Wizard: Building a Golem Legion From Zero

Chapter 393: Chapter 382: Candlelight in the Darkness

Darkness.

Boundless darkness.

No sound, no touch, no temperature. Time had lost all meaning here.

Ryan Hart didn’t know how long he had been in this void.

He couldn’t even be sure if the concept of "self" still applied. He had no body, no five senses, no heartbeat to provide a rhythm. His consciousness was like a candle flame, its shade removed, suspended in an endless emptiness, flickering in an unseen wind.

He tried to shout, but had no throat to vibrate the air.

He tried to move, but had no limbs to carry out the command.

Only thinking remained—the one thing he could still manage to do.

Occasionally, things would surface from the darkness.

Like shattered glass, each shard reflecting a different scene.

Aisha’s face, screaming in terror. The cold eyes of that Bloodline Wizard. The searing heat that instantly turned his organs to charcoal as a crimson beam pierced his chest.

And more distant fragments.

His father’s funeral. His mother followed three days later. An eleven-year-old Ella tugging at his sleeve, saying, "Brother, I’m hungry."

The first time he used Witchcraft to kill a Magical Beast, his hands trembled and his heart pounded as if it would burst, yet the Magic Power within him flowed with extraordinary smoothness.

Signing the employment contract with Weisren Heavy Industry in Hub City. The pen Vera handed him felt heavy.

The first month’s report from the Rimefrost branch—the numbers were too good to be true.

These fragments drifted aimlessly in the darkness, disconnected from one another, their edges blurring and continuously fading.

Ryan wasn’t sure if they were real memories or just illusions fabricated by his dissipating soul in its final moments.

In the lore of the Wizarding World, the soul was an entity independent of the physical body.

A person’s Spiritual Power, will, memories, and even personality weren’t merely products of electrochemical signals in brain cells, as the science of his past life suggested. Instead, they could be inscribed upon a deeper medium: the soul.

The body was the container, the soul its contents. When the container shattered, the contents didn’t vanish instantly, but they wouldn’t exist forever either.

A soul separated from its body was like water poured from a cup—it would slowly spread out, and then evaporate.

Ryan could feel himself evaporating.

Each time the memory fragments surfaced, they were fainter and smaller than before.

Ella’s voice had gone from clear to muffled. He could no longer recall his mother’s face. He didn’t know how many times he had forgotten something, nor how much he had left to forget.

When the last fragment disappeared, the person known as "Ryan Hart" would truly cease to exist.

Suddenly, an exceedingly faint, warm light appeared from nowhere.

It was as if someone were cupping a dying candle in the endless dark, walking closer step by step.

A sound followed—a distant whisper, as if heard through ten walls, with most of its information filtered out.

Ryan couldn’t make out the words.

But his consciousness was drawn to the light, beginning to pull "outward" like a drowning man being dragged from the water.

He still couldn’t breathe, but his soul experienced a violent oscillation akin to a choking cough. The entire ball of light-mist contracted and expanded twice, violently.

In that instant, perception was re-established.

It wasn’t sight, but a soul-level perception—blurry, like looking at the world through a thick sheet of frosted glass.

He "saw" an outline.

The face was indistinct, but Ryan recognized the Magic Power signature. Vera had taken him to meet this person once, on the day he signed his contract.

It was the big boss, Allen Wesren, and he appeared to be busy.

The surroundings also emerged blurrily—a small study.

He himself—or rather, his soul—was contained within a transparent vessel. At the bottom of the container, a complex Rune Array was in continuous operation, emitting a faint, warm glow.

Ryan’s sense of time was still frozen at the moment before his death. It took a few seconds for his consciousness to clear.

"...Aisha and Griffin... How are they?"

At the workbench, Allen’s movements paused for a moment.

He set down the Witchcraft Scroll in his hands and faced the container. "Aisha was rescued. She’s currently back at work at the Hub City headquarters. Griffin wasn’t seriously injured. He was the one who contacted HQ, and he also helped find your soul."

The light within the container stabilized slightly.

Then came the second question. "Am I... dead?"

"Your body couldn’t be found, so... yes, you’re dead."

Allen didn’t hide the truth. "Your chest was pierced by a Bloodline Wizard’s attack. You died on the spot. A gray-robed apprentice collected your soul in a Crystal Bottle. I later went to the Frost Wind Plane, killed the three Black Wizards, and found the bottle in one of their Storage Rings."

Allen offered no comfort. Ryan was not a child; he was a First-level Wizard who had been through life-and-death combat.

The light in the container trembled violently.

He remembered the letter on his desk, the one he had been writing to his sister when he fell.

’Everything’s fine here. Once your brother saves up a few more Magic Stones, I’ll take you to see the aurora...’

’I’ll never get to see it now.’

Boundless sorrow and indignation nearly tore his fragmented soul apart.

But in the end, he suppressed it all. The mist of light grew calm again, even more solid than before.

’I’ve already died once. There’s nothing left to fear.’

"So, you saved my soul." Ryan’s voice was devoid of emotion. "Why?"

Allen didn’t answer immediately.

He gazed at the faint light in the container. In his mind, DSeek had already listed several possible answers.

"Because you died for Weisren Heavy Industry."

That was the first reason, the most superficial one. Ryan could tell there was more to it.

"I have a proposal," he said. "It could allow you to move, think, and fight again."

A pause.

"But not as a Wizard."

Though his soul-level perception was blurry, it was hypersensitive to wording.

Ryan immediately caught the key phrasing—"move again," not "be resurrected."

"What do you mean?"

"Puppet technology," Allen said concisely. "We’ll transfer your soul into an artificial Golem body. Most of your memories, personality, and consciousness will be preserved. You’ll still be you, but your body will be made of metal, Runes, and alchemical materials."

Silence.

The light in the container stopped trembling, but it gave no response.

Allen continued, "True resurrection techniques exist in the Wizarding World, but the cost is far beyond what you can afford. Even a Second-level Wizard couldn’t easily pay such a price. The Puppet option is the only feasible path under the current circumstances."

Another stretch of silence.

Then Ryan’s voice sounded again, hoarse and tinged with a bitterness he himself didn’t notice. "A metal body... can it have normal vision?"

Allen was expressionless. "It’s technically possible, but unnecessary. The installed sensory modules would see much more."

"Direct enough."

The light flickered slightly, as if in laughter.

"Your soul’s activity is still declining."

Allen’s tone was flat; he was merely stating a fact. "At its current rate, it can be safely preserved for about two more months. The prototype Puppet also takes time to build. So there’s a time window for this, and it’s not a large one."

"Sounds like you’ve been preparing for a long time."

"Since the day I found your soul."

The light in the container was silent for a long time.

Then Ryan said, "I agree."

"Not so fast." Allen’s voice remained unchanged by his answer.

"Before you answer, there are a few things you must know."

The light in the container hung suspended, waiting for him to continue.