The first person Turan encountered inside the jewelry box was the librarian, who had turned the space near the entrance into a library. Since House Parsha's founding, the elderly spirit had been engrossed in absorbing new knowledge from the Gray Zone's ancient books.

Seeing Turan for the first time in a while, he spoke curtly.

"Brought another fellow to torture?"

"If our conversation goes well, I won't need to."

"Just don't make too much noise."

For all his gruff words, the librarian had offered Turan quiet encouragement when his failure to extract information from Kadram had left him frustrated. Turan smiled sheepishly and bowed his head.

He passed through the library section and beyond the prison of Kadram, who remained as unresponsive as a corpse, until the enormous cell holding Resion finally came into view.

"You..."

The spirit form of Resion, Baraha's House Head, was tightly wrapped in long, thick gray chains. Turan had conjured them in the image of the binding magic tool Baraha's nobles had once used on Solif, which he had taken after killing them.

Facing Resion's still-inhuman features, Turan spoke.

"How do you speak without a mouth?"

"Is that what you most want to know?"

"There are plenty of other things. But right now, that's what interests me most. Just what the hell are you?"

"Resion Baraha, House Head of Baraha. Former House Head, to be precise. Now that I'm dead, I'm nothing but a ghost."

Turan let out a brief laugh at Resion's self-mockery, then hardened his expression. His face had always looked somewhat sinister when he wasn't smiling, and the sharp, slit pupils peculiar to his spirit form, combined with his aggressive expression, made it look all the crueler.

"Let me make one thing clear first. I know you have a technique for abandoning consciousness and pretending to be unconscious."

"And?"

"The moment you try to use it to get out of this, I'll tear your soul into tiny pieces. Beyond any hope of repair. Consider that friendly advice. If you're waiting for your companions to rescue you, forget it."

The soul was immortal. That was what the soul-magic book taught, but the statement was both true and false.

The spirit form constituting the true soul—the true self—could never be annihilated, yet there were any number of ways to disrupt and scramble it.

In other words, even if Turan deliberately tore Resion's spirit form into pieces as small as that soul fragment, or smaller still, it would remain Resion. Though attaching that name to a spirit form no longer capable of thinking as he once had would mean nothing.

Unfortunately, it was difficult to judge whether the threat frightened Resion. With both of them in spirit form, reading emotions through scent was difficult, and his utterly alien features made visual analysis equally challenging.

Fortunately, the answer that came after a pause was encouraging.

"... What do I get if I cooperate? An eternity as a prisoner in this cell?"

"I'm not sure existing as a soul counts as living, but I'll guarantee you better treatment depending on the value of your information."

As he spoke, Turan lightly snapped his fingers, instantly transforming the cell's surroundings. A warmly blazing fireplace, an armchair, a wall lined with shelves of finely bound books, honey-roasted cod, and pork steamed until the meat fell off the bone appeared.

As the jewelry box's owner, he could manifest things he had personally experienced within it.

"A life of comfortable surroundings, delicious food, and entertaining things to look at. You might call those excessively worldly pleasures... but they beat being torn to shreds or locked in an empty cell forever, don't they? Though, come to think of it, I don't know whether you can eat with that mouth."

Another snap of his fingers made everything vanish like an illusion, leaving the cold cell behind. It was no different from before, yet with the warmth of the blazing fireplace gone, the air felt far chillier.

"And this is strictly a possibility, but if the fighting outside turns against us, I might release you temporarily. As a combat asset."

From past experience, though there were individual differences, gods' vessels could display power several tiers beyond that of the unexceptional upper-middle-tier nobles whose bodies they inhabited.

Resion, who had once served as Baraha's House Head, would be no less capable, and likely more so. He would be well worth using in an emergency.

Of course, possessing a body effectively erased its original personality, so Turan would have to choose a truly heinous criminal... Still, if things grew dire enough, "conscripting" Resion that way was an option.

"Naturally, you'd have to tell me a great deal first. How to create an anchor for a soul, how to enter the one here in Baraha..."

"You haven't found it yet?"

"We've only just entered the Temple of the Sun."

In truth, Turan had searched the Temple of the Sun thoroughly until nightfall without finding a trace, but he bluffed. He doubted Resion could track the passage of time very precisely inside this cell.

After a moment of silence, Resion spoke quietly.

"Very well. But I expect you to keep your word. I ask that you show me the same respect I show you, Turan Parsha."

