Chapter 645: Flame Of Life
Nameless POV
When Leonora used the [Spell-born] Spell, Nameless Death flooded the forge with his Consciousness.
It was a technique that allowed him to sense his surroundings.
He had perfected it over the long years spent forging the Womb of Devil.
His Consciousness could extend out of his body. Though the range wasn’t vast, it offered clarity that surpassed any other form of detection.
Every elemental fluctuation, every motion of a particle, even telepathic communications exchanged between those within his range. He could sense all of it.
And beyond that, if someone was weaker than him, he could examine the shape of their soul, the techniques and world in their Core, and their Seed of Existence.
He could even sense the layers inside their Seed of Existence — something even the Grim Reapers found hard to achieve— and the Intent of Existence hidden deep within the center-most layer.
In simpler words, if Nameless Death met someone weaker than him, he could see their entire life, memories, experiences, and techniques with a glance.
For now, he used it to observe the Spell-birth process.
His attention was fixed on the orb floating gently in the air before him—the sphere of light that held the Spell’s effect.
Leonora stood near the sphere, but she wasn’t actively maintaining the spell at every moment.
The magic had already been cast.
It only needed to be reinforced every few weeks to keep it stable.
She would step in occasionally, placing her hand over the light, murmuring short incantations, and then stepping back.
Unlike her, Nameless Death didn’t rest.
He didn’t divert his focus.
His Consciousness remained latched onto the forming child within the sphere.
His senses allowed him to see things that others couldn’t.
The Spell worked by anchoring an Intent and preventing it from dissipating.
In normal circumstances, a piece of lingering Intent would scatter shortly after it detached from the caster. The duration would depend upon the caster’s strength.
But here, the Spell served as a container, and a stabilizer.
It kept the Intent ’alive.’
The strength of the caster no longer mattered to keep the Intent alive for long durations.
Nameless Death watched closely.
The Intent—what little remained of it—was fragmented, and weak.
It should have faded already.
But the Spell’s power had kept it in place.
Slowly, the Intent was trying to recover.
It was trying to become whole again.
Even though true recovery was impossible without the original caster’s Consciousness it, the Intent persisted anyway.
The process repeated countless times over the course of several months.
And then something unexpected happened.
Inside the core of that wavering Intent, something flared to life.
A white flame.
Nameless Death narrowed his eyes, stepping closer.
That flame… he recognized it.
It was similar to the white flames he himself could create using World Energy—flames made of interwoven Intent threads that danced and moved together.
However, it was different.
He observed more and realized why the flame felt familiar despite being different from the flame he could create.
“It’s similar to the [Flames] I saw in the Sea of All Consciousness.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What is this [Flame]?” he muttered, observing the Spell.
The [Flame] slowly began to envelope the Intent.
It didn’t burn it. Instead, it surrounded it, and nurtured it.
As the two became intertwined, he felt something shift.
The weakened Intent, held together by the spell and now protected by the [Flame], began to form something new.
A piece of a soul.
Nameless Death’s brows furrowed slightly.
A lingering Intent of this kind—even if it survived long enough—shouldn’t be able to reconstruct the soul.
In rare cases, if it somehow did reconstruct the soul, the reconstructed soul should be exactly the same as the caster (the person whom the Intent belonged to).
In this case, it should have formed a fragment of Leonora’s soul.
But this soul wasn’t Leonora’s.
He could tell.
The Intent had changed.
It had borne scars from its slow decay while being preserved by the Spell.
The presence of the [Flame] had healed it, but due to the scars, the healed Intent had become different from Leonora’s Intent.
The soul born from this Intent was different from Leonora’s.
It was an entirely new soul.
Then, another change happened.
The [Flame] covered the soul, and nurtured it.
The soul grew over time with the help of the [Flame].
And….
A Seed of Existence began to form at the core of the newly born soul.
It was fragile, not yet fully structured, but it was there.
The [Flame] moved again, this time curling around the Seed of Existence.
The process repeated.
The [Flame] strengthened, and nurtured the Seed of Existence.
