from the wound and swarmed his body. He screamed and rolled around, but it was futile because he turned to ash seconds later. A freak gust of wind scattered his remains. 

As my head and chest regenerated, a shadowy arrow encircled me like it was my guardian spirit. Itarr said this spell was called [Shadow Shot], belonging to the shadow element. A bit self-explanatory, but I was thankful for the info. Itarr had used the spell from the ring, and she used [Skill Stacking] to make five more. But I could also make six because we were two different existences sharing the same soul. Soon, I had twelve masses of dark energy protecting me with their lives.    

Okay, with 0 souls, the most we can stack is two. One from me, and one from Itarr. With each soul absorbed, the limit increases by 2. Frank, Fraun, Simone, dickbag 1, and dickbag 2. That’s five, so ten, plus myself and Itarr, equals 12 stacks. That’s easy enough to remember.  

Servi, I’m passing you my authority over [Skill Stacking]. From now on, you have control over my share. 

“Got it.” All at once, I sent them to destroy my enemy, and they bore twelve holes through his body. His soul flew out through the one nearest his lungs. Approaching the chunks of flesh, they soon found a home inside my ring.  

With my body covered in warm, hot blood—Itarr was taking care of that by absorbing the crimson liquid from my person—and the addition of more souls, I strangely felt calm. Ending lives didn’t scare me as I thought it would, especially if they deserved death. I pressed the tip of the red dagger to my finger. Flames appeared, greedily devouring my hand. A quick thought later, I discovered fire could not escape my ring's grasp. I was talking to Itarr about it when I heard a new voice screaming from Cassidy’s examination room.    

“What the hell is this?! Lucy, I told you not to do this anymore!!! Look at yourself! This isn’t normal! There are easier ways to make money that doesn’t involve putting your life on the line! Cassidy!!!!!”  

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Nimyra. If you're gonna yell, wait until she wakes up and lay into her.”   

“No, I’m not. I told you not to give Lucy that stupid drug anymore!!!” the one called Nimyra screamed. I stood outside the curtains and waited for the right moment to enter. 

Wait, that’s a piece of my head? It was severed in the fight, yeah? Better get rid of the evidence. 

“I didn’t! She grabbed it from the table and jabbed her neck with it.”   

“That’s true,” I said, walking into the room. My eyes were locked on the tall purple woman with pointy ears. Her long, flowing hair reminded me of flowing verbena flowers. She wore a darker purple dress with no bra for her healthy breasts, which showed a lot of cleavage. But her clothes were uneven. A dress it was, it was shorter in the front than the back, and she wore long, heeled boots laced to her knees. With a lacy choker around her neck and an embroidery of a flower on her stomach, she made a statement for herself. Unlike everyone else, she was actually clean. Her skin seemed to be shimmering in the weak light above us.    

“You’re alive?! But what about Simone?” Cassidy exclaimed, citing she feared the worst when she heard screaming. I said it was taken care of, then introduced myself to Nimyra while explaining what had happened.    

“Servi, right?” she asked, crossing her arms in a way that made her boobs jiggle. “Thank you for at least trying to help her. The road to death is paved with good intentions, so it is comforting to see some civility while trapped in this wicked place.” She softened her amber-colored eyes and gave me a pretty smile.    

We turned to Lucy, who remained naked underneath a dirty blanket on the examination table. “There’s nothing more I can do for her. Her body is stabilized, but only in the barest sense. It’s exhausting. Her skin can’t take much more of this. And there’s a chance of infection, but that foot..." 

"I'll just have the grotto's healer give her a potion or two. We have a stockpile stored away." 

"You could, but she signed a contract. This time around, she's forbidden from seeking healing. But she still came here because I don't give a fuck about that. But good luck getting anyone else to do more than this because you know the word’s going to be spread." 

Hmm… Perhaps not. Servi, the last soul you absorbed knew a spell called [Minor Heal]. Weak on its own, stacking should increase its effectiveness.   

“Got it,” I replied to Itarr, but it looked like I was speaking to myself. “Here, maybe I can do something…”    

“Servi?” Nimyra looked nervous, but she nevertheless stepped back. Stacking the spell fourteen times, I touched a glowing hand to the unconscious Goatkin, which soon enveloped her body in a warm aura. In a flash, Cassidy ripped off the blanket and stared—no, she gasped in amazement at the lack of damage to her chest, neck, and face. The old scars were still there, but she was in much better shape. Even the brutal whip marks on her back were mostly healed. The sutures would have to come out in a week or two, but that was the extent of that damage.     

It didn’t do much for her foot, however. Either I needed a better spell, or we needed more souls 

“But how…? There wasn’t– Servi, are you blessed?”   

“Blessed? Ah, yes. I am.” I had no reason to lie to Nimyra, but I refrained from saying Itarr’s name. She grasped my glowing hand with both of hers, and the waterworks soon fell. Thanking me over and over again, it was like a torrential downpour of emotions flooded out.    

Was kindness that rare? I asked Cassidy and the elf, and they nodded after the latter wiped her eyes with a cloth produced from her cleavage. Cassidy was something of an outlier. She used most of her resources to help those unfortunate. This often made her an easy target. But Nimyra helped by making it known that Cassidy was under Nimyra’s protection. She was a prostitute, but one who had customers from all over Lando, the country where Canary, this city I was in, was located.    

She was out of town to visit one of her many callers when Lucy went against orders designed for her safety. The ‘Patron,’ as they called the fat bastard, was a sadistic piece of shit. He never fucked the girls he bought, but he had no problem tying their arms and legs together before hitting them with a whip.    

Lucy needed money, though, and this ‘Patron’ paid very handsomely if you could endure his session. And I, of course, fucked it up by throwing that rock. A desire for good begat evil. If I weren’t here, there was a chance Lucy wouldn’t have made it through the night.     

I don’t see the bag of coins, so she probably didn’t even get that. 

A good deed turned evil was canceled by my ‘suicide’ attempt. Everything worked out well, right? But did it? Siora and Tim were good people. And I made them watch me jump. But saving a life was worth the pain it caused them because I wasn’t dead.    

Nimyra noticed my sad sigh and asked if I had a place to stay. Shaking my head no, she offered me a room at her home. It was about twenty minutes away in one of the only ‘functioning’ buildings in the slums, which meant it had running water and working toilets.    

In short, Nimyra lived in an expensive inn—a high-end brothel— paid for a dozen times over by her many gentlemen callers. She had power and influence through the use of selling her body.     

“If you don’t mind having me… Thank you, Nimyra.” She returned my smile when I offered it to her.