Perhaps because he now thought himself a party to a bargain, Resion abandoned his curt manner and returned to his original, old-fashioned courtesy. Disgusted by how casually he donned that mask, Turan nodded without a trace of a smile.

"Fine. Then I'll start with this. What are you? Why does your spirit form look so unlike a human?"

"And what will you pay for the answer?"

Rather than answer, Turan lightly snapped his fingers, tightening the chains.

CRUNCH!

A stifled groan echoed through the cell alongside the crushing sound.

"Playing games right from the start. You're mistaken about something. This isn't an information trade. I'm taking a prisoner's particulars."

"Urgh... You have... a heavy hand."

Resion tried to feign his earlier composure, but the pain in every syllable ruined the effect. When Turan briefly loosened the chains, he muttered with a measure of resignation.

"Yes, I am... human. Or at least, I consider myself human. Though I may actually be a White Elf."

"... A White Elf?"

Turan involuntarily raised an eyebrow at the unexpected answer. Where had that come from?

Then again, now that he heard it, the idea did have some plausibility. The snow-white skin and those limp, tentacle-like ears fit the elves' defining trait: ears longer than a human's. Yet wasn't his appearance far too alien even for that?

"The Dark Elves I've seen didn't look much different from humans, apart from their ears."

"Nor do I—no... nor do White Elves, in the flesh. Apart from the ears, we look little different from humans. Only our spirit forms look like this."

"I see. So what exactly do you mean when you say you consider yourself human but are actually a White Elf?"

Resion hesitated at the question. But when Turan gave the chains a slight movement, he flinched and resumed speaking.

"Long ago, Resion... no, the one known as the Mechanic was terrified by the sudden deaths of his companions."

Listening quietly, Turan widened his eyes as he realized this was a tale from the distant past, when the Freyans had reached the end of their lifespans and the old empire had fallen. At last, he was hearing about the era even the librarian knew little about, confined as he had been to his library.

"After many sacrifices, the Mechanic and several surviving friends discovered that the problem concerned souls and age. Unfortunately, their knowledge of soul magic was not particularly deep. The Puppeteer in the west held a near monopoly on that subject."

"The Puppeteer?"

"Indeed. Hmm. He seems able to detect when information concerning him is mentioned. You would probably do well not to speak of him outside this place."

From Resion's explanation, Turan realized that the Puppeteer was the Biologist, the leader of Arabion–Nagin. Surely it made more sense that the same being had different names than that two beings possessed such an ability.

'The Puppeteer...'

Recalling Nagin's two bloodlines, Dominator and Tamer, Turan thought the name quite fitting. Both granted the power to control other beings or profoundly influence them on a spiritual level.

"In any case, they had never liked the Puppeteer much, so they sought White Elf Living Spirit Sorcerers as an alternative. It wasn't easy, since Living Spirit Sorcery itself had been deemed a threat and its practitioners hunted down, but they managed to gather a few."

"They used them to attempt a body transfer through Living Spirit Sorcery?"

"Correct. But the White Elves had no desire to meekly assist the Freyan gods who had driven their people to extinction... During the soul transfer, they tried to intervene with Living Spirit Sorcery, to take the human bodies the gods intended to claim."

"Don't tell me..."

Only then did Turan begin to grasp what Resion had meant earlier.

"Indeed. I consider myself a Freyan god who came to this world in the distant past... one of the players. Yet I also consider myself Aphlesoia, a White Elf born in this land. With the memories of being born and growing up as both beings intact, it is difficult to define my identity as one or the other. A spiritual hybrid, you might say."

To think the false rumor Turan had recently pinned on Arabion's leadership—that White Elves had seized the highest ranks of a great house—was true here.

No, if Resion's account was accurate, it wasn't quite right to say that White Elves had simply taken over. The being before him was also a fallen god of old.

"You seem rather surprised."

"Quite, to be honest. Should I take it that everyone in Baraha's little gang is half White Elf?"

"Yes. And not only us. Ruban is the same."

Turan recalled Ruban's heir, whom he had met not long ago. The thought of a fallen ancient god taking over his body had been revolting enough; knowing the being was half of another race made it even more repugnant. Relations with Ruban had soured in this conflict anyway. Perhaps, given the chance, he ought to deal with them soon as well...

"What about Zahar and the others?"

"I don't know for certain, but I suspect not. They seem to have a secret method for wielding greater power in human bodies."

"Then they don't know what you are, either."

"Had they known, they would probably have exterminated us long ago. Their dislike of us is well known. Fortunately, possessing even imperfect memories of the originals allowed us to pose as gods and maintain some contact."

