Why Did You Summon Me?

Chapter 553: This One’s Not Afraid To Die

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

The moment the Voidwalkers focused their attention on the task at hand, they easily reminded everyone that a group of professionals could very well perform miracles. In just three days, the strategy to save Noirciel had been revised, optimized, and finalized. The Alchemist Walker had completed the first part of the plan, using materials taken from Baiyi’s collection.

The first component was a pale-blue cuboidal crystal named “Mindstone”. It sounded like something a big purple guy would put into a metallic gauntlet, but this Mindstone was only a vessel to store a soul.

In this universe, the soul contained the mind, while the mind controlled one’s power and sustained the soul. With this in mind, the Voidwalkers quickly realized that one of Noirciel’s problems was the fragility of her host’s body. It was impossible for such a body to store her angel spirit or Divine Energy. The body could not even preserve all of Noirciel’s personality.

The weight of an average person’s mind was one, and the weight of a powerful fighter’s mind was one. According to the Lich Walker, the weight of an angel’s mind would be at least twenty. The Voidwalkers had decided to create a vessel large enough to store Noirciel’s soul—which contained her mind. Afterward, they would use the Fractal Horn of Inner Abysm, which was a more powerful vessel, to store the angel’s abundant Divine Power. Both vessels would then be fused into the body that Noirciel currently occupied.

This should leave Noirciel in a state identical to Baiyi’s Soul Armature state. Her essence would be stored in two vessels, and she would continue to inhabit the curvaceous human body of her host.

The plan was not perfect, though. To create the Mindstone, the Alchemist Walker used raw materials of the highest quality, his best alchemical techniques — including some borrowed from Earth’s Chemistry — and support from the Engineer Walker, the Cleric Walker, and some other Voidwalkers; nevertheless, the Mindstone was still unable to store the entirety of Noirciel’s soul. Because of this, the loss of some of her personality was inevitable.

How much damage would Noirciel suffer? Would she appear sedated, as though she had gone undergone lobotomy? Would she become catatonic? No one could be sure because the scale of this operation was simply unprecedented.

The Lich Walker — the chief expert in soul magic — was optimistic; after all, the Mindstone was designed by him.

“Please, you should have faith in me! I assure you that this vessel is adequate for her. If the soul transfer succeeds, she will definitely retain most of her personality. She will be able to think, feel, and act on her own will — the same as any average person. The difficulty we face is self-imposed: we want her to be more than just an average human. We want her to be as close to her original self — a proud and mighty Angel — as possible.”

It was as the Archmage had told Tisdale: the reason why the Voidwalkers did not place so much importance on this project because they wanted to rescue a banished angel or befriend a cute little girl. They wanted an angel of their own. An angel that commanded fear, majesty, and awe in mortals. Such an angel would strafe the sky with immense might, speaking on behalf of the Voidwalkers. Such an angel that stands with those trapped in the Void, rather than her peers.

This was why retaining Noirciel’s powers was of utmost importance. The Voidwalkers needed to retain enough of the angel’s powers to strike fear and awe in the hearts of mortals; for this, they needed a large enough vessel to ensure success. Finding such a vessel was the challenge that the Voidwalkers faced.

In the past few days, Tisdale — who had put the word out that the Voidwalkers needed a Fractal Horn — had received a flood of responses from all across Isythre. Most of these responses came with unverified tips of possible Fractal Horn locations. Ten respondents claimed to own a Fractal Horn of their own, stating that they would sell to Da Xue after negotiations were done and payment made. The overwhelming number of responses made it seem as though the Fractal Horn of Inner Abysm, one of the rarest items ever, could be found and obtained from just about anyone.

This outcome did not faze the Archmage. He ordered the Charlatan Walker, Hitman Walker — who had a bad temper — and the Sorcerer Walker to visit the respondents. In the end, not a single Fractal Horn was found, but a few syndicates of scammers were identified and brought to justice.

“This isn’t going well,” the Archmage said, sighing. “We might have to consider Plan B.”

Plan B was to save Noirciel, but her Divine Energy would be given up and replaced with something else to support the Mindstone. The result of executing this plan was worse than that of plan A; the Voidwalkers would only end up with another cute girl, who, unlike the others, was airheaded and inexperienced.

This was not the Noirciel that the Voidwalkers wanted; she would have no influence in Isythre. This kind of Noirciel would have been easy for the Church to hide, for she would be completely unremarkable. This would render most of the Voidwalkers’ hard work useless, as all they would end up was a new friend for the girls and a new loli for Baiyi, the tyrannical bastard. After all their investment, this possibility just stung.

