Locke was eager to examine Oakes' condition and had no interest in small talk with the two Demigods.
He took out the mission token from his spatial ring and tossed it to them.
"This is my mission proof. Take me to your tribal leader immediately."
"Ah—?"
"Yes, yes, my lord! This way, please!"
The moment Gaspar and Korst saw the token, their eyes lit up with joy.
They had never imagined that the mission they posted at the Fiend Castle would truly be accepted—let alone by a Highgod.
In that case… Lord Oakes might actually be saved.
With renewed hope, they quickly led Locke into the tribe's only castle.
In the most ornate chamber lay a middle-aged man.
Pain flickered across his face from time to time. His soul aura was faint—and weakening.
Beside the bed sat a beautiful woman, carefully wiping the sweat from his brow with a cloth, trying to ease his suffering.
"Madam, this lord is the Fiend who accepted the mission to save Lord Oakes."
From their tone, it was clear Gaspar and Korst held her in deep respect.
"Thank you for your trouble, my lord."
She bowed slightly and stepped aside.
Locke immediately activated his soul vision.
"Mm?"
"I see…"
Within his perception, Oakes' soul had indeed withered to the brink of collapse.
The earlier ambush had nearly destroyed him through a soul attack.
At the edge of life and death, his soul had begun to mutate in order to survive.
However—
His remaining soul power was insufficient to complete the transformation.
Without intervention, he would perish within a week.
Locke flipped his hand. A violet crystal appeared.
"Is that… an amethyst crystal?!"
Gaspar and Korst gasped.
They had offered only 3,000 inkstones as reward.
One amethyst crystal cost at least ten thousand.
Their expressions darkened.
If Lord Oakes were saved using something so precious… how could their tribe possibly compensate this Highgod?
Locke ignored them.
All his attention was fixed on Oakes' soul.
He was fortunate.
Oakes' soul mutation was actively underway.
While observing carefully, Locke refined the violent soul energy within the amethyst crystal using his soul flame, slowly channeling the purified energy into Oakes' soul.
The effect was immediate.
The mutation stabilized.
Within Locke's perception, Oakes' soul resembled the fusion of natural laws he had once immersed himself in.
Wind.
Water.
Two distinct Edicts intertwining, colliding.
"So that's it…"
Understanding dawned upon him.
The foundation of soul mutation required affinity with at least two different laws or edicts.
When faced with mortal danger, the instinct to survive shattered the barriers between them, forcing transformation amid conflict.
But the process was extraordinarily dangerous.
It required tremendous soul power.
Most who triggered mutation did so after catastrophic soul damage—their remaining strength insufficient to see it through.
That was why soul mutants were exceedingly rare.
The stronger the soul, the harder it was to face a truly lethal crisis capable of inducing mutation.
Most successful cases occurred below Saint level.
Oakes was lucky.
Locke happened to discover him mid-mutation.
Of course, Locke considered it "fate."
As founder of the Fiend Castle, while it expanded across Hell, he was—metaphorically—blessed by destiny.
Things tended to go his way.
Such was fate's gift.
Under Locke's steady support, Oakes' soul strengthened.
The mutation accelerated.
Outwardly, his aura gradually grew stronger.
But outside, Gaspar and Kost turned pale.
They had watched one amethyst crystal shatter in Locke's hand.
Then another.
Then another.
The treatment lasted a full week.
Ten amethyst crystals were consumed before Oakes' soul mutation finally completed.
"Good."
Locke exhaled.
"He's stable now."
"Really?!"
The woman rushed to the bedside.
"Yes. His injuries are gone. He'll awaken within the hour."
Seeing the affection between them, Locke withdrew. He turned to the two Demigods.
"Is there somewhere I can rest?"
"Yes, my lord! Right this way!"
Gaspar personally escorted him to the tribe's guest quarters.
"I'll remain outside, my lord. Please call if needed."
Locke nodded.
Treating Oakes had not truly exhausted him.
What tired him was the intense concentration—observing every detail of the mutation process.
It rivaled refining Sovereign's Might in strain.
And, frankly, he had no desire to linger and witness an emotional reunion.
Seated cross-legged upon the bed, he began meditating—restoring soul power while replaying every detail of the mutation within his own soul.
The insights gained were immense.
The next day—
"Lord Locke, Oakes requests an audience."
Locke opened his eyes.
Though disguised, he had not concealed his name.
In Hell, identical names were common. Before a name became famous, thousands shared it.
Afterward, most changed theirs out of respect.
Some did not.
Ordinary individuals were rarely mistaken for legends.
"Come in."
Oakes entered and bowed deeply.
"Lord Locke, thank you for saving my life."
"However…"
His face grew strained.
"I've been told you used ten amethyst crystals to save me."
His jaw trembled slightly.
Ten crystals—at minimum 150,000 inkstones.
The Blackstone Tribe's primary income came from mining Blackjade ore—a common material used for forging divine artifacts.
But because Blackjade was abundant in Hell, its value was modest.
In a century, their refined output sold for only a few hundred inkstones.
The 3,000 inkstones used to post the mission had taken over one hundred thousand years to accumulate.
To many gods, guarding a tribe for a thousand years earned only a single inkstone.
By comparison, the Blackstone Tribe was relatively prosperous.
Prosperous enough to be targeted.
That ambush had nearly cost Oakes his life.
He was grateful to be alive—
But burdened with over a hundred thousand inkstones of debt…
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