UCPA Chapter 100: Until the End of Our Lives

Chapter 100: Until the End of Our Lives

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: PlumSauce

 

“‘A previously undocumented soul-possession entity.’” That was the name Lucian had come up with, though everyone agreed it was too long. It was simpler to just call him “Coraci.”

Lucian insisted his terminology was more scientific, as it concisely captured Coraci’s current state and attributes — he was no longer a devil fragment. Simply put, he had become a revived sacrificial vessel, sealed into a human body that had not yet fully died.

What Coraci had undergone was neither medical treatment nor purification — it was a ritual sacrifice, the same kind used by the ancestors of the Blackmoon family and reminiscent of the one at the Atwood estate.

He had lain in a shallow, grave-like pit, each joint of his limbs broken, his chest cut open, and a spell inscribed on the rib closest to his heart.

During the ritual, the main executor of the key steps was John. As a bloodkin — an undead being, not a living human, with no living blood relatives — John ensured that the moment the sacrifice completed, Coraci would transform into an incomplete form.

Since the original Coraci had “died” through the sacrifice, the sandbox began to collapse and disappear. But Coraci, now awakened as the sacrificial vessel, was no longer a “designed creature” and could remain after the sandbox vanished.

In an instant, from life to death and to rebirth.

Lucian explained that many beings could perform John’s work — any undead, like bloodkin or object-bound specters — but success was not guaranteed. The sacrificial ritual inflicted unimaginable pain on the subject, and no one could be sure they could safely complete each step while facing the power of a devil. Completion required that the subject resist nothing.

At the moment Coraci’s soul was transformed by the ritual, his original body had not yet “died” physiologically. After the ritual, the spellcasters applied a soul-binding magic to anchor the newly awakened sacrificial soul to the body. They knew Coraci’s true devil name, which made the process significantly easier.

Now Coraci’s body was driven by his soul. His heart beat, his blood flowed, and he needed to lie still for a long time to recover. During his recuperation in West Bay City, he reflected on how many times he had been subjected to soul-binding magic: trapped in stone, placed in magically constructed bodies by the Arcane Covenant…all sustained by soul-binding spells.

In truth, soul-binding magic alone lacked the power to fully tie him to this body. As a sacrifice, having undergone the resurrection process — even though it was unusually brief — his soul had grown stronger. If he wished, he could break free from this body, though of course, he would not.

“Previously undocumented soul-possession entity” — Lucian had said this because Coraci had become the first being of this kind. There had never been a willing subject resurrected at the moment of death and sealed into a living human body.

Lucian, Liz, and a large group of spellcasters had calculated, refined the incantations, and trained John in every detail. The process was incredibly dangerous, supported only by theory and with no precedent. With one misstep or a flaw in the magical design, John could have killed Coraci rather than saved him.

While bedridden like any other seriously injured patient, Coraci asked,“John…weren’t you afraid at the time?”

“Afraid of what?” John asked, sitting beside him and holding a copy of Abyssal Species: Evolutionary Probabilities and Cases. He rarely touched such books before.

“I could have lost control and hurt you. Even though I couldn’t control my body in the sandbox, I could still manipulate devil power. And this entire…overly innovative ritual, what if it failed?”

“I never thought you would hurt me,” John said. “Remember? When you lost control, I walked into the black blades, and you didn’t harm me.”

“Who says I didn’t? I cut your hand.”

“That doesn’t count. I bit your neck several times,” John said, eyes fixed on the book diagrams without reading a word. He stared at the book because the next part of what he wanted to say was a bit sentimental, and he didn’t want to look at Coraci. “And I wasn’t worried about failing. The worst-case scenario… I fail to save you and kill you myself. Even then, that’s better than leaving you there alone.”

Silence hung in the room for several seconds, without even the sound of pages turning. The medical room at the Association’s new site felt even quieter as excited voices from a distant meeting room drifted in from the hallways.

“Hey…say something,” John asked. “You didn’t utter a sound after I finished, I thought you had fainted.”

Coraci exhaled. “Fine. My wounds hurt, but chemical medicine doesn’t affect me. Do you have any solution?”

John had none. He used to paralyze Coraci through feeding, but now… Coraci had become a completely different being. John could no longer draw blood. The revived sacrificial soul was too strong, perfectly controlling every detail of its body; a vampire had no way of getting its blood. Some things were beyond Coraci’s conscious control.

“Ah…I just got an idea!” John said, leaning over the bed, hands planted on either side of the pillow. He looked down at Coraci, feeling his thinking had sharpened, perhaps influenced by the group of spellcasters.

He bent down and pressed a deep kiss to Coraci’s lips — holding his shoulders to prevent any movement that might harm the still-healing wounds. As Coraci closed his eyes, defenseless, John moved his mouth to Coraci’s throat, lightly embedding his fangs into his skin.

He couldn’t draw blood, so he didn’t. John let his fangs stay there, his lips sucking the surrounding skin.

Previously, he had only used Coraci’s blood when necessary, never lingering too long for fear of harming him. Now, he could safely keep his fangs in place for as long as he liked.

A bloodkin’s bite caused no pain, only a tingling that spread relaxation through the body. Coraci reached out, embraced John, and dazedly thought this was the strangest, most extraordinary kiss he had ever experienced.

Passing by the entrance to the medical room, Liz gave a look of disgust at the figure leaning against the door — a handsome young man with green eyes and shoulder-length pale blond hair, tall and slender like a fashion model.