Fortunately for them, White Elf Living Spirit Sorcery was a spiritual technique rather than something usable only through their physical bodies, so they had been able to continue reincarnating in human flesh. According to Resion, its principles probably differed somewhat from the reincarnation practiced by the gods in the west.

"Fine. Then where are your companions? I'll pay you properly for this answer."

Turan snapped his fingers as he spoke, and the chains binding Resion unwound on their own. Of course, even without their binding effect, Resion could do nothing here. Still, simply being able to move his limbs freely would bring no small sense of liberation.

"You're releasing me before hearing my answer?"

"Naturally, if I don't get a proper answer, you'll be bound again."

Turan had paid in advance to let him experience the relief of being freed from the chains. Once he had tasted it, he would not want to return to his tightly bound state.

"For the record, I already know they're somewhere underground. I'm only asking you to spare myself the trouble."

Despite his casual tone, Turan considered finding and imprisoning Baraha's gods a matter of considerable importance. Unlikely as it was, if they escaped their soul repository on their own and possessed new bodies, tracking them down and eliminating them again would take considerable effort.

Apparently unable to agree immediately to betray his companions, Resion hesitated for a long while, sighing repeatedly before finally nodding. Either the bluff that Turan already knew they were underground had worked, or a few threatening rattles of the chains had helped.

Ultimately, he was merely a prisoner in Turan's grasp. Unless he obeyed, he could enjoy not even the barest peace, let alone freedom for his soul.

"In the study beside the bedroom, stand before the second bookcase and recite this incantation: 'Om Amogha Vairochana Mahamudra Mani Padma Jvala Pravartaya Hum.' The same method closes the door."

"What does it mean?"

"It came from a novel I enjoyed long ago, so I don't know that much. Some sort of Buddhist mantra, perhaps."

Buddhism and mantras were unfamiliar terms, but Turan didn't react to every little thing. He was used to divine beings bringing up concepts from a world he didn't understand.

"Good. Let's verify that first, then continue our conversation."

"Mm."

Unless he was a fool, Resion would know that a lie would earn him far worse treatment. Judging by his calm demeanor, at least the method he had just given wasn't entirely false.

* * *

Having finished the negotiations, Turan emerged from the jewelry box and relayed his conversation with Resion to the two waiting outside. Both were deeply surprised, but Solif, who was more directly involved, was far more aghast.

"Resion is... a White Elf? No, all our house's gods are!?"

"It's not quite accurate to call them White Elves, but more or less."

Leaving the appalled Solif beside him, Turan recited the incantation in front of the study Resion had mentioned. With a humming sound, a spatial doorway appeared directly before him.

"This..."

Hadn't the passage to the underground labyrinth in the Tomb of the Gods looked exactly like this? It seemed these beings, too, could use spatial abilities, however limited. He would have to ask later how they had made it.

With that thought, Turan stepped through the door with the other two. Just as when he had passed through Armani's Jade Mirror, the study's comfortable air vanished in an instant, replaced by a chill.

"A cave?"

"No, I think we're underground. I can sense things far above us on the surface."

Turan could feel living creatures moving about hundreds of meters overhead. He guessed they were somewhere beneath Helio. Having once seen faint spirit forms flying about and sinking into the ground, he could say this was just as expected.

Like the room beyond the door, their surroundings resembled a reasonably tidy study—or a secret mansion. Lavish furniture stood here and there against smoothly finished cave walls.

Despite the relative order, dust covered the furnishings, and several household implements even lay on the floor. It felt less like a secret organization's headquarters than a poorly maintained vacation home.

Then again, gods or White Elves, if only those at the very top of the house could enter, it was understandable that the place wasn't clean. They couldn't let ordinary cleaners inside, and its users were hardly the sort to do a proper cleaning themselves—even if, as top-ranking wizards, they could have tidied everything with a wave of the hand.

"Well, shall we look around..."

"No need. It's obviously that."

Looking where Solif pointed, Turan let out a quiet "Oh." A massive stone slab, roughly three meters high, stood upright on one side of the cave.

As he approached and awakened his spiritual awareness, he saw spirits rippling inside it. Compared with Resion, whom he had just seen, some of the spirit forms looked even more alien, while others were relatively human.

The rulers of Baraha were trapped in this single small stone slab, waiting for him to decide their fate.

"Hello, friends."

With a sinister expression, Turan reached out, murmuring that it was time for them to leave that place and move somewhere better.