The ancient soul and the young child

Solen kept staring at the corpse — torn in half, twitching, impossible — as awe clung to his face like sea salt.

Eventually, the weight of the moment cracked.

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and muttered, "Where the hell... am I?"

Only then did he look around — really look.

The island wasn't what he'd expected. Not even close.

The trees — or whatever passed for trees here — weren't normal. They looked like something pretending to be plants, but getting the details wrong.

Their bark had the texture of cracked leather. The leaves shimmered faintly, like fish scales catching light beneath the ocean. And the smell — sharp, almost metallic — clung to the back of his throat.

Solen took a slow step forward.

"...This place feels fake."

But it wasn't.

Every strange breath reminded him: he was very much still alive.

For now.

Solen paced for a while, boots crunching softly against the strange earth — until he realized he was just burning energy for nothing.

"Idiot," he muttered. "Calm down. Think."

He took a deep breath, dropped to a knee, and finally turned his attention to the gear he'd brought.

It wasn't much.

But maybe it was enough.

Then his gaze shifted to his hands. The faint shimmer still danced along his fingers — a sign his abilities hadn't worn off yet.

"Guess it's time I figured out what the hell I can actually do."

"…Because whatever killed that monster? Might still be out there. And next time, it might notice me."

Solen hesitated.

He didn't trust the trees — whatever they were. Their bark looked like flesh, and they gave off a hum like breathing.

So, instead, he collapsed onto the grass. Still damp. Still shaking.

And then, slowly… he sank into himself.

Not physically — but soul-deep.

Entering his soul was like diving into a quiet lake beneath a storm. The outer world blurred. Time slowed.

But he knew the risk.

While his mind drifted, his body would be helpless.

So before he closed his eyes completely, he scanned the area once more — every shadow, every sway of leaf.

Nothing moved. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching.

Still… he had to understand.

What was this power inside him? What did it mean to be a

"Ancient and dead"

He dove into the Soul Sea.

The weight of the world slipped off his shoulders — replaced by the cold, strange silence of his inner self.

And then something blinked into existence to his left. A shimmer. A ripple. A menu.

---

[ABILITIES]

• Lover of the Sea – Grants the user increased strength and speed underwater. Doubles breath capacity.

• Water Magician – Allows the user to generate and manipulate water. Can imbue up to three objects with enhanced strength or durability (x2). Imbuement type determines further effects. Upgradeable.

• Ancient and Dead Fate – Grants access to a fragment of the user's past soul power. Currently limited. Upgradeable.

Soul Walker Abilities: Not unlocked.

---

He reread the list, eyes narrowing.

The last one — Ancient and Dead — pulsed strangely.

It had this weird, contradictory glow. Dark… yet glowing. Like staring into a black flame.

Solen frowned.

"That's not ominous at all," he muttered, voice dry.

A shiver ran down his spine. Not because he was scared, no. But because it felt like that ability was watching him back.

He squinted harder at the text.

Ancient and Dead?

Who named this stuff? A depressed poet?

Then again… maybe it was his grandma's fault. Maybe she'd cursed him with some terrible soul luck. Yeah. That sounded right.

Surely she was the idiot here.

His train of thought — mostly involving blaming everything on his grandma, as usual — was cut short by a sound.

A laugh.

Soft. Mocking. Echoing in a way that shouldn't have been possible inside his own soul.

Solen's body jolted on instinct — or tried to. He tripped over nothing, landing sideways in the Soul Sea like a stunned octopus.

Cold water slapped his face.

"What the hell—!?"

He scrambled upright, heart hammering. That laugh still rang in his ears, fading like the end of a bad joke.

Someone — or something — had just laughed at him.

And not kindly.

He looked around, squinting through the shifting blue mist of his soul. Nothing but endless water and that eerie glow pulsing from the Ancient and Dead ability to his left.

No shapes. No figures.

But that laugh didn't come from nowhere.

"…I swear if my grandma's ghost followed me in here," he muttered, more to comfort himself than anything.

Then the water behind him rippled.

A voice cut into his head — clear, amused, and far too familiar for comfort.

"Truly, you make me laugh, child. You remind me of when I was younger."

Solen froze.

The words didn't echo like normal sound. They threaded directly through his thoughts, bypassing ears and logic altogether. Like someone whispering from inside his bones.

He turned slowly, scanning the empty soul sea. Still no one. Just ripples. Still that cursed glow.

"…That's not creepy at all," he muttered under his breath, trying to sound braver than he felt.

"Oh, don't be like that," the voice cooed, amused. "You did dive into the soul without knowing who lived in it. Isn't that a bit rude?"

Solen took a shaky step back. "Who the hell are you?"

"Me?" the voice said, almost fondly. "I'm just a memory. A scar, really. What's left of someone who refused to die properly."

A pause.

"But enough about me. Tell me, little heir — how does it feel to be marked by the dead?"

Solen backed away instantly, hands raised like he was surrendering to a divine tax collector.

"Oh fuck no. Oh god. No. Hell no."

He shook his head rapidly, eyes wide as saucers. "Nope. Not doing this. You can have it. The whole damn sea. Go ahead. I'll just, y'know, live in a puddle somewhere else."

The voice laughed again, deeper this time — not cruel, but undeniably entertained.

"Say, do you remember drinking a pitch-black drink?"

But Solen was already gone—snapping out of the soul sea like it was a burning building.

Whatever that thing was—or as he now proudly dubbed it, the squatter—it could keep its cryptic questions and creepy laughter.

He wasn't staying to find out what came next.

He stumbled back into reality, bewildered—eyes wide, breath short, limbs twitching like a puppet with half-cut strings.

To anyone watching, he probably looked menacing.

In truth?

He looked like he was mid-seizure while trying to win a staring contest with the grass.

Once again, his thoughts were cut short—not by a voice this time, but by something far more unnerving.

His abilities.

Unconsciously, his senses stretched across the sea like tendrils. He felt everything in the water. Every current. Every pebble shifting on the ocean floor. Every fish darting just beneath the surface.

It was overwhelming. Beautiful, even.

But before he could marvel at it—before he could feel proud—his breath hitched.

Something was moving. Something wrong.

He scrambled backward, heart pounding like a war drum.

Think, think… water — I can control water, right?

He focused, reaching out with his will.

A blade formed. Barely. More like a kitchen knife than a sword, but sharp enough to bleed something — hopefully not himself.

"Great," he muttered. "Perfect. I'm armed with a butter knife against a sea god."

Without thinking, he dashed toward the open sand. Which, in hindsight, was incredibly stupid.

But rest assured — if he survived, he was blaming his grandma. For all of this.

"A… human?" Solen muttered, dumbfounded.

He blinked. Rubbed his eyes.

Nope. Still there. A person. An actual, living person.

Well, would you look at that, he thought, half in disbelief. Your one-in-a-million chance to make a friend in this messed-up world just walked onto the stage. Go on, Solen — be social. Pretend you're not broken inside.

He sighed. "God, I hate this already."

The human grapped a sword which made solen realize where was he's gear?

He franticly looked around trying to find his gear no where to be found where they eaten? Stolen or did he forget them?

No one knows probably never will

Then the human opened his mouth to speak.

Please be friendly, Solen thought. Or at least not a cannibal.