Chapter 12: The Monster in My Body Has Opinions
Vhalor, the Radiant Sovereign, celestial lion of ancient legend, breaker of darkness, walking sunrise, and general destroyer of peaceful afternoons, was having a bit of a crisis.
You see, Vhalor wasn't sealed inside Kaito Hoshino.
That would have implied someone had managed to catch him first.
No, Vhalor was something stranger.
He was the soul of Kaito's Soul Armament itself.
Fivefold Ascension.
For as long as the Armament had existed within Kaito, Vhalor had existed with it—sleeping, watching, waiting for the day his wielder became capable of properly awakening him. Fivefold Ascension was exactly what its name suggested: a power designed to push its wielder beyond his ordinary limits, beginning by doubling his power and eventually climbing through increasingly greater multipliers until reaching the full fivefold increase.
Very impressive.
Very majestic.
Unfortunately, its chosen wielder was Kaito Hoshino.
A slightly perverted teenager whose primary ambitions involved girls, harems, and somehow accomplishing both without first learning how to properly exercise.
It wasn't the most dignified partnership for a being called the Radiant Sovereign, but eternal existence came with compromises.
At least Kaito, for all his awkward flailing and boob-motivated monologues, was entertaining in a watching-a-cat-get-its-head-stuck-in-a-box kind of way.
Then something weird happened.
And by weird, we mean world-crossing-soul-swapping-what-in-the-radiant-heavens-just-happened weird.
At first, Vhalor didn't notice anything too strange.
The body was still Kaito's.
Same weak muscles.
Same terrible stamina.
Same face.
Same physical structure that made Vhalor occasionally wonder whether his wielder had spent his entire childhood actively avoiding exercise.
But the soul?
The soul was wrong.
Very wrong.
It didn't feel like Kaito.
Kaito's soul was loud, energetic, distracted, embarrassingly hormonal, and possessed the spiritual equivalent of someone constantly opening seventeen different thoughts and finishing none of them.
This one?
Focused.
Scarred.
Dense.
Disciplined.
And carrying something inside it that made even Vhalor pay attention.
Darkness.
Death.
A presence so ancient and heavy that Vhalor instinctively became still whenever he brushed against it.
There was also an enormous amount of cultivated experience buried inside the soul. Combat instincts. Ki control. Knowledge. Memories shaped by danger, loneliness, training, and the kind of stubborn determination usually found in people who refused to stay down even after the universe had repeatedly suggested they should.
That, as it turned out, was a fairly major red flag.
So Vhalor did what any self-respecting ancient celestial beast would do.
He sat very still within the spiritual core of Fivefold Ascension, narrowed his luminous eyes, and started asking questions nobody was currently capable of answering.
Very well. Assessment.
His deep voice rolled through the Soul Armament like distant thunder.
One: Fivefold Ascension remains intact.
Good.
Two: This remains Kaito Hoshino's physical body.
Also good.
Three…
Vhalor stared at the unfamiliar soul occupying it.
That is absolutely not Kaito Hoshino.
Massive problem.
What finally confirmed it was the behavior.
The new occupant woke early.
Ran.
Studied.
Practiced martial arts.
Analyzed his own physical weaknesses.
Created an actual training schedule.
And somehow accomplished all of this without once stopping to imagine breasts.
Vhalor was horrified.
"Impossible."
No Kaito Hoshino he knew could maintain that level of concentration without being distracted by a moderately attractive woman walking past a window.
This soul was efficient.
Disciplined.
Combat-trained.
Dare he say it…
competent.
Which meant only one thing.
This wasn't Kaito.
It was someone else.
Ren Kisaragi.
The name eventually surfaced through the soul connection. Somehow, the soul armament had changed owners.
A Ninja.
A cultivator.
Vessel of something called Ballom, Master of Death.
That last part caused Vhalor to become considerably more interested.
Because if Ren Kisaragi's soul was currently occupying Kaito's body…
Then one question became extremely important.
Where is my human?
Vhalor's tail lashed once across the endless golden landscape of the Soul Armament.
More importantly—
how had somebody done this without him noticing?
He was the Radiant Sovereign.
The living soul of Fivefold Ascension.
A spiritual entity whose entire existence was directly attached to Kaito Hoshino.
And yet someone had reached across worlds, removed Kaito's soul, replaced it with Ren's, and somehow left the Soul Armament completely untouched.
No rupture.
No warning.
No resistance.
Nothing.
Vhalor's eyes narrowed.
Whoever accomplished this was powerful.
Very powerful.
And annoyingly precise.
How did they exchange the souls? Why Kaito? Why Ren? And why did Fivefold Ascension remain attached to the body rather than following its wielder?
That last question bothered him most.
Vhalor had always considered himself part of Kaito.
Yet the Soul Armament had remained here.
Which meant the bond between wielder, body, soul, and Armament was apparently much more complicated than even he had assumed. Or, the being involved had enough power to change ownership of soul armaments.
Wonderful.
He hated learning new metaphysical rules through personal emergencies.