Then, at the very center of the Seed of Existence, something sparked—an Intent of Existence.
Over time, the soul, the Seed, and the Intent began to synchronize.
They fit together like pieces of a complex puzzle.
A new form of life was starting to emerge.
And finally, the first trace of a body began to appear, drawn not from flesh, but from the structure of the soul itself.
He didn’t interrupt the process.
He simply stood there, watching, memorizing, trying to understand what was happening.
“That [Flame]…. It has the power to create something new out of nothing.”
“No, should I say it has the power to ’heal’? It’s healing ability is so strong that it recreates things that are necessary for survival of its target.”
To give an example, if a person was missing a heart, and they were enveloped by the [Flame], they would gain a new heart.
It had done the same with Intent, Soul, Seed of Existence, and Intent of Existence.
“Interesting.”
He folded his arms, looking at the small sphere of light.
Inside it, a body was forming.
It would take time before it reached maturity. But now, the foundation was complete.
“Where is the [Flame] coming from?”
His own white flame, the one he used when wielding World Energy, was powerful.
But this [Flame]… it had appeared out if thin air.
As he was trying to think about the [Flame], a sudden cry cut through the air.
He snapped his eyes toward the sphere.
Leonora gasped and stumbled forward, nearly knocking over the stand beside her.
“The child—!”
The spell had reached its end.
The light began to thin.
The sphere cracked gently and dissolved.
It did not do so with an explosion or a burst of light, but like fog clearing before the sun.
From within, a small figure floated downward.
Nameless Death stepped forward and raised his hands without hesitation.
The child lowered into his arms.
She was warm.
Tiny, but not fragile.
She didn’t cry again.
Instead, her eyes—light blue—looked up at him.
They blinked, wide and calm, as if trying to understand who or what he was.
He stared back.
’I guess I’m okay with children. As long as they’re not from my bloodline,’ he thought.
Leonora stood stiffly, her hands curled at her sides. Her shoulders were trembling.
“C-Can I hold her?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nameless Death gave a small nod and gently passed the child into her arms.
Leonora held the girl carefully, almost like she was afraid to hurt her by holding too tightly.
Her eyes welled up the moment she felt the child’s weight against her chest.
Her expressions shifted rapidly—joy, anxiety, wonder, and confusion all flickered across her face.
“She’s…” she tried to speak but failed, biting her lip. “She’s real…”
Nameless Death gave her a moment before speaking.
“As promised, I’ll take care of her. You don’t have to worry.”
Leonora looked up. “Huh? O-Okay…”
But even as she said it, her arms didn’t move. Her hands refused to let go.
She hesitated, glancing between the child and him.
Then finally, slowly, she extended her arms.
Nameless Death took the child again. She had already started to fall asleep.
Leonora looked down at her hands, then back up.
“She was warm,” she said quietly.
He didn’t respond.
Nameless Death turned and walked toward the other side of the forge.
He didn’t need to say it aloud, but he had already decided he would raise the child instead of using a clone or a summon with intelligence.
At least until she was able to walk on her own, speak, and think clearly.
Since she had human genetics, her growth would be rapid.
It would take a few years at most.
For him, that time would pass like a blink of an eye.
For Leonora, it might feel longer, but not by much.
She had lived long enough to treat years the way most humans treated weeks.
Once the child had grown enough, he could return to his real task—the creation of a new race.
Now that he had witnessed the complete cycle of life being born from Intent, Soul, and Seed of Existence, he had the foundational knowledge to attempt replication.
’The real problem is the [Flame].’
Replicating it was beyond his current abilities.
He had already tried to devour it, and see if he could recreate it through Shadow Core Concept.
But the [Flame] was impossible to touch.
His darkness passed right through it, unable to make contact.
It was like trying to grasp air with broken fingers.
Completely out of reach.
Still, he had an idea of how to replicate the [Flame].
But that was for later.
For now, there was a child in his arms.
Leonora approached slowly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked uncertain again.
This time, though, she didn’t reach out.
“What should we name her?” she asked.
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