Tier 3+ - Accidental Champion (Book 6) - Chapter 23 - Like Voldemort Making a Horcrux

Xavier watched as the spirit disappeared back to the Otherworld. He could feel the connection to the Otherworld snap back out of existence, leaving an empty space as though it had never been there before.

He released a long sigh and sat on the steps once more. The Lost Bone of a Dead God still lay in two pieces before him. The Time Prison spell remained active. It was something that felt as though it would last for a very long time. He needn’t worry about the weapon’s soul deteriorating further—not yet anyway.

He tapped his foot on one of the steps below and rested his hands on his knees. The spirit he’d summoned had professed to being an A Grade Weapon Smith back when he was alive, with a specialty for working on soul bound weapons.

He told Xavier exactly what he had to do—and the options were slim, considering the blade was already bonded to him. If it had been unbonded, that would have been a different story.

Xavier tried to touch the weapon, but it was in a different phase of time. He could touch it, but it didn’t feel completely solid. The sensation was strange. Mostly, it just made him frustrated, so he pulled away.

He looked over his shoulder. Up the steps was the Thirty-First Descent. On every other stairwell, when one stepped back onto the descent—whether from the stairwell ahead or behind—they had to fight through the descent again.

Would that be the same for this one?

Xavier could easily use his Portal spell to circumvent that necessity, but something still felt very strange about the Thirty-First Descent.

The Demon of the Depths… It was way too powerful.

Everything else had been child’s play compared with it. He’d been able to kill the groups of Amalgamons with no trouble at all.

Then again… Maybe he was wrong about that. Maybe the reason it had been so difficult was simply because his spells had been locked on a 5-minute cooldown, and he hadn’t had access to Time Alteration—or the majority of his spells, after he’d used them once.

He bent his head forward in contemplation, staring down at the broken soul bound weapon as he did.

This Hell Moon had clearly been designed to help someone become stronger. Whether it was a lot of people, or one particular person, he didn’t know—but Xavier was starting to think of places like this as Grinding Zones.

He knew very little about the woman who made it, only that she had made this place with runes, and she came from a different universe. That, and she’d created this place before the System had reached the sector.

For a moment, Xavier focused on doing a thought exercise. He closed his eyes and imagined he was this Universe Hopper. He had to make up a lot of things as he imagined this as he truly knew nothing about the woman.

But making things up was something he was good at—it was why he’d pursued writing in the first place.

So, he imagined he was a Universe Hopper. Why would he come to a new universe and create a Grinding Zone? Clearly, if he had the power to do such a thing, the Grinding Zone probably wouldn’t help him.

So who did he wish to help?

Someone else…

Either a wide group of people, or someone very specific.

If he was hopping through universe’s, he knew exactly who he’d wish to help—himself.

In fact, he’d already encountered a version of himself that had tried to help him. Though, honestly, Xavier thought the man hadn’t given him enough information.

His leg constantly tapped the smooth step of the stairwell as he thought this all through.

The Thirty-First Descent was the most different to the ones previous. It took one to a different world, and it prevented them from moving forward or backward until the descent was completed. The other descents were dangerous, but one always had the opportunity to retreat back to the stairwell, which while not a System Safe Zone, was certainly a makeshift one.

The Thirty-First Descent didn’t have such an option. Why?

To push the person who reaches it… To teach them a lesson…

The lesson being… One couldn’t always back down. One couldn’t always retreat and come to a fight another day.

Sometimes you just had to keep moving forward. Sometimes you had to take on whatever was in front of you with the knowledge that there was no escape.

But why make the enemy so much more powerful than the ones that came before it? What lesson was that trying to teach?

Expectations and reality aren’t always the same. Assumptions get you killed.

And the trap… The trap would take out any reliance on a single spell or strategy. It would also teach one to be more aware of their surroundings, and more prepared for any threat that came.

He opened his eyes and stopped his leg from taping. He didn’t know if that was why the Thirty-First Descent had been made the way it had, or if whoever had done it was simply trying to catch people by surprise to cause their deaths—though he doubted it was the latter.

This place didn’t seem to want to trick people. It wanted to train them.

But thinking about all of this had been a blatant procrastination. Xavier was hesitating, when he needed to take action. Needed to make a decision.

Either he did what he needed to do to repair the Lost Bone of a Dead God, or he had to find a new weapon.

He sorely doubted he would be able to find a weapon as powerful as Lost Bone of a Dead God for a price that he could actually afford. Besides, there was no System Shop on the Hell Moon. There would be a cost to leaving this place. He wouldn’t be able to get back here easily. He could use the Sector Travel Key to go somewhere, but it would take a long while before he could return. That meant he would need to change his fighting style considerably. That was something within his power to do, of course.

