The SSS class adventurer is a divine cleric-Chapter 76: The Spirit realm [1]

Derek stood where he had just knelt.

The world had changed. There was nothing but the white fog that stretched in every direction like the breath of some ancient beast.

There was no sky or ground, just an endless mist of echoing silence. This was the spirit realm in its pure form. A mirror of the living world. Yet completely different from each other.

In his astral form, Derek felt—nothing, no weight, no wind, not even his heartbeat. But he felt a pull, a soft tugging in his hand.

The necklace.

It trembled faintly in his palm, glowing pale-blue, beating like a dying pulse.

He gritted his teeth.

"She’s in here somewhere," he muttered to himself. "Come on, Alira... where did they bury you?"

Then, he felt it.

A faint resistance in the fog, like swimming upstream.

The necklace pulsed harder.

Derek turned and ran.

There was no time. Five minutes was just too short. He had no clue how time in this realm translated to the real world, soul-realms didn’t follow logic. One step here could cost a second or an hour. He couldn’t afford either.

The fog thickened as he pushed deeper.

Shapes formed in the mist, spirits of regrets, and horrors twisted in and out of existence influenced by the spirit realm. Echoes of spirit screaming, some sobbing unable to find their way, some laughing. The place was really unsettling.

But he didn’t stop.

The necklace grew hotter in his hand. The light sharper. It was burning now, carving a path through the fog.

He saw a dim shape in the distance.

No, not a shape but a cage.

Wrought from tangled thorns and blackened steel, the prison hovered in the fog like a dead star. Chains, runes, and jagged locks wrapped around it. Inside... a tiny flicker of violet-white light. Barely visible.

Derek’s breath caught.

"Alira."

He charged forward, but the mist surged like a tide of darkness to stop him. Writhing tendrils shot up from the fog, dragging themselves into monstrous forms, the spirit’s guardians. Broken beasts made from memories and spite.

A twisted lion-headed thing lunged at him.

He swung the necklace, its light flaring and the monster screamed, evaporating into mist.

Derek didn’t stop.

One minute lost. Maybe two. No way to be sure.

He reached the cage, its presence pressing against his soul like a tomb. The light inside flickered weakly, shivering.

"Alira," he said, kneeling down beside it, placing the necklace against the bars. "I’m here. Wake up."

Nothing.

Her soul didn’t respond.

Derek’s fists clenched. The gem in his hand cracked. He pressed it harder, letting the star-forged heirloom’s energy pour into the lock.

"Wake. Up. You stubborn girl. You didn’t survive to Ashmane just to lose to some parasite."

No answer.

But the light inside the cage quivered.

There was no time as it would be anytime soon for stronger spirits to catch up to him.

Back to the living world.

The silence outside was unbearable.

Each tick of time pressed down on them like a mountain.

Kaelen crouched beside Alira’s unconscious body, drenched in sweat, his hands glowing with overlapping layers of healing light.

He didn’t even know what he was casting anymore, just every healing spell in his arsenal, every skill the system had ever thrown at him. Buffs. Regens. Cleanse fields. Restoration bursts. Emergency stabilization.

All of it.

"Still no change," he whispered, voice hoarse, almost cracking.

Neal didn’t answer. He stood like a statue nearby, fists clenched at his sides, watching the faintly glowing necklace they had taken from Alira’s neck. The heirloom, the one Derek had said to watch.

And its light... was flickerings

Not pulsing with rhythm. Not glowing steady.

Just flickering, like a dying candle caught in the wind.

Kaelen’s heart pounded.

"What does that mean?" he asked, quieter this time. "It was glowing stronger before. Now it’s..."

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Neal swallowed hard. "I don’t know."

He hated that answer.

And Kaelen hated seeing Neal uncertain. The calm, cocky fists-for-brains warrior who never doubted. Never hesitated.

But now... Neal looked like he’d rather face ten dragons than spend one more second waiting. freewebnøvel_com

The fear wasn’t just of failure.

It was the fear of the unknown. The kind that claws at your lungs and whispers in your ear

Maybe she’s already gone.

Maybe you’re healing a corpse.

Maybe all of this is pointless.

Kaelen kept casting anyway.

"Third Eye says she’s still alive," he said aloud, as if trying to convince himself. "Barely, but alive. I can see the life thread. It’s faint, but it’s there."

Neal nodded, silent.

They had no idea what was happening inside the spirit realm.

No idea what Derek was facing.

No idea if they had one second left... or none.

And still, they healed.

Because that’s all they could do.

Kaelen whispered under his breath, as he pushed more mana through his hands.

"Don’t you dare die on us, Alira. Not after all this. Not when I just..."

He didn’t finish.

He just kept casting.

And the necklace kept flickering.

Back in the spirit realm.

Derek stood still, swordless, breath controlled, but his soul burning with defiance.

Before him stood a woman carved from memory, perfected by deception.

Her silver hair flowed like moonlight silk, draped in veils of flowing black mist. Her form shimmered with elegance, but her eyes were empty like the void between the stars. A beauty too perfect, voice too soft, and smile too knowing.

"Thalia..." he whispered, breathless in wariness"

Because he knew that this was the evil spirit and not Thalia

Her voice was silk over razors. "You came for her? How noble. How predictable."

Derek said nothing. He drew no weapon as there was none to draw. This was not a world of blades and blood. This was a world of spirits.

The woman floated forward, barefoot over the ghost-lit floor of the void. Each step she took cracked the light beneath her. Her gaze bore into him.

"You abandoned your kingdom, Derek Maglor. For a child. Do you think fate forgives such things?"

Derek didn’t flinch. He raised his fists.

"I didn’t come here to talk."

She smiled and her fingers twitched. And the first strike came, a flurry of movements faster than any spell.

Derek dodged the swipe aimed at his temple and countered with a sharp elbow, his body moving on instinct. No aura or spells. Just fists and reflexes.

She fought like a dancer. Fluid, graceful and deadly.

He fought like a survivor. Efficient, brutal and precise.

Their battle echoed through the void, not with magic, but with the sound of impact. Flesh striking flesh. Bone blocking bone. A clash of technique and raw spirit.

After a few exchanges of moves Derek soon realized something, she couldn’t use her skills.

The necklace in his pocket pulsed with gentle heat, forming a faint circle around his feet. Her powers recoiled against its light.

She hissed as he landed a clean strike across her cheek, sending her reeling.

"This trinket," she spat, "should not exist here."

Derek narrowed his eyes.

"But it’s already here, what can you do about it?"

Then.

He charged again.

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