The Twelve Apocalypses: A Damned Soul's Path to the Abyss-Chapter 86 139: The Taste of a Soul

On The Nature of the Abyss by The Third Wrath wasn't what one would describe as a fancy book. Quite the opposite, in fact. The cover was old, and so worn that I could barely make out the title on the binding. It was also stained in suspiciously blood-like splotches.

Oh, who was I kidding? This was a book written by a demon, for demons. Of course it was blood.

Reading it wasn't the most uncomfortable experience I'd ever gone through, but it was up there. The author, aptly named The Third Wrath (because that's exactly what he was), had gone to great lengths to exercise a thorough and scientific approach to his field of study.

But his 'field of study' was, simply, souls.

That was the issue.

I felt increasingly ill at the descriptions of his experiments. Each depraved act was recorded in exultant, lavish detail. He started with living mortals to see if the manner of their death affected the soul in any way. Then he moved onto the souls themselves, examining what happened to them when they were handled well… or mishandled.

I knew there was a snowflake's chance in a fiery hell that the book I held was the original copy. Anything written by a demon that powerful would literally radiate with their mana and malice for all eternity, and this book didn't. Still, it was far too easy to picture his blood-stained hands leaving the various stains on the tome's cover.

My mind conjured up vivid pictures of his demented expression as he worked. These were followed by mental images of a younger demon with a fresh copy, joyously repeating the experiments himself just to confirm The Third Wrath's claims. For a moment, that younger demon took on the face of my mother as I imagined her, and I felt the urge to throw the book away.

I didn't.

I wanted my answers, so I continued reading.

As it turns out, souls are a resilient thing. Unless you take special care to damage them with spells and uniquely capable weapons, they reform with no issue at all when they take the form of a crystal. I kind of knew that already, considering how nonchalant I was about cutting people apart with my soul blade, but it was nice to have confirmation.

Likewise, the trapped souls themselves are incredibly difficult to destroy. This lent itself rather well to The Third Wrath's experiments. So long as he didn't press certain limits, he could torment his victims for as long as he wished.

This is how he learned that souls within crystals are perfectly sentient and capable of suffering, but only when a demon has the right tools and really puts in the effort. The rest of the time, souls are trapped in stasis, their knowledge and essence preserved for a demon to feast on.

Of course, everything has its limits. That's why it is possible to damage or destroy a soul. The surest way to do this is, naturally, to lean on the power of the Abyss. It has the natural ability to feast on souls, and it passes on part of this ability to demons.

The Third Wrath wasn't satisfied with that.

Through his experiments, he created specialized chisels, files, and other implements of torture, all able to get through the crystal and act upon a soul. That's how he eventually produced soul dust, soul motes, slivers, and other such useful materials. He even discovered you could use a soul as the basis for enchantments by carving runes directly into its surface.

Finally, finally, I found the passage which my mother must have been referring to.

In spite of all my attempts, I have discovered a piece of the soul which I could not damage or even affect in any way. Based on this discovery, I pose the following theory.

A soul is made up of four layers.

The first or outermost layer is typically observed only in mortals. This is a wispy, ill-defined layer which wafts constantly off the surface of the soul, composed of the emanations and soul fragments which mortals continuously shed. Experimentation has shown that even if I keep the mortals in perfect physical health and youth, this constant draining and regeneration of their soul will gradually wear it down, and their souls will eventually collapse.

The second layer of the soul is what I refer to as the 'incarnation' layer. Composed of memories and feelings related to the soul's current life, it forms a sort of shell around the core of a person's soul. While permeable in mortals, it hardens in every type of immortal I've studied, disallowing the wastage of a soul. This, from what I've observed, is the layer we devour: the layer possessed of most of a soul's mana, energy, and memories.

The third layer was much harder to discover and access, but it was one of the biggest boons to my research. I've dubbed the layer 'accumulative layer', because it contains traces of memories and mana from a soul's past lives.

The souls I worked on fought fiercely to deny me access to this layer. I had to damage it to get through at all, innovating constantly on the proper tools while simultaneously stabilizing the souls. Annoyingly, the second this layer is harmed, the destabilization souls experience afterwards is extremely violent. It is almost as though souls instinctively prefer to implode rather than give up this layer.

Regardless, my persistence was rewarded, and the secrets of this layer became mine. The hidden knowledge, the glimpses of truth I found… I won't speak of them. Not even on paper.

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The final layer is the one that frustrated me most of all. It pains me to admit, but this layer is impervious to all I've tried to inflict on it. The moment I try, it is as though the laws of reality itself intervene to protect a soul. I resorted to methods most profane and forbidden, yet failed again and again.

However, my persistence was rewarded in one respect.

While taking part in my regular feasting on souls, I made a startling observation. I had never been able to detect what happened to the rest of the soul after I devoured its incarnation layer. However, with my greater attunement to the nature of souls, I finally witnessed the truth. I saw the moment the soul's core and remaining two layers slipped through me and were fed to the Abyssal Will through the link we share.

This new venue of research excited me, but it also stymied my efforts. To my everlasting anger, I could not follow the soul remnants past the Abyssal Will. No amount of tracing my connection to the Abyss or even searching its many Layers yielded answers.

It was as though what remained of the soul disappeared the moment it was stolen from my grasp.

