Chapter 4 – The Price of the Deadbloom
Inside the silent, crystalline space of his mind—
Kurora stared at Ignes, his small blue form trembling ever so slightly, the light around his flippers flickering like a dying candle.
"Then, Your Highness…" Kurora's voice was small, hesitant. "Why is your soul so weak? What truly happened out there in the void?"
Ignes paused.
He turned his focus inward, observing the state of his own essence for the first time since his return.
"…Oh."
He was weak.
But "weakness" was a relative term. To Ignes, it felt like a roaring sun had been reduced to a steady bonfire.
To anyone else in this world—or any world—his current power would still be staggering. They would see him and think him unrivaled, a god amongst men.
But to him, the loss was palpable.
"It's weird," Ignes murmured.
Kurora's brow furrowed, his worry deepening. "Weird? Your Highness, you don't know what caused this? You don't know what drained you?"
"No," Ignes replied, his mental voice cool and contemplative. "I simply used my power for the first time in an age. That is all."
He paused, a shadow crossing his mental presence.
"I was struck by the Deadbloom. An attack like that… it shouldn't have just weakened me."
His thoughts grew heavy.
"It should have reduced me to something pitiable. A soul like those born in the lowest, most fractured worlds."
He went silent, the logic not quite clicking.
(But it didn't happen like that.)
(That is what felt so strange to Ignes.)
(By all laws of the Soul Realm, he should have been diminished—or something vital within him should have been shattered beyond repair.)
(And yet… nothing was destroyed.)
(Kurora's thoughts)
Why is His Highness saying such things…?
A being like him… even suggesting he could be compared to a low-realm soul… it's unthinkable.
The gap between the realms is not a mere distance; it is a fundamental difference in existence.
The higher realms are saturated with pure, rich energy. It is calm, comfortable, and perfect. To breathe there is to be whole.
But the lower you descend, the more the universe begins to rot.
The energy becomes rough… thin… agonizingly uncomfortable.
For beings from the higher realms, even a moment in those lower worlds feels like a physical weight pressing against their spirit. It is an insult to their very nature.
Most of them refuse to even glance toward those broken places.
It is like forcing a king who has known only luxury to suddenly dwell in a ruin filled with jagged glass and stagnant air.
Of course they would reject it.
Of course they would find it unbearable.
I thought they were exaggerating their discomfort at first…
But then, I had to go there myself. One of the souls under my care was failing, unable to endure the pressure of the descent.
I understood then.
That place is not something a pure soul can accept easily. It is a slow suffocation.
But His Highness…
He has never cared.
Whether he stood in the pinnacle of the higher realms or moved through the filth of a lower world… he stayed exactly the same.
Calm. Unbothered. Silent.
As if there were no difference between the two.
So why… why is he speaking of his soul being diminished now?
Kurora finally spoke out loud, his confusion bubbling over.
"How can you say such things, Your Highness? You are beyond such comparisons."
Ignes turned his gaze toward the little penguin, his eyes ancient and knowing.
"Kurora… don't you truly know what a Deadbloom attack signifies?"
Kurora hesitated, his flippers twisting together.
"…Is it truly worse than being trapped in a low-realm world?"