Southern Fiore Kingdom.
The dark green ridges of the Chaos Mountains lay like a coiled dragon deep within the sea of clouds, its folds concealing a secret valley forgotten by time.
A green curtain woven from vines and ferns obscured the winding stone path into the valley, and only when the mountain wind stirred the pine waves did the village nestled by the stream, deep within the valley, become faintly visible.
The stone grinding mill under the old locust tree at the village entrance was covered in moss, and morning glories hanging from the bamboo fence nodded towards the stream—that clear spring, seeping from a crack in the mountain rock, always carried a few unfallen pear blossoms as it flowed, creating sounds like shattered jade against the pebbles.
This was the location of the Cait Shelter guild.
The last lingering rays of the setting sun reluctantly brushed across the pointed roofs of the thatched houses, coating the scattered wooden houses and the rising cooking smoke with a warm, golden-orange hue.
"Villagers" returning from working in the fields and "Mages" who had just finished their "requests" walked in twos and threes along the bluestone-paved paths, greeting each other with simple and genuine laughter.
The air was filled with the aroma of food and an atmosphere of tranquility that bordered on eternal.
In the center of the village, under a huge, lush Moonlight Banyan tree, a figure sat quietly, like an ancient stone statue blended into the scenery.
It was an extremely old man, the Master of Cait Shelter, Robinl.
He wore a faded, old-fashioned Mage robe, his face deeply furrowed with wrinkles, recording an unimaginably long stretch of years.
His eyes were deep, like ancient wells reflecting the galaxy, but at this moment, they gazed gently at a small figure not far away.
It was a blue-haired girl, about twelve or thirteen years old, Wendy Marvell.
She was holding a pure white kitten, even smaller than herself, and playing in the stream.
Splashing water, reflecting the glow of the sunset, landed on her delicate and innocent face.
Her clear laughter was like a mountain spring, tinkling and flowing.
"Carla! Look! It's a little fish!"
"Really, Wendy, be careful not to get your shoes wet." The white kitten, Carla, reminded her helplessly in a mature tone that belied her cute appearance, her beautiful pink eyes filled with doting affection.
She spread her pure white wings, identical to Happy's, behind her back and hovered steadily beside Wendy.
The village was peaceful, and the years were calm.
This "guild" hidden in the valley was the home Wendy had lived in ever since her brother Jellal brought her out of the forest, with her loving Grandpa Robinl, and "seniors" and "neighbors" who would play with her and take care of her.
Although there weren't many people, and the guild was small, and they had never taken on any proper requests, it was filled with everything she cherished.
However, this peace was soon shattered by a cold wind carrying a strong, ominous aura of death.
As the sun sank behind the mountain ridge, taking back its last ray of light, a figure dressed in a dark purple, ornate Mage robe appeared silently, like a phantom, on the stone steps of the only pass leading out of the village.
His figure was tall and slender, his dark long hair gently fluttering in the evening breeze, his face handsome but pale, carrying a sinister air that came from constant companionship with death.
It was Jose Porla, who had betrayed his position as one of the Ten Wizard Saints and become the Vice Master of the Ten Demon Generals!
Like a vulture, during his search for Nirvana in the Chaos Mountains, he keenly detected a very hidden yet harmonically discordant weak energy node nearby and followed its trail.
"A remote little guild…" Jose's voice was hoarse and cold, with a hint of mockery, "Such mosquito-like existences will only be an eyesore under the light of Nirvana. Better to clear them out before reaching the main battlefield."
He walked into the village with his hands behind his back. However, almost the moment he stepped in, his eyes, deeply versed in Undead Magic and soul magic, narrowed slightly, and a look of extreme surprise flashed across them.
Something was wrong! Very wrong!
The seemingly vibrant people in the village, whether farmers returning from the fields or children playing by the stream, appeared with an indescribable "blurriness" in Jose's perception.
Their auras were so faint as to be almost negligible, completely different from the soul-fire of true life.
Even more bizarre, the surrounding air was filled with an extremely pure yet extremely faint wave of thought, like a flickering candle in the wind, supporting the activities of these "presences."
"…Thought-forms?!" Jose whispered, his voice full of unbelievable shock, "They… all are?! The entire guild?! More than two hundred… all thought-forms?!"
This completely overturned his understanding!
In his understanding, while powerful thought-forms existed, a thought-form community of such scale, stability, and operating like a real world was unheard of!
What immense and precise magic power would be needed to support this?
And what kind of obsession?
His gaze penetrated the false appearance of the "villagers," like a cold blade, striking directly towards the Moonlight Banyan tree in the center of the village—there, apart from the blue-haired girl holding the white cat, another life's aura truly entered Jose's range of perception!
That old… person?
Was he a physical entity or a more enhanced thought-form?
Jose's interest was thoroughly piqued.
He no longer concealed his presence; a cold magical pressure, like an invisible tide, instantly engulfed the entire village.
Carla, who was playing with Wendy by the stream, suddenly looked up, her fur instantly bristling, her pink pupils suddenly contracting into thin lines, and an intensely dangerous premonition that made her soul tremble poured over her like ice water!
"Wendy!" Carla shrieked, suddenly pouncing into Wendy's arms, her small body shielding the girl, "A very dangerous person has come!!"
The smile on Wendy's face instantly froze; she looked up blankly, following Carla's terrified gaze, and saw the terrifying figure at the pass, emanating an aura like the chilling ice of the Nine Netherworlds.
All the "residents" in the village paused for a moment in their actions, as if affected by some interference.
Grandpa Robinl slowly opened his eyes, and an unprecedented gleam shot out from his cloudy eyes.
He recognized the strong dark magic on the newcomer, and… that powerful yet twisted and decaying aura unique to Undead Magic!
A great sense of crisis seized the old man's heart, which had been dormant for many years.
"You are…" Robinl said in a deep voice, his old voice carrying the vigilance of a guardian.
Jose did not answer, nor did he have any patience.
A cruel arc formed on his lips, and he raised one hand.
No complex incantations, no elaborate magic circles, just his five fingers slightly spread—
"Soul Sucking."
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