For now, though, there was nothing he could do.
Fivefold Ascension remained dormant.
Ren hadn't awakened it.
He probably didn't even know it existed.
So Vhalor watched.
He watched Ren run until Kaito's lungs screamed.
He watched him study martial arts.
He watched him struggle through schoolbooks.
He watched him somehow turn Kaito Hoshino's previously exercise-allergic body into an actual training project.
And despite himself…
Vhalor became curious.
Interesting.
Ren Kisaragi had no idea he was carrying Fivefold Ascension.
No idea that somewhere deep within Kaito's spiritual foundation slept a power capable of doubling his strength…
then pushing beyond that…
until eventually reaching five times his natural power.
And absolutely no idea that the creature waiting within that power was already watching him.
Vhalor lowered his enormous head onto his paws.
For now, he would wait.
Observe.
Learn.
Because sooner or later, Ren Kisaragi was going to discover the Soul Armament.
And when that happened?
The Radiant Sovereign intended to get some answers.
Preferably before Kaito returned and immediately asked whether Fivefold Ascension could somehow help him acquire a harem.
Vhalor already knew the answer to that question.
No.
----------------------------
Somewhere Far Deeper
Ballom, Master of Death, devourer of origins, would-be Lord of the Abyss, and currently the least comfortable prisoner in existence, had experienced many humiliations.
Being defeated was one.
Being dragged into the Human World against his will was another.
Being sealed inside an infant?
That one remained near the top of the list.
But waking up one day and discovering that the soul occupying said infant—now a thirteen-year-old Ninja—had been replaced by an entirely different person without so much as disturbing his prison?
That was new.
And Ballom did not like new things.
The creature opened his eyes.
Darkness stretched endlessly around him.
Not ordinary darkness. This was the inner world of Ren Kisaragi's soul, a place built from memory, Ki, instinct, and the chains of one of the most powerful seals the Vieled Moon Sect had ever created.
At its center stood a colossal black pillar.
Chained to the black pillar was a being that looked less like a monster and more like a blasphemous immortal of death. Bone-white armor plated his body in smooth, skeletal curves, while vast crescent-shaped wings arched behind him like the blades of executioners. His frame was lean, regal, and inhuman, his claws long and elegant, his face a cold mask of corpse-pale divinity. He did not radiate rage. He radiated inevitability. He looked like the final truth waiting at the end of all living things.
Which meant Ballom could currently perform approximately three activities.
Think.
Glare.
And hate everyone involved.
He was exceptionally talented at all three.
Ballom shifted one claw.
The chains tightened instantly.
CLANG.
Pain tore through his spirit.
His lips pulled back from rows of pale teeth.
"Still there."
Of course they were.
The seal had not weakened.
That was the first problem.
The second was much worse.
The boy was gone.
Not the body.
Ren Kisaragi's body still existed. Ballom could feel it beyond this place as clearly as ever—the beating heart, the flowing blood, the Foundation Establishment physique, the vast Ki pathways developed through years of training.
But Ren's soul?
Gone.
Someone else sat in its place.
Ballom narrowed his eyes.
"Kaito Hoshino."
The name tasted ridiculous.
The new soul was softer. Untrained. Unrefined. Filled with strange memories, embarrassing ambitions, and enough thoughts about women to make Ballom briefly consider whether the seal had finally driven him insane.
But there was no mistake.
Ren was absent.
And somehow Ballom was still here.
That should have been impossible.
Ballom had never simply been trapped inside Ren like some beast locked inside a cage.
He was tied to him.
Body.
Soul.
Life.
The seal had been designed that way deliberately.
Removing Ballom would kill Ren.
Removing Ren from Ballom would kill Ballom.
Their lives had been knotted together so tightly that even death itself would have trouble deciding where one ended and the other began.
That was the price of the seal.
A price paid in blood.
A price paid by Ren's father.
And his mother.
Ballom remembered that night well.
How could he not?
The Veiled Moon Sect had been dying.
Not quickly.
That would have been merciful.
It had been dying the slow way.
The dangerous way.
For generations, the Veiled Moon had survived by becoming the blade nobody wanted pointed at them. Its Ninjas specialized in shadow, poison, moonlight, infiltration, and death. Kings hired them. Great clans feared them. Cultivators whispered their name before entering dark rooms.
And naturally, after centuries of assassinating important people, the Sect had accumulated enemies.
Quite a lot of them.
Things had remained manageable while the previous Sect Leader lived. The old monster had stood at the very peak of Spirit Transformation, one step away from becoming a Sage.
Nobody wanted to test him.
Then he died.
And suddenly everyone remembered their grudges.
The current Sect Leader was powerful, certainly. A Spirit Transformation cultivator capable of destroying armies and flattening cities if properly annoyed.
Unfortunately, the Veiled Moon's enemies weren't idiots.
Several powerful Sects that had lost elders, heirs, masters, and entire bloodlines to Veiled Moon assassinations began speaking to one another.
Then cooperating.
Then planning.
