Chapter 81: Zane’s Creations

The flask glowed faintly in Zane’s hand, the silver sphere of Eirenyssa’s soul energy pulsing like a trapped heartbeat. He examined it briefly, eyes glinting with curiosity, then flicked his wrist and tossed it lightly toward one of his bots.

“Handle it carefully,” he ordered.

The bot caught the flask with mechanical precision and carried it toward a massive machine at the far side of the lab. A lattice of black metal and glowing runes framed the core, where a crystalline matrix pulsed like a second heart of the island. The bot slid the flask into a socket, and the soul energy sphere was absorbed into the crystal.

Above the machine, etched into the reinforced plating in jagged glowing letters, were the words:

The Anima Duplicator

Zane leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and smirked as he read the inscribed description once more—he had written it himself:

A Wonderful device made by yours truly, that steals the very essence of existence. It forges a perfect replica of a soul, stripping identity and history into a blueprint, then birthing a hollow double. Obedient. Empty. A flawless copy without origin.

The Soul Matrix at the core of the machine flared, swallowing the silver sphere whole. A low, eerie hum vibrated across the lab as the process began.

Stage One—Resonance Echo.

The crystal emitted resonant waves, each one rippling through the detached soul like invisible claws combing its essence. Memories, feelings, fragments of Eirenyssa’s entire existence flickered briefly in the room like ghostly images—her childhood, her ascension, her rage, her betrayal. It was all being read, dissected, and cataloged.

Zane rested his cheek against his fist, watching like a man at the theater. “Every secret, every scar, every ounce of pride. Laid bare. You higher beings really are pathetic once stripped down to your foundation.”

The Soul Matrix pulsed faster—preparing to move to the second stage.

Stage Two—Duplication and Forging.

The hum deepened, turning into a guttural vibration that rattled the lab’s walls. From the glowing crystal, threads of unaligned ether began to condense, raw spiritual matter coalescing into the outline of something new. The detached soul in the matrix quivered violently, as though screaming soundlessly.

If her body were still bound in the machine, Eirenyssa would have been writhing in agony. Even in separation, her soul felt the tearing pressure of being stretched into two. It was like a second birth—forced, brutal, and merciless.

Zane’s lips curved wider. “Ah… this is art.”

The forging continued. The raw ether twisted, shaped, and molded itself into a second sphere—glowing faint, colorless, and utterly hollow.

Stage Three—Binding and Stabilization.

The new soul flickered, unstable, before the machine’s runes tightened their grip. Layer after layer of sealing inscriptions encased it, locking it into a stable form. The duplicate soul solidified, faint but steady, contained within a crystal vial that slid out of the machine with a hiss.

Zane stood, walking toward it. He plucked the vial from its socket and held it up to the light. The silver-white glow inside shimmered faintly, still. Silent.

A flawless copy. Empty. Obedient.

He smirked. “And thus… the first pawn is born.”

Behind him, the original soul—Eirenyssa’s—dimmed inside its containment flask, weakened, scarred by the process, its resonance forever echoing the violation.

The machine quieted. The island’s lab hummed in eerie silence.

And Zane’s smile only widened.

The lab was silent except for the low hum of machines and the faint pulse of silver light within the flask Zane held. Eirenyssa’s soul energy ball shimmered weakly, its radiance dimmed after the duplicator had stolen its echo. The once-blinding silver now flickered like a waning flame.

Zane’s lips curled into a faint smile as he tilted the flask, watching the weakened essence ripple like liquid starlight. Even now, you endure, he thought, admiring the divine resilience in her soul. Any mortal’s essence would have been reduced to a fragile husk, frayed and scarred from duplication—but hers still carried threads of divinity, strands of higher mana woven deep into its structure.

He extended the flask to his bot.

“Take the vial,” Zane instructed, voice calm but commanding. “Inject it into the med-tank. The body must receive what belongs to it.”

The automaton obeyed, its movements precise. Across the lab, Eirenyssa’s lifeless form floated inside a cylindrical med-tank, suspended in a bluish, viscous liquid that shimmered faintly with restorative energy. Her hair fanned out like threads of pale silver, her body utterly still, untouched by breath.

The bot pressed a button, and with a hiss, a hidden slot opened—just large enough for the crystal vial containing the forged soul copy. It carefully slid the vial into place. The mechanism accepted it with a metallic click, then drew it inside the machine. The duplicator responded with a deep, resonant hum, as if savoring the act of binding.

Zane, however, kept his eyes fixed on the original flask in his hand. The weakened soul energy ball flickered, like a candle struggling in a storm. He leaned close, his expression softening—not with pity, but with an unsettling tenderness.

“Don’t worry, girl,” he whispered, tapping the glass lightly with one finger. “You will be reborn.”

