"The Skill: Yin-Yang Soul Conjuration has leveled up!"

"New Feature Unlocked!"

"Soul Memory Extraction:

The Host can now access and read the memories of freshly conjured souls."

Yin-Yang Soul Conjuration (Level 3)

Current Soul Capacity: 2/3

1. Devouros Prime

• Soul Type: Troll

• Current Rank: Veteran

[Tap to Rank Up]

{View Details}

2. [Unnamed]

• Soul Type: Human

• Current Rank: Commander

{View Details}"

"That’s an interesting new feature," I murmured, reading the screen carefully. I had my doubts, but the Death Knight I fought in San Francisco was really a human corrupted by death.

I tapped on the view details option of the second soul.

"Summoned Name: [Unnamed]

• Soul Type: Human

• Current Rank: Commander

{Tap to read memories}

Skills:

[The Soul needs to be named to access its skills. Click to name the soul.]"

I tapped the button.

"Error! The Soul strongly opposes the Host as its master. The Soul cannot be named."

"Eh? Is something like that even possible?"

I tapped the button again, only to receive the same notification. The Death Knight was strongly opposed to serving as my servant.

I put its naming ceremony on temporary hold. There was one other thing I was curious about. The Death Knight had mentioned that it was a knight of the Valtorian Empire, a name I had never heard before. Where had this knight come from? Why was it attacking Earth? And most importantly, could there be even stronger monsters from the world it came from?

I needed answers, and there was only one way to find them.

"Vivi, read the memories of the unnamed summon."

"Initialising Host’s request..."

"Merging Host’s consciousness with the summoned memories..."

"Attempt Successful!"

The vision before me twisted. The sound of water splashing at the shore outside the house turned distant before completely giving way to new noises: the chatter of several people, nearby and overlapping.

When my vision returned, the world came back in pieces.

First the light, pale and diffuse, filtering down between buildings. Then the sounds: the clatter of a handcart wheel over uneven cobblestones, two men arguing somewhere nearby in an accent I couldn’t quite place, the distant bark of a dog bouncing off stone walls.

I was standing in the middle of a narrow street. The buildings on either side were old, their lower walls swallowed in dark moss, mortar crumbling between the stones, a cracked windowsill patched with a wooden plank that no one had ever gotten around to replacing. The cobblestones were slick, darkened by recent rain.

"Twilight Sword! Thank you for your hard work!"

"We are blessed to have a brave hero like you, Twilight Sword!"

"Another day, another victory for the Twilight Sword!"

The people on either side of the street called out, their faces carrying expressions of pride and admiration. Their cheers were aimed at the knight walking below me as I hovered like a ghost in the air, my body faint and translucent.

The knight was tall, around six feet, clad in heavy white armour from head to toe, every inch of his body completely covered.

From how my body followed the knight without my will, it was already clear whose memories these were.

"So he is Ezekiel Silverhart," I concluded, my eyes moving to the sword resting at his waist. It had a silver hilt and carried the same intricate pattern as the Death Knight’s sword. The only difference was that it was smaller in size.

His silver armour carried numerous scratches, small dents, and splashes of something grey and dark. Behind him walked his entire squad, each of them wearing steel armour. Unlike Ezekiel, their armour was light and their faces were uncovered by helms. Some of them had parts of their bodies wrapped in bandages turned red, showing that the wounds hadn’t properly closed.

As they moved forward with heavy metallic footsteps, the citizens continued to cheer for them, some showering them with flowers while others quickly cleared the path before them. The knights behind Ezekiel waved their hands, forming smiles that sent waves of comfort and relief through the crowd. Ezekiel did not wave. He walked with his hands loose at his sides, his back straight without being rigid.

Behind the helm, his eyes stayed fixed ahead, blue as cut gemstone, trained on the castle that rose at the heart of the city. It was enormous and easily the centrepiece of the city. Dark stone, older than everything around it, its towers climbing in uneven intervals like fingers reaching at different heights. The windows were little more than slits cut into the stone. At the top, a banner caught a gust of wind, snapped taut, then went limp. An emblem of a roaring white tiger was engraved upon it.

After a walk of several minutes, the squad reached the castle walls.