Stolen I say, because that's exactly what the Abyss has done again and again! If the Abyss had no use for these remnants, it would not snatch them away! Clearly, there is power and knowledge hidden there, yet I've been denied access for far too long.

With this injustice burning in my heart, I eventually decided what had to be done. Ever so carefully, I stripped a soul of all but its core layer, then rebuilt a facsimile of a true soul structure using a piece of my own soul.

The result was promising, beyond even just this singular experiment. I could maintain unbridled connection to this clone soul of mine. I could even build a body around it, allowing it to operate independently. Existing in two places at once took some adjustment, and the false soul showed signs of degradation, but I will still pursue this path in the future to see what might come of it.

My main goal was accomplished as well, much to my consternation. I am unsure how to feel about what I witnessed, and I hesitate even to put my words to paper, yet I feel it must be done.

Let me start from the beginning.

When my false soul was finally formed, and I confirmed its short-term durability, I sacrificed it as an offering to the Abyss. Per my expectations, it was devoured by the Abyssal link, and I lost most of my connection to it.

Most, but not all. I was able to see glimpses through my false soul's awareness.

What I witnessed shook me. It was an expanse of endless darkness, interrupted only by the specks of other souls the Abyss had claimed.

At the center of this space, I bore witness to the Will itself.

It was like a great burning eye, or a sun radiating terror and might. I could feel its attention on me, unraveling me, snipping away pieces of my false soul to feast on. At first, I thought this feasting was its only goal. I almost summoned the soul back to me just to make the agony stop.

Then I caught sight of the truth.

My senses were degraded in my false-soul state, but I am still one of the Grand Dukes of the Abyss. As such, I bore witness to the moment when another soul in my vicinity was stripped of everything it could offer. All of its layers were ripped away, leaving only the immaculate core.

It was then that the Abyss added to the soul's essence. Intent and Emotion were carefully grafted onto it, and it was bathed in the purest Abyssal soul essence I have ever seen. I'd heard the ascendant demons describe something similar happening to them in the past, but I never put much stock to it. The rambling of fools was beneath me.

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Only now do I recognize my folly, having watched a Trueborn demon be formed by the Abyssal Will itself.

I tore my soul away then. I endured the rage and punishment the Abyss inflicted on me for snatching away the offering I had granted it. The pain was unimaginable, and the damage to my soul severe, but I have mended the consequences of my action since. The blow to my mind could not be so easily healed.

If what I saw is true, then every Trueborn demon is likely born in a similar way.

Madness gripped me, and I tore my way through the Abyss in search of answers. I found them. I found them, and I resent myself for what I did, because I now understand the drive of the Abyssal Will to consume and integrate more and more worlds.

Our homeworld is barren. It is the final sinkhole of Emotion, where all of existence pools its base nature. Yet, the Abyss cannot produce any souls of its own. Every demon since the dawn of creation has been a stolen speck of brilliance: a soul that drifted into the Abyss, drawn by its energies, and then was repurposed for its designs.

What is the difference, then, between a Trueborn and an ascendant demon? What separates us, other than the care with which we were molded? One is the result of a highly curated process, wherein nothing of the original is left. The other is a rushed affair, meant to replenish the Will's forces in its endless clashes with its twin.

What, then, does this mean for our future?

I stopped reading there, my mind mind reeling with remembered images I had tried to bury.

The Abyssal eye, gazing down at me as agony invaded the core of my being.

The certain knowledge that nothing of me would be left.

The despair of understanding I was powerless against my imminent, irrevocable destruction.

I shuddered, scooting a bit closer to Mia.

This was the fate of every soul I'd ever tossed to the Abyss. Every offering was a life I'd subjected to excruciating torment, followed by total erasure, with only the useful bits left behind for the Abyss to shape into new demons.

Why did Mother think this would make me feel better?

Then again…

Mia made an odd noise and burrowed closer into me. Slowly, my breathing evened out. Even more slowly, my brain pulled back from the brink of horror and started working again.

I began to wonder. What the Abyss apparently wanted gone were the layers that superseded a soul's 'core.' But even there… I could remember the Abyss slicing me apart, obviously, but I also remembered moments when it seemed to be avoiding bits of me. Even amidst the agony, I could still vividly recall what I assumed were all the most turbulent and emotional moments of my most recent life.

Perhaps the Abyss didn't entirely scrap your identity away. What if it saved certain elements and added them to the second-to-last 'accumulation' layer, using that layer as a foundation for what the new demon would become? It was a bold guess, but something told me I was on the right track.

That meant any souls devoured by a demon were shunted off into the Abyssal Will's clutches with all the gory bits of surgery already done. Those first two layers had already been devoured, so the current soul wouldn't experience the Abyss stripping them away.

If that was the case, then I wouldn't exactly be destroying the soul of one of my relatives. I'd be stealing the experiences of their final lifetime, sure, but I'd also be getting rid of those first two layers. The core and past life layers would go on to be reincarnated into a demon. Not only would the soul avoid the Abyss's excruciating surgery, but they'd be well on their way to Trueborn demonhood. In fact, they'd have a much better start than I initially got.

With a sigh, and feelings immeasurably beyond 'conflicted', I tossed the soul into my mouth.

I absolutely hated the fact that it tasted amazing.