Chapter 229: Discrepancies

Besides the familiarity that he felt with his surroundings, Regaleon could not deny that there was a tiny part within him that felt nostalgic as he gazed upon the sight before him. For some reason, the instant his golden eyes settled upon the encampment below, Regaleon could not help but reconcile the militaristic garrison with House Valehart.

The soldiers, the disciplined atmosphere, and the constant presence of martial order made the place strangely reminiscent of the estate where he had spent much of his life. It was almost as though he had been transported back to his House, accompanied by the familiar sounds of clashing steel and the stern shouts of instructors drilling young warriors.

Honestly, it was something that was comforting, yet strangely painful at the same time. Unfortunately, Regaleon knew that he would never be able to return there and that life was long behind him.

Besides, the silver-haired Knight could not understand why he would feel any nostalgia toward a place that had treated him like dirt. House Valehart had never been particularly kind to him. His failures had been scrutinized, his shortcomings repeatedly brought to his attention, and his worth had often seemed to be measured solely by what he could accomplish.

Yet, despite all of that, some part of him still remembered it.

If only Regaleon understood that nostalgia was not necessarily born from a sense of belonging toward a particular place.

Sometimes, it often came from the familiarity of what had once shaped one’s life, even when that familiarity was painful. A person could long for a place without longing for the way they had been treated there. They could miss the sounds, the sights, the routines, and even the version of themselves that had existed within those walls without wishing to return to the life itself.

Perhaps that was what he was experiencing now.

Regaleon observed the garrison for a few more moments before finally deciding to descend the rise. After all, if this was the place he had been transported—or displaced—to after walking into the orb, then he was quite certain that it held some significance and relevance to him.

At first, Regaleon hesitated.

He wondered what would happen if the sentinels discovered him. He had no idea what kind of people inhabited this place, nor did he know how they would react to the sudden appearance of a stranger approaching their garrison. For all he knew, they could mistake him for an intruder and raise the alarm.

However, after turning the matter over in his mind, he eventually decided to curb his hesitation and act upon his curiosity. Whatever this place was, remaining on the hill and merely observing it would not provide him with answers.

Besides, he comforted himself with the thought that all of this was probably some kind of spiritual phenomenon.

He had already experienced something beyond his understanding when he entered the orb. At this point, another inexplicable occurrence hardly seemed surprising.

With that thought in mind, Regaleon began making his way toward the garrison. Yet the moment he reached the encampment, he discovered something strange.

Oddly enough, the sentinels stationed atop the watchtowers did not notice him. Not even once.

Regaleon walked directly within their line of sight, close enough that he should have been impossible to overlook, yet none of them so much as glanced in his direction. They continued their duties without interruption, their gazes sweeping across the surrounding terrain as though he simply did not exist.

It was almost as though he were invisible... And not merely invisible to the sentinels because the soldiers walking through the encampment did not notice him either.

This particular phenomenon befuddled Regaleon, confusing him to the point that he began questioning whether he was truly present in this world at all.

Since all of these experiences were entirely new to him, Regaleon genuinely did not know how to respond or what to make of what was happening. He raised a hand before his face and stared at it for several moments, almost expecting it to disappear before his eyes.

But he could see it, move it and feel his fingers. Everything about his existence felt normal and yet, the world around him behaved as though he were nothing more than an unseen observer.

It was only after considering the circumstances more carefully that Regaleon finally figured out what was happening.

He had initially assumed that being transported into this world meant that he had somehow brought his physical body along with him. But as it turned out, he was still in his soul form, one that had merely adjusted itself to the height and depth of this unfamiliar world.

For that reason, the manner in which he perceived his surroundings was almost indistinguishable from the way he perceived them while inhabiting his physical vessel.

He could have the perception and senses of his physical body but none of that changed the fundamental nature of his existence.

A soulish existence was not a visible physical entity, and therefore it made sense that he was virtually invisible to the world around him.

Once Regaleon reached that conclusion, he no longer had any reservations and began walking as he normally would. After all, there was little point in worrying about being discovered when discovery was apparently impossible.

As he wandered through the garrison, Regaleon carefully observed the people around him. The longer he remained within the encampment, the more discrepancies he began discovering—differences that were fundamentally distinct from the world he came from.

At first glance, the soldiers appeared completely human.

They possessed the same familiar features, the same general bodily structures, and the same variety of appearances one would expect to find among the people of Valoria. Their faces, limbs, physiques, and mannerisms were all remarkably ordinary.

Yet something was essentially different about them. And it was not their psychological or physiological constitution. Rather, it was the equipment they carried.

When Regaleon focused on their instruments, he was shocked to discover that they were completely foreign to the military traditions he had grown up with.

Their weapons were not entirely unfamiliar in shape. Swords still resembled swords. Spears still possessed long shafts and pointed heads. Shields retained their recognizable forms. The various pieces of armour likewise possessed the same general silhouettes and other characteristics associated with battle armaments.

But there was something fundamentally wrong—or rather, fundamentally different—about them.

Their bodies were not what shocked Regaleon, it was their cores.

Back in Valoria, Soul Essences were the prevalent relics that humanity used in interacting with their surroundings, whether by the greatest of nobles or the lowest of slaves. As a matter of fact, the peculiarity and existence of a Soul Essence determined the path walked by an Awakener or any cultivator for that matter.

Because of this centrality, Soul Essences were practically treated as important as life itself and as essential as the air needed to breathe.

They were not merely tools nor simple weapons; instead, they were an integral part of the world in which Regaleon had been raised.

Though Regaleon was aware that there were people in Valoria who possessed no Soul Essence, those people comprised the absolute minority, such that they were practically unheard of by the average civilian. Such was the pervasiveness of Soul Essences and how deeply they were interwoven with life.

From birth, people were surrounded by them, from childhood, they learned about them; and for Awakeners and cultivators, their Soul Essences could determine the direction of their entire lives.

Therefore, because of this indoctrination and conditioning, one could imagine Regaleon’s surprise and bafflement the moment he discovered that the soldiers he was observing here were actually not using Soul Essences.

As a matter of fact, looking around him, Regaleon could not even detect or perceive the aura of a Soul Essence on any of them.

And that was what made the situation even more inexplicable.

Soul Essences gave off a peculiar aura that made them distinguishable from ordinary weapons. It was subtle to an untrained person, perhaps even imperceptible, but to someone like Regaleon, who had spent his entire life surrounded by them, the distinction was unmistakable.

It was because of the complete absence of that aura that Regaleon realized that most, if not all, of the equipment within this garrison were not Soul Essences.

Regaleon stared at the soldiers with the expression of a child who had just discovered that something he had always considered an immutable truth was, in fact, not universal.

He could not determine how such a scenario—or even such a possibility—existed.

Frowning, Regaleon observed more closely, this time with greater intensity, attempting to determine whether he had simply made a mistake during his initial observation.

But the more he looked, the more apparent it became that he was not mistaken.

The soldiers walked around, completely ignorant of the strange presence observing them.

Some wore layered leather armour reinforced with metal plates, their protection utterly irreconcilable with the kind of armour Regaleon had grown accustomed to seeing.

Others wore chainmail beneath thick cloth tunics. Several officers whom Regaleon observed possessed breastplates decorated with intricate symbols, while a few high-ranking soldiers carried cloaks marked with different insignias.

There were differences everywhere, whether in the armours, weapons or rangs.

However, no matter the disparity in their ranks or the differences in their equipment, they possessed the same distinguishing trait; nothing upon them suggested the peculiar nature and existence of a Soul Essence...