Ezekiel turned and spoke for the first time since the memories began.

"You are all dismissed for the day. Go meet your families and get proper rest."

Surprisingly, Ezekiel’s voice was unbelievably soft, a complete contrast to the demeanour he carried and obviously the exact opposite of his heavy voice back in San Francisco.

"Yes, Commander!" The knights said in unison. They gave a military salute to Ezekiel before turning around. The moment they turned, their stiff posture loosened as they scattered into the city.

Ezekiel passed through the castle gate and entered the main hall.

A woman sat on the throne at the far end. She was not young. Her mature age only added to the weight of her presence. Her dress was silk, deep in colour, and she wore a crown that caught the light without asking for attention. Her hands rested in her lap, still and unhurried.

"Welcome back, Twilight Sword." Her voice carried easily through the hall as her golden eyes settled gently on Ezekiel. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for standing at the frontlines again when the nation needed you most."

"I have only done what was required of me, My Queen," Ezekiel answered with a slight bow.

He continued, his voice growing grim. "However, the monster attacks are growing exponentially by the day. My failure has led to the loss of thirty brave knights on this expedition. I have also suffered significant injuries. I am afraid that if another monster wave of such scale arrives, I will not be able to hold the frontlines."

The nobles and other members of the court gasped at Ezekiel’s revelation.

"The situation is grave if even Sir Ezekiel has suffered injuries."

"My Queen, we cannot depend entirely on Sir Ezekiel. We need to find a permanent solution against the monsters."

"God forbid anything should happen to Sir Ezekiel. The Valtorian Empire will..."

"Silence!" The Queen’s authoritative voice echoed through the hall, putting a stop to the commotion.

"Bring the finest healers. Sir Ezekiel’s health is the utmost priority," the Queen commanded, her face carrying a genuine look of worry.

From her expression, it seemed Ezekiel was more than just a knight to her.

The healers appeared at a moment’s notice, as if they had been waiting just outside the hall.

"I do not need treatment, My Queen," Ezekiel said as the healers drew closer.

"Please, don’t be stubborn, Sir Ez—"

"I insist, My Queen. Please do not make this difficult for me," Ezekiel replied, giving a deep bow.

The Queen clicked her tongue, her eyebrows furrowing in frustration as she ordered the healers to retreat.

"What we need, instead of healers, is another sword that can protect the empire from the monsters."

His voice grew urgent, carrying a hint of desperation beneath it. "I propose the Summoning Ritual."

The hall fell completely silent at his proposal. The nobles looked at the Queen with eyes filled with hope, yet none of them offered their opinion on the matter.

"And I will have to reject you again, Sir Ezekiel," the Queen’s answer was firm, leaving no room for further discussion.

The nobles let out a collective sigh, clearly unhappy with the Queen’s decision. It seemed the topic had been raised before, and the Queen for some reason strongly opposed whatever the Summoning Ritual entailed.

"In that case, I have nothing more to say," Ezekiel answered in a plainly frustrated tone.

He gave a slight bow to the Queen once more and left the hall with heavy footsteps.

Passing through the hallway and climbing a couple of floors, he reached another narrow hallway where doors were set into the side walls at regular intervals. He opened one of them and stepped inside.

"Dammit!" Ezekiel muttered, closing the door behind him with a loud thud.

The room was grand, with luxurious furniture and more space than he needed: a wide bed dressed in deep burgundy, a writing desk of dark polished wood, an armchair facing a cold fireplace. Every object in the room bore finishing of gold and silver.

"He seems like more than just a mere knight," I mumbled, rubbing my chin.

His heavy armour began falling to the floor with loud clangs as he removed the straps one by one. Strangely, the body underneath, covered in a black tunic and trousers, was far too slim compared to the actual thickness of the armour.

"He seems almost like a woman," I said, a little taken aback.

At last, as he removed the helm, long cyan hair spilled free and the pale face of a beautiful woman with deep blue eyes was revealed.

"W-wait a moment. Ezekiel is actually a woman!?" I exclaimed, obviously shocked.

But what shook me completely was the sentence she muttered next.

"She won’t use the Summoning Ritual because she knows I want to return to Earth."