The Voidwalkers were not sure that they would be able to find any energy that would serve as a suitable replacement for Divine Energy. Plan B had not been completely fleshed out, so it was only a last resort — one they desperately hoped not to have to fall back on after all their hard work.

The Scholar Walker sighed. “The Church’s success in compressing her voluminous soul and power into the body of a normal girl vexes me greatly. No wonder they had done so secretly. Although whatever they did only lasts for three days, it is by no means unremarkable.”

The Archmage replied, ” Do you remember what my student told us? A normal person had managed to summon Noirciel by unwittingly triggering a blood sacrifice ritual. That was how they met each other for the first time. Nevertheless, the problem lies in that Path of Heaven, and my useless fool of a student came home before he could finish decoding the damn formation! If he had just done his job before he returned, we would not be in such a sticky situation now.”

“I concur. If only we could acquire information concerning the Angel-summoning formation. That will be most helpful...” The Scholar Walker sighed.

“Well, if that’s what you all need, then please allow me to sneak into the Church,” the Hitman Walker said.

His suggestion was not well received. Groans collectively rang out within the room. “How about you don’t do that? Sir Hitman, you will really benefit from becoming a bit more self-aware...”

Just when the topic of discussion was about to change, the Engineer Walker’s shoulders shook, and the Voidwalker looked at the space beside him. “What did you say? A spy?”

He gave the Archmage a knowing look.

“Bring them to us,” the Archmage said, chuckling. “Let us take a look at this suicidal individual.”

A few minutes later, a round-bodied marionette that greatly resembled a cyclops strode into the hall, dragging an old man behind it. The old man was bellowing at the machine for its lack of respect.

The marionette did not have any intelligence, so it completely ignored the man’s noisy complaints. When the marionette lumbered into the room, it threw the old man over like a sack of garbage.

“Ow! My back! By the gods, you are all brutes!” The old man cried out.

The Archmage casually studied the man, who could pass for an old noble with too much money. However, there was something about him that put the Archmage of — the stink of a pious high horse.

“Let me check his record,” said the Engineer Walker. He walked over to the one-eyed marionette and rapped his knuckle on its head. After a few raps, the marionette’s round eye glowed red, projecting a screen, on which a playback of the old man’s past activities was already being displayed.

It seemed that this spy had lingered around Da Xue for three days, keeping tabs on the Aegis mansion during Noirciel’s near loss of control. He had staked out the tent in which the angel was resting. His attempts to sneak in was recorded by this surveillance marionette. It stopped the old man’s infiltration attempt twice and chased him out of the property, as it had been programmed to do by the Engineer Walker. When the old man tried to sneak into the tent a third time, the marionette deemed him a spy and promptly captured him.

“Kneel before you speak,” the Archmage order, and a fearsome aura crashed down on the old man, who had been doing his best to get back up.

“You! No — I mean, Your Majesty the Sage-Emperor, the first of the vile... I mean — the first Voidwalker?” The old man stuttered. He looked to be undoing an internal struggle. After a few moments had passed, the man began to stand up.

The Archmage’s next words echoed like thunder within the mansion. “I told you to kneel!”

The old man got so frightened of the powerhouse before him that his knees crashed down to the floor, as he trembled like a leaf. As though unable to speak properly, he groaned. “Patience... I do this for Her Grace’s sake...”

“Who are you?” The Archmage bellowed.

The old man fought back against the pressure suppressing him and exclaimed, “I... I am the High Priest of the Church of God’s Grace! It is against the customs to have me kneel before any mortal!”

“The only being of mortal origin here is your customs, priest. They do not apply to those of the Void! You should have kneeled the instant you came into my presence,” the Archmage coldly replied. “Tell me the reason why the ‘honorable’ High Priest of the Church would pay us a visit.”

The High Priest licked his chapped lips and swallowed hard. He suddenly recalled the stories he had heard about the first Voidwalker. How he had happily annexed many lands, and how he was proud of his achievements, especially the ocean of blood spilled to attain his glory.

‘He’s a vainglorious despot, who forced his people to worship him! A mad emperor that worked his men to death just to sate his appetite for wars!’ The High Priest thought, a chill running through his spine.

The High Priest was prepared to die for his cause, though. He looked up at the Archmage and frowned. “I came here to see Lady Noirciel off, but something terrible happened, right?”

He was telling the truth, but the Voidwalker believed his words to be a childish lie. ‘How can one of the Church’s top individuals wish to visit us?’ They thought. ‘And to do so with a flimsy excuse — are you suffering from dementia? Or, are you just not afraid to die?’