It wasn’t a greater or even a lower spring that the clone had found himself approaching this time – just a barren world. At least, he hadn’t sensed the presence of any gods or powerful mortals, yet he still felt more excited about this trip than he had in a long time.

  The fact that he’d given himself permission to relax for once, focusing more on the experience itself than the potential benefits, certainly played a huge role, but there was more to it than that. He hadn’t even picked a host yet, but the journey through the soul plane had already felt rather fresh for some reason, despite Percy having done this hundreds of times in the past.

  It wasn’t a huge secret where this feeling of novelty was coming from, of course. This was Micky’s first clone!

  ‘Well, okay… technically it’s the third one, but I still don’t have the others’ memories back,’ he corrected himself.

  After merging with Percy, Micky remembered all the past clones, but he’d never actually lived through those moments himself, which apparently made quite a difference.

  Flying through the infinite darkness without the ability to see or hear anything was oddly unsettling for the first time in a while. It also stirred a sense of awe and wonder deep within him, as did the constellation of souls softly shimmering in the distance as soon as he tried to reach out to them.

  Scanning the sea of potential hosts, he couldn’t help but ponder over another fascinating benefit of their recent fusion that he’d discovered soon after he began preparing the latest batch of clones – right before finding himself among their ranks.

  Evidently, the spike in his mental capabilities had done more than merely allowing the original to coordinate his two bodies. It had also made it several times easier to maintain Soul Resonance for a prolonged period of time, letting him establish a permanent connection with one of the clones.

  In the past, that hadn’t been an option. Empowering even a single cord used to require a lot of focus, which Percy had rarely been able to spare, given how busy he’d always been with other things. Consequently, he’d only ever done this when he’d had a good reason to. Sadly, by the time the clones realized that they needed help, it was typically too late to reach out to the original.

  Things were different now.

  Keeping a single connection open was almost effortless, and even a second instance of Soul Resonance should be easy to maintain for at least a few days – until the original knew whether it was worth investing more effort into a certain clone – without affecting himself too much.

  That said, the main body had already widened his connection to one of this clone’s older siblings, and pushing himself to keep in touch with all three of them at once didn’t exactly fit with the spirit of their “vacation”, thus the current clone had been left to embark on this trip by himself.

  ‘Oh well… it’ll only make everything more interesting,’ he thought with a mental shrug. ‘I should still introduce myself as Micky to my new host, though. To commemorate the experience.’

  Having made his mind up, Micky chose a relatively healthy-looking Yellow soul, diving into its body. His wisp quickly flowed into the gaps and cracks of his new vessel as he tried to communicate with its owner.

  ‘Hello? Do you need help with not dying by any chance?’

  Something akin to a pained groan echoed through the person’s soul. Their mind was clearly there, though it appeared too foggy for them to form coherent thoughts.

  Unable to get full consent right away, Micky found it difficult to strengthen his connection to his host. Left with no other choice, he tapped into the fiends slumbering within his wisp, causing them to wake up. Spectral tendrils shapeshifted into clawed hands, digging into the fragmented soul. Spider-like limbs and long, flailing hairs sprouted along the surfaces of his own wisp, helping him find purchase to pull the fragments together.

  Obviously, Micky was much gentler than he’d been while trying to forcefully possess Kassorith. He only wanted to heal his new host – not subjugate him or worsen his injuries.

  Was it a bit pushy of him to default to his Parasitic Connection spell? Sure. It was inevitably more painful for his host than a consensual connection, but every second counted when dealing with an injured soul on the verge of death. Micky would rather violate a couple of personal boundaries than wait for permission.

  ‘If they don’t want to be saved, they can always kill themselves later,’ he reasoned.

  Ramming his mind into his host’s, Micky forced their connection to widen, in an attempt to limit the damage his actions caused. Pulling the shards as close to one another as he could manage without breaking them further, he poured phantom mana from his stash into their surface, slowly knitting the emerging tendrils together into a series of preservation runes.

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  Before long, his host appeared to regain some mental clarity. Micky felt an odd cocktail of gratitude and annoyance seep through their connection, but the person didn’t get the chance to thank or berate him for his reckless assistance.

  A lot of information flooded Micky’s mind as he finally managed to tap into the body’s senses, the cold but familiar embrace of the sea pressing down on his skin from every direction.

  ‘I can’t breathe! Are we underwater again?!’

  For a moment there, he thought he was back on Atlantis, though the pressure was negligible by comparison, meaning that they had to be much closer to the surface. The water was warmer than it had been at the bottom of the alien ocean, and his host clearly wasn’t meant to survive in this environment.

  ‘They must’ve drowned then… we need to swim up.’

  ‘Get out of the cabin before the ship sinks any deeper,’ a male voice suddenly said, Micky’s new host finally making himself useful.

