Personal growth aside, Doyle still needs to find a soul for his boss. This is not a matter of actually finding souls, but rather that of sorting them out. In a nimbus that surrounds every universe, there is a dense ocean of souls. Between universes, through whatever symbolical connection that might have been formed are rivers packed to the brim with souls. All around these giant flows of souls are even more souls, the biggest difference is they move slower.
Suffice to say, souls are to the void what space is to a universe. With how much area Doyle’s net can cover, this means the number of souls to draw upon has long ago passed any beings ability to sort through normally. Of course, this is one area where dungeons have developed their own methods to handle things.
The first soft rule is to stay clear of the nimbuses that have formed around the various dimensions. Most of the souls are too fresh, likely having just been a living being within said dimension. While souls don’t bother with following silly laws like space and time, that doesn’t prevent them from following their own logic. Souls ebb and flow between the universes and lingering attachments create the great network that gives the void enough definition to prevent all existences from never having done so.
Those same attachments that keep the soul near a universe also indicates that like a cheap cut of meat, they will be tough to chew. Fragments of memory and shadows of past loyalties, especially if a dungeon is unwise enough to draw from their home dimensions nimbus, will cause cracks in what should have been undying loyalty.
The second rule is to not take from the deepest parts of the great oceans of unmoving souls. With time, all things fade. Even though a soul is one of the few things even the longest lived true immortals would consider a permanent feature, there are essential parts in a soul that will die out. How can a boss monster do its job if it doesn’t even have the will to move? Salvaging such a soul would normally be done through plants and other similar low maintenance life forms. A dungeon can’t afford what could be centuries, if not millennia of care.
The third and final rule seems to almost go counter to the second rule. Don’t pick a strong soul. While that strength might give the boss greater power, a soul doesn’t become strong by accident. Something out there wanted a strong soul. Maybe you get lucky and the soul has done its job. What you don’t want to find out is that the will of a major universe had plans for it, and now the only way to make use of the soul is if your dungeon doesn’t exist anymore. Check latest chapters at novel⸺fire.net
While the closest thing you can get to a sapient universe would be a dungeon. Sometimes quantity is enough to provide a quality all its own, and it is hard to have more quantity than an entire universe.
Still, these three rules are more of a guideline. There is no hard and fast rule involved here. The intricacies of the soul are more than enough to throw a spanner into one’s comprehension. Observing this all, Doyle can only shake his core. He doesn’t need anything too complicated. Since he has a chance to improve things, there is no reason not to take it.
Except, of course, for the sheer folly of assuming he could actually do it. Doyle wasn’t raised a fool and didn’t plan to start being one now. Just the fact that he had woken up enough from the stupor caused by spreading out his soul does not mean that trying to control the process is a good idea. In fact, just the idea of doing so could be seen as a trap. And how was he aware right now, anyway?
No, Doyle shakes his core again, why should he try to control the outcome now? He’s Doyle, whether human or dungeon core. His soul is the one constant and focal point of his existence. Trying to take control of the process at this step would be denying that. Maybe before he would have gone along with it. Now though, there is no way in any form of afterlife he would betray himself.
If some outside forces want him to make the choice himself, well then he will. Just not how whatever it is out there planned. Doyle sinks his mind into his soul, letting go. He had always laughed at all those stories of doppelgangers and evil clones. If it was him, both sides would get along because as long as they are him, he is them. Here something wanted something even sillier, to district his own soul so to spit in the eye of whatever has tried this trick his choice is to leave it completely to his soul.
In fact, Doyle takes it even further than just releasing control back to his soul. He throws his mind and body at it as well. His thoughts grow slow, fading away while his core dims and only just manages to stay afloat. Across his entire soul web, the trinity merges and at the end of every single strand his soul splits again and again. With each split, the lines fray and fuzz until finally it has faded away. Every last bit of his presence blinks out.
At this point Doyle has lost his life, his death, his very existence is in question. The only proof of his continued existence is the bond with Ally. Not that this is what has kept him together. No, with or without her, these events would continue down this path.
Time lurches forward in the void as it always does, in spurts and sputters as one temporally bound being or another makes their way through it. Only a short while passes overall, despite the infinite amount of non-time events that happen when a soul on the edge of a flow twitches. Having been pushed to the side as other souls went between the dimension of KZZT. A minor realm where kobolds had managed to raise themselves to the point that with age would come sapience. And Uthlow, a developing sword and sorcery style universe where while not sapient, the kobolds had managed to make great inroads towards conquering their own territory in the grand caverns of the dimension.
