"Based on my refinent losses, the initial consumption rate is roughly one-quarter," Locke murmured to himself.
"If I remain at peak condition throughout, refining one drop of Sovereign's Might would only cost twelve and a half trillion inkstones."
"But as the refinent continues, my soul power gradually declines, increasing the loss."
"In practice, I need around fifteen trillion inkstones per drop."
"And if I push myself further in my current state… the next drop might cost twenty to thirty trillion."
He exhaled softly.
All things considered, his efficiency was excellent.
If he rembered correctly, in the original tiline of the universe, those capable of extracting Sovereign's Might from currency charged over one hundred trillion inkstones per drop.
By Locke's calculations, if one required more than fifty trillion inkstones, the refinent speed would fall behind the dissipation rate—aning the Sovereign's Might fla would never condense into a droplet at all.
"I should rest. Recover my soul first. Continuing now would waste too much."
With that, he stored the newly refined drop together with the two drops Bella had left behind.
From then on, Locke alternated between refinent and soul recovery.
As he grew more adept, he eventually stabilized the loss rate at precisely one-quarter—aning each drop cost approximately twelve and a half trillion inkstones.
This was his limit.
To achieve zero loss, either his soul would need to be powerful enough to refine a trillion inkstones' worth of Sovereign's Might in an instant—
Or he would need to beco a Paragon, wielding Willpower Authority to prevent dissipation entirely.
Ti passed.
When the inkstones from all thirty thousand spatial rings were finally exhausted, Locke examined his reserves.
Over thirty drops.
"…Thirty-plus."
"Still short by sixty."
He nodded slightly.
The thousand years' worth of Fiend Castle savings had been consud.
In the next thousand years, with more Fiend Castles established, he could refine at least forty more drops.
Another millennium after that—and he would have enough to issue the expansion rewards.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
While Locke's Water divine clone labored for the expansion of the Fiend Castle, his Fate divine clone and his Saint-level original body began wandering across Hell.
With divine power nine tis that of a God—and the inherent superiority of Edicts over Laws—his Fate clone possessed strength comparable to ordinary Highgods.
Disguising his appearance and suppressing his soul aura, Locke registered at a Fiend Castle under a false identity and obtained a Three-Star Fiend badge.
Under the deterrence of that badge, his travels were smooth.
Though this era had already produced a Shura like Locke, and the 108 Prefects were Five-Star peak or Six-Star Fiends, Highgods still represented top-tier power in most regions.
In many small cities, the city lord was rely an ordinary Highgod.
Only in mid-sized and major cities would Four-Star or stronger beings—special lifeforms or divine beasts—appear.
"Let's see…"
One day, having grown bored of his current city, Locke entered its Fiend Castle to select a mission—an excuse to travel elsewhere.
"What interesting cities… or interesting missions…"
He scanned the hovering task summaries thoughtfully.
"Hmm? This one…"
With a flick of thought, he opened the detailed description.
Mission Type: Rescue
Description: The leader of the Blackstone Tribe, Oakes, was ambushed and has been unconscious for over three months. Seeking an expert with so attainnt in the soul for rescue.
Reward: 3,000 inkstones
Location: Blackstone Tribe
What intrigued Locke was the wording.
A god being ambushed and left comatose was not unusual—especially for demigods. When struck by Law-infused attacks, their weak divine power sotis failed to purge foreign Laws, leading to lingering damage.
But this mission specifically requested soone with soul expertise.
That ant the injury was almost certainly spiritual.
From the description alone, Locke imdiately ford two hypotheses.
First—the attacker possessed formidable soul attainnts, capable of inflicting a lingering soul attack akin to a parasitic curse.
Second—the tribal leader had multiple elental affinities. After sustaining severe soul trauma, his soul might have entered a state of mutation—and was currently mid-transformation, leaving him unconscious.
Either possibility intrigued Locke.
If the first, it would allow him to study a new form of soul attack, enriching his combat arsenal.
If the second—
Soul mutation was sothing Locke had already planned to investigate after reaching Paragon.
Paragon was the pinnacle of cultivation in this universe.
His Fate clone already had a Paragon seat locked in.
His Water clone had a strong chance as well.
But two Paragon clones would not fundantally alter his standing.
One Paragon made him invincible beneath Sovereigns—able to survive even a Sovereign projection.
Two Paragons… remained invincible beneath Sovereigns.
No further.
To go beyond that peak, only two paths remained.
The first: refine a Sovereign's godhead and beco a Sovereign.
Locke had hopes here.
In the First Sovereign War, more than ten Sovereigns fell—including two Overlords.
One of those Overlords had been the Water Overlord.
Over a thousand epochs later, that seat would belong to a female Sovereign.
As for that Highgod Water Sovereign godhead—
To say Locke did not covet it would be a lie.
The second path: soul mutation.
In this universe, so beings who survived fatal spiritual trauma experienced soul mutation—allowing fusion of divine powers from multiple elents.
Not only divine power—Profound Mysteries from different elents could also fuse.
Locke intended, after his Fate clone achieved Paragon, to artificially induce soul mutations through soul attacks—studying the process.
If he succeeded in replicating it for himself—
His power would undergo an epoch-defining leap.
Even without Law fusion, if his Saint original body refined another-elent godhead to beco a Highgod, his fused divine power could reach Sovereign-level intensity.
If he then fused Profound Mysteries across elents—
Even against a Sovereign, he might not be entirely without hope.
And now—
A suspected soul mutation subject had appeared before him.
How could he let it slip away?
A soul mid-mutation was a priceless specin.
Locke accepted the mission imdiately, obtained proof of assignnt, and set off toward the Blackstone Tribe.
The Blackstone Tribe lay over a million kiloters from the city—a modest settlent of fewer than ten thousand.
Only three Demigods resided there.
Aside from Oakes, the tribal leader, the other two had beco gods by refining godheads.
After Oakes fell into unconsciousness, the two knew they could not defend the tribe alone.
Thus they pooled ten thousand years' worth of savings to post a Fiend mission.
If fortune favored them, they might find soone capable of saving their leader.
At the very least, the posted mission would deter opportunists.
With the speed of Locke's Fate clone, the million-kiloter journey took less than three days.
Hovering above the tribe, he released a faint trace of divine aura.
Imdiately, two figures shot upward from the settlent.
"Gapar and Kost greet you, my lord!"
They bowed deeply.
When their eyes fell upon the Three-Star Fiend badge at Locke's chest, they hardly dared breathe.
A Three-Star Fiend was at minimum a Highgod.
Before such a being, the two of them—even combined with an entire small city's guard—would be slaughtered.
In this universe, the power gap between gods was enormous.
Without equal strength, the weak could only be massacred.
Such imbalance would not improve until magical battle arrays were invented.
Even then, such formations would remain privileges of Sovereign armies, Prefect forces, and major factions.
For tribal gods like them—
There was no such protection.
In the presence of true power—
Respect was not optional.
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