The Veiled Moon Sect sat within the Verdant Sanctum Empire, one of the great empires established beneath the authority of an Ancient Sect, much like the Heavenly Flame Sect and the territories surrounding it.
That protection mattered.
But it did not make the Veiled Moon untouchable.
Especially when its enemies were careful enough to call what they wanted justice instead of revenge.
The Sect needed something that would make attacking it too expensive.
Something terrifying enough that even powerful enemies would hesitate.
They needed a deterrent.
They chose Ballom.
Not because Ballom had attacked them.
Not because he had invaded their lands.
Not because some heroic cultivator had defeated him while protecting innocent people.
No.
They had hunted him.
Ballom still found that insulting.
He had been preparing for something much greater.
Ballom was an Abyss Creature, but not some mindless thing crawling from the depths. Every true creature of the Abyss reflected something that existed on the Human side.
Ballom's origin had once been connected to an extraordinarily powerful human cultivator.
Then Ballom had done what creatures like him were never supposed to accomplish.
He found that origin.
And devoured it.
The act had transformed him.
Strengthened him.
Freed him from limitations that should have defined his existence.
He had begun walking the long path toward becoming an Abyss Lord.
Then the Veiled Moon Sect interfered.
Ren's father had led the operation.
Ballom remembered the battle.
The formations.
The poison.
The moonlight blades cutting through his darkness.
Ren's mother helping restrain him while the final seal was prepared.
And then—
the child.
A newborn Ren Kisaragi.
Ballom had understood what they intended only moments before it happened.
"You would put me inside your own son?"
Ren's father had been bleeding from his eyes by then.
His soul was already burning.
"Yes."
"Madness."
"Perhaps."
Ballom had laughed.
"You'll kill him."
Ren's father had looked down at the infant.
Then back at Ballom.
"No."
He had been wrong about many things that night.
But not that.
The seal required more power than any ordinary formation could provide.
So Ren's father supplied the missing component.
His own soul.
The sacrifice became the foundation.
His life burned through every rune.
His existence became chains.
And when even that wasn't enough, Ren's mother stayed behind, pouring everything she had into holding Ballom still while the ritual finished.
She did not survive either.
Two lives.
For one seal.
For one child.
For one weapon powerful enough to make the Veiled Moon Sect's enemies reconsider what victory might cost them.
Ballom had awakened inside Ren unable to move.
Unable to escape.
Unable even to properly speak.
The infant cried.
Ballom screamed.
Nobody heard him.
Thirteen years.
For thirteen miserable years, Ballom had waited.
He learned the seal.
Studied it.
Tested it.
Found its weaknesses.
Very few existed.
But emotions changed things.
Fear.
Rage.
Despair.
Hatred.
Whenever Ren's emotions became intense enough, the barrier between them thinned.
Ballom's power leaked through.
Sometimes only a little.
A shadow moving where it shouldn't.
Cold air.
The smell of death.
Other times, Ballom could speak directly into Ren's mind.
That had been useful.
Because Ballom had a plan.
A patient one.
Ren was young.
Hurting.
Desperate to become stronger.
Exactly the sort of person who could be shaped.
Ballom would offer advice.
A little power.
A little help.
Nothing suspicious.
Nothing obvious.
Let the boy become accustomed to him.
Let him rely on him.
Let him believe the Master of Death was becoming an ally.
Years, decades—it didn't matter.
Death was inevitable.
Ballom understood that better than anyone.
Eventually, Ren would need more power than he possessed.
Eventually, he would reach for Ballom willingly.
And when the connection became deep enough…
Ballom would devour his life force.
Not the soul.
That would be impossible while the seal remained.
But life?
Vitality?
Cultivation?
Those could be consumed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Until Ballom possessed enough strength to shatter what remained.
It had been an excellent plan.
Elegant.
Patient.
Inevitable.
Then Kaito Hoshino appeared.
Ballom stared into the darkness.
"…I hate this boy."
Somewhere beyond the soul space, Kaito was apparently shouting about harems while attempting to control shadow clones.
Ballom closed his eyes.
He had once devoured the origin of a mighty cultivator.
He had fought Spirit Transformation masters.
He had been on the path toward becoming an Abyss Lord.
Now he was chained to a pillar listening to a teenager scream:
"FOR THE HAREM!"
Ballom's eye twitched.
This had not been foreseen.
More importantly, whoever had exchanged the two souls had done something Ballom would previously have considered impossible.
They had separated Ren's soul from his body without breaking the seal tying Ballom to both.
And Ballom remained alive.
That meant the connection had not actually been severed but changed.
The chains rattled as shadows curled around the pillar.
Whatever had taken Ren had not freed Ballom.
But it had changed the rules.
And changed rules created opportunities.
Ballom had eternity to understand what had happened.
He only needed patience.
Death always arrived eventually.
It did not matter whether one waited a day.
A year.
A century.
In the end, everything living came to him.
Ren Kisaragi would be no different.
And whoever had interfered with Ballom's plans?
They too would eventually learn the oldest truth in existence.
Death was inevitable.