Souls Online: Mythic Ascension-Chapter 216: The Castle of Roses and Art

Penny didn’t know what to expect when she put on her headset and laid down on the couch. She had been given warnings from the others who had offered their own two cents as they had breakfast together.

From what she was told, it seemed like everyone had their own unique encounter while creating their character except for Crystal who had remarked on how she had originally just designed her own character from a distance.

That was until she logged in another time and met "Eisvir" who changed her in a way similar to that of the others. Though honestly, the blindfolded lady and the Cat eared boy both seemed a little delusional to her.

After all, shouldn’t they go get themselves checked out if they are hearing voices in their head? Of course, her opinion was a little bit biased as she wholeheartedly believed her Uncle Adam’s words about having a voice called Arachne inside of his head. After all, why would he lie to her?

"Game Start."

Penny’s eyes were closed when she felt the familiar hum of an air conditioner disappear alongside the comfiness of the couch she had been laying on.

Opening her eyes, she found herself standing in a garden of roses.

Endless, blood-red roses stretched across rolling hills, each bloom glistening as though touched by dew, though the air felt perfectly dry. Their scent was heavy and sweet, almost cloying, like perfume worn too thick. Thorns the size of sewing needles curled around iron-like vines that wove through the black soil beneath her feet.

Her boots crunched softly as she shifted her weight.

It was then she noticed the sky.

A vast canvas of swirling clouds loomed above, charcoal-gray and restless, with no sign of a sun or moon. The light that filtered through was dim, casting the entire scene in hues of silver and shadow. Despite that, everything was still visible, just painted in a muted palette.

Penny turned in place slowly, absorbing the unnatural stillness, the strange beauty of the world. And then she saw it.

In the distance, a castle rose from the hills like the spine of a forgotten god.

Tall spires clawed at the sky, their tips lost in the clouds. Gothic arches framed wide stained glass windows, some shattered, some glowing faintly from within. Ivy and roses clung to the stone walls, crawling over gargoyle statues and cracked battlements. It was massive, easily the size of a city block, but built upward more than out, like a crown reaching for the heavens.

Penny stared, lips parting slightly.

"Okay... definitely not the default character creator," she muttered.

There was no HUD. No menu. No tutorial fairy flying around offering tips. Just the castle. The roses. The clouds.

A strange sense of pressure began to settle around her, like she was being watched. Not by something hostile but by something waiting for her patiently.

She took a hesitant step forward, brushing her fingers lightly across the nearest rose. The petals felt real. Soft. Warm.

"I swear, if a vampire shows up, I’m logging off."

But even as she said it, she couldn’t deny the pull. Something about the castle called to her, the same way her hands always itched to take something apart and figure out how it worked.

With a resigned breath, she squared her shoulders and started walking.

The roses parted for her like a path had already been carved in the land.

And somewhere, deep in the castle beyond the thorns, something stirred.

After a few minutes of walking, Penny found herself standing at the castle gates where a simple wooden sign was hung.

- Those who come here seeking Power for Combat are not Welcome here. Those who wish to be given the power to Create shall be tested. If you fail to heed this sign, You shall suffer a fate worse than Death.

Penny stared at the sign for a long moment.

It didn’t glow. It didn’t fade away after she read it. It just hung there, weathered and nailed into the iron gate like it had been waiting for her specifically. The words were carved deep into the wood, as if whoever wrote them had done so with something sharper than a blade.

She reached out and ran a finger along the lettering. The grooves were real. Deep. Almost burned in.

"Okay. No pressure," she muttered under her breath.

Her gaze lifted to the gate beyond the sign. The metal bars were tall and twisted like thorny vines frozen mid-sway, darkened by time and stained with age. There was no lock, no chain, no guard standing watch. Just a soft creak as the gate slowly began to swing inward on its own.

The scent of roses thickened, now tinged faintly with something metallic.

Blood?

Penny’s stomach twisted, but her feet didn’t move. She had always considered herself rational. Practical. But this place made her feel like logic had taken a back seat from the moment she put on the headset.

She took a slow breath and stepped forward. The gates didn’t slam shut behind her or vanish into mist. They simply remained open, welcoming and silent. The cobblestone path continued on, lined with wrought iron lanterns that flickered to life one by one, their flames a deep violet instead of orange.

The air was cooler now. Not cold, but crisp, like a room kept just a little too tidy, a little too perfect. Every step Penny took echoed faintly, as if the castle grounds had been empty for far too long. She passed under a stone arch choked with vines, and beyond it, the main doors of the castle loomed.

They were tall enough to fit a giant, made of dark wood with intricate carvings. Scenes were etched into the panels—people painting, sculpting, sewing, building. Creators, just like the sign had mentioned. But in each image, their faces were turned away or hidden in shadow.

Penny reached out and laid her hand flat against the wood.

It felt warm.

The doors opened slowly with a whisper, revealing a grand hall within. The light inside was dim, lit by tall candelabras and thin streams of silver light that leaked through stained glass windows. The floor was made of polished black stone, veined with veins of crimson that looked like frozen lightning.

Penny stepped inside, cautious but not afraid. The air held the scent of wax, paper, dust, and rose petals. High above, chandeliers of crystal and iron hung suspended by thread-like chains, barely moving despite the stillness.

Tables were scattered throughout the hall, each one covered with tools. Paintbrushes, thread, clay, parchment. A workshop of endless mediums and styles. Every surface begged to be touched. The walls were adorned with framed sketches, fabric samples pinned like butterflies, and mannequins half-dressed in elaborate, dreamlike designs.

It wasn’t a throne room.

It was a studio.

A kingdom for a creator.

A single voice broke the silence, soft and low and rich like velvet.

"Many can destroy. Few can make."

Penny turned her head sharply, trying to locate the speaker, but saw no one. Only the shifting of shadows and the flickering of candlelight.

"What do you seek, child of hands and heart?"

The voice was neither male nor female. It echoed from all around her, gentle but commanding. It didn’t feel like a game prompt. It felt personal.

"I... want to make things," Penny said slowly. "Things that feel real. Things that mean something."

Silence stretched again, long enough that she started to second-guess if she had said the right thing.

Then a new sound filled the air.

A soft, deep chime.

A pedestal rose up from the center of the hall. Upon it rested a blank mask and a length of red silk.

The voice returned, closer now.

"Then make. Show this place who you are."

Penny walked toward the pedestal. The mask was smooth, bone white with no features, its surface cool to the touch. The silk shimmered like liquid, slipping through her fingers like water.

She didn’t know why, but she felt like this was it. The start of her character creation. Not sliders and menus, but something else entirely.

Expression.

The air around her changed again, thickening with potential. Her heart beat a little faster.

This world wasn’t offering her power.

It was offering her a canvas.

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