“Smith, what are you doing?”

No sooner had she spoken than Smith hurriedly pressed a finger to his lips, shoving Liz away from the medical room.

A few weeks ago, Smith had abandoned his previous persona and, for the first time in a long while, reverted to his true gender. His current look was based on a Russian model: impossibly beautiful, towering over all the office colleagues. Coraci had previously said,“When my Eyes of Truth first returned, I saw you — completely insane — started copying other people’s appearances.”

“Lizbeth, let’s not talk in front of the medical room,” Smith said, pulling Liz toward the break room. “They seem to be…dealing with their feelings. Let’s not disturb them. I caught a few interesting sounds earlier…”

“You’ve been eavesdropping on them, and now they’re not allowed to hear you?” Liz poured herself a coffee, deliberately looking down. Talking to Smith was a neck-craning experience — he was far too tall.

“Is Coraci completely fine now?” Smith asked. “I heard the Association’s upper management has been discussing how to handle him. How is he now? Is he…truly out of danger?”

“I’m not sure. After all, he’s an unprecedented being. Who knows what he’ll be like in a few years…or in a few decades.”

“Terrifying. I suppose it was Lucian’s idea, right? Does he have a plan?”

“So, Lucian plans to work with Coraci long-term,” Liz shrugged. “Basically…to study him for a long time. You know that Lucian has already resigned from the university. He has all the time in the world, and Blackmoon’s insurance payout has come through, so funding isn’t an issue. He intends to recruit some students and form a small society. This way, while studying the phenomena in Coraci, the Blackmoon family’s knowledge is also passed down.”

“With the Menkovár family’s support, he’ll definitely succeed,” Smith nodded. “And…you?”

“Me?” Liz frowned.

“What about you? Can you still work with Coraci?”

Liz smiled and stepped out with her coffee. “I’ve been eagerly waiting for him to recover. He’s about to be transferred to the enforcement team. His old mediator position will be filled by Lathander and Carl. He’ll still partner with John. Later, Carolyn and I will definitely be interacting with them frequently.”

A few months later, Coraci received new identification — something the Association excelled at. The card bore the name “Coraci Devlin.”

He could no longer manipulate black-light blades. Having “died” as a sacrificial vessel and reborn again, the properties of his soul had altered, and even the way he caused damage had changed.

The first time he noticed this, Lucian had brought him into a secure isolation chamber and asked him to attack an illusory target using his own instincts, to test the nature of his new powers.

Coraci couldn’t mobilize obsidian shards; instead, he found he could summon a black spear.

He himself didn’t understand why. He guessed it might be because that action had been his “last attack” before his death, leaving a deep impression on body and mind. Lucian, however, didn’t agree. He offered a long series of theoretical speculations, ultimately arriving at no conclusion.

Normally, a revived sacrificial vessel would grow stronger and wreak unending harm upon the world…yet Coraci’s power showed no such signs. Lucian and the other spellcasters discussed the matter day and night, eventually concluding the key factor was the soul-binding magic.

Coraci had voluntarily remained bound to his body, refusing to escape. His resurrected soul had never truly entered the outside world.

Of course, the sacrificial soul would still harm, still consume living beings. But confined for so long in a single body, it endlessly devoured only itself — like an ouroboros¹, endlessly cycling, incapable of distraction. Coraci’s power had not increased; in fact, it appeared somewhat diminished.

 

In the early autumn of the following year, Coraci and John walked down the alley behind the bar district, investigating the disappearances of patrons at the Phosphor bar.

A low-level servant demon wailed and struggled. It had come from the Abyss, controllable only by an Abyssal demon. Coraci drove a black spear through its wings, nailing it to the wall, then retracted his power and tossed this small demon to John.

“In a way, this isn’t bad,” Coraci said, hefting the black spear in his hands. “If Lucian and his colleagues are right about their theory, I’ve become a lot safer. A little deterioration is a good thing. It’s more than enough for dealing with these little things.”

John smirked, placing the small demon into a spell pocket. “The only problem now is…every time I look at your ‘weapon’, I get chills.”

“Mm, I understand. After all, it once pierced your heart. As compensation, you can order me to do more things — I don’t mind.”

They walked side by side through the dimly lit alley, a scene that reminded John of long ago.

It had been a pitch-black early morning. They were leaving Sir Kimplin’s estate, and Coraci had fallen asleep in the back seat so John helped him fasten his seatbelt. The rural road was empty and silent, the black asphalt stretching endlessly into the distance, as if without end.

“So, here’s the thing,” John said. “The one thing I want to command the most is this: no matter what, whenever I say ‘I love you’, you must reply with—”

Before he could finish, Coraci deliberately cut in, “Me too. Until the end of our lives.”

Their future would be like their past and present.

They would walk along quiet, hidden paths — or dangerous, treacherous roads — helping benevolent beings, facing potential enemies. They would watch Mariana become a skilled human exorcist, see Master Joseph’s family grow stronger, notice that bloodkin Danny had shed his light-blocking black robe… Perhaps one day, they would send old friends off from this world, witness Mr. Burton fully become a banshee, and continue encountering strange, bizarre, and troublesome creatures and cases.

Through it all, they would remain partners, intimate friends, and lifelong companions — each other’s most special person.

They would walk side by side on every path into the endless future stretched before them.

 

This Title is available for faster chapter releases through paid Patreon membership. Any proceeds go to keeping the website running. Check it out HERE.