The young soul jumped onto him and started climbing his former used-to-be body, using it as if it were some common ladder. How rude! Did she even realize where she'd just planted her foot? That was a sacred spot! Well, it had been sacred once.

  Now, she was right next to him—the real him, the spear him. Her shallow breaths tickled the air around him, and he could almost feel the pounding rhythm of her energized heartbeat. She was so close, so alive.

  The human grabbed him! Okay, things were happening! What was he supposed to do now? Was this human intending to use him as a weapon to fight off those pursuers? She was so small, way too small to hold something like him.

  And then it hit him. The spear had… grown. How had he not noticed it before? He'd absorbed so many souls over the years; they must've changed him, reshaped him, made him more than what he once was.

  No. Focus. This was too much to process all at once. He needed to ground himself, to focus on what was happening. There was so much going on. The human. The bell. The pursuers. The strange swirling pink object. He was being pulled in every direction. He couldn't afford distractions.

  Speaking of focus, was this human trying to absorb his soul!?

  That was an absolute violation of his privacy—and a terribly planned one at that. The moment her soul nipped at him, his soul reacted instinctively, surging with power. Without any effort on his part, his logoic body pushed back, automatically overpowering hers.

  He could feel her soul, fragile and weak, practically quivering beneath his touch. His amorphous spiritual form reached into her, stretching across every inch of her consciousness, probing her senses and vital functions and rapidly moulding them to fit his own shape better.

  But something was wrong. The resistance was almost nonexistent. Her soul was barely holding together—barely putting up a fight—and it was quickly denaturing in his grasp, bending, breaking. Was this really what living souls were like? So… weak? He would have thought that a living soul would at least put up more resistance, even if it were a young one.

  He thought of his impromptu attacker. This human's soul was too drastically underpowered to successfully cause any damage to his vastly superior spiritual body.

  Then, a thought flickered through his mind. If there was no danger, why not just let this play out? Consuming another random soul was boring, but this—this was different. The human was attempting to interact with him, trying something new, even if poorly executed. He could give it some time. See how far she'd go before the inevitable happened.

  He took a leap of faith. With cautious intent, he retracted his soul, just barely in time to prevent the complete absorption of the human's existence and waited to see how she reacted. His presence lingered near to hers, offering connection without force, watching for her response.

  He allowed her to take the lead on how she wanted to bond. But… nothing. No reaction. The human remained oblivious, her soul passively remaining to itself as if she couldn't even sense his offer.

  Wait. Was it possible she couldn't even sense souls at all? How did she start absorbing his soul then? Very curious indeed.

  He couldn't help himself—this strange human was starting to excite him. Her sheer unpredictability was a breath of fresh air in his otherwise stale existence. It may have been a bit presumptuous of him to do without permission, but given how woefully inadequate this human's sense of soul was, she'd never manage on her own.

  He took action, forcefully tying their souls together in a spiritual bond.

  The moment the connection was forged, an overwhelming wave of sensation washed over him. He could feel her—not just as a presence, but as a person. A child. Eight years old. Terrified and desperate. The rawness of her emotions hit him like a tempest. Her fear was palpable, her thoughts chaotic, but one desire shone through with crystal clarity: She wanted to escape.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Through the tenuous bond, he pieced together fragments of her intent. She didn't just want to run; she wanted him to move. She wanted the spear—his body—to act, to become her salvation and shield her from those who hunted her.

  He didn't fully grasp the details of the situation—why this little girl was being chased or what exactly had led her here—but some truths were self-evident. A group of adults pursuing a defenceless child into the depths of a cave? He didn't need to know more to pick a side.

  Even if, by some unlikely twist, she was the villain in this story, it didn't matter. The moment their souls became bound, she had become his human. Her fight was now his fight. For better or worse, he was with her until the end.

  He let her desperate desire ripple through their newfound bond, and her will seamlessly became his. With her plea as the catalyst, he tore himself free from the stone, a thunderous momentum propelling him toward the assaulters.

  As he closed in, six black, viscous tendrils unfurled from his metallic form, each one moving with surgical precision. They struck their targets without hesitation, piercing deeply into their cores. He could feel the terror in their souls as he devoured them, their essence dissolving into his being.

  The rush of consuming living souls, raw and potent, sent an electric thrill coursing through his very form. The sensation was intoxicating, a surge of energy that quivered along his shaft. For the first time in centuries, he felt truly alive.

  With his task complete, the tendrils slithered back into him, leaving the chamber still and silent once more. The only remnants of the chaos were the girl, trembling in the aftermath, and the faint glow of the invitation resting on the ground.

  Then the girl screamed, a sound so raw and guttural it startled even him. For a moment, the rush of victory faded, replaced by a pang of realization—she was just a child. She probably wasn't used to sights like this quite yet.

  Instinctively, he tried to comfort her, fumbling to convey his message through their tenuous soul bond. "Don't worry, you are safe now. You can come closer—I'm not your enemy."

  Their connection was still juvenile in its formation, and he had no way of knowing how much of his reassurance made it through. Yet, she quieted, her cries dissolving into shaky breaths. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

  Then, to his relief, she began to move. Hesitant, cautious, but her tiny feet carried her toward him. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Maybe, just maybe, she understood.

  His heart—metaphorically speaking, of course—ached for the tragic child. She looked so fragile, so utterly spent; her trembling legs were barely managing to keep her upright anymore. Whatever cruel fate had brought her here, it no longer mattered. She was under his protection now.

  Together, they would rise. Together, they would reach the top once more. This time, that sick Chauffeur would get what was coming for him. He could feel the fire reigniting in what remained of his soul. "You don't have to worry about any people coming after you; if you take me with you, all your enemies will become my fuel, and we can become mighty again." he sent through their bond, his thoughts charging forward like a tidal wave of conviction.

  "Together, we'll grow stronger. Far stronger than anyone could imagine! This time, I won't get tossed aside by some Chauffeur or by any devadoot! My soul will be incredible, and we'll be unstoppable! We should take the invitation and shove it back in that stupid pink moron's face! Schizo and girl rule the world! You and me to the end of days!"

  Oh, how exhilarating it felt to interact with the world again after years upon years of isolated torment! The very idea sent an intoxicating rush through his being. He was back—finally back. With her to carry his spear and him to smite all who dared oppose them, they would become walking catastrophes, the likes of which the world would never forget.

  Admittedly, he might have been getting a little ahead of himself. The excitement was difficult to contain after so long without purpose, but as he tuned into their still-fragile soul bond, he realized something troubling. His words hadn't uplifted her at all. In fact, he could feel that they had somehow terrified her even more.

  The girl picked up the glowing invitation and stared blankly at it, her small fingers trembling. He could feel her confusion through their bond and quickly understood—she was illiterate. The revelation struck him harder than he expected. "What sort of neglected childhood were you forced through? Here, just bring it to me, and I'll read it out for you."

  He saw that she hesitated; he could feel through their bond that she was still scared. She had probably been scarred and had become incapable of trusting from whatever monsters were bound to her before. But she had no more reasons to worry. There were no longer any evil monsters bound to her; now she had him. "There's no need to be shy; come on, bring it to me, and I'll read it for you."

  His second invitation seemed to have gotten her moving. She raised the invitation in front of his body? Spear? She raised it in front of him so that he could read it out to her.

  "It reads:

  You have been invited to

  The Tournament

  You are The Spear."