Chapter 45: Winding through the Labyrinth Soul Slate. It was a term that every Esper and Climber knew about instinctively.
Mysticism and supernatural studies states that every living organism possessed a Soul within their bodies.
Individuals who were religious would call it the "Divine Spark" bestowed by higher powers. Philosophers, on the other hand, regarded it as the Seat of Consciousness — the true essence that defined one’s existence.
Some schools of thought even explained the nature of the Soul through concepts found in Kabbalah, a system developed from early Jewish mysticism (such as Merkavah, or "Chariot" mysticism) around the 1st century CE, though it truly flourished in medieval Spain and southern France between the 12th and 13th centuries.
Its foundational text, the Zohar also known as the Book of Splendor in English translation, attributed to the mystic Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai or later compiled by Moses de León, offers mystical interpretations of the Torah. At its core, Kabbalah sought to understand the divine structure of the World (宇宙) and humanity’s relationship with Ein Sof, the infinite and unknowable aspect of God.
From Ein Sof flows all creation through a series of emanations, forming the spiritual architecture of existence. And these ten emanations or attributes through which Ein Sof manifests reality were known as the "Sefirot."
Each Sefirah represents a facet of divine expression and human consciousness:
"Keter," "Chokhmah," "Binah," "Chesed," "Gevurah," "Tiferet," "Netzach," "Hod," "Yesod," and "Malkhut."
The human soul mirrors the Sefirot. Therefore, each person was a reflection of divine attributes, and spiritual practice aims to reunite the fragmented aspects of the soul with Ein Sof.
To summarize everything, the Soul was a metaphysical blueprint that existed beyond the material plane, yet required a physical anchor to interact with it, and that anchor was the Body. The Mind, often regarded as inseparable from the Body, functioned as its cognitive extension.
In essence, the three of them were bound together through the Soul Slate, serving as the core of the soul.
Chaos Creatures possessed their own tri-phase anchor;
The Spirit Core.
Since research had long confirmed that these beings were biological lifeforms born within the Black Spire, it stood to reason that they, too, possessed Souls much like humans.
"Ah."
At that moment, Nightingale finally understood.
If a creature’s Spirit Core was destroyed, it would die instantly and leave behind no shards. He had already witnessed that firsthand.
Then, by extension, since a Spirit Core qualified as a "small object" and could be crushed by his [Flatten], didn’t that mean he could just as easily crush a person’s Soul Slate as well?
"Ah."
This time, the realization struck deeper.
Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Perhaps he’d been too preoccupied to notice.
In truth, Nightingale couldn’t be blamed for his ignorance.
Mythic Abilities that affected the Soul, or more precisely, the Soul Slate, were not just rare; they were virtually unheard of. Even rarer than those extraordinary Abilities capable of both attack and healing.
To put it into perspective: the odds of encountering someone with a dual-function Ability that could both wound and heal were roughly one in a thousand. But the odds of meeting an individual capable of directly striking the soul without inflicting any physical harm?
That was closer to one in a million.
Come to think of it, wouldn’t that revelation cast his Mythic Ability in a far more terrifying light?
’Wait... hold on...’
His eyes widened to their limit, but by then, it was already too late.
Flaming Rose seemed to understand everything from his silence alone. Instinctively, she took several steps back. The distance between them widened in an instant, as if she were recoiling from a deadly contagion.
It was as though, in her eyes, he himself was the plague.
Nightingale gritted his teeth.
"Oh, come on! You don’t have to look at me like that! Well... I can’t exactly see how you’re looking at me since you’re wearing a mask, but still! Isn’t backing away all of a sudden a bit rude?!"
Then he impatiently added:
"For your information, I’ve only used this ability twice! Two times! Wait... actually, wouldn’t this make it the third? Whatever! The point is, I’ve yet to use it on humans! Ah... no, wait, that’s not what I meant! I meant I have only used my ability on monsters!"
In his desperate attempt to clear the misunderstanding, Nightingale only managed to commit an unholy blunder and immediately tried to patch it up.
Naturally, it didn’t work.
Flaming Rose kept her distance, eyes fixed on him from behind the mask. With her face completely obscured, there was no telling what she was thinking. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he was certain she was smiling.
But her trembling shoulders told a very different story.
She was scared out of her wits! Nightingale could practically see the paranoia radiating from her shoulders!
How on earth was he supposed to calm down this paranoid woman? Judging by her body language, it didn’t seem like she’d listen to a single word he said.
’Dammit... what misfortune.’
He could only stare at the pitiful-looking woman before him and let out a long, weary sigh as if resigning himself to his fate.
† †
Nightingale spent the next few minutes trying to calm Flaming Rose down, and after much effort, he finally succeeded. The Caster managed to regain her composure, just enough for them to resume their great journey.
Even so, she continued to shoot him wary glances every now and then.
Setting that aside, once he extracted the Spirit Shard from the Carcass Beetle, the two pressed onward, hoping to eventually find the exit.
Since their current location wasn’t marked on the map, they had no choice but to improvise and navigate by instinct alone.
Hours slipped by.
The deeper they ventured, the more oppressive the air became. The tunnels of the Third Floor twisted endlessly, like the coils of some slumbering beast. Their footsteps were the only sound that broke the suffocating silence. What’s worse, the further they reached into the labyrinth, the more confusing and entangled the paths became.
It wasn’t long before Nightingale noticed something strange.
"...Wait. Haven’t we been here before?"
Flaming Rose stopped mid-step and tilted her head toward him.
"Impossible! I’ve been marking our turns since the last junction."
"Then explain this." Nightingale pointed to a jagged pillar carved with faint claw marks which he distinctly remembered seeing an hour ago.
A tense silence settled between them. It remained this way for a few moments, matching the atmosphere of a modern elevator.
Finally, Rose murmured,
"Could it be... a spatial loop of sorts?"
He smiled grimly.
"Unfortunately, it seems that’s the case."
If things continued as they were, reaching their destination would be impossible. And in this place, that meant only one thing; eventual death.
Trying not to think about the negative, Nightingale focused on their next course of action. They couldn’t afford to wander aimlessly; that would only lead them deeper into confusion. Acting recklessly was just as dangerous since a single wrong turn could cost them precious time.
And above all else, they had to remain vigilant. One moment of carelessness could invite another ambush.
It was a predicament where neither retreat nor advance promised a favorable outcome.
’Dammit. If we can’t move forward or backward, then what exactly are we supposed to do? It’s not like we can just use some video game tactic and hunt monsters until we find the next checkpoint. Wait... hold on...’
A spark flickered in his mind.
His eyes widened slightly as a sudden realization dawned on him.
It was an utterly insane idea that would make anyone question his sanity if they ever heard it. But really, what other choice did they have at this point?
After all, one had to be a little crazy to enter the Mire... and even crazier to survive it.
With that thought, Nightingale turned to Flaming Rose. A wild grin spread across his face.
"I think I know how we can get out of here."