My Dungeon Life: Rise of the Slave Harem

Elaya’s revelation wasn’t too shocking to me. It made sense. All that I needed to be resurrected from death was a soul. If the mind was purely a physical thing, then every time someone was resurrected, they would come back with a head empty of knowledge. Furthermore, even though my body was destroyed, my blessings were not, and only one of my halves was able to keep such blessings. It was only when I entered a dungeon that had control over the soul that they were able to interfere with my blessings.

Elaya nodded. “It seems you have already had some inklings to this fact. Well, it is true. Our souls are the lore that we carry with us. As we experience life, that soul gets marked by all of the things we’ve done. Whether that soul is karmic or mana-based, that doesn’t matter. What matters is the soul.”

“So, it isn’t that those creatures in dungeons have fake karmic souls, it’s that the souls are… primordial? Being made?” I asked.

“You misunderstand. Those souls will never become souls at all unless they are part of that soul’s lore. Dungeons are a collection of incomplete lore. They become malignant, absorbing the mana of the world and swallowing anything nearby, all in a hope to complete their own lore, to become whole. However, you were right the first time. They are fake existences, which can never become whole.”

“Elaya…” I looked over at her, biting my lip.

She smiled slightly. “You’re worried that I’m saying I am a fake. You’re not wrong for having such a worry. I was a fake Elaya. Only an imitation, a shadow of what she once was.”

“You’re not the only-“

“Astria had her complete soul. Although she was corrupted with mana from the inside and out, she was still herself. Even Xin combined with her doppelganger, combining the piece of the soul found in Twilight dungeon, and more recently the piece of the soul you recovered from the Ost Republic.”

“You know about that?” I asked wryly.

I had only just united their souls outside of this dungeon not too long ago. Then again, Elaya had been waiting at the entrance, so she must have had some way of knowing.

She gave a soft chuckle. “Either way, Xin is a nearly complete soul. It may be damaged, her lore confused, but she is Xin. I’m the only one who can’t return. The Elaya who called herself the Maid Hero burned her soul away to save the Hero king. Only a wisp of her lore remained to create me, and even that wisp was captured by Aberis and used to create the Widow’s Dungeon… at least, that’s what I thought.”

I jerked at her words. “What you thought?”

“There is a power in a name,” she said wistfully. “When you gave Selena her name, you didn’t just bestow upon her an identity, you acknowledged and solidified her lore. She was once a shadow, an agglomeration of unfulfilled lore and will, and you made her real. You did the same thing to me. You came into that dungeon, and gave me life.”

“Elaya, speak clearly. What is going on?”

“The Maid Hero… that is a lore too. It’s a name passed down from generation to generation. That’s what the heroes are. They are lore that has become too powerful, combined with too many lives. In short, they are a soul much like yours, one that accumulated the blessings of dungeons and became too interconnected with the fabric of this world. As a result, the lore of heroes passes on when a person dies, creating a line of heroes with that name. Whether it is the Harem Hero or the Maid Hero… it’s a mantle… a lore… a soul that stands the test of time and becomes reborn time and time again.”

“Y-you’re not the Maid Hero, are you…”

She shook her head. “It turns out, I was reborn.”