But it wasn’t something he wanted. He wasn’t about to throw away the advantages he gained by carrying the weapon around—he’d be dead if it wasn’t for the way that weapon could shift and transform. If not for making it into a shield, that beam would have continued to pummel him until his health had zeroed out completely.

Xavier released a long sigh. He already knew what his decision was. He’d known since the moment the Otherworldly Spirit had told him what he would need to do.

The weapon was bound to Xavier’s soul, but the bond between him and the Lost Bone of a Dead God wasn’t the most powerful it could be between Denizen and weapon—there were more powerful bonds that could be called upon.

But there were risks to creating such bonds. Risks the spirit had told him to be wary of.

To repair this weapon—a soul bound weapon that was already bonded to him—Xavier needed to give a part of his soul to it.

This would connect them more strongly than before, and not just connect their souls. It would connect them in mind and body as well.

The cost to that was… A bond like this couldn’t be broken without severely damaging the Denizen, or possibly even killing them. If he were to do this, and the Lost Bone of a Dead God were to break like it just had, then he would feel it. He would take on that pain. It could cause him lasting damage—a hole that he could never heal.

And it might very well spell his demise.

There were upsides to a bond like this as well, however. More than simply repairing the weapon. Ones that he was eager to get. The first among them was the fact that the weapon would become even more intuitive than it already was. It would know what he wanted to do well before even him. This was something Xavier had already observed in the weapon, which he mentioned to the spirit he’d summoned.

This connection will be on a level you have never experienced before. What you felt is but a mere shadow to this bond, the spirit had told him.

Imparting part of his soul to the weapon would also make it even more powerful.

And Xavier could always use a more powerful weapon.

He wondered what Volkarin, Rhaalir, or Romalda would think about what he was about to do. There was a part of him that thought he should consult them about this. They were assets. Assets with knowledge he didn’t possess. He knew they would each have an opinion here.

But he didn’t want to know what those opinions were. He didn’t want their judgement to colour his decision.

He wanted to make this decision on his own.

Xaiver deactivated the Time Prison spell. He was able to pick up the soul bound weapon again. Xavier grasped the two pieces of the Lost Bone of a Dead God in his hands.

His hands trembled slightly.

This was a decision that he couldn’t take back. If he gave a part of his soul to this weapon, then he would never regain that part of him. To be whole, he couldn’t be parted from the weapon—he wouldn’t even be able to place the weapon in his Storage Ring.

He gritted his teeth.

I haven’t passed the point of no return yet. I can still change my mind. Still do this differently.

But he wasn’t about to do this differently. He wasn’t about to change his mind. When he made a decision, he followed through with it.

Xavier tore a part of his soul out of his body. It was a surprisingly simple act. It didn’t even require him murdering someone, like Voldemort making a horcrux.

He didn’t feel any pain—nothing physical, at least. Just an odd emptiness that he’d never experienced before.

The part of his soul flowed through his different energy channels. Just like as if he were cultivating, Xavier was able to make the part of his soul flow where he wished. In his mind’s eye, it was a glowing ball of orange light.

He sent that ball through the channels that lead to his hands, forcing his soul into both parts of the broken Lost Bone of a Dead God.

The soul of the weapon suddenly brightened. Where before it had been faint, dying, almost completely gone, now it was strong.

Stronger than it had ever been.

Xavier’s body had been trembling the entire time, trembling as though he were standing naked in the snow. Once he noticed, he composed himself, becoming steady again.

The two pieces of the Lost Bone of a Dead God snapped back together into one. The emptiness that Xavier had felt when he’d torn a part of his soul away was no longer there. He felt… Whole again.

Whole, as long as he had this weapon in his possession.

Something new flashed within him—the connection he had with the weapon. It was strengthened. Strengthened beyond anything he’d imagined before.

He shifted the shield back into a scythe-staff. It responded to his will in an instant, transforming so fast that Xavier barely even perceived the shift.

Xaiver smiled as he looked at the weapon. Not only was it once again intact, but it was also far more powerful than before in so many ways. He shifted the weapon again. Into a sword, a bow, a dagger, an axe. He moved up the stairwell, striking invisible foes, revelling in the feel of the weapon in his hand.

God, it felt perfect. In every iteration.

Xavier had always thought the weapon had felt like an extension of his body. Now, he realised he hadn’t known the meaning of the phrase.

This was a true extension of himself.

As he slashed downward with the Lost Bone of a Dead God in the form of a sword, a voice entered his mind. A voice he had never heard before.

Hello, Denizen.