For a timeless span the soul had lain there, not quite pushed into the motionless ocean of souls right next to the flow and yet not a part of the flow either. Kobold in origin for the last thirty rebirths, it had almost lost that last spark to continue. Now, though, a change occurs. Without rhyme or reason, the soul breaks away from the flow. Not just by a little, but to the point of heading off perpendicular to the rest of the surrounding souls. Neither with nor against, but away from.
As this soul approaches a certain dungeon, flickers of a fog-like presence slowly becomes visible. Closer and closer the soul gets, and the presence becomes ever more solid. From fuzz it collapses to near invisible lines and again into threads. Over and over, until all that is left is a single tentacle of soul holding onto the kobolds soul as they disappear into the dungeon’s realm.
As the soul is squeezed through the flaw in the dungeon’s realm, bits and pieces seem to be scrapped off. Though a closer look will reveal that these parts being left behind are not actual parts of the soul but rather shards of the void. In fact, if one was to examine any of the souls in the void, they would find all of them are coated in a dust of primal nothingness.
Why? Because souls are tough, indestructible as far as everyone in the known multiverse is concerned. Even if you did manage to break one apart, a near impossible feat, it would join back together as if never taken apart. So that would bring up the question, if souls can’t be destroyed, where do the memories go? Sure, most memories are stored in the mind and not the soul, but not all of them. The answer is that the void wears them down or more accurately, polishes them. This dust is the result of the void tearing itself apart against said souls.
This dust is a large part of why natural dimensions are so tough. Every time a soul reincarnates the dust is drawn off of the soul as it enters the dimension and reinforces the border. Dungeon cores use it for much the same thing. Their only limit is souls don’t naturally enter their dungeons. And this is where a dungeon’s intent comes in. A natural dimension has no control on where the dust ends up. Wherever a soul enters will be where the dust is deposited. If someone was able to cause souls to avoid a certain part of the dimension, this would create a weakness that could be exploited.
Back to Doyle, he shows why sometimes quality can win out even against an absurd amount of quantity. The void dust that was deposited onto his dungeon’s exterior is taken in hand by the last bit of his soul right before it re-enters his dungeon. Through instinct and intelligence, the dust is manipulated. Like cotton candy it is spun into delicate threads and then those threads are braided together. Those loose braids are pounded out flat against the side of the dungeon, layered again with others and forged into a single bar of void stuff given form. A bar that is then halved. One side pounded flat and the other half pulled through a loop formed from the tentacle of soul, drawing it out into the finest of threads.
Now massing, if mass could ever be attributed to such a thing, much less than the original dust. The circle of void is placed over the hole in Doyle’s defense and the thread is woven through it over and over, creating a patch. The only problem is the patch stands out against the rest of the dimensional barrier. And even this is soon fixed by the barrier itself. As the last of Doyle’s soul draws back into the dungeon, that barrier jolts into motion. Like an ever hungry maw, large teeth form around the patch and snap shut over it before flattening out again. Once the bulge where the patch was disappears all that is left is a flat area, same as the rest of the barrier, except for the fact that a certain flaw no longer exists.
Back in the dungeon we catch the kobold’s soul just as it is about to enter the kobold leader’s body. Once again, the soul tentacle goes into action. At the point where it passes through the body it expands outward, covering the entire body in a thin film. As the kobold soul enters the body, this film coats it entirely. While this doesn’t prevent it from taking up residence in its new body, it is like a water balloon. While it fills the container it is in, the soul doesn’t actually touch the body.
Job finished the soul tentacle draws back, leaving behind a connection similar to the bond between Doyle and Ally. There is one important difference, though. Doyle and Ally met halfway. This bond however is completely done from Doyle’s side, his soul reaching out and connecting directly to the kobold’s soul. Instead of a bond of equals, this bond is clearly one with a hierarchy and the kobold is below Doyle.
As this finishes up the fifth floor is reduced to stillness, every living thing on the floor including Ally freezes in place as a great pressure builds. Around the kobold, invisible to anyone unable to view souls, a vast display of lights is taking place. Like an aurora borealis, the display broadcasts a complex interaction between outside influences streaming into the kobold. A normal enough display as the floors flavor, Doyle’s expectations, and various other ephemeral things slip into the kobold while the body and mind adjusts to fit the new soul, as the soul had fit itself to the body. Then as this finishes up a strange event happens.