Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill

Chapter 385:Soul Stamp 2

The moment Mareti saw the stamp, his entire form shook. Even as a soul, he felt fear crawl through him. This was not just fear of pain. This was fear of losing freedom forever. As a researcher, he had read about such things before.

A soul stamp was not an ordinary seal. It was a mark that bound a soul eternally. Once branded, there was no escape unless the owner released you.

His voice broke as he shouted, “Please… I will do what you say. I won’t harbor any—”

He could not finish as the stamp moved.

BOOOM!

With a single thought from Ethan, the stamp shot forward. It did not travel like an object. It blinked through space and slammed into Mareti’s soul body. The impact made the entire gray mist world tremble.

Mareti screamed.

A mark began to burn into his forehead. It did not cut flesh, because he had no flesh. Instead, it sank into the very core of his soul. Lines of dark light spread like roots across his transparent form. The runes twisted and locked into place. They pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat that did not belong to him.

The branding was not quick. It pressed deeper and deeper. Mareti felt as if his existence was being peeled open. Every memory, every secret, every thought felt exposed. It was like invisible claws were digging through layers of his being and stitching something foreign inside.

At that moment, Ethan felt something too.

An ethereal thread connected him to Mareti. It felt similar to the bond he felt with his children, but colder and sharper. With just a thought, he could sense Mareti’s emotions and intentions toward him. It was not complete mind reading, but anything related to Ethan came through clearly.

And then—

A flood of words exploded in Ethan’s mind.

Ancient, twisted curses poured out. They sounded like they came from an old age of poetry and madness. The insults were rich and dramatic. They were vulgar yet strangely elegant. The kind of language that could insult your ancestors and your soul in the same breath.

Ethan’s face twitched.

For a moment, he almost felt impressed.

‘Such deep vocabulary… such refined filth…’

Meanwhile, Mareti’s soul suffered.

The mark burned.

It felt like frozen iron and molten metal at the same time. His soul trembled as the seal forced obedience into him. It felt like chains wrapping around his essence. Each pulse of the rune sent waves of agony that felt endless. His form flickered and distorted like a torn shadow.

Mareti writhed on the ground of the soul space, clutching his head though he had no real body. His screams turned hoarse and weak. The gothic emptiness of the gray world made it worse. There was no sound but his pain, no air, no escape.

Moments later, it ended.

Mareti’s soul twitched weakly on the ground.

Ethan stood there, sweating. For a second, he felt dizzy. He even thought he tasted blood in his mouth.

“What the actual fuckkk!”

“How… Just how can a scholar be this vulgar…”

He rubbed his face hard.

“No… I need to get out and breathe fresh air to clear my mind.”

The stamp’s glow faded and dissolved into Mareti’s soul completely.

Ethan’s figure vanished from the soul space. He returned outside and grabbed the scepter tightly. He placed it back in its position and shook his head.

“Haaa… That’s some next level shit.”

…..

A little distance away from Ruthiana, a long carriage moved along the dusty road. The horses ran at a steady pace, their hooves kicking up clouds of dirt. Guards rode on both sides, armor clinking softly with each movement.

Inside the open carriage, a wrinkled middle aged man with slightly whitish hair leaned back against the wooden frame. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes missed nothing around him.

A knight riding close bowed his head slightly. “Sir Lancelot, we are entering Ruthiana.”

Smack!

A loud slap echoed as another old man behind him smacked the back of his head.

“Hey idiot, did you forget again?” the old man scolded.

The first knight rubbed his head with a pained expression. “What now?”

“It’s not Sir Lancelot. It’s Your Highness Lancelot. He has become a Duke now.”

“Haa, but it still feels odd,” the knight muttered.

“Punk, are you provoking me now? Learn to address properly,” the other snapped.

“You talk big, but yesterday you called him captain,” a third old knight added.

“That was a slip of the tongue!”

“Your tongue slips too much.”

“You want to fight?”

The carriage shook slightly as the old men continued bickering like children.

Seeing this, Lancelot chuckled softly. “You guys need to calm down. You are already so old, yet you behave like kids.”

Silence.

The group froze.

One of them looked offended. “Sir, that is too much. What do you mean old? I am not even married yet.”

“Ahaha, same here,” another added quickly. “I still have to find a wife. Sir, that hurts.”

Lancelot’s lips twitched as he looked at the group of gray haired men acting wounded.

Just then, his eyes shifted forward. A group of horses thundered toward them from the distance. Dust rose behind the riders.

Lancelot’s expression hardened. The knights around him also straightened.

“Ah, it’s Young Master Rake,” one of them said with relief.

But Lancelot did not relax. He saw the urgency on the young rider’s face.

“Half,” Lancelot said quietly while raising his hand.

The entire entourage slowed and stopped.

Soon, a handsome young man with bright silver hair rode up. His build was tall and broad. His shoulders were wide, and his armor fit tightly over a powerful frame. His face was sharp and refined, but tension was clear in his eyes.

He jumped off his horse and bowed quickly. “Father, there is a proble—”

“Did she run away again,” Lancelot cut him off.

Rake froze. His mouth stayed half open. Then he lowered his head and nodded.

“Yes. Amber ran away. Father, we need to issue an alert—”

Lancelot pinched the bridge of his nose. “Haaaa. How many times has it been? That troublesome girl. She has grown so old, yet she keeps causing mess and trouble.”

Rake clenched his fists. “Father, I think she went to Frontier. Knowing her, she must have been curious and went to take a look.”

“I can already see that,” Lancelot replied calmly.

“I heard the situation is serious. I will send people.”

“No!” Lancelot shouted suddenly.

Everyone flinched.

“You will not send anyone.”

“But—”

“No but,” Lancelot said firmly.

He looked straight into his son’s eyes. “Did you forget what the Emperor said? Unless an order is given, we are not going to step in.”

His voice turned colder. “If we send our men, it will be taken as Arcadia supporting the Frontier. So stop.”

Rake lowered his head, frustration clear on his face. “Then what about her?”

Lancelot’s gaze softened just a little. “She is already an Early Legendary Knight. Her strength alone is enough to crush an entire kingdom. So do not worry too much. Also, let her suffer a bit.”

Rake blinked. “Father…”

“She has a life saving artifact and a device to contact us in danger. She is not helpless,” Lancelot continued. “Our current goal is to establish a foothold in Ruthiana as fast as possible.”

Rake stayed silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Okay, father.”

The carriage started moving again, and the road ahead stretched long and uncertain.