The med-tank’s deep hum began to fade, the vibrations dwindling until silence reclaimed the lab. Inside, Eirenyssa’s body—which had been pale, empty, and colorless—slowly began to change. A faint glow spread across her skin, restoring warmth and vitality where lifelessness once lingered. Her chest rose faintly with the rhythm of simulated breath.

For a moment, she remained still, suspended in the last threads of the bluish liquid. Then, without warning, her eyes snapped open.

Zane remained unmoving, the original soul flask still secure in his hand, its dim light pulsing against his palm. His gaze shifted from the fragile glow of the true soul to the awakening figure in the tank.

“Release her,” he commanded.

At once, the bot pressed a series of commands. With a hiss, the tank began to drain, the shimmering liquid seeping away through hidden channels. The glass chamber split open, parting with mechanical precision.

From within, Eirenyssa’s clone stepped forward. Her long hair clung to her soaked form, garments drenched and heavy, yet her steps were steady. She moved with grace, her expression serene, until she reached Zane. Then, without hesitation, she dropped to one knee before him.

“Good day, my lord,” she said softly, her voice devoid of resistance, clear and obedient.

For the first time, Zane allowed the faintest flicker of discomfort to cross his face. The slavish devotion in her tone, though expected, pressed oddly against his sense of refinement. He sighed lightly.

“…Alright. You are Eirenyssa now.”

The clone lifted her gaze, a smile forming upon her lips. “As you say, my lord. Tell me—what is my command?”

Zane turned the flask in his hand, watching the original soul’s weakened glow swirl faintly. His smile returned, colder this time.

Zane leaned back in the chair, his deep purple eyes narrowing on the pulsing flask in his hand. The dim, silvery energy within flickered like a dying star—fragile, but stubbornly intact.

He shifted his gaze toward the kneeling clone. “Alright, Eirenyssa. I have some orders for you.”

Her head tilted slightly, awaiting his word.

“First,” Zane continued, his tone smooth but sharp, “watch closely. Watch what I do with the original one—the soul from whom you were created.”

A faint ripple passed across the clone’s otherwise serene face. Her eyes sharpened, a seriousness settling over her features as she gave a slow nod. “As you command.”

Zane smiled faintly at her obedience. Then, with the flask in one hand, he raised the other and flicked his finger. Space rippled, and with a muted thrum of reality bending, a sleek grey laptop materialized on his lap. Its surface gleamed with his personal insignia: a stylized “Z” slashed diagonally with a claw mark, etched in faint silver light.

The machine hummed to life instantly. With a casual wave of his hand, threads of bluish-white energy unfurled from the flask, streaming like liquid light into the laptop’s ports without any physical connection.

The screen lit up, not with code or data, but with an intricate, three-dimensional lattice. A breathtakingly complex structure spiraled across the display—a living map of Eirenyssa’s soul. Countless strands of luminous filaments wove together, coiling into patterns of memory, instinct, identity, and divinity. It was beautiful, fragile, and terrifying all at once.

The clone leaned closer, her eyes reflecting the ethereal glow.

“This…” she whispered faintly.

Zane’s fingers danced across the keyboard. Every keystroke caused the projection to ripple, twist, and magnify. Entire layers of her existence unfolded before them, peeled open and rearranged with precise command.

“Your soul is nothing more than information,” Zane said calmly, not looking away from the screen. “A structure of light, threads, and resonance. And information… can be edited.”

He smiled thinly as he began typing faster, the lattice of her soul shifting under his control.

Eirenyssa’s clone tilted her head, her soaked hair clinging to her cheeks as she watched the flashing glyphs and shifting soul-lattice on the laptop screen. His fingers moved too quickly to follow, striking the keys in a rhythm that felt less like typing and more like weaving fate itself.

She hesitated before speaking, her voice low. “If it is not rude, my lord… what are you doing with her?”

Zane didn’t stop. His deep purple eyes flicked to her for the briefest moment, then back to the screen. A faint smile curved his lips.

“What I am currently doing,” he said smoothly, “is transforming her—rewriting the very nature of her soul. I’m blending it with a construct of artificial intelligence.”

The clone’s breath caught. “Artificial… intelligence?”

“Yes.” Zane’s tone carried no hesitation, no doubt. “A soul-based AI. Unlike ordinary systems that need to be taught, trained, and corrected…” He tapped a key, and the lattice on the screen pulsed with light, rearranging into something sharper, more ordered. “…this will process itself. Understand itself. Evolve itself.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes glowing faintly as the bluish-white streams of soul energy reacted to his edits. “A creation that is alive yet programmable. Divine yet mechanical. Something far beyond a mortal mind could ever conceive.”

The clone lowered her head slightly, not from shame but from the weight of realization. She whispered, almost reverently, “You… intend to make her into something more than the higher being of this universe .”

Zane chuckled, a quiet sound that echoed coldly in the lab. “No.” His gaze lingered on the weakening soul in the flask. “Even something better.”

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