  Micky nodded, trying to follow the man’s instructions, when another problem presented itself. The saltwater stung their eyes, and the room – or cabin – they were in was clearly too dark for them to see a thing. The fact that there weren’t any souls or mana signatures to latch on didn’t help. Unable to locate the exit, Micky swam directly upwards, only to slam face first into a flat, wooden surface.

  Realizing that the momentary burst of energy that their resurrection had granted them wouldn’t last forever and knowing that he didn’t have time to familiarize himself with this body’s affinity or other abilities, Micky resorted to his own means. Reaching into his spatial seal, he pulled out his trusty scythe, turning it incorporeal to ignore the water’s resistance as he swung it against what he assumed was the cabin’s ceiling.

  The moment the enchanted blade was about to phase through the wood, he willed it to materialize again, feeling the mundane solid part like paper beneath the weapon’s sharpened edge. A single slash wasn’t going to get them out, so Micky repeated his actions with practiced ease, carving out a triangular path through the sinking vessel.

  Pushing the severed blocks aside was harder than cutting through the wood. Either way, his host’s body was at Yellow, so Micky knew that he was strong enough to make it with enough effort.

  Finally crawling through the hole in the ceiling, he found himself stopped by a second wall, forcing him to keep going. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he finally kicked the last wooden triangle out of his path, escaping from the sinking deathtrap.

  Only then did he realize that some parts of the ship weren’t fully submerged yet. Grabbing against the deck, he dragged his host out of what would have surely been his watery grave, coughing out one mouthful of saltwater after another as he gasped for air, sprawled on a solid – if wet – floor, under the scorching sunlight.

  ‘Thanks for savin’ me,’ the man whose name Micky hadn’t even bothered to ask said at last. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to reclaim control of his body, probably trusting Micky to do a better job with it. He clearly wasn’t above voicing a couple of suggestions, however. ‘We ain’t safe yet. We ain’t got long before the ship sinks completely, and these are dangerous waters.’

  Sighing, Micky rolled over, storing his scythe away as he pushed himself up. While his “vacation” wasn’t supposed to involve any self-motivated pressure to find something useful and rush back to Remior, it didn’t mean that his time here was going to be peaceful.

  Not bothering to examine his current body, he prioritized his surroundings. The ship was among the largest he’d ever seen, making him realize that his host was part of some seafaring civilization. They weren’t underwater creatures like Enki’s people – just folks that apparently regularly sailed across the ocean.

  They had fishing boats on Remior too, though they were much smaller and never wandered very far from the coast. There was typically no need, as it was usually easier to reach any place on the continent by land or air. Percy and Micky hadn’t come across any of the fishing villages they knew existed along the shoreline either, as those were rather scarce, and the two of them had only ever entered or exited the ocean through a couple of remote locations.

  Either way, the oversized ship wasn’t in great shape. Micky was standing on the bow, the floor beneath his feet tilted backwards, facing the stern that sloped the opposite way, with the middle of the vessel submerged between them.

  If he had to take a guess, the captain must’ve tried to steer away from some underwater obstacle at the last minute – a reef perhaps – only to still crash into it sideways, splitting the hull in two.

  The broken foremast was floating a few dozen metres away from the rest of the ship, though the main mast was clearly still intact, a thick wooden pillar jutting out of the water and hovering just above Micky’s borrowed head. Its sails were torn, loose strips hanging over the figurehead, yellowed strains that seemed to predate the accident dirtying the once-beige fabric.

  ‘The good news is that we’re not that far from land,’ Micky realized upon spotting an island on the horizon.

  Coughing out a few lingering dregs of seawater, he wrung the bottom of his shirt as he climbed higher up the sinking boat to buy a few more seconds. The wood was slippery, and not just because it was currently wet. It was covered in rot and moss, the vessel’s passengers having clearly not been big on cleaning.

  Micky sure didn’t appreciate the slimy feeling beneath his feet – especially since it reminded him of his decrepit cell on Huehue – but he let that slide, turning his attention back to his host.

  ‘When you say dangerous waters…?’ he asked as his eyes landed on the other sailors desperately trying to swim toward the island. Dangerous or not, swimming to shore was obviously the only way for any of them to survive, and the other men clearly had a head-start on Micky’s host – who must’ve been asleep when the ship crashed.

  ‘Very dangerous,’ the man replied, swallowing hard. ‘The sea is teemin’ with Yellow and Green beasts. To be honest with ya, drownin’ might ‘ave been a mercy… I’d pick that over gettin’ eaten alive.’

  Micky scoffed, thinking that the guy was just being difficult. ‘At least there’s a chance to survive now!’ he protested. ‘With your grade, swimming to shore won’t take us too long. Maybe there aren’t any predators nearb–’

  He didn’t even get to the end of that sentence, when one of his host’s crewmates suddenly got dragged underwater, without even getting the chance to let out a scream. The sea bubbled and foamed around him for the briefest of instants, causing the other sailors to swim even faster in their panic as the spot around their unfortunate comrade turned crimson.

  ‘Well, shit…’

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