The one retrieved from The Void

"Is there a way to increase Anima other than advancing on The Unveiling?" Vas asked, his voice earnest.

"You've misunderstood, child," The Archivist began, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. "The Unveiling does not increase the amount of Anima you possess, nor does it directly enhance your ability to use it. The Unveiling lifts the veil of humanity, allowing the Bonded to channel Anima to influence Amrita and bond with a god, enabling them to manipulate the Amrita around them, particularly within their god's domain. Advancing on The Unveiling grants them greater authority in that specific domain."

"So why do people who advance on The Unveiling have more Anima?" Vas asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"The increase in Anima is a byproduct of advancing The Unveiling," The Archivist explained, her gaze returning to the book in her lap. "The reason for the increase is the tribulation their soul endures during the process."

"Then how can I increase mine?" Vas asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Simple," The Archivist replied, her tone almost dismissive. "Just as you train your body to enhance your stamina, you can train to enhance your Anima. Your reserves should already be considerable, given that your soul spent years cut off from the Amrita needed to sustain it. However, most of it was expended forging the spirits. To increase your Anima further, I would recommend submitting your soul to various tribulations."

The Archivist closed her book with a soft thud, the sound echoing ominously in the void. Her gaze, ancient and piercing, locked onto Vas, and for a moment, the weight of her scrutiny was almost unbearable.

"There are many paths one can take to strengthen their Anima," she began, her voice low and measured. "But each is fraught with peril, and not all who embark on these paths return whole, if they return at all."

Vas straightened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he listened intently.

"The first method," The Archivist continued, "is through Rite of Fire and Steel. This is a trial by combat, but not against any ordinary foe. You must face beings born of pure Amrita, forged in the crucible of their respective domains. These creatures are embodiments of primal forces, far more potent than anything you've encountered. Surviving such a battle forces your Anima to expand, adapting to the extreme exertion and the energy you must channel to stay alive. But be warned—each blow you receive could sever your connection to the Amrita, or worse, tear your soul asunder."

Vas swallowed hard, the thought of such a battle sending a shiver down his spine. Yet, he nodded, urging The Archivist to continue.

"The second method," she said, "is through the Labyrinth of Echoes. It is a place where the very walls are made of the whispers and screams of those who have lost their way. Time and space twist and fold within the Labyrinth, distorting reality itself. To navigate it, you must confront not only the phantoms of your past but also the possible futures—each one a reflection of the choices you have made or will make. Surviving this ordeal expands your Anima by forcing it to endure the psychological strain and the consumption of Amrita to bend the Labyrinth to your will. However, the risk is great. Many who enter lose themselves in the echoes, becoming part of the Labyrinth forever."

Vas's heart pounded as the enormity of the task set before him began to settle in. The Archivist's voice softened slightly, almost as if she pitied him.

"The third method," she said, "is through The Descent into the Abyss. This is not a place, but a journey within. You must confront the darkest parts of your soul, the fears and regrets you have buried deep. In the Abyss, these shadows take form, becoming as real as the flesh and blood you now possess. You must face them, overcome them, and ultimately, reclaim the Anima they have taken from you. This trial is the most dangerous, for if you fail, the darkness will consume you, leaving nothing behind but an empty husk."

Vas stared at her, the gravity of her words sinking in. Each option seemed more harrowing than the last, yet the potential reward was equally great. He knew that he needed more power if he was to protect those he cared about and fulfill the mission The Archivist had given him.

The Archivist leaned back, her expression inscrutable. "You must choose wisely, Vas. These are not trials to be taken lightly. The path you choose will define not only your power but also the very essence of who you are. Are you willing to endure these tribulations, knowing the cost?"

Vas took a deep breath, his mind racing. "I am," he said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.

"Very well," The Archivist replied, her tone final. "But remember, the path you choose will shape your destiny. Tread carefully, for the road ahead is dark and filled with shadows."

The Void around them seemed to grow colder, the darkness closing in as The Archivist's words echoed in Vas's mind. He knew that whichever path he chose, it would demand everything he had—and more.

"Can you please tell me more about each of those paths?" Vas asked, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. "For example, would you mind explaining what beings born of pure Amrita are?"

The Archivist's expression remained unreadable, but she nodded slightly, acknowledging his question. "Beings born of pure Amrita are entities that arise directly from the raw essence of Amrita within a particular domain. Their nature and form are deeply influenced by the god or concept to which they are intrinsically linked. For example, a being born in the domain of Nexus would be vastly different from one born in the domain of Ares."

She paused, letting the words settle before continuing. "In Nexus, where the essence of connection and unity reigns, a being might manifest as a Weaver of Threads—an ethereal entity that can manipulate the very fabric of reality, intertwining fates and forging bonds between all things. It is a creature of infinite complexity, with countless strands of Amrita forming its ever-shifting shape, each thread a link between souls, ideas, or worlds."

The Archivist's voice grew darker as she shifted to another example. "In the domain of Ares, where war and conflict hold sway, a being might emerge as a Warlord of Shadows—a towering figure of living armor and blood, its presence commanding legions of spectral warriors. It is a manifestation of war's endless hunger, driven by the desire to conquer and destroy, its power growing with every battle it witnesses or influences."

She looked back at Vas, her gaze sharp. "These beings are not simply creatures to be fought or defeated. They are forces of nature, each embodying the very essence of the domain from which they were born. To encounter them is to face the purest expression of that domain's power, unfiltered and unrelenting."

Vas absorbed her words, understanding now the enormity of the challenge before him. Each path led to a confrontation with beings that were not just powerful, but were also deeply tied to the fabric of the universe itself. The stakes were higher than he had imagined, and the cost of failure would be unimaginable.

The Archivist's voice deepened, resonating with an almost otherworldly quality as she elaborated on the Labyrinth of Echoes, a realm of disjointed time and memory. This was no ordinary maze but a dimension where reality twisted and bent, a place that existed at the intersection of forgotten dreams and discarded futures.

"The Labyrinth of Echoes," she began, "is not bound by the linear flow of time. It is a realm where moments, both significant and mundane, have been trapped and woven together into a vast, ever-changing maze. It is as much a mental challenge as it is a physical one, for in this labyrinth, the echoes of your past—and the pasts of countless others—will come alive, seeking to ensnare you in their endless repetitions."

She described the entrance to the Labyrinth as a tear in the fabric of reality, a shimmering rift through which one steps not into a physical space, but into a boundless expanse of memories. The walls of the Labyrinth are composed of these memories—sometimes solid, sometimes ephemeral, shifting from one moment to the next. They are at once familiar and foreign, echoing with voices long silenced and images of lives that might have been.

"As you walk the Labyrinth," the Archivist continued, "you will encounter Echoes—fragments of people and events, distorted by the passage of time. These Echoes are more than mere phantoms; they are living memories, imbued with a desire to reclaim the reality they have lost. They will seek to draw you into their loops, trapping you in a cycle of repeated moments, forcing you to relive events over and over until you lose all sense of self."

The Archivist warned that the Labyrinth was a place where the boundaries between past, present, and future blurred, where Vas might find himself living through memories that weren't his own, or reliving his own past in ways that twisted his understanding of what had happened. Each corner turned, each door opened could lead to an entirely different time, a different place, or a different version of himself.